The golem trembled before bursting apart. Sid was thrown back, executing a flip and landing shakily before quickly running over to tend to his fallen comrades.

"I'm okay" grumbled Sir Boulder while struggling to get to his feet. Dion rose up beneath him and supported his weight, lifting him to a full standing position. "You are strong" Dion said in thanks. "You are strong" he said again as he led the battered knight toward the exit gate.

The uproar from the crowd was lost on the small party of four, tired as they were. Each had seen the danger that had nearly befallen Sir Boulder and Dion, and each felt guilty. They felt themselves lacking, Sid could see it in their posture as they all walked together.

"We did really well" he commented half-heartedly, feeling the same way. "We have a lot of room for growth" he added more honestly.

When they arrived back to their suite they helped Sir Boulder to his own room for rest. The other three sat down at the table and poured drinks. Heavy gazes were exchanged across the table, an unasked question looming over the table.

Dangers, especially life threatening dangers were inevitable. Whether it was on the road, in the wilderness or on a mission danger was everywhere. The three of them understood that, and had faced many such dangers together. Sir Boulder, however, was not a core member of their group.

He had been indispensable thus far in the tournament, and although he himself had proposed joining them for the event they still felt responsible for him. Sid most of all felt a heavy guilt, for he knew that it was only because of his history with the White Dragon group that their matches had been more perilous.

Finally, a voice broke the silence. "Perhaps--" Sid started to speak, only to be interrupted by a knock at their door. He sighed deeply and rose to answer it, but Arc cut him off. "I will get it. You should rest and think, there's no need to come to any hasty conclusions" he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Sid gave Dion an almost bashful smile, which Dion returned his own small grin. "Uh, guys" Arc called from the door. "There's a priestess here, asking to tend to our wounds." The three exchanged confused glances before a woman burst through the door.

She planted her feet and looked wide eyed at the bewildered men staring at her. "Well? Where's your fourth, then?" A stunned silence filled the room at this sudden outburst. The priestess seemed to compose herself for a moment.

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"I am Theresa Bonn, a disciple of High Priestess Jocelyn of the temple of Dayah. I have been dispatched to help treat any injuries you may have sustained in your last match." She stood waiting for some sort of response. Sid was the first to gather his wits, picking his jaw up off the floor.

"That is very gracious of... our patrons here at the colosseum. Ah but, our most injured party member has retired to his room and may not wish to be disturbed. I will check on him" Sid said before he moved to the bedroom door.

*Knock* *knock*

"There's a healer here for you, Sir Boulder. Can we come in?"

"No!" Snapped a panicked reply. "I'm not decent" he added in an apologetic tone. "I will... come out when I'm ready." Sid turned to Theresa, who crossed her arms and huffed. "Fine then, I will treat you lot in the meantime. Sit down in that chair there, and stay still" she commanded.

Overwhelmed by her haughty demeanor Sid followed her instruction. Standing behind the chair, she pressed her hands together in front of her chest in prayer. A warm glow began to emanate from her clasped hands, her lips silently mouthing words. She then placed her hands on his shoulders.

Sid's eyes were closed, but his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could feel warmth spreading throughout his body, washing away his weariness and aches. He gasped, and she released his shoulders. He had never experienced healing magic before, but felt so invigorating he leapt up from the chair. "Wow" he exclaimed, beaming at his compatriots.

Theresa smiled smugly and crossed her arms, nodding in satisfaction. "Yes, the healing magic of our divine goddess is indeed powerful. You are very fortunate to have caught my master's eye" she proclaimed."Wait, do you mean to tell us that the High Priestess Jocelyn herself sent you here? Why?" Sid asked with incredulity.

"It's not for me to say, I am merely her instrument" Theresa declared proudly. "Now, it is your turn, Sir Dion." After having felt the healing magic, the three men were filled with hope and ambition. "I feel very strong" Dion spoke, laughing and patting Arc on the back. Arc almost fell over from the heavy blows.

Slowly the door to Sir Boulder's room opened up and he stepped out. He was wearing simple civilian clothes, but for some reason his helmet was still fastened on with the visor down. Wordlessly he approached the group and sat down in the chair. "Oh, Sir Boulder! I am very happy to see you walking on your own! As expected of a knight of your status" mused Theresa, suddenly sweet.

She prayed and laid her hands gently on his stiff shoulders. "Try to relax, Sir Boulder. Let the warm light of Dayah wash over you" she murmured soothingly. Sid raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in attitude. Perhaps the High Priestess was particularly interested in Sir Boulder's wellbeing?

"Thank you" Sir Boulder managed when she was done. He immediately rushed back to his room. "My my, Sir Boulder is certainly self-possessed, isn't he" commended Theresa after he left. "Well, that concludes my business here. Lady Jocelyn wishes you good fortune on your next round." Without further adieu, she marched out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Arc and Sid exchanged equally confused and amused looks. "What an odd character" commented Sid. "Very interesting individual" agreed Arc. "She makes us strong" added Dion. The door to Sir Boulder's room creaked open just enough for him to peek through the crack. "She's gone" called Sid. Sir Boulder immediately came over to the table and sat down with them. He was still wearing his helmet.

Sid stood over the table, placing several small objects on the table to act as reference points. "Alright guys, let's run through the drills again. We don't know quite what to expect tomorrow, so we had better be on our toes." And so our small party of four whiled away the last hours before bed, plotting their victory for the next fateful day.