The Indigo Knight

     The next two countrymen entered the circle and were led to the center by the official.  One was of about thirty years, long-haired, thin and pale. 
     The other, Ulgren, was younger, stronger, darker and mor handsome.  He had shaved his facial hair and was now indistinguishable from the man who approached the castle the day before, save for his tan.
     The princess looked upon this young man knowing she'd never seen him before.  He was about her age, about her suitors' age.  His seaman appearance was a small challenge for her to accustom to.  But there was a handsome aspect to him, even roguish, or perhaps mysterious, that she couldn't deny.  But as soon as she had him studied, she noticed that her father was watching her.  She kissed him on the cheek again and whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, father.  I've decided that the appropriate man will win this tournament."
     The king smiled upon her.
     Ulgren held his sword with firm grip and conviction.  He studied his opponent, his thin build and the way he let his sword dangle when waiting to start.  If this fellow even respected the sword enough to win, even had the focus to win, he'd lose from lack of muscle, Ulgren observed.
     The official moved forth between the two and eyed the two, each in turn.  "Good luck both of you," he said.  He held out his sword, lowered it to signal the start and backed out of the way.