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This—this was what it meant for the air to be full of passion.
Spectator seats towered over the circular field of battle, covered with tents to keep the sun off. There must have been room for ninety thousand people. The seats had been arranged with careful calculation and planning such that the contests would be visible from every one of them. No one had reason to complain, no matter where they were seated. Indeed, instead they would be thanking the Trade God if they had the good fortune to purchase a tessera, an entry ticket.
Out of the eighty rounded arches, no fewer than seventy-six were allocated for spectator use. Each tessera had a number from 1 to 76, indicating the gate through which the spectator was to enter. Row and seat numbers were also given, leading each person directly to their seat.
Guests sat on the provided cushions, bought snacks from the sellers who worked the rows, and waited with barely contained excitement for the spectacle to begin. They were watching a circular field of combat covered in white sand. Here, swordfighters competed against one another daily, no quarter asked and none given, all in offering to the Valkyrie, who, legend told, had fought once here herself a very long time ago.
Admittedly, the statue of the Valkyrie had recently come under serious criticism—but today of all days, there would be no questions. The statue of the Valkyrie stood proudly uncovered, watching over the battlefield.
Hoh! May the Valkyrie see the deeds that are done!
But it was more than the exterior accoutrements of the coliseum that deserved attention. The bowl at the bottom, believe it or not, could be filled with water to stage naval battles. It had been said this would no longer be possible after the construction of underground passageways, greenrooms, and even an elevator. But the engineering capabilities of the dwarves, who could make it so not a single drop escaped, were something to behold! They worked the stone with their exceptional abilities, renovating the coliseum while maintaining all the equipment. If facing and overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles was the essence of worship of the Valkyrie, then those dwarves were faithful warriors in their own right.
And now today, another such warrior, a young woman, was in the underground passageway.
“Ah… Ahhh… I th-think I’m suddenly having an attack of nerves…”
Shaking violently, equipped with hand-me-down armor and sitting on a donkey, was a rhea girl. The jousting spear she’d been given looked almost comically large compared to her tiny body. She held it easily, though, even considering that it was a lightened wooden instrument designed to shatter.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet,” said the boy holding the donkey’s reins with a glance at his partner. He could look her right in the face, because she had her visor up—maybe she felt a bit suffocated keeping it down, what with the cotton padding and a heavy metal helmet over that.
Her teeth were gritted like she was trying to control herself, and her eyes flicked back and forth. “I’m n-n-not. I just c-can’t get my body to stop shaking!”
“That’s a good sign.” He prevented himself from adding the words that flitted through his mind: I think. Instead, he patted her lightly on the thigh. He could never have done it if she hadn’t been wearing armor—or if they hadn’t been in exactly the position they were.
He wasn’t used to spending all his time, waking and sleeping, with a girl his own age. (Well, technically, their ages were very different.) It was nothing like being with his older sister.
“Your body and your brain can each be doing their own thing. Your body’s just getting ready to fight,” he said.
“Y-you think so…?”
He was only repeating something he’d heard, but the rhea girl clung to it for dear life.
In fact, he suspected, it was as simple as this: The moment was upon them, and she was scared. He didn’t let that ugly thought onto his tongue but instead swallowed it down. She didn’t need quibbling explanations—over the years, he’d learned that much.
“Yeah. It’s like…doing warm-up exercises. You should move a little yourself.”
“Oh… Yeah, you’re right.” She actually listened to him, twisting in her saddle and shaking herself out as best she could. Her armor clanked as she moved, and then she looked at him again, worried. “I’m not sure I can raise my shoulders…”
“Well, why would you need to do that for a joust?”
Thus, Wizard Boy cut straight through her fears. Anxiety was words; namely, a spell. Words didn’t have to be words of true power to have power nonetheless.
“Just make sure you stretch them out before the sword fight, and you’ll be fine.”
“R-right…!”
Not long after, the fight before theirs must’ve ended, because there was a huge cheer from the hallway, in the direction of the light of the battlefield. Wizard Boy could sense the rhea girl taking deep breaths. He patted her back gently. She nodded: Right. The hand holding her lance moved to lower her visor.
“If you please, it’s your turn,” said a woman who wore armor covering only the most essential places. She was one of the clerics of the Valkyrie, distinguished warriors who believed that so long as their vital parts were covered, they could take care of everything else themselves. “I wish you good luck in your battle!”
“Mm! Thanks,” Rhea Fighter replied with as much conviction as she could. Her helmet was fastened in place with another clank, and then she let out a breath. “Let’s go!”
“You got it.”
Wizard Boy tugged on the donkey’s reins and started forward. The animal began to move, the clop of hooves echoing in the hall. As they approached, the light of the battlefield seemed to get bigger, stronger, until it filled their entire field of vision with white…
“Oh, wow…!” the girl exclaimed at the deafening cheers that rained down on them from every side.
They were not, however, cheers of welcome for her. The crowd was simply thrilled to see another battle. If one of the contestants was a little girl far smaller than any of them had expected, so much the better. Maybe she would go flying in spectacular fashion—or otherwise show her tenacity. That was what flourished among those spectators: a heartless disinterest in the rhea, a certainty that she could be nothing special.
“Uh… Ah…” Rhea Fighter clenched her teeth, which threatened to chatter loud enough to be heard through her armor. I shouldn’t have come, she thought. She didn’t belong here. She would only embarrass herself. She should quit now.
She had heard those words and others like them leveled against her many times in the past. She’d always fought back, but now they swirled in her head. She’d thought she had chased them away long ago, but here they were, pressing in, threatening to crush her.
After all, just look: Look at her opponent, the knight standing at the far end of the two parallel tracks of the field. The heavy armor. The warhorse on which he sat. The plethora of decorations to be expected at a jousting tournament.
Those decorations alone set the opponent apart from her at that moment. And the servant who stood by the knight was dressed like the very picture of nobility. The rhea girl was not familiar with the station known as a herald. Or at least, she hadn’t been until her partner, the boy, had volunteered to be hers. As a result, when confronted with a real knight and a real herald, she was at a loss for what to do.
The herald unrolled a scroll and began to recite his master’s family history at a clip:
“Ahem! Before you stands a knight of the plains of the four corners. His father distinguished himself doing battle against the Death, while his grandfather…”
The litany of achievements went on for a full six generations into the past. The rhea girl, of course, had nothing of the sort. She hardly even followed what the herald was saying. Thus she could only assume it was somehow her fault that the audience had suddenly fallen quiet.
She flinched when she heard a whisper from beside her: “What a shit herald.”
It was Wizard Boy. She looked at him, her helmet clanking as she did so, but he said only, “Just watch me,” and stepped forward.
No, in fact, he said more than that—Rhea Fighter noticed him intoning the words of the Magnify spell.