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Chapter 7 by hambo hambo

What is she going to do?

Pay up.

I'm wet, dizzy, and she's got the drop on me. I could try to draw my sword and fight her, but at this range she would probably rip me in two before I had a chance to strike.

Hilda hands her your bag of gold and start to unlace her boots, letting out another sigh.

I won those boots from Sir Bradford at the last joust. Now what am I going to lord over him the next time we meet?

"Come on, hurry up," snaps the troll as she grows more impatient. Hilda slips them off and hand them to the troll, wondering just what she's going to do with boots that wont fit her.

Is she satisfied, or does she demand more?

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