The four of them joined a long line of students entering into the stadium doors. Jacob had never been in a sports stadium before but he'd seen them on TV. Inside there were a couple concession stands where you could get drinks and popcorn, along with a couple vending machines.

"I'm gonna grab some popcorn," Archie said.

"Archie, it's not even 9am!" Camilla said.

"I didn't get a chance to eat yet! I'll meet the three of you in there."

Camilla rolled her eyes as Archie went over to the concession stand. "Ugh, C'mon."

Jacob followed her and Grace around a broad avenue that must have looped around the arena. They followed signs for the 1st Year Section.

"Have you guys been here before?" He asked.

They both nodded.

"I came to watch an offseason event when I was a kid. It's stupid there aren't in person guests," Grace said.

"You want your parents here?" Camilla said.

"Well..." Grace was at a loss for words, for once.

"I'm so happy my father isn't able to be here," Camilla said.

Jacob wasn't sure how to feel. It seemed to him that Camilla hated her father. Did he hate his parents? Maybe. No. Not really. He just wished they weren't so crazy all the time.

"Did your father win the tournament when he came here?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," Camilla said.

They followed the crowd down a tunnel and came out into the stadium proper. Jacob froze, his heart leaping into his throat. He'd expected something like his high school gym, and while by professional sports standards the stadium was fairly small, there were seats for maybe five thousand people surrounding an oval arena of what looked like hard packed clay. Jacob could only imagine being down there on the flat, open surface under the sun, with all those people in all those filled seats looking down on you.

The 1st Year Section was one long side of the arena. They grabbed seats near the centre, fairly high up.

"Why don't we sit closer?" Jacob asked.

"Being higher up gives a better angle," Camilla said.

Jacob grunted. He supposed that made sense.

Students filed in around them as well as on the other side of the arena, which was designated for 2nd and upper years. Jacob saw Prof Michaelson and Prof Idlewild along with a couple other faculty members he didn't recognize clustered to one side of the 1st Year Section. Archie lumbered up, carrying an overfull bag of popcorn, and plopped himself down next to Jacob.

"Want some?" Archie wagged the bag at him.

"Sure. Thanks," Jacob took a handful.

The trickle of students had stopped. Clusters of people were here and there throughout the stands, but a good chunk of the seats were empty. The murmur of conversation filled the air.

Archie nudged Jacob. "You should go back and watch some of the old matches from previous years."

That actually wasn't a bad idea.

"They have old matches online?"

"Oh yeah, there's a whole big archive."

Magic washed over them, and the spectators fell silent. Decomposition. The clay in the centre of the arena writhed, then shot up out of the ground and formed a long, low platform. Sections undulated, protruded to form a lectern. Upon the front of the platform, clay words emerged:

"Full hearts, strong minds"

A short, biracial man emerged from one of the tunnels at one end of the arena and strode towards the low platform. He wore a long black robe, with a pure white stole around his shoulders. The man raised his hand to the spectators, who broke out into applause. Jacob didn't know who the man was, but he clapped anyway. Following him was a severe woman with short blonde hair cropped around her ears. She wore a similar black robe, but with a black stole.

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"Who are they?" He asked Archie.

"President Russell and Vice-President Leslie."

Jacob's eyebrows shot to his hairline. The President. The other living white mage. He had big shoes to fill.

Don't think about it like that.

President Russell reached the lectern and gazed out over the spectators as the applause died down to silence. Vice-President Leslie stood off to one side of him, scanning the crowd, hands clasped in front of her.

"Welcome students, faculty, guests, and viewers, to the 103rd annual Tisdale Tournament." President Russell's voice filled the arena, though he wasn't using a microphone. "It is tradition for the winner of the previous year's tournament to give the Opening Address, however, Jillian Fox was unable to be with us here today. This is not the first time a previous winner has been unable to be with us, just as this is not the first time the Academy has held the tournament during a time of hardship. The founder and first President of our institution, Basil Tisdale, started this tournament in the years following the Great War as a way to test the strength and combat experience of the Academy's first-year students. Since, there has always been a Tisdale Tournament, even when the world was torn apart during the Second World War, during the anarchy closer to home in the early nineties, during countless other crises and trying times. The Tournament is a tradition that binds us together, connects us to our ancestors who held the torch before us, and our descendants who will hold the torch when our turn is done. It is a showing of the strength, courage, ability, and character of each of our students, but it is also a showing of the unity and purpose of our institution. Remember our words: Full hearts, strong minds. And fight well.

