The crowd gathered outside the colosseum was truly massive. Knights and mercenaries alike thronged the streets and square. Sid, Dion and Arc squeezed their way through the mass, with Dion using his massive form to forge a path.

Eventually, the three made their way into an equally packed tavern. "This is the place" confirmed Sid, "look for a big guy in armor." Upon reflection, Sid realized how little that narrowed things down considering this type of crowd. "He should have a huge shield" he added after a slight pause.

Fortunately they didn't have to search very hard, and the man they were seeking found them first. Rather than introducing himself or greeting them he simply stepped into view. The man was clad in high grade full plate armor and as Sid had mentions, a huge tower shield as tall as he was.

The giant is a man lifted his visor to peer at the group, looking down at them save for Dion, who was nearly as tall as he. After shooting then a scathing look of appraisal, he snapped his visor back down. He motioned for them to follow, and they all headed back out of the tavern.

The man was simply known as The Boulder, a knight of some repute. Sid had been surprised to learn that the man expressed interest in joining their rag tag group for this tournament, the biggest in the land. The Althiem Tournament, held in the kingdom of the same name, was an open tournament that any group of four to seven could register for.

Sid and his group had met Sir Boulder only once, when they were part of a multi-party effort to subjugate a demon spider nest in an abandoned fort. Sir Boulder had been with another group at the time, one that at least to Sid's eye lacked cohesion.

They pushed their way to the registration desk, Sir Boulder using his shield as a plow. The attendant was a small, bespectacled man with a wispy moustache. "Go along that wall and present this to the guard there. You will be provided with further information then." The man spoke curtly without even glancing up at them. From another booth came an uproar.

"White Dragon! White Dragon!" The crowd was cheering and chanting. The attendant bothered to look over, and smiled to himself. The White Dragon group was easily the most famous adventuring party in the region. Sid was too short to see anything, so Dion hoisted him up onto his shoulders.

There they stood, divine in their spotless white armor. They all sported the same flaming red hair, all the same height like clones. Their faces were different enough that they could be distinguished, however. Eyebrows revealed that red wasn't everyone's natural hair color.

Sid scoffed and Dion let him down. In Sid's opinion, there wasn't a more overrated party in the whole world. "Let's go" he said, shrugging off the cheers coming from around him.

They presented their papers and were led inside to a room full of other parties. This tournament was of course competitive, but each party was competing more with themselves than each other. Rather than fight eachother directly, they would be facing rounds in the arena fighting against monsters. Placement in the event would be scored by judges, and rankings would be published at the event's conclusion.

Sid saw some familiar faces, and offered waves and smiles to old comrades. He'd teamed up with a lot of different groups before he'd built his own. Many of those groups had parted ways with him amicably, and there was still warmth felt between then and him. However, not all of them had been so grateful for his insights.

The White Dragon group entered the room, and everyone fell silent. They walked with long strides to stand in the center of the room, where Sir Ottis launched into a speech. Sid rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out. To think they were so full of themselves that they felt it appropriate to give everyone a pep talk about bravery and hard work.

He glanced at them, and saw Sir Nautilus glaring at him. Sid made a face at him and stuck out his tongue. It was childish, but it just felt right to do. Sir Prentice was standing with his chin up, not looking at anybody. They're all morons, Sid thought.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

When the speech concluded there was a polite applause, then everyone entered slowly back into their conversations. The attendant from before entered the room with a stack of papers, and handed them out. Sid looked it over, and approached his group. "It looks like we won't be having a match until this afternoon, so let's go topside and watch for a while. What do you think?"

Dion smiled ear to ear, Arc gave a small nod and Sir Boulder stood perfectly still. "That is acceptable" came Sir Boulder's muffled voice from inside his helmet. He suddenly made for the door, the other three quickly following in his step. "Hey, Sid" came a slimy voice Sid had hoped not to hear.

Sid turned to face Sir Ottis, who wore an oily smirk on his face. "Is this your group? How cute, it looks like you're all wearing second hand gear too. Best of luck out there" Sir Ottis said without meaning it in the slightest. Sid bit down and gave a small bow "as to you, Sir Ottis" he managed to grind out.

They left quickly and found their seats, settling down to watch some fights. Sid watched with a critical eye while Dion cheered like a madman and Arc occasionally sneered. Sir Boulder of course sat perfectly rigid. Sid glanced up at the King's balcony. There he saw the royal family and their special guest, the high priestess Jocelyn.

The king and the crown prince were like images of the same person from different times in their lives. The king had silver hair and wrinkles, clearly advanced in his age. The crown prince was exactly like a younger version of the king, with smooth black hair and sharp eyes. The high priestess was as old as the king, yet retained a youthful appearance more similar to the prince.

Sid turned his attention back to the arena, where a team was facing a three headed lion. The beast snarled and swiped at the team, who had surrounded it. Sid noticed they were doing a good job of drawing it's attention here and there to hit it from the flanks and rear. Each time the beast spun the team would maneuver to accommodate it, shifting seamlessly from attack to defense.

"We had better head down, our round is coming up soon enough. What do you think?"

Dion grinned and nodded, Arc was solemn as always and Sir Boulder simply stood at once.

***

The four of them strode out into the arena to moderate applause. Standing ready in the center, the far gate opened slowly. The four gripped their weapons and wits, ready for whatever may come. Leaping and snarling right out of the gate came a half-crazed manticore.

Sid bristled in alarm, for this was a monster much more dangerous that should be expected in the first round. The crowd gasped in surprise too, but Sid quickly overcame surprise and steeled himself. He put his hand on Dion's arm and shot Arc a look. Sir Boulder was unreadable as always, so Sid asked "you in?" Sir Boulder braced himself in reply.

Sid gripped his spear and moved as one with Dion to the vanguard. Sid and Sir Boulder moved to gain a line of sight and keep the vanguard out of the line of fire. The manticore snarled at each pair before making up it's mind and charging at Dion. Dion swung his mighty greatsword defensively, and Arc looses a perfectly timed shot that landed in the manticore's side. It roared in pain and turned to lunge at Arc, but Dion swing at its tail and cut it deeply. Arc loosed another arrow and Dion swung incessantly, while Sid flowed between his swings to plant deep stabs into every possible opening. Sir Boulder in turn bashed at it with his huge tower shield.

Finding itself caught between a rock and a hard place, the manticore became utterly savage. It swung its barbed tail to and fro, but Dion manages to finish cutting it off. It swiped and bit desperately, but a well placed spear found its neck instead. The crowd erupted in cheers as the manticore was slain.

The party held up their hands in victory and marched out of the arena. "Hmph" grunted Sir Ottis from his seat as he watched them go. He was unpleasantly surprised by their one-sided victory, and decided he would just have to press a bit harder to ensure their demise.