I rose from the ground, wanting to hold my injured hand but unwilling to let the injury be seen. Lauren and Katya had untangled themselves and were up as well, embracing with relief at having survived another round, especially given how doomed we had seemed to be. Gideon walked up to me and extended a hand. I offered mine in return, trying to disguise the pain I felt there.

Gideon said, "Make no mistake, shopkeeper, I haven't changed my mind. Noble houses exist to breed warriors and Griidlords; that's our place, and your position in this competition sullies it..."

I was taken aback. I had expected something a little more conciliatory. Maybe not the deep embrace that Katya and Lauren were sharing, but, you know, something less bigoted to me and most of the populace.

Gideon continued, "But I cannot deny your talent, your steel. You were good to your word today, shopkeeper, and what's more, I probably would be finished if not for you. When I am the Sword, I won't forget this." With that, he stalked away, as surly and fierce as ever.

Before us, the priests were fussing around Lance where he lay sprawled, but they gave way to Lance's father, Lord Darkwater (confusingly enough also named Lance—it was a habit among Griidlord families), and his retinue, which included several medics. I watched Lance on the ground. I can't say I'd particularly have cared if he expired there, and it was far from unheard of for a contestant in a Choosing to die, but the gravity of the situation was hard to escape. I doubted he was in mortal danger, but his lordly good looks might never be the same.

Then again, the world had ended, the old world, in The Fall in what we believed was probably the year 2169 CE of the old dating system, and the medical technology that had existed then was staggering. Though things were very different in the present year, the year 802 since the first tower had risen, the rich had access to wonders. In areas where Order was high, those old wondrous technologies still functioned. A boon for the son of a great lord who'd just had all his teeth knocked out, but a bitter pill for a farmer in the wilds who would watch their child slowly die when all they needed was occasional dialysis or medication. No, in reality, Lance would probably be alright, and probably even be back to his tediously handsome self.

What was more interesting was the possibility that he would be unable to compete the next day, or even if he was, that he would be impaired. I knew all of us would feel our odds go up if he was removed from the competition, but none could be more excited than I was. Without Lance, I would be the forerunner, the favorite, all the sweeter considering how I was an afterthought during the first days of the competition.

I watched as the medics carefully removed Lance. The priests then began the process of removing our suits.

I felt that familiar but strange sadness as the suit melted from me, the Mystorium streaming back to form a cylinder on the ground.

Once we exited our suits, we were arranged on the stage for the priests to close the day's competition. I struggle to describe the emotions I felt. There was the peace that followed the intensity of battle. But I felt strangely hollow. I couldn't explain it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The crowd had no such reservations. They cheered with a volume that bordered on the violent. They had had the show they wanted. For many of them, they had had the outcome they desired as well. Their commoner was still a part of The Choosing.

Mario bowed his head as the Bishop stepped forward. His voice boomed from the corners of the arena as Mario's had.

"Citizens of Boston, today has been a great day, a momentous occasion for our city. This is the second day the Choosing has been open to the public, and the first day within this grand arena. Our young heroes had not failed to do the Oracle proud. They have not failed to show you why they each see themselves fit to be your Sword. For a time, it seemed as though only one worthy champion would arise from among you. But the Oracle was not sated yet. The Oracle would see more."

The Bishop paused. The crowd hushed for him in a way they had not for Mario.

"Today, we have witnessed feats of strength, agility, and strategy that have astounded us all. We have seen the resilience of our contestants. We had seen their determination to become the next Sword of Boston. A Sword must never be one that can be defeated in their heart, even if their body can be cut down. It has been a day of fierce competition and high stakes, but also one of great triumphs and worthy efforts."

His eyes passed over each of us. They lingered on me. The distant crowd could not see the touch of distaste that flickered there as he looked at me.

"After much consultation, it has been decided that returning the arena to working order will take too long to resume the Choosing on the morrow. Therefore, a day of rest will be allowed, a well-earned rest for both competitor and spectator alike. We will resume the competition the next morning, with renewed vigor and anticipation for what is to come."

The Bishop raised his arms again.

"Until then, may the Oracle be with you all, guiding your steps and fortifying your spirits. Rest well, citizens of Boston, and prepare yourselves for the next stage of the Choosing. The best is yet to come."

The Bishop stepped back and turned away. The other priests remained standing still as he slowly moved away.

I stood seething. I couldn't help but see it as an odd coincidence that we would be given an extra day of rest right after Lance was badly injured. I wondered if there would have been so much work to do to ready the arena again if he hadn't been hurt, or if there would have been a different outcome if the powers that be were aware of how my wrist ached. Maybe they would have traded Lance regaining his strength for seeing me compete with my own injury. It wasn't lost on me that I would benefit from the rest as well. With our riches, I had access to the same medical facilities as Lance, and the extra day would benefit my wrist no end. Still, I seethed. The Choosing was supposed to be a pure and fair event, a chance for the Oracle to choose us through our trials, a chance for the best Griidlord to emerge. Instead, once again, I was watching the deck be stacked in favor of the establishment.

As I stood there, seething, I noticed Katya and Lauren approaching me, a strange expression shared on their faces. I looked at them curiously.

Lauren said, "We don’t need to compete tomorrow."

I nodded. Katya said, "That means, my betrothed, that we don't need to observe such tedious bedtimes tonight or be quite so precious with our constitutions."

Lauren giggled, obviously amused at Katya describing me as her "betrothed."

I said, "I guess..."

Lauren said, "Katya and I are going to get a drink..."

I said, "Is that a good idea? We're still competitors. Today was a temporary thing. Won't it confuse things for you if you socialize like that?"

Lauren said, "We're grown-ups, you dummy. Besides, we thought you might join us."