Will of the Battlefield

The sparkling chandeliers lost their shine, musical instruments lost their sound.

The voice of a teen overpowered them all as Thane stood tall.

Reginald was never called an old man. No one said that out of respect and fear.

But Thane was not common, he was a unique kid.

Reginald smiled, he was not angry. "Very Ironforge behavior," he said to himself.

He gently tapped his thighs as he stood up. "You want to fight, young man?" he asked.

Thane nodded in affirmation.

Reginald glanced at the lanky man, and Topda cautiously gazed back. "He’s a simpleton."

Simpletons are people who are not successful at receiving a blessing at the age of eighteen.

Only one in a hundred is blessed, the rest of the populace are simpletons.

Topda was offended. He was a fighter of The Pit, one of the very best amongst simpletons.

"He is an experienced fighter. I’ve watched quite a few of his fights. He is your natural enemy, are you sure?" Reginald asked.

"Yes," Thane replied without even thinking. Only thoughts of his earlier failure roamed his mind.

Many wise men quoted things about anger. One said, ’Anger is like a flame blazing up and consuming our self-control, making us think, say, and do things that we regret later.’

Others said, ’You will not be punished for your anger, you will be punished by your anger.’

But Thane never read those. The only anger-management quote he knew was, ’Holding your anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.’ His father’s words.

So why not make the other person drink the poison? Then he’ll surely die.

That was the conclusion Thane came to, and his father laughed.

Thane glared at him. "Fight for your pride. Is money everything to you?"

"Uh... no shit. I was born in a brothel. I got no pride, dumbass," Topda retorted with a smirk.

Vidu silently watched without saying anything, that’s why Topda took his steps back.

Max and Hawk tried to stop Thane. "Thane, what are you doing? He is a professional fighter.

We have the aspirant test in a week."

Thane shook his head. "I can’t let it go. I won’t be able to face my sister."

The vague memory of him getting knocked out and a knife resting upon Max’s neck clouded his judgment.

He wanted to earn his pride back in front of Max, no, in front of the entire palace hall.

"Fair enough," said Reginald before pondering for a moment and continuing. "Alright then, I will pay 1000 gold coins to the winner. Will that make you fight the lad?"

Topda’s eyes widened. He gave a look to Vidu Morris, who slightly nodded his head. "For that money, I can even kill this fatass."

Reginald clapped his hands. "Alright, you beautiful bastards, it’s showtime. Anyone willing to place bets?"

He then turned to Thane. "Give us half an hour, lad."

Thane had no other choice and nodded. "Ok, old man."

Reginald cracked into laughter again. He really was not used to that word.

The chairs were removed, many nobles ran away, the news reached new ears, and with that came new people, solely for the fight.

There were no tickets, but there was betting. The oddsmakers discreetly put out the odds, inspecting both candidates.

Topda was a 6’4" tall guy, weighing 85 kg with a body fat percentage of 5 to 6%. His musculature stood out with definition.

His build focused on speed, agility, and explosive power. His record was 42-4-1.

He was likely the favorite against the inexperienced fighter, Thane, despite his bulk.

Experience, fight IQ, and reach advantage usually outweigh raw size in professional combat sports amongst simpletons.

The favorite was Topda with odds of 1/9.

Thane was the underdog with odds of 8/1.

Preparations were done. Almost everyone bet on Topda, every sane person would do the same.

But Max didn’t. He hurried back to the casino and brought the money he had in his locker.

13,000 gold coins, that’s what he earned in two years. His entire savings.

Hawk brought out 2,144 gold coins, his total fortune. John also bet 4,000 gold coins. He was not willing to, it was a doomed fight.

But for his nephew, he did. They all bet on Thane.

This bet was hosted by Ildiem. He would bear the losses and enjoy the gains, while Reginald merely helped with the arrangements.

He asked Ildiem Zenonar, "Can I bet?"

A bead of worried sweat rolled down from Ildiem’s cheek.

Reginald rarely placed bets, but when he did, he bankrupted sportsbooks.

Even so, most of his bets ended in losses. "Please, don’t," Ildiem pleaded.

"Tsk." He clicked his tongue. "I’ll bet on Thane."

Ildiem looked at him. Does he know something I don’t?

No, this is just his habit of showing off. There is no way Thane will win.

There was a high chance Thane would lose. The experts made the odds, but if he won, Ildiem would face a huge blow.

It was a win-lose situation. It would put him in a similar position to Max’s and Vidu’s.

But how did he even reach this far? Risks are necessary for huge leaps in business.

He braced himself and nodded. "Sure, you can bet on him."

"You sly chameleon, changing colors so fast. I like that part of you," said Reginald as he moved towards the temporary betting counter at the corner of the hall.

He signed a paper. "I place 100,000 gold coins on Thane."

He said it loudly. Everyone heard it, and in that moment, their opinions shifted.

Why was Reginald placing so much on this young unknown man?

"No, that’s just how he is. He has too much money to spend.

He always places his money on the losing side and mostly loses, but when he does win, he earns a shitload of money that recovers his previous losses."

With those words, people calmed down. At least, the majority did.