From the upper balcony, the directors of the four academies observed the arena below. Draped in velvet and guarded by silent knights, it was a place meant for power and judgment.
Torwan sat with his arms crossed, face unreadable as the final blow of the match landed. Tyria collapsed, defeated. His fingers tapped once on the armrest before he turned his gaze toward Nicolas von Aldros.
"Who is that boy?" Torwan asked, his voice calm but laced with subtle irritation.
Nicolas gave a short glance at the arena, then back to his colleague. "A student from my academy. His name is Noel Thorne, you should have heard him from the announcer."
Torwan tilted his head slightly. "Interesting. Would you consider a student exchange, Nicolas?"
Nicolas let out a faint chuckle. "No, that won't happen."
Then, rising from his seat, he straightened his coat. "Excuse me. I need to visit the restroom."
