They spoke together, so many different tones and voices that melded into a single chorus as they issued their charge to the watchers and fighters alike. With an unspoken signal, the criers moved as one to raise their heads, hands extending as if in warning, and silence reigned once more.
Heads bowed, whether in prayer or contemplation, as they watched the empty sands. Their silken robes, dyed colors of every hue, fluttered about them in the commotion.
They stood like statues, the only reminder of the calm before the storm. No one knew those who were chosen to speak for the Lords, as delicate scarves and masks hid their faces from view. Yet the front row of seats had l already been filled. They elbowed and shoved, scrambling to claim the spots that stood closest to the coming bloodbath. With excited screams, spectators rushed into the awaiting seats.
A single moment of peace - but peace had no place in the Trial of Paragons.
The crimson expanse waited beneath it, cursed to forever bear the blood that stained it, yet otherwise unmarred from the countless melees that had been held upon it.Ī perfect silence. Not a shadow stirred, not a grain of sand moved, not even a whisper could be heard as the sun slowly settled into place overhead. An eerie quiet filled the empty stands that stood within the Grand Arena.