A few hours later.
The tournament was halted for a midday break. Leonhardt gathered Alden, Althea, and the rest of his crew in a curtained tent behind the stands. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sand. For a long moment they simply stared at one another, bruised and battered, the crackle of torchlight flickering on their haggard faces.
Leonhardt crossed his arms. "Alright," he said quietly, "we need a plan. Who else is dangerous enough to win this crown?" Alden, sitting up and still bandaged, glanced around the small group. "That golden priestess, Aurelia," he said. "Marked by the church—she carries a divine aura. They say she can heal mid-fight." Another man spoke quietly, "House Lionfelt's favorite, Sir Gregor the Bull, still stands undefeated. His sponsor is a duke on the council." A scarred fighter added, "And Lady Marisol from House Onyx and the Valkyr sisters—sponsored by the same count—they always have each other's backs."
Althea listened carefully, hood still low. No one looked at her twice yet. She cleared her throat softly. "What about the swordsman from Ostro, Kieran? He strikes fast, too fast. Rumor says he's a heretic—maybe even sold his soul for speed." Leonhardt nodded slowly. "They say one warrior tonight dabbles in demon magic. Flames were seen around him with no torch." The youngest of the crew, Sylv, shivered. "I even heard whispers that an elf is fighting in disguise." Leonhardt spared Althea a long look at that.
They moved on to tactics. Leonhardt ran a hand through his hair. "We need to strike carefully. Last thing is to face these brutes head-on. We have speed and guile on our side." Alden spoke up, "Focus on picking off weaker fighters first. Don't rush the giants. Take them one at a time." Althea added quietly, "We should watch for feints and tricks. I've seen moves I can't explain." The others nodded; everyone knew what was at stake.
The discussion turned to sponsorships. "Count Ebrin backs Lady Marisol," a guard named Harved said. "If she's still alive late, there'll be extra swords coming at her." Leonhardt frowned. "Ruling houses, city lords, the archbishop… everyone's got a stake. Alliances are everywhere." He met each face in turn, steady and grim. "Our advantage is we fight for ourselves. No strings or patron. We must use that. Keep our names hidden. Trust only each other."
They fell silent. Outside, the horn would sound soon. Leonhardt felt a hard determination building in his chest. His crew were fierce and clever, but even the cleverest could be outplayed. Althea's heart hammered — every rumor she'd heard was another way to be found out. Leonhardt exhaled slowly. "Stay sharp, stay alive," he said finally. "We go back out soon. Let's not die in each other's way."