Prince Arlan and the mages left the arena. The gate groaned shut behind him.
The twelve knights arrived in the center of the arena, facing each other across the stone.
Six in crimson red, their armor glinting under the afternoon sun. Six in light green, shields raised, maces held ready.
The crowd waited, anticipation thick in the air.
Movement caught Ryan's eye to the left.
Prince Arlan appeared on the outstretched, lavish platform directly above the gate he'd exited through. The wind mages took positions on either side of him as he remained standing. A woman in an elegant dress and a few other select nobles sat on the cushioned seats behind him, watching.
The prince raised his fist. The sound of the crowd dimmed partially but most had not noticed him.
The wind mages began their quiet chanting, and the familiar gusts swirled around them.
"Begin the melee, great Knights!" Prince Arlan's voice carried throughout the arena.
