The morning sun climbed steadily above the temporary military encampment, bathing the competition grounds in warm golden light. The spirit flames beneath both cooking stations had long since died away, leaving only gentle wisps of fragrant steam drifting lazily through the open square.
The two completed meals rested upon polished wooden tables.
One represented the military kitchens of the Black Iron Mercenary Group.
The other...
A quiet challenge from a single woman.
Rows of Death Riders surrounded the arena, their dark armor glimmering beneath the sunlight. More soldiers continued arriving from every direction, squeezing themselves between supply wagons and temporary tents in hopes of catching a glimpse of the contest everyone had been discussing since dawn.
Even workers carrying sacks of grain had conveniently discovered reasons to slow their pace.
Nobody wanted to miss the result.
