The crowd roars and ground trembles at Redmane's call. The gates close behind them.

"Can I ask what the trial is now?" Justice asks, hoping for it all to be an over-hyped chess game in the dirt.

The sliver minotaur nods towards Redmane. "Depends on what his highness chooses."

The thundering voice of king Redmane speaks again, "to earn your entrance, all you must do is take part. But if you wish to earn conversation, you must pass at least two of our three tests, which shall be decided by the spirit of king Grayhorn." He points his sword to the statue to his left.

Two servants raise a cauldron, pouring the ink-black contents on Grayhorn's statue. It flows down his bronze chest, and a glow emits from his eyes. The statue creaks. Its arms bend, grabbing the axe from its back. Edge of the axe peaking in the sky, it falls, splitting the earth.

A minotaur dashes to the gash and calls, "trial of Strength!"

Redmane nods. "The spirit of Grayhorn has decided the first test shall be one of strength, set the circle of might in place!"

Four servants carry a massive plate of hardened steel to the center of the arena. The plate falls with a mighty thud, the flat surface painted with two bulls locking horns.

"Now can you explain?" Justice asks.

The silver gleams. "Just a normal unarmed wrestling match, nothing to worry about."

The minotaur's glee causes Justice to raise an eyebrow. He seems to underplay the test, but he doesn't appear to be prone to lying. There's nothing we can do but believe him.

"Choose your fighter, soldiers of the light," Redmane says.

Gavriil cracks his neck, eager to fight and heal his wounded ego. "If it's a contest of strength, I'm the obvious choice."

Justice looks to Filib.

"I feel the same. Gavriil has the highest chance of victory," Filib says. He turns to the cyclops. "But don't let your confidence get the best of you. Don't try to force him to surrender, trying to beat him in fisticuffs is not the point of this match. Use all of your strength to remove him from the ring as quick as possible."

"I know, I know," Gavriil responds, waving away his concern as he steps into the ring.

Filib looks to Eileen, confidence not at its highest.

"I think he's got this," Eileen replies with a shrug.

"We will see."

The silver minotaur pats Blackaxe's back. "You're up, buddy. Show these lighties why we bulls are impressive."

Blackaxe snorts in response, red in his eyes as he marches towards the plate.

The opponents take their place.

Gavriil stares into the bull's eyes.

Blackaxe kicks the surface of the plate.

Their muscles flex in preparation.

All grow silent, the roaring of the crowd ceases.

The bell rings and they collide, their well-muscled bodies using all of their strength to push the other back. Neither can gain ground, glued to the center of the plate. Gavriil diverts some of his strength and punches the bull.

Filib falls deeper into silence, the absence of his voice becoming palpable.

Blackaxe smiles, ignoring the attacks and gaining ground at an absurd rate. The mass of black fur becoming an unstoppable force. Gavriil sees his folly and tries to divert it, twisting the bull with his own momentum, but the move only momentarily slows Blackaxe's charge, who stops the twist and continues his push.

Gavriil knocks the hairy arms off and pushes the minotaur's chest, knocking him back a step.

Justice has seen Gavriil wrestle many bulls, and this is the point where he always wins. This time the bull may be humanoid and trained in combat, but so is the lieutenant. Filib has to have been wrong at some point.

Gavriil smiles, putting all his strength into his right arm. "I'm going to give you a reason to worry 'bout me." His fist slams against Blackaxe like a sledgehammer, the minotaur skidding a few feet.

The smile fades as quickly as it came.

The stolen expression now adorns the bull's face. No sign of bruising or even inconvenience anywhere on him. He kicks the ground again.

Gavriil squats wide, brow tensing. "Fine, then. I'll just throw you out."

"Come on, Gavriil, you got this!" Eileen cheers.

The two collide once again, their heels break through the floor and create an explosion of dust.

As vision clears, the remnants of the collision appear. The plate is broken in half with only one figure left standing.

Who is it? He's tall, but they're the same height. He's breathing heavily, though they both seem to do that.

The last feature makes the answer apparent. Horns adorn his head.

The minotaur won.

The crowd cheers and Blackaxe along with them, while the silver minotaur smiles, proud, on the sidelines.

Gavriil lay on his back outside the ring, the confidence he built up blowing through his grasp like wind. He stands and returns to his group, silent.

Justice thought about making a sarcastic remark but decides the poor cyclops has been through enough.

Eileen rubs his back. "Don't worry, man. We all have bad days."

Gavriil remains silent.

"The man-baby will be fine, just give him some time," Filib says. "For now, pay attention. The next trial is being decided."

