Hajin reviewed the arena rules from the private staging tent, listening for the referee's signal beyond the canvas wall.
Grandstands rose along the perimeter, already filling rapidly with registered guild masters, traveling merchants, and seasoned veteran mercenaries from across the realm.
In the private staging tent beneath the south terrace, Ferra handed Hajin a smoothly polished ash staff wrapped in cord.
"I treated the grain with heat-hardened resin and mountain beeswax," she explained, gesturing toward the smooth timber.
"It will withstand three hundred pounds of direct impact without cracking or splintering under heavy dueling blades."
"Thank you, Ferra," he replied, sliding his hands along the braided grip to test the friction.
She stepped behind him, checking the leather scabbard straps that secured his matched twin blades across his back.
"Are you nervous about fighting three top-ten rankers without your summons?" she asked, tightening a buckle.
