Overall, the system had always seemed a proper, efficient one to Hecar, until now. After hearing about the doubts and uncertainties of those who had departed the empire, he had to wonder.

A distant roar made him turn his gaze to the only structure in the distance that dwarfed even the palace.

The Great Circus.

It was as massive a colosseum as any built on the face of Ansalon, perhaps all of Krynn. Its architects had designed it with the thought that the entire minotaur race could be seated within, there to watch matters of justice and honor settled in hand-to-hand combat, as was the way of Hecar's kind. While the population had long ago outgrown the Great Circus, it still allowed a good portion of the imperial city's citizenry to enjoy the spectacles. There was no other building as important to minotaurs as the Great Circus, not even the palace, the central temple, or the headquarters of the Supreme Circle. The Great Circus was where the mightiest champions fought one another to prove their supremacy. It was where entire clans could be displaced from power.

It was where any minotaur who had proven himself worthy enough, who had risen in rank beyond all other champions, could challenge the present emperor and, if successful, succeed him as ruler. The imperial palace and everything within it would then belong to the victor. He or she would be the hand of the empire, guiding the race ever closer to its destiny. One day soon, so the priesthood kept proclaiming, a minotaur who would lead his people to dominate Krynn would sit upon the throne.

Hecar snorted. Of course, a challenger was just as likely to end up dead in the circus, killed by the emperor. Even when an emperor was replaced, which seemed to happen not very often these days, nothing much changed. The past few emperors, including the ones Hecar's father could recall, seemed interchangeably alike.