"Does the Academy expect me to lose twice, or is this just a very specific threat?"
Martin stood in the center of the crowded tournament registration hall, pointing up at the massive runic projection board hovering over the plaza. The evening air was loud with the voices of hundreds of students checking the preliminary combat brackets.
Alex followed Martin's finger. The glowing blue text clearly listed Martin Vance in Arena Two against a heavy infantryman at noon, and then listed Martin Vance again in Arena Three against a skirmisher at two o'clock. Another first-year mage from the wind delegation was completely missing from the board.
"You should be flattered," Maya said, stepping up beside them. She crossed her arms, frowning at her own section of the bracket. "They only scheduled me to get flattened once. I drew Brant. He's a shield specialist. Heavy armor, low mobility, designed entirely to absorb close-range physical hits."
