Where Harriet's breathing had been a whistling wheeze, Meesei's magic helped to open her throat up again. It started with a sound like a long, constricted gasp, but by the second breath, she appeared stable. At this point, her body began to contract until she was in Orc form again. Just as well, as her beast form might have been too heavy for the stretcher that the healers had brought out to pick her up.

Meesei's offer came with no counter-challenge from any in the audience. Swords were slid back into scabbards, shields were slung over backs, and hammers were rested by their heads on the ground.

A section of the crowd once again parted for Najirra. He was supported by his daughters again, but he gently brushed them off and gestured for them to wait at the edge of the dais as he shuffled the rest of the way to Meesei on his own, limping on his cane. He had a serious face as he walked up to Meesei, but he was not as disappointed or cross as his exit had been. "Champion, thank you for staunching this wound. This one was afraid that this floor would be riddled with the dead my the end of the hour. If I may," Najirra raised one hand up to Meesei's wounded arm and began to speed up the healing process with his own yellow restoring light. "For such grievous crimes, Harriet would be put to death, but these eyes can see a different fate for her on your mind. What fate would you have for her, and for the clan?"

All the eyes in the room were on Meesei, expecting an answer. Indeed, the fight was meant to be to the death.