Redmane stands again. "You have fought well, visitor, but the first victory goes to us. If you wish to earn your place of conversation, you must win the preceding battles." He waves his great-sword to the statue to his right. "Let Grayhorn decide the next trial."

Black ooze flows down the second statue, and it comes alive. The axe arches to the side, and slams into the walls above the seating. A servant runs to the wall and examines the mark.

"Trial of Stamina!" They call.

"Grayhorn has declared the next test shall be one of Stamina," Redmane declares. "Bring forth the weapon racks."

The minotaurs place four racks of blunted wooden weapons in the center of the arena. Servants aim a magnifying glass above the King's seat down upon the dirt, heat waves rising from its target.

"This trial is similar to a normal bout of one-on-one combat, but there's a twist," the silver minotaur says, scratching his neck and walking towards the hot circle. "It's not decided until one person, or their team, announces their surrender." He grabs a wooden axe. "You can try to leave the heat if you'd like, but those minotaurs up there will try their best to keep both of us in. If you faint, we pause the match until you wake up. If you injure a limb, nothing changes. The only way to get out, except surrendering of course, is to die. So who's ready?"

The boredom that first dwelt in the minotaur is long gone, leaving nothing but the lust for a good duel.

"Choose your next participant," Redmane says.

With no time for discussion, Eileen steps forward.

Justice thinks about stopping her but acknowledges her knack for longevity in battles. He can try to help her by reviewing what he's learned about the sliver bull, but what would be an exploitable aspect of his personality. It's unlikely that there's anything that could upset him. He seems to be confident, but not to the point of cockiness.

Justice scratches his head. Maybe...

He moves close to Filib. "Could we use his easy switch to boredom against him?"

"It's possible," Filib responds. The centaur trots to Eileen's side, whispering in her ear.

She nods and marches to meet her opponent, weaving a bit dejectedly towards the fight. The dejection fades as she grabs a spear and looks the bull in his eyes. "Can I get your name? I've heard from my higher-ups it's disrespectful to fight when you don't your opponent's name." She glances at Justice.

"Oh, you haven't figured it out? Our naming process is simple, just mix the color of our fur with our most notable feature."

"Silveraxe then?"

"That's it. Can I have your name, since I so kindly gave you mine?"

"Eileen. I would explain, but we have a much more complicated way of naming ourselves."

"I will kindly refuse the explanation if that's the case."

"Works for me." Eileen rolls up her sleeves. "Now then, let's get started."

"Let's."

The bell rings.

The two enter the heat, sweat emerging from their pores with the first step.

The two watch each other, neither making a hasty move. Both knowing one bad move could cost the match. Nevertheless, a move must be made.

And so it did.

A thunk from the skillfully shaped hunks of wood. A jab from Eileen follows close behind. Silveraxe doesn't even try to block the jab, the poke not affecting him.

Justice can see the worry grow in Eileen, but he knows if she sticks with the plan it'll be fine.

She continues to do light jabs and noncommittal attacks, refusing his desire for reckless combat. He plays along for a time, but the annoyance is getting to him.

Silveraxe makes a sudden move, taking another jab in the ribs and slamming his axe's side into her own, knocking her to the ground.

"If you're not going to make this interesting, then I guess that's on me," he taunts.

The competitive spirit inside Eileen ignites, and she jumps to her feet, gripping her spear tighter. "You're right. This isn't a tea-party, this is a duel."

The weapons clash time and time again, the thunks of wood growing louder with each impact.

Justice notices the smile on her face, though he feels less thrilled about the prospect, and from the look on Filib's face, he feels the same.

Justice is unsure if the battle will ever end, now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hours pass. Broken weapons scatter the ground. Sweat drenches their clothes and hair. Neither has tried to leave the heated area, and neither has faltered in their desire to win. But physically, Eileen shows signs of exhaustion.

Her exhaustion leaks into her performance, an attack skimming her thigh.

Another, her shoulder. Another, her ribs.

Each attack growing in danger and slowing her further.

If this doesn't end soon, she will die.

"I would surrender if I were you," Silveraxe says, shattering another of her spears. "You fight well, wouldn't want you to waste your life."

She looks to the racks. No spears left.

It would be nice for her to surrender, but both he and Eileen know losing a second-round means failing the mission. A part of him doesn't mind that, what's one failed mission? He can climb up as he did before. The other part, however, knows the importance of this mission. Failure here would be a scar on his records for his entire career. Who would want help from an officer who failed? And for Eileen, he finds it unlikely the army will use her again, and her hopes to fight for her people, a hope he shares, will die like a flower unable to be watered.

