The largest square of the Citadel was packed. Lights and speakers coated the walls and artistic parapets that surrounded the square, though no one noticed. A large square platform sat in the center, a floating island amongst the sheer numbers that had come to see the battle.

A fewer number of people stood within the rooved parapets, separated from the rest of the general population. Each wore blue or red, showing their support for either side of the Battle for the Beverages. Nearly all of Arcona has gathered, friends and colleagues standing with one another to make small talk and burn time. For such a simple disagreement, there was an unusual amount of tension.

Mks had chosen a central opening in the parapets to hang his legs over, the spectacle fully aligned to his senses. No one disturbed him from this venture, as a large grumpy-looking Barabel stood directly behind him, who happened to be his friend and colleague and tended to dissuade any conflict fairly early on.

Zakath shifted his weight and snorted irritably. Again.

“I see no reazon for uz to wait so long bozz.”

The Miraluka didn’t move an inch, “Patience, bae, patience.”

The Barabel paused for a moment before pointedly unfolding his arms, “Bae? No, not thiz again. I hate it.”

Mks came to life and fully turned to face his friend, “What? What do you mean?”

“Thiz word thing. Last week waz ‘turnt’, the week before ‘swerve’. It’z annoying.”

“What? This is the first time- I mean I haven’t noticed-”

“Yez, thiz iz your stupid idea that you’re not young anymore-”

The forced indifference in the seated man was so obvious that a nearby couple moved for the shame. Zakath immediately became furious, his eyes gleaming like a devil’s moon, his every muscle and sinew coiled with concentrated power as his arms tensed to lash out with sharpened talon- until he stopped, took a breath and exhaled it huffily.

“Alright, so concerts aren’t my thing anymore-”

The talons moved forward with haste to physically turn the Miralukas body to face the square.

“You. Are. Not. Old. Turn around, watch.”

“Alright, alright.”

Zakath felt burn of shame for a moment, before catching a rather simple looking human walking in the opposite parapet. The figure immediately stood out and the reptilian hulk suddenly felt the prongs of fear as the figure raised two fingers to his eyes and pointed them- quite pointedly too, at the Barabels person before stalking away into the shadows.

He swallowed and shuffled a little closer to his partner.

Then the music began and the sound was a visual of bobbing heads emanating from the speakers. Spotlights lit opposite corners of the square and immediately the crowds began to part for two small groups of people, one coloured in red cloaks and the other in blue cloaks. They swiftly made their way towards the platform, the groups staying in opposite corners. The crowd went wild for a moment as the hoods of the cloaks were pulled down, chants of the participants names ripe in the air.

A figure dressed in a light grey robe climbed onto the platform and stood within its center.

“People of the Citadel! I welcome you to this grand display and wordy battle to determine who is more correct in this war of soda vs pop! I give you the red corner, with Ernordeth for Soda!”

The crowd roared as Ernordeth stepped forward, a microphone amplifying his voice at the collar. The music changed and he began:

Dehydrated and tired, a young kid playing games that I had acquired,
Staying up past my bedtime, so naughty, but I needed a boost-I wasn’t sorry,
Only one thing on my mind that got me wired, only one thing that I knew that I truly desired,
I wasn’t thinkin’ bout a coffee with biscotti, or windows down in the seat of a ferrari,

Around my throat like a boa, I should’ve already told ya,

I gotta get me some more soda, soda, soda, soda
I gotta get me some more soda, soda, soda, soda
Need least a half a can of soda, soda, soda, soda
Gotta get me some more soda, soda, soda, soda

The crowd stirred into life once more, a mixture of boos and cheers. The grey robed figure stepped forward.

“Wow, folks! That is something we will surely not forget for some time- presumably! Lets throw it to the blue corner and get our response!”

The crowd flared up for a moment until the music restarted and the blue robed Braecen strutted confidently to the center.

Cheeeeeeck, this out:

Not gonna be confrontational, or sensational, but educational and motivational-
In the face of a brother in arms, whose let his charms, disarm his better senses and harms his own two arms, like bad firearms-
How kooky is that? We got the same kinda interests, gaming chill as a cat, we the same kind of specialists-
But time and time again, you express my kinda thirst, so just let me know when, so I can correct you first,

Pop, pop in the fridge-
Pop, pop in the fridge,
You almost got it right, you just twisted a smidge,
Pop, pop in the fridge-
Pop, pop in the fridge!

This time the crowd gave it their all, hooting and jeering with as much volume as they could muster. The grey robed figure walked back to the center of the platform, clearly shaking his head.

“Unbelievable! An incredible response, but what do we all think? Who should go home with the crown?”

The crowd shouted a chorus of names, blending together into nonsense. It became clear, as the minutes went by, that there was no clear winner. That generally, there were other drinks that people could drink and that drinking water was probably better anyway. It was declared a tie and everyone got drunk.