OUTCAST : THE PATH OF A WARRIOR

30. Old-Crust

CHAPTER 30

We walked along Mystic-river, just past the barracks, flowing down the Mount-Alabaster, blessed as it runs through our sacred caves.
The four soldiers escorting me, I assumed were taking me to some kind of fighting pit.

I turned to one of the soldiers, hoping I could pass on a message.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could do something for me, you know just in case I don't make it."

I watched and waited for, at least some kind of response. But after a short silence, a soldier from the rear let off a slight snigger, joined by the rest shortly after.

As we turned a corner several young bulls holding books were following an elder, who was holding a rather long handstaff.

"Stop!" Demanded the old bull, as he stepped in our path, and halting us to a dead stop." Where are you taking him?"

"Out of the way old bull!" Commanded the older soldier." This is none of your business, and next time be careful where you walk, we don't want to knock you over by mistake!"

"The only mistake here, young bull, is your attitude and the error in holding my grandchild, for no reason! Who authorised this abduction?"

"Grandfather, I'm to blame for this! On our arrival last evening I had a misunderstanding with someone, I struck first and I was challenged to a fight."

"I see. So they're taking you to the pit. Who challenged you?"

"Some soldier named Martan, apparently he's some type of bigshot."

"Oh!" Said my grandfather, as his eyes widened." Not to worry Junior, I'll have you safe in bit." He said , before hurrying off.

Old Crust, my grandfather, who got his name from inordinately amount of wrinkles on his leathery face , his skin would turn suddenly onto tidal waves when he gave you his smile.

But for me he was simply the wisest bull I've ever met, never shying away from honestly and the truth.

To others, his political views, mainly about his radical 'peace not war' ways of thinking, was seen as cowardly and offensive, especially by the pro war veterans .

Even though, his ideas didn't suit everyone, for some, his legacy and influence was still felt today, especially through the younger and more modern generations, like myself.

'The days that sending of our young off at the ripe young age of eighteen, an ancient and stupid tradition, must seize immediately!' He would often say, especially at the council meetings.
But that was before, now he spends his time teaching philosophy at the school academy.

We continued our march towards my apparent beating, and I was getting pretty nervous.

Soon we reached the high wall surroundings, which I passed by many times in my youth, now more than ever wishing I've seen what was within.

A large iron gate, made by the finest iron extracted straight from deep within Mount Alabaster , opened to a sweet musical sound at the hinges.

I was prodded to climb the few steps upwards, and entered what looked like a small amphitheater, dug within the grounds.

Seatings for at least a hundred or more circled from the upper stands, where steps from stone slabs lead to six more lower levels. It seemed a lot bigger than I imagined.

I was led down the steps towards the lowest row of Seatings, made from the finest marble, found in the deep mining caves of the same mountain.

Below , surrounded by a three metre high walls, was the fighting pit itself, similar in design, but a lot smaller than the larger arenas of Platorus and even Zonia.