The boulders shook with the roars and growls of the ten thousand strong crowd as the two uniformed men at the centre of the fighting stage bowed to each other. Sweat slithered down his sleeve as he pounded his fist on the parapet, cheering for Sam.

The lanky black-haired soldier of his patrol was up against the Serjeant Boris, a man twice Sam's age and twice his size too. Sam had nearly been defeated by a retired Lieutenant in the first round but had—thanks to an unfortunate misstep on the Lieutenant's part that had led to the man breaking his ankle—since then surprised the crowd by beating every other contestant on his way to the ultimate triumph.

"Come on! Go patrol seventeen!" Sebastian shouted. This was the first semi-finale of the Summer Games, and Sam had to win.

Through the flapping of fans came Lana's snort. His cousin no longer tried to hide her annoyance. "We have to remain impartial, Muttonhead."

"I'm cheering as hard for the others as for Sam," he replied, half an eye on the men crossing swords. "Besides, would you rather kiss that hairy bear or..." He wasn't sure how to describe the soldier in a way that would seem appealing to girls. "... Sam's very popular, Lana. Every moon, he has another girlfriend."

"If he has another girl around him every moon,  I'll gladly take the hairy bear."

Aunt Crystal stopped her fan mid-flutter. "Alana! That's no way to talk about your citizens." 

"Seb said it first," Lana retorted. 

"I heard you saying it."

"Then you're deafer than Papa," she grumbled.

Sebastian sniggered. Boris was swinging his sword in an arc towards Sam's flank. Sam blocked him instantly with a downwards sweep, then struck back swiftly. Soon, the older man's strength would fade, yet Sam would remain agile and steady.

"Seb's jealous that Alex is now kissing a real man," Lana snorted just as Sam began his lethal sequence of swinging and stabbing.

Sebastian jerked his head backwards. "That's not true. She's my friend—I'm glad she's back."

"Is that a blush on your face?" Lana cooed, giggling.

"No, I'm hot," he mumbled as he folded his arms on the parapet wall and shifted his focus back to the battle. 

Boris was pushing Sam to the edge of the stage. The lowest western ring had the best view as Boris made an attempt to headbutt Sam, yet failed as the lanky soldier ducked, raising his sword horizontally. Iron met skin. Gasps resounded through the egg-shaped arena as blood started gushing from the Serjeant's shoulder. Dark patches formed on the sand.

The men continued fighting, no break of mercy. Blow after blow, unrelenting and unforgiven towards each other's mistakes in the stifling heat of the Scorching Plains.

Sebastian wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes drifting towards the upper north-western ring, where Alex sat next to the white-haired Jade Islandic demon. Betrothed—how ridiculous. He wasn't jealous. No, he wasn't even in love with her. But to pick a pirate over him—God of Greed be damned—he didn't like it. He didn't like him.

Lana joined him by the parapet, nudging her elbow up against him. "The fight is happening down there, cousin."

"I know. That's what I'm watching," he grumbled. 

Boris forced Sam to hit low, then came overhead. But too slowly. A sideways cut from Sam blocked the blow. Alex and White-hair had their heads close to each other. He couldn't tell if they were talking or not. They better be talking instead of kissing.

"Sure, cousin." Lana beamed.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to let her win. "I know why you want the hairy bear to win. He reminds you of Nick."

Lana chuckled. "Bear, maybe, but not Nick. Uncle River needs to find him a good Ician girl to teach him the tricks of the trade, make him less.... slobbering. Nick... of course... not Bear—that pup can give all the dog kisses he wants."

"That's disgusting." He felt an invisible punch to the stomach. Now he missed his pup too.

Sam spun on his heel to thwart his opponent's offensive. Before Boris could respond, Sam leapt forwards and slammed his sword sideways into the Serjeant's hip.

Boris tottered. His helmet dropped to the ground.

Sam set his foot between the older man's legs, tripping him.

As Boris landed on the sand, the piercing sound of Serjeant Patrick's whalebone whistle rang through the arena. Game over.

Disregarding that he should be neutral, Sebastian raised his arms high and yelled, "He did it! He's going to the finale!"

Sam helped Boris up. The Serjeant congratulated the soldier by patting him on the back. They exchanged handshakes, then bowed towards the royal box.

The entire royal family and George applauded politely, except for Sebastian. He stretched out his hand and raised his thumb. 

Sam was such a good soldier. If he won, he would get the opportunity to become a Lieutenant and work directly for him. All things considered, it would be nice to have another officer in the castle who was closer to his own age. Even Bart was already eighteen.

As the men left the fighting stage to loud applause, Lana slipped back to her satin-cushioned seat, next to Aunt Crystal munching on dried fruit. Sebastian leaned against the parapet, addressing Uncle Tom and George conniving suspiciously. "That was a good battle, wasn't it?"

George glanced at him, then nodded at Uncle Tom whispering and gesticulating. "... I'm going to need a more sure than sure, George. Stephen's good, but he is no Jonathan."

