The crowd erupted into massive, deafening cheers.
Just as the announcement was made, quick footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs.
Syrus, Damon's blonde-haired childhood friend, quickly walked up onto the platform. Syrus had ridden his fastest horse from the city the moment he heard the wild gossip about the death match.
Syrus quickly walked over and sat down on a wooden chair right beside Damon. He looked out at the field, his face full of deep, genuine worry.
"Damon," Syrus whispered softly, leaning completely close to Damon so Howe could not hear them.
"Your best man, Gideon, is completely unconscious in the back tent," Syrus said urgently. He had just spoken to the panicked camp guards outside. "And someone else is standing in his place on the field."
Syrus looked at the slim, anonymous figure in black.
