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Miguel stood, shaking in his amour. It was too heavy for him and his sword felt wrong in his hands. Sweat poured down his brow. Miguel was a lighteyes of low Dahn and had only joined Sadeas’s troops last month. It was entirely an accident that he was here now fighting for Sadeas’s Slayers. The man who was meant to be fighting had unexpectedly fallen ill four days back and Miguel just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Brightlord Sadeas had been passing on his battle horse when he had seen him polishing his armour and weapons. He had hopped off his mighty steed with an earthshaking jump.
“You. What is your name boy” he had demanded, his tone powerful and commanding. Miguel had jumped to his feet and stood to attention.
“Miguel, Brightlord” He managed to say. It was a miracle that his voice didn’t waver. “Young soldier, did you know that respect for one’s equipment is one of the finest qualities a fighting man can have?” Sadeas continued “How would you like the opportunity of a lifetime? Fighting in the tournament!” Miguel nearly fainted at that but managed to keep his salute. The tournament? That was only for the best of the best! If Miguel fought his family would gain recognition! This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
“I-I’d love that Brightlord , But…” His honour compelled him to speak up “…I have not much skill with the sword”
“Nonsense!” Sadeas guffawed “we have four days, we’ll train you up well! Besides,” he said leaning in like he was about to divulge a secret “We’ll have the other men do most of the fighting, this is your first tournament after all” he winked then mounted his steed. “Now, report to the dueling grounds, you have practice to do”
That is how he’d ended up here. It had seemed so exiting. The days leading up to the tournament Miguel had been full of pent up excitement. Now, looking over the dueling grounds, at the roaring crowds. He was just terrified.