"Jonathan made for more dangerous decisions, without informing us." The General grimaced as he lifted his injured leg to a more comfortable position on the velvet cushion in front of him.

"A good battle, right?" Sebastian said louder.

"Yeah, good work." Uncle Tom dismissed him with a wave of his hand, then said in a low voice to George. "He'll be close."

"He'll be bound by iron."

"Who? What are you talking about?" Sebastian asked.

Lieutenant Patrick's high-pitched whistle blasted through the arena, announcing the second semi-final. Sebastian clapped his hands above his head, though not as enthusiastically as before. The two contenders were old, greying men who had no doubt sold their soul to the God of Pride for a day of fame in the Sundale dome.

After the men had bowed towards the box, then at each other, Sebastian squirmed in between his uncle and the General. "Who are you talking about?"

Uncle Tom's teeth scratched at his bottom lip. "It's..."

"No more keeping things away from me, Uncle Tom." Sebastian shook his head. He then looked at George. "It's because of me you're alive."

"It's because of the army," George said.

"That was only sent because I was at Whitepeak. I still risked my life for you."

"And you should have never done that. I take full responsibility," Uncle Tom added.

"But I still wanna know. I'm your heir," Sebastian persisted. "I deserve to know."

"Alright, but watch the fight while we talk. Those men are doing their best to prove their worth to us. It's rude to dismiss them."

Sebastian gave his uncle a short nod. The two men were mostly moving around in circles, with little clashing of swords going on. "Tell me everything."

Uncle Tom smacked his lips. "It's Alex."

"What?" Sebastian shot his head towards his uncle.

"Eyes on the arena, Sebby."

"What?" he repeated. 

Down in the sand, the two soldiers were slowly picking up speed, sword points mostly raised to the sky. Back and forth, and back and forth. A sudden lunge, then back to playing it safe.

"Alex spotted someone at the market... an enemy of the state. She knocked him unconscious."

George chuckled. "She's something, alright."

"That's Alex." Sebastian grinned, eying her in the crowd. His stomach dropped as he was reminded by how close she was sitting to that white-haired dumbbell.

"One of the pirates informed Stephen," George continued. "Thanks to him and Alex, we have the man in chains and locked up.

"Alright."

The less greying man of the two threw himself towards the deadliest part of his opponent's swing. A bold move, or a brilliant one. He jabbed his blade into the other man's sword arm. For a split second, the weapon remained stuck.

The man attacking jerked it out as the crowd hollered, screamed even.

"Seb..." Uncle Tom hesitated. "Sebby, it's Katla. The destroyer of Laneby—the magician who killed your family."

Sebastian winced as a sudden icy shiver ran down his back, yet he was sweating more than ever. The world was tilting. His hands tingling. He blinked rapidly. The wounded man staggered to his defence, towards his opponent. He was going down, but with his head and sword held high. Clumsily, he swung around, his movements jarred. A heartbeat later, his weapon was torn from his hands and tossed aside.

"Seb?" Uncle Tom asked as the shrill noise rippled through the air.

The crowd cheered, shouted with happiness. Across the arena, people stood up from their seats to pay their respects, to catch a glimpse of the second finalist, and the man who hadn't backed down when defeat looked him in the eyes.

Sebastian's ear rung from all the noise. They had him, finally had him. The man who had brutally ended his childhood, taken away the people he had loved without having the chance to say goodbye. Bodies floating in the River Faith. Laneby reduced to cinders and ashes. He wanted that man to suffer.

"I heard you," Sebastian said, clapping his hands like he wasn't feeling as lightheaded as he was. "I want him dead, and I want to be the one to do it."

"Told you." George eyed Uncle Tom, who rubbed his chin.

"You're not going to allow that, are you, Tom?" Aunt Crystal said.

"It's dangerous," Lana said. "But he should do it—the people will love it. It's the ultimate revenge, a story they'll talk about for the rest of the year. For the rest of Seb's life."

"He's a magician," Aunt Crystal argued.

Lana swatted her fan against her upper leg. "Do you want to spare his life?"

"I didn't say that. With the crimes he committed, he would be a dead man in Ice too. I'm only thinking of Sebastian's safety."

Sebastian crossed his arms. He hated when everyone around him discussed him while he was right there. "It'll be safe, won't it?"

"Yes, the magician will be immobilised, and..." The corners of George's mouth twitched as he shifted his leg."... he seemed lacklustre, as though he wanted to be caught."

"I can't help but worry about—that it's a trap," Uncle Tom said.

"Or Alex caught the biggest possible fish?" Lana said.

Swallowing his nerves, Sebastian clenched his fists. He grazed his nails against his skin. "You didn't want me to participate in the games, Uncle Tom. And I can see why. People get hurt. But you won't deny me the opportunity to stab that magician in the gut, watch him squirm and beg for mercy or death—whichever comes first."

