Round Robin Story Debate Tournament

Asakia laid awake late into the evening as he began to contemplate challenging his father’s leadership. It was not unheard of in the tribe to challenge standing powers, but for many generations before his own the chieftain’s role passed gracefully from father to son as the age became a hinderance to the execution of the chieftain’s duties. Asakia’s plot to stage his coup d'etat would have been out of his character, but under the tutelage of his father’s leadership over the tribe, the plains were bare and the herds had migrated away. The priest accredited the tribe’s difficulty to their own spiritual impurity, but Asakia held his father responsible. Challenging his father could only end in the survival of one, and not both. The thought of killing his father before the tribe he sought to lead was daunting, but the possibility that the unrelenting hardship cast upon the tribe was equally so. As the sun rose, Asakia resolved to call on his father before the tribe. An unrestful night yielded anxiety in the day to come, but at the break of dawn, the trajectory of the tribe’s progression would forever change. “Father! Stand before me! Stand before your people!” Asakia solemnly called. “On what occasion do I rise?” The chieftain emerged from his quarters. “There is no food, father. The herds have moved on. The rivers are dry. We face immeasurable hardship!” Asakia accused. “The priest cites our spiritual impurity. We have contemplated cannibalism in the wake of hardship! In the shadow of our greatest challenge, so have we dwelled in the moral shadows of our civilization!” The chieftain spoke with great power, as a crowd began to gather. “Our spiritual impurity does not drive the antelope from our reach! Our spiritual impurity does not forestall the rains! Our spiritual impurity does not make arid our soils!” Asakia became furious. “Yet, despite all of these things, our aging chief does nothing!” “Is that a challenge, my son?” The chieftain lowered his voice. “Stand and fight, father! Stand and fight! If it is willed that you continue to lead our people, then I shall die before you!” Asakia raised his sword and approached his father. The crowd hung in disbelief. “You choose a sword rather than a spear?” The chieftain’s intrigue was mirrored by the crowd’s. “You are no prisoner.” Asakia ran forward. The chieftain drew his sword as Asakia came closer, and with swift, deliberate grace sidestepped his son’s brazen attack. “Is that all?” The chieftain’s angst in the wake of his son’s challenge was noticeable. “Drop your sword! We will settle this without blood!” Asakia said as he walked back toward his father and dropped his own sword. Asakia threw his fist toward the chieftain’s neck, but the chieftain grabbed his son’s arm and maneuvered his son to the ground. The chieftain placed his foot on his son’s throat. “Be gone, my son. Do not return. It is not fitting that you should die today, though I could kill you now if I chose. I grant you mercy instead. Be gone, my son.” The chieftain’s voice was hollow with sadness, but uncompromising in authority. Asakia’s motion indicated concession, and the chieftain stepped aside after helping his son to his feet. “You are weak.” Asakia accused. “I challenged you and you let me live. Yours is a pathetic gesture of impotence!” “You are young, bold and naïve. You know nothing of hardship, and you lack faith. In due time, I expect the process of maturity to resolve your inequities, but until that time, you are unwelcome among the tribe.” The chieftain placed his hands on Asakia shoulders. The crowd was silent, as Asakia drew a knife from concealment. “And your time on this earth is finished.” Asakia whispered, as he thrust the knife into the Chieftain’s chest. “I love you, my son.” The chieftain gasped for air, just as the prisoner had with the spear protruding from his chest, before he fell dead onto the ground.