The fat noblemen held a succulent leg of chicken and took a great bite. He tore at it and barely chewing, he swallowed in glee as the fat and oil exploded with taste upon his tongue. He was watching with glee at the performance below. A roar caused him to shiver and pause for just a moment before he laughed.

Down below him was a tiger that he paid a pretty penny for. This tiger was circling an thin, old man in light leather armour equipped with a short sword and a buckler. This was hardly much protection and the old man seemed to agree as he shook with fear, waving his sword wildly between them. The tiger continued to calmly stalk around him. The old man frozen on the spot. His sweat drenching his long, grey straw-like hair.

He looked behind him and saw that he was trapped. There were boulder-sized holes haphazardly dug at random in the arena. These holes were not pits. They were holes of no return. He looked down and saw the lower level. Darkness. Void. Falling through would mean certain death. At least, it would be an instant death. Better than being torn into pieces and eaten by the tiger, he thought. He considered the act of falling through the air between the lower level and the middle level and considered whether it would feel like flying. He returned his gaze to the tiger who was slowly prowling towards him. He quickly turned to the hole and without further hesitation, he leapt into it just as the the tiger pounced at where he would have been.

The tiger growled with frustration. His food had escaped. It looked around to see if there was something else to replace his hunger. He saw a strong gladiator hold up a dead man to shield against the tiger’s fellow brethren, the bear. The bear mauled at the dead man and chunks of flesh was shredded away, leaving less shield for the warrior behind. After a few swipes, the gladiator attempted a keen thrust at the bear’s stomach but the bear parried the attack away causing the sword to fly across the dusty floor. The gladiator drops the half mangled corpse shield and runs away to perhaps find another weapon.

Further afield, the tiger scans for his other brethren. The lion. He spots the lion in a battle dance with a woman and a man. Both are quite light-footed as they encircle the lion with swords raised. Always ensuring one was in front and one was behind. They seemed to trust each other, nodding their heads and signalling with their hands. Perhaps a wife and her husband. This will not do. The tiger begins a gallop towards them.

The fat noblemen cheers as pieces of half-chewed meat drops from his mouth. These three animals were born and bred in captivity. They were his babies.

“Eat my children. Eat!”