The group hurriedly moved to the cover of the wooden stands. Rain drumd against the roof above them, a steady rhythm that did nothing to calm Ryan’s growing nerves.
Captain Vera stood near the front with Principal Helena, both watching the group approaching.
"Accusers," Vera said. Her tone was neutral but commanding. "You have under thirty minutes until the Trial begins. Armour up. I’ll verify your tiers when you’re ready."
Ryan nodded and unslung his backpack.
The others did the sa.
They spread out slightly, each claiming space to don their equipnt. Ryan pulled out his plain armour piece by piece—breastplate, great helm, pauldrons, greaves, gauntlets.
Ryan slipped his bracelet off, and left it in his bag’s pouch.
He glanced at his brothers as they worked.
Jas and Jared wore nearly identical armor—both sets were also provided by Gregory. They were solid armour, well-maintained but void of decorations. Practical gear for soldiers, not nobles.
Marcus’s armour was different entirely.
Very light. A leather cuirass reinforced with thin steel plates that wouldn’t restrict movent. Though he had a strong helt— it was aerodynamic, and had a large visor, in contrast to the other three’s full helts that didn’t have visors. And his boots—Ryan noticed them imdiately—they had small yellow-tal wings attached at the ankles.
Marcus caught Ryan looking and grinned. "The gods favour the swift, Brother Ryan."
His weapons completed the image: a small round shield strapped to his back, a long ornate dagger at his hip, and six smaller throwing daggers sheathed in a bandolier across his chest.
Jeremy, similar to Ryan and the brothers, wore plain armour. No symbols. No house markings. Just solid, functional steel—lighter than what Ryan, Jas, and Jared wore, but heavier than Marcus’s leather. He carried his short spear in one hand and his large round shield in the other, and was shadow-boxing but with weapons.
Ryan pulled on his gauntlets and picked up his great helm. He stared into it for a mont before sliding it over his head.
The world narrowed to the slit in front of his eyes.
He imdiately felt claustrophobic. The rain, the mist combined with the helt made him feel trapped.
He adjusted the fit and sheathed the mace into his belt.
Ryan reached for his blade.
"They’re here," Jared said quietly.
Ryan turned.
Six figures had erged on the opposite side of the arena. Moving to the stands that held Captain Vera and the principal.
Navius’s team.
Even from a distance, their armour was remarkable.
Navius himself led them, clad in the most extravagant armor Ryan had ever seen. Deep red tal, the colour of fire. It was etched with all sorts of symbols to do with fla. There were tallic flas coming off of his entire body. The breastplate bore a roaring phoenix. The pauldrons were shaped like phoenix heads breathing carved flas. Even his gauntlets had flickering patterns worked into the tal.
His visor was open revealing his face. He seed... nervous.
Five fighters flanked him, three of which wore similar red armour. Fire symbols marked their breastplates and helms, but the decoration was toned down—not as ostentatious. Their visors were closed.
They were most likely strong tier 1 students paid to fight by the Rellicks.
The final two fighters stood slightly apart.
One wore silvery armour decorated with stag horns curving from the pauldrons and deer imagery etched across the chest. The steel glead even in the dim pre-dawn light. Although it was simple, it was so of the most beautiful armour Ryan had seen yet.
The other wore black armor with a red tree emblazoned across the breastplate—branches spread out wide, roots reaching down. A Blackwood.
Both had their visors open.
Even from the distance, Ryan could recognise them.
The two n who’d accompanied Navius during the "duel" with Jas. The ones who’d stood by and watched while Navius cheated with fire magic.
Both were mbers of noble houses. Not paid fighters—but friends of Navius.
"Their armour looks expensive," Jeremy muttered beside Ryan.
"It is," Jas said pitifully. "Probably worth more coin than either of us have ever seen in our entire lives."
Marcus stared across the arena, expression unreadable. "The gods do not judge by the quality of steel. Only by the quality of the soul."
"I hope you’re right, psycho," Jared said.
Ryan’s hands tightened on his sword.
His fingers felt weak. Nervousness made his grip unsteady.
All of them were better equipped. All of them more experienced.
But there’s no going back now.
Many more students had arrived by now—perhaps over two-hundred clustered around the arena’s edge, cloaks above their heads like shields protection the from arrows. Many students were streaming in from all directions.
The wooden stands were also filling. Over half the seating was already filled, and judging by their loud voices, they were clearly enthusiastic for the event to begin.
Captain Vera stepped forward into the center space between the two teams.
"Combatants!" Her voice carried across the arena. "Approach for the verification!"
Ryan’s heart hamred in his chest.
He started walking toward Vera.
"Where’s that mystery knight, Ryan?" Jas pressed.
"Maybe they are sleeping in. They should be here soon. I could hear their voice, I know they wanted to fight for us, they’ll be here."
"Well I just hope that you didn’t fall for one of Navius’ ploys, Ryan." Jas said.
Navius approached Vera first.
Captain Vera took off one of Navius’ gauntlets, and inspected his hand for a mont. She then closed her eyes.
A mont later, she gave him a pass.
The sa weird ritual continued for each one of Navius’ combatants.
It continued the sa way until it got to Ryan.
Vera took his gauntlet off, and began to softly touch Ryan’s wrist.
Ryan then felt a warm sensation in his arm. She was injecting mana inside him. Probing him for his tier.
"You pass... But where is your final fighter?" Vera asked, her eyes examined the surroundings, before returning to Ryan. "I must remind you. A trial can not take place if there are less than six fighters on a team. You will be disqualified."
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