Don turned to Varius. His words struck a cord. The older fighter could understand doing regrettable things. His questions about the fight to come forgotten. This clearly more pressing. 
Don placed a calming hand on Varius’s shoulder. His mind going back to some of the things he himself had done. 
Early in his career, Don was a swordsman in a militia. However, after being ordered to slay what he thought were insurgents, only to learn later they were civilians. Don swore never to use a sword again. 
“The path of a warrior is seldom without regrets, comrade.” 
He looked up as the red gate opened revealing the opponents. He released his hand from Varius’s shoulder. 
“Prove you’re a better man than you were a year ago.” 
Don stepped into the arena. Looking back at Varius. 
“You wouldn’t let me take them all on by myself?”