The contest of warriors, when it was announced, fulfilled the people's expectations that the despot would take measures against the terrible Dynalian Gract which was doing such harm to his belongings, which were the entire country. Surely the strongest warrior could challenge the beast.
Willing to be relieved of their anxiety, crowds filled the stands to watch the many and doughty fighters compete against one another for the prize. Many were injured, some killed, but nothing daunted those men who had bravery as their first virtue, and often their last. Fame was on the auction block and blood was their bids.
On the final day, the despot himself attended, though he had been absent before. The champion, after his magnificent victory, strode to the spot under the great seat and shouted up, "Where now is the Dynalian Gract? I will slay it. It will be no harder I think than winning this contest!"
"It is here!" The despot leapt up and hurled down a sack he had next to him, and from the sack tumbled the monster's grim head. "You may have that as your trophy, since you are so eager to have it. Your second prize will be wealth, your third a weapon unsurpassed, and the fourth your liberty, for this exercise has given the results combats between men of unequal experience levels, a 14 versus a 17, a 21 versus a 33. I have reckoned from them how near someone may come to my level and go unexiled, and I tell you that none of you are close to it!" All trembled at the despot's mastery.
Finis
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