“Sometimes we romanticize battle, but that is truly an inaccurate description. Battle truly only takes a moment to determine a victor. Only a second on the line between life or death before you tip over. Only a moment to determine everything…” – an experienced philosopher

Alex then throws his weapon at the stunned Gerald, it buries itself in his face, and he dies.

‘…’

Alex then climbs down the wall and reaches the ground, enervated from his experience.

“I hereby forfeit the inherited duel with one sir Walter,” Alex says while smiling.

‘This last part should be easy enough…’

“Father, why don’t you call the magic beast now?” Alex says loudly.

His father shakes his head

Alex then whispers to his father, “You should have asserted your position as the duke, and therefore control of the manor and to an extent the beast, no?”

Alex looks to the soldiers. ‘They should give up with this, the fear is too engraved not too…’

‘And with that, I should be done, and not a cloud in the sky either!’

Alex smiles as his father and Albi start making their way to the garden shed, the soldiers keeping their distance and looking, shaking, at Alex.

‘Looks like that had more of an impact than I thought…’

The Walter puts his hand on the handle to the door, and lightning strikes.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”