The official announced the next match in the tournament. "Our next competitors: Aithen the Wanderer against Lord Elian Orvannis!"
The crowd settled into an expectant hush as the two fighters took their positions. Aithen the Wanderer was massive. He was a mountain of a man who carried his spear as casually as most would carry a walking stick. His weapon was nearly seven feet long, tipped with a sharp blade that was the size of an average person's head.
Lord Elian Orvannis, in contrast, was the very image of aristocratic refinement. His midnight-blue tunic bore the silver embroidery of his house, and the sword at his hip looked like it was forged for someone whonhad a lot of momey.
"Orvannis is favored to win," one of the tournament officials murmured nearby. "His family produces warriors who go on do great things."
