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Ulgar walks back to the Dragoon cordon with his arms raised in victory, watching several thousand bets being paid or lost. Thomas watches with pride and claps Ulgar on the shoulder and hands him a waterskin.
Watching the portly father walk out onto the arena floor Thomas looks with concern. Leaning over to his son he whispers..
"I can't fight him. He trained me for a time, and Im sure he remembers how to trounce me"
Before he can speak more though he notices his wife has already crossed the line into the arena branishing two daggers in her hands, her lithe figure and catlike movements causing a redoubling of cheers from the arena
"Well father.. I'm sure that you're out of practise" she purrs. "but shall we dance?"
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"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?"
-- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
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