Within the middle of a far open green field, there rested what at first appeared to be a court for games.

But, when looked closely it was revealed to be an arena of sorts

Where the typical weapons racks and equipment holders may reside in your typical gladiator ring, none lay here.

It was a serene sight

As if implying both parties would fight with their fists, their wits, and that alone.

This was not the case.

Entering the ring would be enchanters, sorcerers, wizards, mages, and warlocks, the type of warriors that wield words, not swords.

All around lay bleachers and stands and other places to watch, some from far above, others cast a spell of flight and hovered around.

Whatever was next, it would be a spectacle that everyone was looking at, grabbing the best view..

"Ronald, what's going on…"

"Nothing to worry about. Just an upset father taking his anger out through force and superior magical abilities,"

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He laughed as if to play everything off.

"Boy, I may not like ya one bit at times …but don't think I won't fight tooth and nail if anyone tries to harm you."

An earnest Robert replied.

Resting a calm gaze, a powerful look, one of emotions that acted as a force of its own, Ronald replied.

"I know I know Robert. Thanks for always looking out for me…in your own way. But this is between family, this is a stain that I must wash out myself."

Turning on his heels, he made his way into the arena.

His father, Lord Descartes, was outfitted in a plate and cape. Looking all parts conquer and no parts wizard.

All parts angered and determined.

He looked and breathed like a man prepared for war, not someone who wishes merely to scold a disobedient son.

"Damn bastards, a Battlemage. Does he intend to beat his son senseless? What in Heaven's name will that solve??!

An older gentleman with a calm aura around him walked in between the two.

We will have a trial by combat.

One in which the loser will be determined by a lack of will, a lack to continue…..

,

The last words were caught in his mouth, until finally, he added.

Or, a lack of life.

Begin!

The man shouted, after which he instantly became a pack of crows.

Before a breath or chant could be uttered,

Lightning cracked the air with the ferocity of a mythic tempest.

Winds howled and gathered around Ronald

The once-shining sun was now cast away by a coming storm.

An omen lay in the clouds.

Death and Bloodshed are inscribed in the gray of the sky.

Those that hovered in the air were blown back down into the stands.

Those in the stands began chanting words of power, bringing forth barriers of protection.

Little boys and girls that had never known wrath, cried in the arms of their mothers.

My heart began to race, and Robert held me down.

Then…

Ronald unleashed his fury…