"Now, let the Tournament begin!" President Russell raised his hand.

Applause broke out once again. Many students got to their feet and hollered and applauded.

Someone tapped Jacob's arm amid the roar. A skinny older woman dressed in a tight fitting grey uniform had reached across Archie.

"Mr Caibo?"

"Yes?" Jacob said.

"Blake McGinnis has requested you for his Pre-Match Advisor. Do you accept?" The woman asked.

Jacob blinked. Grace had been right. Should he have prepared? He knew Blake's matchup, but he hadn't exactly done focused research on it. "Yes."

"Very good. Follow me." She turned and waited for him in the aisle.

"Tell him I said good luck!" Archie said.

"Me too! Me too!" Grace said.

"Okay!" Jacob said. "I'll see you guys in a bit."

He pushed past Archie and followed the woman down out of the seating area, his heart pounding in his chest.

----------------------------------------

Jacob followed the woman down winding concrete hallways into the stadium's undercroft. He felt like he was going out for his own match. He tried to suppress his nerves. It wouldn't help Blake to see him nervous.

The woman stopped outside a door.

"Mr McGinnis is inside. I will knock when it is time for the match."

Jacob nodded. He pushed open the door and let it shut behind him.

Blake sat on a bench in the middle of a small, unadorned room, head down, his hands clasped in front of him. He wore his grey school uniform, a personalized one piece tracksuit they were all required to wear for the tournament matches. He looked up as Jacob walked in and grinned.

"Glad you came."

"Wasn't gonna say no," Jacob said.

"Thanks, anyway," Blake took a deep breath. "What's it like, fighting?"

Jacob blinked in surprise. "Never been in a fight before?"

"Not really. Not one with anything on the line. It's cool if you don't want to talk about it. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's cool," Jacob said.

What was it like? Running from that chimera? Being in the midst of the fight against the Reaper? Watching the rogue mage kill Ola and Jimmy, feeding the Dream Tiger, engaging the rogue mage, watching him blitz towards you, feeling your stomach drop out of you, throwing your arm up to block the blow.

Jacob flexed his left hand. Over a month later it was still sore.

"It's fast," he said, finally. "It just happens. That's what struck me about it the first few times. I think the big difference between the first fight and the next one was just being ready for that. There's not really any time to think or strategize or plan things out. Once they're coming at you, you just... You just have to move. You just have to do something. You can't stop to think cuz then you'll freeze."

"Kinda like asking a girl out," Blake said.

Jacob reddened and shifted his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I guess so."

Blake ran his hands through his hair and blew another breath out. "My family's watching. Both my parents and all my sisters. If I win I'll be the first person in my family to win a Tisdale Tournament match. I can't let them down. I feel like I have to win. Otherwise I'll never be able to make Ranger."

"There'll be other times to make up marks, to show your strength."

"But I'm not strong. At best I can barely scrape in, but I'll need everything I can get. Every single opportunity, maximized. Like, if I lose here, what's the point of the next few months? I'll just end up like my dad, beating his head against the wall, writing the supplementary exam over and over but failing every time."

"Try not to think about it. Just focus on your opponent," Thinking back he'd noticed that. He hadn't daydreamed or thought about anything else. He'd just been totally in the moment. "Lock in."

"I'm just so nervous, man."

"You should be."

"Really?"

"I'm surprised I didn't piss my pants against the rogue mage. I think it's natural. It helps. There's no secret to it. It just happens."

"Okay. Good. Good to know."

Jacob could feel Blake flexing his magic, repeatedly casting the strength-resilience spell.

"We trained. You've worked hard," Jacob said. "You got this."

A knock came at the door. The woman who had led Jacob down opened it.

"Mr McGinnis, it's time to go."

Blake stood and nodded to Jacob. "Thanks, man."

They clasped hands firmly.

"Good luck," Jacob said.

And then they were out of the room and Jacob was watching Blake's back retreat down the hallway.