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As a man in well-fitted, colorful robes called out from the amphitheater’s raised platform, Keldon paced back and forth. He impatiently waited alongside a few others as the first sun began to rise. “I thought Hurman was known for his punctuality?”

“He had a meeting with Shadur now that he’s finished his testing.”

Blinking, Keldon calmed down slightly and glanced at Jonon. “Well... What about Oliver?”

“Knowing him, I bet he wanted to meditate before the tourney began. But he won’t miss it. They’re likely... right there.”

Relief came over Keldon, Jonon, and the others from the Practor family. They didn’t want to enter the arena with their patriarch not present, nor did they want to enter without their representative combatant. But their trust in Hurman and Oli paid off in the end.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Oli shouted as he ran ahead of Shadur and Hurman.

.....

Jonon shook his head with a competitive grin. “Think nothing of it. Just make sure to stick it to everyone and stand proud for the Practor name!”

“Hurman? You don’t–”

“We should be entering now. Excuse my tardiness, as it’s not my custom,” Hurman stated as he stepped through his gathered family and friends. “Follow me and don’t say a word until we’re seated.”

Keldon was quiet but quickly whispered to his nephew at the rear, “What’s wrong?”

“Um... I’ll explain when there’s more time in private...” mumbled Shadur.

As the Practor Family entered the amphitheater they had a full view of the area. The seating circled around center stage and raised platform. Most of the bleachers were built into the ground but there were added stands made of wood for the sale to the less wealthy on a first-come-first-served basis. All seats were packed to the brim, apart from the reserved section still filling up with high-profile families or organizations.

The moment the Practor Family began descending the stairs towards their seats, they were spotted by those running the event.

“As a rare and unexpected sponsor, we have the Practor Family now finding their seats below!” The announcer’s voice carried far as he held a cone to his mouth and put a lot of effort into his vocal cords. “Their entrant this year is neither a student nor a family member. To the surprise of many, the Practor Family has put forward a mysterious young man with unknown capabilities and reputation. We know not their reasoning but we do know that a man such as Patriarch Hurman wouldn’t dare present someone unfit for battle! For that reason, the competitor Oliver has been placed sixteenth on our rankings!”

“Sixteenth?” Hurman blinked. His gaze wandered but failed to find who he was looking for. Instead, Hurman turned to Keldon and asked, “Why is Oliver sixteenth?”

“Well... I wasn’t expecting that either...” Keldon shyly chuckled.

“Keldon, what did you–”

“Either way, we can’t change the strategy now,” Oli stated, continuing to walk as the Practor Family stopped at their seats. “Make sure to hand it off before the first round.”

“Right... But you’ll still explain yourself,” Hurman insisted as he stared harshly at Keldon.

“Professor Lizbeth wanted to learn about Oliver, so I answered a few of her questions but nothing too revealing,” answered Keldon.

“What’s wrong, Hurman? Has your get rich quick scheme failed already?”

Just as everyone had taken their seats and the kids began chatting about sitting so close to the arena, Hurman, Jonon, and Keldon peeked out of the corner of their eyes. They audibly sighed upon realizing who it was sitting next to them. While Sisslia and Cethlin chatted and the youth guessed at the future outcomes of future fights from contestant appearances alone, men remained silent.

“Come on, there’s no need to pout about seeing old friends.”

“Perhaps Graent would count as a friend of Lyle’s but you most certainly aren’t a friend to any of us,” remarked Hurman, not even sparing the man another glance.

“Is that how you should act toward your family’s creditor? Relax! It’s not like we’re here to hound you over payments. You’ve already paid for this moon, so enjoy yourselves a little!” laughed Reginol. “Perhaps you were hoping your little fighter could get a low appraisal so you could bet everything on his first fight and get some actual winnings? Or have I assumed you to be smarter than you actually are?”

“How have you been, Graent?” Jonon asked with a friendly smile, ignoring Reginol’s presence entirely.

Chuckling and grinning, Graent replied, “I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“I heard you’re finally a top manager. Congrats, man!”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you could help us with–”

“Are you so desperate that you need to rely on favors to escape your financial duties?” Regional questioned loudly, making sure everyone nearby heard him loud and clear.

“Keep talking like that and you may end up regretting you have such a gaping mouth...” remarked Hurman, eliciting a loud laugh from those of his family and Keldon, as well as a chuckle from some of Reginol’s masked bodyguards.

“What? Did he say something funny?”

The masked men immediately shut up, no longer showing any signs of life beyond breathing.

“Come on? What was so funny?” Satisfied with their silence, Regional clicked his tongue and looked away from Hurman’s family. “Either way, it seems your strategy for earning some quick cash has been put to an end. Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll squeak past the first round against the fifteenth seed so you can at least leave with some extra coins for your next payment.”

“How have you been, Mertin?”

Beneath his mask, one man blinked but didn’t dare move.

“Come on... You think you can hide from your brother? No mask can hide that coin-pinching, frosty attitude you have.”

“Please, refrain from speaking to my servants without permission,” reminded Reginol. “Perhaps, I allowed him to speak in the past but that was a rare occasion. Maybe if you win a match I’ll allow you to share a cheer or something.”