Arthur's challenge

Arthur watched through the window as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

Lance had arrived and it was such a spectacle entrance.

Lance, clad in shining armour, rode on a majestic white horse, making his way through the streets with grace and confidence.

He possessed a well-built physique, honed through years of training and battles fought.

He had chiseled jawline, marked with a faint scar that spoke of past encounters with danger.

His eyes were a piercing shade of sapphire blue. Cascading waves of chestnut hair framed Lance's face, tousled slightly by the wind as he rode with confidence and grace.

In his right hand, Lance wielded a formidable sword. The sword caught Arthur's interest.

It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Its blade, honed to razor sharpness, gleamed with a polished steel finish.

Intricate runes and symbols adorned the hilt giving it a beauty Arthur had never seen before.

Lance appeared to be in his early thirties, the prime of his life.

He wasn't alo
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