Gideon Ironmaw stood at the highest tower of the Savage Communion's fortress, his hands gripping the stone balustrade with enough force to crack the reinforced material. His golden eyes, so similar to his father's, stared westward toward the distant border where he knew the confrontation that would determine his future was about to unfold.
Today was the day. After years of anticipation, the duel between his father and Arthur Nightingale would finally take place.
"Young Master," came a hesitant voice from behind him, "perhaps you should reconsider—"
"He's already gone," Gideon cut off his advisor without turning around, his voice carrying the kind of bitter resignation that had settled over him like a shroud. "Father felt Arthur's mana signature an hour ago and left immediately, despite every council member begging him to wait for backup."
