The general looked at the remaining contenders... Had he, for once, bitten off more than he could cover? However, a figure arrived that stood out among the rest; it wasn't height or corpulence; it was something that made it even more different, although the general couldn't know what.
That newcomer approached, little by little, another rival? Surely that was the champion of this race; he noticed it in his skin, in his sharpened instinct after centuries...
"Dear General Varnión, I beg your pardon to this humble High Ambassador for not having been able to come out to receive you properly. My name is Lion, and I hope that your excellency will accept my apology and my offer of a glass of mead before continuing if you wish." with such spectacular combats." A fly was offering him an excuse and an honorable way out of the mess he had gotten himself into.
