You go to the combat arena wondering if you know enough about sword fighting to even stand a chance. At least there's comfort in the fact that you'll be competing against another squire.
Too soon, you find yourself in the ill-fitting suit of public armor they gave you looking at the same dirt ground Kelton was fighting on not too long ago. The Queen and the Contessa are gone, but the two young members of the royal family are still there, watching. Maybe their eyes will mercifully be on the archery event.
You take a deep breath and try to find a decent practice sword from the public rack. Eventually you spot one that isn't too bent up and heft it. The balance feels okay.
"Squire Kirk! Please enter the arena!"
That's you. You take a deep breath and walk through the gate. Across the arena, you can already see your opponent emerging. You walk toward each other.
"Good luck," the other squire says in a polite girl's voice. She is short, but she moves easily in her armor, as if it weighs nothing. She must be both strong and nimble to pull that off. You can't see much through her visor, but she looks into your eyes from under determined black eyebrows.