Tipping the Scales

16

If the Sunshine Arena had looked imposing from the outside, the inside was agonisingly more daunting. Once the iron gate lifted in front of him, only the shadow offered by the tunnel entrance shrouded Lukas from the weight of the crowd's eyes, though the noise they produced bore down on him still. The sandy arena floor was cold underfoot. A few rake wielding workers hastily fled the sand pit after raking out bumps and ditches, any evidence from previous fights smoothed away.

"May I introduce you all, to this year's last, but by no-means least, warrior of the noble families," the Game's Master's electric voice rang out, now much more audible inside the towering walls. "He is son to the mighty Maxim Farrow-"

A roar from the crowd drowned out the speech as a giant man stood up and waved to the masses, roaring triumphantly in response to their adoration.

"This promising young fighter, who is said to be strong enough to move mountains, will surely impress us all! Put your hands together, for Alistair Farrow!"

Alistair stepped out into the sunlight and began walking to the centre of the oval, absorbing all the attention and applause in his long, powerful strides. He's truly an imposing figure, Lukas thought as he stood alone and out of view. Much like his father, Alistair's bellowing roars could be heard over the noise of hundreds of cries.

"His partner will be your first fighter from the people of Ferlandia, hailing from," there was a pause, followed by a less than confident shout, "Rosehollow."

"Partner?" Lukas spoke aloud, not even regarding the mispronunciation of his home village.

"Please welcome, to the Sunshine Arena, Lukas Musgrave!"

Lukas left the safety of the tunnelled entrance, emerging into the sunlight and the eyes of all those watching. He could feel the warmth now emanating from the sand underneath and from above, the sun shone over the stands, blinding him anytime he tried to look up. He decided to instead look ahead to Alistair, who stood waiting for him, somehow cast in shadow in the middle of the arena . Lukas couldn't see the onlookers but he felt it was easier this way, as if they weren't even there.

Lukas once again stepped into the shadow, allowing him to finally look around without the eye-watering brightness of the sun. The shadow they were now in was cast by a towered section of the arena, rising above the stands around it. It was from this vantage point that the announcer's voice was radiating on the spectators around him. The tower was impressively decorated in red, flowing velvet adornments and large billowing flags. Within these protected canopies was a row of seven tall wooden chairs, each occupied by figures that were difficult to make out from below. A long flag containing the emblems and colours of the elite squads hung down from the tower in front of each chair. They must be the squad captains. Lukas' eyes flicked to the bright orange and red flag featuring a rising sun and followed it up to the top. He couldn't make out any details, but the figure sitting above the flag had to be Apollo Winthrope. Next to him, sitting above a red and grey flag featuring a half moon alongside a half sun, sat Raya Winthrope. Lukas was able to identify each of the elite squads from teachings at Fort Aspen, including the black and grey of the People's Protectors.

Lukas' attention was next drawn to the centre of the box, behind the chairs of the squad captains. Separated by a lavish red rope sat a large wooden throne, dwarfing the chairs in front of it. In the throne, sat another figure. Lukas silently cursed the brightness of the sky and the positioning of those above for not allowing him to make anything out clearly. Again, he could only deduce that the individual in the throne was a member of the royal Ember family.

Next to him Alistair bowed in the direction of the tower, reminding Lukas of the words of the preacher: the first test, before any combat commences, is showing due respect to our royal family. If you fail to do this, you are liable to be prosecuted for treason and will be sent to slave camps before you can even begin to compete. Lukas felt it was against his nature to bow to someone he had never met, but decided against risking such a fate, and followed suit, stooping his head into a bow.