Onark wielded dual longswords with royal blue handles. Aagon carried two white metal wands.
Kerrov's hands were still empty. Keeping his bloodlust running, Kerrov respectfully bowed to the elder duo.
"Since we're sparring, would you mind choosing who strikes first, Lord Tiberius?"
That off-the-cuff question said plenty about the new Chateau Elder. The vast majority of the crowd wouldn't read too much into it. But any capable soldier, mercenary, or disciple could catch the intent.
The pair of elders held back their tongues, not letting themselves reply. Because Kerrov had just avoided embarrassing them by asking them to attack first.
To Feerah and Ribard on the lower platform, as well as others like Hathon and Bolton in the crowd, that question reeked of nonchalance. The unknown elder stared back at Onark and Aagon with the gaze of a full-bellied bear, unenthused to catch the new prey in front of him.
