Vukasin was startled; his knees trembled. I looked at his pale face, which was trying so hard to put on a smile. Lady Tomris approached and reverenced Bayezid. I took her hand gently, lifted it and touched my lips. I sensed a slight distance, a feeling of distress. She was right there, yet a thousand miles away. Such reflection of sentiment had been recognized in Vukasin, too. He stared at the hand Tomris had offered for a while, frustrated unless I didn't know my brother. He turned to me, afraid and disappointed. I tilted my head, questioning. Mehli grabbed her by the waist. "I shall demand all the celebration and feast to begin!" he yelled with smashed words. Bayezid cheered. "Let there be a hundred valleys of plenty." Chief Kaähl laughed, "A tournament for the fearful and the fearless then." He raised a golden cup. "Toss the whole world to your King Bayezid!" 

Two weeks he was passed. All the great warriors from the twelve kingdoms came to join. Mehli didn't attend any match. He watched with his princes and sire. Nevertheless, Bayezid had already settled up. He was so eager, enormously excited and instantly breathed for blood. It was the scarlet blood that ran through his veins. The scarlet blood of his ancestors of the wolf on the moon. He was born to fight and be paid a million times more. He desperately wanted Mehli to share the same, yet inside, he knew that Mehli was not a wolf. He told me I was lucky to have the skill not to get any cut from the foe since he was sure I would bleed scarlet.

Lord Father Dragar used to tell me that nothing can cut the flesh of the dragon. It turned out a wolf could. I leaned outside of the tent that Bayezid armoured. He got out, wearing a light leather torso and holding a bent sword. "Too light for an old man like you", I mocked. "An old man cannot bear any heavier," he said. He walked to the arena. He raised his sword, turned around, cheered, laughed, and reverenced his audience. He had always liked an audience. Two warriors from Monikien step their feet on the dust with axes, woo, den shields, and massive muscles. Each was nearly two times bigger than him. Bayezid never gave up the first move. He zig-zagged, sliced one of them's legs, then jumped on the other's shield and pushed himself above to knock the man off. The crowd applauded, whistled, danced and sang. Bayezid looked at the men from above. They tried to hide their amusement and had a cloak of anger. They gave up and returned to their tribe's flag while keeping their head low. 

"Are there more of you, or are you too cowardly to step up?!" he shouted restlessly. Champions, or winners of once, came and went with pale faces, furious eyes and backs that got dirty from being knocked off. The last warrior that was about to leave the arena mumbled. "Seems like your son is too weak to make his father show off at his wedding." Bayezid leaned his sword to his throat immediately. "What did you say, boy?" he hissed. The Dresdian young man repeated fiercely. "What kind of man hides behind his father's strength?" The crowd was buried in silence. Bayezid dropped his eyes and placed the sword in its sheath. "My sons..." he started, "never hide behind anyone." A greedy lord among the people sitting on the stones laughed. "Who are you referring to as sons, my king?" At that very instant, the man's face got rubbed and jiggled.

The lord was already too regretful, I could tell. Bayezid grabbed the spear that held the flags of the tribes and threw it to the lord's chest. As his eyes got white and his face buried in the mud, the peasants took his corpse outside the gathering. The Dresden boy had already vanished within the audience. Mehli stood up from his throne. "I shall request a challenge among young warriors that I, too, will join." Bayezid nodded; he left the arena and sat next to Lady Tomris. While Mehli walked into the field, his rivals entered one by one. They were neither resisting nor attacking, taking their time on the area until it was signalled to lose.

I couldn't bear the puppet show any longer and walked to another arena where other attendees challenged each other. I saw Vukasin handling six men. They soon lost their weapons; some fell and tried to run. Vukasin didn't let them leave. Men surrounding the arena rushed to the field to beat him, their number reaching twelve, but Vukasin could still knock them off. His eyes were reddish and blurred. There was a dead sea inside of them. One of the warriors sliced a cut on his cheek. Blood droplets glided onto his chin. He abruptly hurled all the other men; they found themselves crying in sorrow on the ground.

Vukasin let go of his sword and started to punch the man who cut fatally. He was not stopping; curtains of rage blinded his eyes. I shouted, "Prince Vukasin!" He was not hearing. I pulled him backwards; he tried to punch me. I grabbed his hand in the air. He reached for his sword, and so did I. I let him get rid of his anger for a while, so the duel between us continued, but then I understood that it must end. I fled from his vigorous attack and tangled my sword to his in a quick wrist trick. I cast it out and kicked him to the ground. He didn't fall but rocked a bit. He didn't look me in the eye and took the sword on the field to his sheath. "What is wrong with you?" I asked. He didn't respond. He suddenly faced north. His face got softened and humane. I followed his eyes and saw a shadow of a woman going after the stone walls. Vukasin spit blood to my front. "This does not count as a duel," he whispered. I nodded. "You do not seem fine." He smiled, which somehow worried me. "I will be," he said finally and went in the opposite direction where we saw the woman figure. I was going to follow, but I heard Mehli's cheers of victory, and Bayezid was gone. 

I found him drinking behind bars for fetching. He looked at me; there was disappointment settled into his eyes. "A wolf does not lie, especially in a battle." He continued, "And a wolf is not ashamed of his cub." He sighed. "Jaromir, I've always believed that we are born as wolves, but I realized we are made to be wolves in the way." 

"We are made to love or hate the rest is trivial," I said, then accompanied him to his throne among the other lords. "Where is Lady Tomris," he asked. I was startled. Her maid said that she went to change his dress. Mehli was still on the field, and all the crowd members were cheering and applauding. He paced the young warriors and princes in order and said he would pick one to finalize the duels. I weakly saw Lady Tomris meddling in the audience beneath the stone wall in a hurry. After a while, she found her place near us. My eyes widened as I saw Vukasin entering the arena. I noticed the blood droplets sneaking out from a small scar on his bottom lip, which was not there when I left him. "Fight me!" he shouted. Mehli was terrified. "Fight me, and I will make this whole absurdity real!" Bayezid looked at me in confusion. Even though I wouldn't say I liked Mehli's show, Vukasin had to lose to him. A lost battle of a prince at his wedding would be a political scandal. So I approached him, and our eyes met from a distance. He rejected. Mehli had an imitation of a laugh. "I won't fight you; you are already in so much... red." Then Vukasin had that laugh of a crazy evil man. He walked under the thrones. "I demand..." he was out of breath. "I demand, Lady Tomris' handkerchief." Mehli squeezed his teeth. She hesitated at first but then gave it in a stone-cold manner. She was looking into Vukasin's eyes in hatred. Vukasin was looking back in rage and misery. I thought it was sweat soaking his cheeks, but his eyes did not sweat. He wiped the blood on his face with the handkerchief slowly.

All that was left was a blood clot on his lips. Mehli shouted beneath. "I accept the challenge!"