She can't lose.

Eileen grabs the next closet weapon, a glaive. A weapon she's not trained with, but the closest thing to a spear she could find.

She won't lose.

"Don't worry about me, my silver friend," Eileen says, straightening out her limp. "I've got persistence on my side."

"And me, stubbornness, being a bull an all," Silveraxe responds, the gleeful mood floating between them.

Their weapons meet, but unused to the shape of the glaive, Eileen slips. The axe hits her skull, knocking her to the ground and into unconsciousness.

Silveraxe waits for her to rise.

Silence covers the arena.

Eileen's eyes spring open, and she rolls backward, grabbing the glaive. The crowds cheer as she gets back to her feet. She twirls the glaive, trying to get a better idea of its flow.

Silveraxe charges, and she... retreats? An unexpected move from her, but that's a good sign.

She runs to the wall, the pain from her damaged limbs only noticeable in her face. She isn't outrunning the heat, so what's her plan? She leaps with a grunt when she reaches the wall. Silveraxe swings. She twists around the attack, using her imbalance with the glaive to catch his horns. She pulls his horns back until it can't bend further... and releases.

His face smashes into the wall, cracks spreading like wildfire.

He stumbles back.

Eileen watches, her hand on her ribs.

He leans to fall... but his hooves land solid.

Silveraxe turns, blood trickling down his brow. A smile.

He's nowhere near finished.

Eileen takes a deep breath, gripping the glaive with both hands, the will to fight not gone. Never will it be gone. She steps forward to meet the bull once more.

"We surrender."

Eyes widen and turn to the speaker.

Filib.

Eileen glances at the centaur, hurt but acceptant, and drops her weapon. While the crowd cheers, she meets the bull again, though this time with less violent intent. "Good match. I would've beat you if my friend over there wasn't so impatient."

"I'll take your word for that," Silveraxe responds with a laugh.

Their arms meet with a firm handshake.

"I'll get ya next time."

"I'll be waiting." Silveraxe returns to his post at the gate, opposite of Blackaxe.

Eileen returns to the group, scratching her head with a smile on her face, but Justice can tell she's not showing everything. If she keeps holding her emotions in like this, it will cause problems in the future. Justice hopes he can help Eileen break her out of her emotional shell as she broke from her physical one.

"Sorry guys," she says. "I botched our mission."

Gavriil sinks his head further.

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure out an explanation for General Viktor. Maybe we'll get a second chance," Justice responds with a comforting smile.

They both know that isn't true, but confronting that is something he doesn't want to do, currently.

"And I apologize to you, Eileen," Filib says. "I know you wished to continue, but I couldn't have you getting killed. You still have important things to take care of, like all of us."

"Don't worry, I'm not mad." The delivery seems at least half-sincere. "But if you don't mind, I think I'll sulk with Gavriil now." She sits next to the cyclops, slamming her shoulder into his. He side-glares her, and she laughs in response.

"Now what, sir?" Filib asks.

Though they lost, they gained access to the town, so they'd probably rest. Gather Intel that could be useful for future attempts, but after that... Justice didn't know. The respect they earned from Ambrosio will be gone. They'll be just another group of soldiers again.

"Well, I d..."

"Because of how well you fought, our people have come to a decision," Redmane declares. "We shall allow you to take part in the last test."

Hope. It flutters in his stomach.

"If you win, you will earn the right to conversation. But first, you must win, and we minotaurs know there is only one choice for the ultimate test." His arms raise.

Both statues come to life and swing their axes at the current king, hitting the ceiling above him.

The ground rumbles.

"It's time for the trial of the Goliath!"

The roars of the crowd match the rumbling of the ground, as the far gate unlatches from the ground.

"What's the trial of the Goliath?" Justice asks, more to himself than anything.

"It's pretty simple," Silveraxe responds, yelling over the noise. "Just knock out your opponent!"

From the excitement of the crowd, the silver guards' nonchalant speech may downplay the trial's simplicity. As the gate reaches the top, that worry grows. The thud of footsteps replaces the rumbling of the gate. Humongous footsteps.

Green fur gleams at the touch of light.

"Would you like to take this one?" Justice asks Filib.

"I'll have to pass this time, sir," the centaur responds.

A minotaur three times the size of his brethren emerges from the gate. Horns like harpoons and arms like pillars. A giant among giants.

A bell rings.

The green Goliath's gaze falls upon Justice.

There's no going back now. Justice prepares himself.

The minotaur charges and the world turns black.