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a hot gust of air swept across the square of the small village where most of the villagers had gathered around a hastily erected stand. The stand bore the mark of Queen Furyana and behind it sat one of her elite guards. The guard was an old man, his skin scarred from many wounds and weathered by many years under the relentless sun. Before him lay a stack of papers with lists of names of people he didn't know. They were the names of people that were marked for enrolment in the army of Eidolon. Why he, an elite soldier and veteran of many battles had been assigned to herd these commoners to the Arena he couldn't grasp.
A low sound from the other side of the stand brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up from his papers and stared into the face of a young boy who was crying. The boy was the last one in the line that had been rather long considering the size of the village.
"What are you whimpering for, kid?"
The boy tried to answer but the words drowned in the tears.
"By the gods, what a group!" the soldier muttered under his breath, feeling even more sorry for himself for being out here in the wastelands.
"State your name, boy, so that we may be done here! I have two more places to go before we return to the Doomsphere."
"Da...Dagan," the boy finally managed to speak.
"Good. Go to the wagon along with the others and we'll be off in a few minutes."
"But I don't want to go! I want to stay here with my mom and friends."
The old warrior couldn't believe his ears.

what?! You know perfectly well that it is the law. You're 15 years old now and as such you are old enough to be introduced to the ways of Eidolon. Besides, your friends will probably join you soon at the arena..."
"That's a stupid law!" the boy cried back in a sudden burst of defiance.
The soldier was just about to slap the boy with the back of his hand when he realised that the boy reminded him of himself in his younger days.
"You have to go, everybody has to." ...
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