Chapter 10- Round two start

I take a deep breath waiting for the matches to begin, sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation as the crowd begins to bay and cry in excitement. That's when I see the banners, the sigil of a wolf in pursuit. A tall poised man walking into the arena with an air of nobility, flanked by two men in heavy armour. There is something…. Savage about him, maybe it is the surety in his step, or the austerity of his expression; But he gives me the impression of someone who is entirely relentless. The crowd pushes close to him in curiosity, falling back when he levels a a glare their way. He drifts past commoners and contestants alike; arriving at the podiums where the scribes scrawl notes on long sheets of parchment. His gaze travels over me as he passes by, his clear green eyes seeming to lock me in place. I bite my lip hard, trying to bring myself back to reality.

Where have I seen those eyes before? I think to myself, watching as the breeze picks up and tousles his thick, dark hair. He keeps it long, a turquoise ribbon holding it back from his face as he perches on his seat like a domineering statue; dressed in a nobleman's garb, that consists of a sharp cut waistcoat with long tails over a simple white tunic.

On his hands he wears a pair of black leather gloves and as he dips the quill in ink he looks towards the Crier waving for him to begin. He calls the names talks two of the pairs forwards, gesturing for them to enter the sand before whipping the crowd into an uproar.

"The match is to first blood, the other team must score on both the opponents in order to win the match. Fatal and debilitating blows will not be tolerated during this leg of the competition."The crowd boo's in response, quieting when there lords lifts a black gloved hand to silence their protest. "Let the games begin!" The Crier finally bellows, his voice ringing through the arena.

It is clear that the fighters have some level of experience, it shows in the way the hold their swords and plant their feet. They look like a fairly even match as they face off against each other, one pair looks as if they may be a couple of mercenaries. They have the look of men who have spent time in the south, their skin darkened by the kiss of the sun. The other two are pale faced, although still lean and windburnt, suggesting time served at a post somewhere in the north.

The southerners start to circle as soon as the match is announced. There opponents setting their backs against each other and defending. They strike like vipers, one darting in after the other as they look for weakness in their opponents guard. There first few attacks are quickly repelled by their opponents and when they lunge forward a third time, the northerners dodge, stepping out of the way. One of them catches the edge of the opponent's blade on his arm as they move past. Nearly colliding as they reach the space their enemies used to be. With twin speed, the two men score light cuts on their opponents a bloody line opening up on their exposed sides as they try to regain their balance.

"First blood! The match is concluded and the soldiers of Ironwatch take the round!" Calls the Crier ecstatically.

Most of the fights in these rounds seem to have two teams of relatively even strength pitted against one another, something that is doubtless intentional. It shows off their teamwork, often crippling the teams that lack cohesion. A sinking feeling gathers in my stomach as the rounds wear on, the people slowly filtering onto the arena floor from around us. I catch Devin glancing my way and I see the same thought in his eyes that's sitting behind mine. Two more teams are called forwards and we are left with the stark realization that the ones we will be fighting are each other.

"Bloody hell." I grumble, not bothering to watch the round as it unfolds in front of us.

"Ay, the kid as a nasty fighter and he might just be faster than you." Observes Quentin from beside me.

"I know and the soldier he's paired with has a brilliant defense, if we underestimate him it will be our loss." Quentin raises his eyebrows at me.

"Yah don't think I've learned my lesson today already?" He asks smartly, humour showing as he cracks a wry smile. I grin back at him, shaking my head and tapping my fingers on bench beneath us.

"How do you suggest we do this?" I ask him."You're the one with more combat experience." I can see the thoughts churning in his mind as he puts a plan together and I wait in anticipation.