The walls, according to the helpful numbers and analysis on his display, were close to one hundred meters high—almost 300 feet—at their tallest point, and the arena itself was built in the shape of a massive flat circle. There was no sand, but scorch marks and blade-inflicted scars were evidenced everywhere from previous battles.
The worst of the damage had clearly been repaired after each engagement, but the superficial wounds in the arena’s structure had been left—likely to give the venue some character and tell the tale of its use through what Arthur assumed was at least several decades of existence, if not more.
“The Arena was one of the first things my family built here.” Circe said while lifting off on a plume of plasma, and an extension of her Eidolon’s massive steel wings, to start a warm-up flight around the ring. “Before we had Eidolons as we do now, they’d host massive tournaments here. It’s part of how we made ourselves wealthy. A calculated investment, my great grandfather called it.”
“Clearly paid dividends.” Arthur noted.
“It did.” She agreed. “And now I’m going to kick your Fringe-born ass back to Aurelia within its walls.”
“Oh?” he asked with a laugh. “You know what they say about assumption, Circe.”
“Prove me wrong, then.” she shot back with a smirk.
“As you wish.” Arthur replied while drawing out his sword and shield, and grimacing at the now-expected lag. “Though don’t expect it to be elegant, given what I’m working with.”
Circe opened her mouth to retort, but went silent when Menelaus’ amused features appeared on Arthur’s feed—and presumably hers as well. The fact he hadn’t been warned meant that the lord of House Leos had probably been listening since they’d started talking.
Judging from the mirth dancing in his eyes, that was exactly the case.
“I am glad to see the spirit of Eidolon pilots remains strong and consistent.” Menelaus said without reprimand. “I had worried you two might be too busy making eyes at one another, for all that it chagrined me to believe so.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“That will not be a problem, my lord.” Arthur responded before Circe could. “The lady and I have an understanding. There was never a risk of anything untoward happening between us. You have my word.”
Circe had opened her mouth to speak, but shut it when Arthur preempted her. Judging from the look of gratitude she directed at him, he’d made the right choice.
Based on the approving smile on Menelaus’ face, the patrician thought the same.
“I am pleased to hear that, Ser Arthur. While you may be a warrior of rare caliber, I fear that the scandal caused by our first Hetairoi in a generation also being involved with my heir would be as damaging as anything I can imagine.”
“My duty should you accept me is the safety and honor of your House and the protection of its interests, my lord. I would be a poor Knight to so quickly compromise that.”
“Well said.” Menelaus said with another smile. “And with that well-spoken declaration, let us move on to what we are all excited to see: your skills in action, Ser Arthur.”
“I take it the handicap is only making things that much more interesting for you, my lord?”
“Oho! Yes indeed. You’ll have to forgive me for that little prank, but Stephanos did seem to make a good point about how it would test you, and Lord Atreus seemed to believe it no issue.”
“I hope to prove his faith warranted.”
“A common hope, I think, for those that benefit from his patronage.” Menelaus said with a laugh.
“Father…” Circe said with a hint of impatience.
“Yes, yes. My apologies, my dear.” Menelaus said wryly. “The rules of the bout are simple: The first Eidolon pilot to non-lethally defeat the other will be declared the winner.”
“Are there any restrictions on how we move?” Circe asked.
“You cannot leave the Arena’s confines.” He elaborated. “For you, daughter, that means no flying above the Arena’s walls.”
“Acceptable.” Circe said with a calm nod.
“Any objections, ser Magellan?”
“None, my lord.” Arthur answered with a shake of his head.
“Very well then!” the patrician said with a grin. “Circe, are you ready?”
“Ready.” She said while the Pallas Athena’s engines roared, and allowed her to rapidly gain altitude while drawing her sword and hoplon.
“Ser Arthur, are you ready?”
“Ready.” Arthur replied while assuming a guarding stance behind his own shield.
“Very well then. I hereby sanction this duel, and stand witness to its enactment.” He looked between them both, and lifted an arm wide in declaration.
“Let the duel commence!”