The young warrior entered the King's chambers holding his opponents head. He threw the grizzly sight at the Monarch, Ulysses the XIV's feet, as it rolled before his throne.
The noise of the crowd still rang through his head whilst he turned away, sickened by the display of it.
Afteral, it was required of the king's ''champions'' that they, after each victory, presented to the King, that ''display'' of battle. It was considered to be good showmanship.
''It is done your highness.''
''And were you the victor?''
The King smiled as he usually did, the same blood thirsty smile that always kept his lips.
The young warrior bowed as he spoke, another act of courtesy that was customary in moments as these. His garments were well rent from the battle, and a weariness had worn over him since his presence was first detected within the throne room.
May I take my rest now?
But sire, I have been fighting nearly three days straight now. It feels that I am constantly in battle.
His exhaustion became only more apparent as he spoke this.
''And is it a conflict that you should serve me, your King Feral?''
''Of course not sire…absolutely not.'' Remarked the youth, without hesitation, for his fear of this King was beyond great.
''It is only…''
''Guards, seize him''
Fear had broken out from the young Feral's voice. As four guards approached he knew what was coming, and his bone's quaked with apprehension of it.
''Perhaps it is time you spent another evening within the catacombs.''