‘Allow me to demonstrate.’ The puffed up royal guard said strolling to the straw dummy, which was currently sporting finer clothes than most of the audience. As he twirled and parried against the fake foe, all he did, was solidify my opinion that he was, frankly, a nincompoop.

Deciding I could no longer subject my eyes to this debacle, I pushed towards the stage, lifted a wooden staff from the practice armory and charged forwards. It took one hit to the chest to incapacitate the guard and a big swing to effectly behead the dummy. I stole the dummy’s shirt and gloves as the audience stared on and the guard rolled gasping for air.