The dream was of the upcoming duel. He didn't expect to win but couldn't back down now. It was a question of honor. In the dream-tournament, stands were filled to the brim with people cheering and a banner (Albert versus the Count!) slung across the divide. Bulky battle armor proved no limitation to his learned skill: expertly, he thrust and parried and sidestepped his foe. Prise de fer, called the President of the Jury, to Albert.

Awake then without his alarm, he'd check: how much time remained before the duel? He would prepare and best the Count handily. Then...

"Franz?"