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I Am A Better King Than I Essay

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It was early springtime, well before Percival III and Gwaine II 's births. Grace was recovering nicely, and life in Camelot carried on as usual. Thus, Llacheu and his fourteen-year-old brother, Amr, stood out on the grassy training field in full armor, practicing their sword work under Gwaine 's watchful eye. But Gwaine was positioned far enough away so he couldn 't make out the details of the boys ' conversation. Or, that 's what the brothers thought. "I 'm ready to abdicate my rights to the throne, Amr," mumbled Llacheu from beneath his helmet. "I don 't think I want it. Besides, you 're smarter than I am." Amr blocked his older brother 's fierce blow. "Oh, just great! You 're going to toss me on the throne when the time comes, are you? I may be better with languages and art, but I 'm not half as good with the sword and fighting. You 'll make a better king than I." Amr swung his weapon, but Llacheu deflected the strike with ease. "This is all because you want to bed Ilene and she has no interest in lying with the future king. Don 't think you 're fooling anyone." "Quiet, Amr! Don 't say that out in the open! Have you lost your damn mind?" "Why? What 's the problem with saying that? Ilene has a right-fine backside. I don 't blame you for –" "Boys!" shouted Gwaine. "Less chatting and more practice!" "Yes, Sir Gwaine," responded Amr. The boys returned to their practice and were quiet for a time, save their grunts of exertion. But Amr couldn 't help but needle Llacheu a

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