Uncle Tom pursed his lips, sighing a deep, weighted sigh. He shared a look with George before turning to Sebastian. "You're right—precautions will be taken. I shouldn't deny you that."

"Tom," Aunt Crystal reprimanded him.

"It's my decision," he said. "The broadsword will be too heavy—he'll wield it too clumsily. No, the people are begging to see their heroic Prince in action, the boy who brought their General home, safe and healthy. While I can't deny my worries, I'm also sure we can do this safely and effectively. Three arrows. One in his leg, shot by George, to make sure his soul never walks again. One in his gut, for him to burn on in the inside. I'll shoot that one, then you can finish him, Seb. Stop that man's hateful heart forever."

Down on the fighting stage, the men disappeared into the fighter's tunnel. A dozen workers hurried through the sand with rakes and shovels to clear the area for the finale. Remove the blood too.

"I want Alex to be there," Sebastian replied, casting a sidelong glance to his uncle. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to end the magician's life. But he needed his friend with him there. Just thinking of her by his side took the edge off the feverish chills and the quivers.

"I don't think the people—"

"This isn't about the people," he said louder than intended. "This is about me and her getting the revenge we deserve. She suffered at his hands as much as I did, Uncle Tom. Her little brothers were but corpses when she found them in the riverbank, charred and... She remained level-headed, focused me on the next steps. I would not be sitting here today if it weren't for her."

"Seb..."

"No, Uncle Tom. I don't care. My father recognised Alex for who she was—that's why he made her a warrior. She's a fighter... she knocked that magician out cold. Without her, the Gods may know what he was planning on doing."

"Seb, it's alright. It's done—Alex gets to join. A third arrow right before yours..." He put his fingers to his throat. "... right through his windpipe."

"Slowly suffocating," George mused.

Aunt Crystal fidgeted with the diamonds around her neck. "I don't like it."

"I love it," Lana said. "Alex will be thrilled. She never wanted anything more than to kill that man."

The finale of Sam against John—as the second finalist was called—was no longer the most important event of the day. Sebastian had little attention for the men circling around to the beat of the crowd stomping their feet in anticipation. 

Swords slashed and grabbed. Stephen was walking up to Alex's ring, fetching her. White Hair stood up with her, gesticulating wildly in the air, arguing. She snapped something at him, then followed the Captain. Good.

The next breath Sebastian took was a satisfying one. Alex was his friend. She belonged with him, not that pirate.

Lana leant closer to him, whispering, "I agree, cousin. Up there is much more interesting than down below."

He hummed. Sam dived into the sand to avoid a low blow, flipped over his side to counter the next attack with a well-placed hit that forced John to jump. 

Sebastian glanced up. White Hair was running after Alex, tugging her arm. Stephen laid his hand on her shoulder, but she didn't need his help. She scolded the pirate.

"Troubles in lover's heaven," Lana sang.

"I wouldn't mind piercing an arrow through his heart too," Sebastian said.

"Don't. I have been watching our two birds all afternoon. When you're in love, you spent every possible moment kissing and touching each other. These two... Alex knew what would happen upon her return to Sundale. It's fake. A lie to keep Mama off her back."

"Are you sure?"

"I've read enough books about love."

"And spent too many afternoons kissing Nick."

"Never too many, Sebby."

He pushed his tongue slightly forward, wrinkling his nose. "Gross."

"Yeah, that is gross," she said more loudly.

"What?"

Then it became clear. John had slammed off Sam's helmet. Blood oozed down the soldier's cheek where a flap of skin dangled from the open wound. Sam fought as though nothing had happened, hacking and slashing, two hands on the hilt.

"Tom, make it stop. That boy needs a Healer," said Aunt Crystal.

Sebastian grinned as Uncle Tom ignored her. And so did he. Sam was doing great, so close to victory. Ending the fight prematurely would be a blot on the future memory of this day. He couldn't have that. The Sundalers would already talk more about the execution than the actual games.

John careened into Sam, throwing his full weight into the fight. Sam beat his blade to push the man backwards. A steady block, then left, right, a reverse grip. John had an answer for everything.

Until Sam spun, ducked, then grabbed John's arm. He stopped his swing mid-air. In a war, he would have completed the attack, slicing open his opponent's guts. This was just a contest, so he dropped his weapon and embraced John, sweat and blood leaking down his face.

Patrick whistled the end of the game.

A gritty cloud of dust sifted through the ceiling of the royal box as ecstatic applause thundered through the stones.

Uncle Tom stood up, clapping his hands. "The arena's telling us to get out of here. Let's meet our winner, congratulate him. George, tell Stephen to prepare everything for the execution."

"Very well, Thomas."

Sebastian joined his uncle in the standing ovation for Sam, his chin held high though his legs wobbling beneath him. Him, George, Uncle Tom and Alex.

Though nerves raced through his veins, he was ready to do what his father hadn't been able to do: Kill Katla.