It was early morning. The sky had paled, but there were still more than 30 minutes before the sun rose above the line of the horizon.

Ziph was in his apartments, stretching his body. A breeze drifted in through the window and cooled his naked skin.

Isshakhu was still downstairs. She had slept alone in the Mulberry Chamber. Some nights, Ziph preferred to sleep alone. His dreams were less troubled that way. He had found that his dreams sometimes mingled with those of his lovers. That was not good. A man’s dreams were his own.

Ziph looked down at the natural beauty surrounding his high place in the castle. He surveyed the lush forest with its plump trees. His eyes traced the clear rapids which cut through the wood, funneling into a green-blue lake at the foot of the Celestial Hills, where the Opal Colosseum stood, gray in their shadow, ready to first pale, then brighten as the sun would soon rise over them, reaching out with its gold rays, whitening its slab roofing and carved spectator seats to a brilliant ivory.

A knock on the chamber door interrupted his thoughts. That must be the tea.

“It’s a little early,” Ziph called peevishly.

“I have a letter,” came a voice. That was Rokkah, timid, mousish, but reliable.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“A letter?” Said Ziph, pausing. At last, we said, “Slide it under the door.”

With a light rustling sound, a paper came sliding under the door. Then there was the sound of footsteps plodding away—rather quickly, Ziph thought.

What was this? Some sniveling love letter from Isshakhu? She knew not to bother him with such trivialities. Especially not first thing in the morning.

Ziph crossed the room, stepping over a colorful woolen oval rug with his enormous bare feet. He approached the door, bent down, and picked up the letter.

It read,

To Ziph,

My son is besmirched, and I am cuckolded, at your hands. As neither he nor I are willing to live with the shame of it any longer, I hereby challenge you to fight to the death. Let us duel in the Opal Colosseum, where all the gods and courtiers can bear witness, and honor us both for our bravery.

If you have any honor, you must accept. Should you accept, you need only choose the day and time, and I shall meet you there, for our appointment.

I do not hold you personally responsible for the actions which led to my shame. Yet I find this is the only acceptable course of action.

Inform me of your decision in your reply.

Sincerely,

Millagua, God of Time-Stasis