Rise of the Living Forge

Olive’s heart pounded in her ears as she took her position on the Proving Grounds arena. Her skin felt clammy and sweat slicked her palm against her sword. She transferred it to the wooden replacement and wiped her hand off against her pants before reclaiming her sword.

“Nervous?” Elias asked from beside her. He was clad in plain silver armor devoid of any extravagant adornments or fancy parts. The armor was entirely focused on utility. There was only a single design upon its face — the same one that was on Maeve’s and Olive’s armor.

Arwin’s maker’s mark.

He’d put it in the very center of every chest piece, darkening the metal somehow to ensure that absolutely nobody could mistake who had made their armor.

“A little,” Olive admitted. That was definitely an understatement. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears over the roar of the crowd above them.

There was something distinctly different about fighting in a tournament than there was fighting monsters. The atmosphere. The crowd. The opponents. Everything. This wasn’t just about survival. It was about putting on a show.

Arwin was depending on her to demonstrate the abilities of the Menagerie. They needed to keep expanding if he wanted to accomplish his goals of taking down the Adventurer’s Guild for the crimes they’d committed.

He’s helped me so much. Now it’s my turn. I can’t let him down. It can’t be like last time. I can’t fail my team again.

“This might not be the most useful advice, but you need to relax,” Elias said. “We’ve practiced. You’re a very capable swordswoman, and that’s not even counting the extra bits Arwin put in for us. Feeding your fears will only weaken you. Listen to your emotions, but do not let them rule you. They are yours.”