Welcome to My Barbeque.
By DJ Carter
I've never seen anything like it.
Two commanders, both staring each other down, on their own field of war, flames surrounding them.
Their war isn't of weapons; of magics. Nor is it of troop movements, gauged from stallions of war.
This is a war of wills; a contest driven by the need to outdo the other by sheer intelligence, by brilliance.
One, dressed eloquently. His very presence says 'royalty.' The other, dressed extravagantly, a wicked smile on his face
The second yells over the roar of the burning hot flames, "Hand over the girl!"
And for a second, if you look, I bet you can see the first wince.
"I've no clue who you're talking about!"
"Then, welcome to my barbeque!"
As the younger of the two stares down his opponent, a slow smile comes to his face.
He walks towards the rear of the castle, still a measured smile, as if to say, 'Nice try, but I'm still better.'
With those two words, said only to me, I knew who had won, who was the better, who had won the contest of wills.
"Yes Sir! Right away, Sir!"
Knocking on the door behind me, I turn back to where the action is.
I don't pay attention to the words, anymore. But as the home commander turns again, he smiles towards me, and nods.
This barbeque was over.
Author's Notes: Response to Joel Pan (Ketsugi) of RPGamer's fanfic challenge.