The mages arranged a circle around them, closing ranks as they gathered around the dueling ground.
Swallowing his saliva, Beli stretched, using the sword as a counterweight for his arms and taking the opportunity to weigh the sword down. He hoped the fight would be on his favorite ground, sword fighting.
A few laughs animated the crowd, but not Arthur's. He, too, was anxious, lucky he didn't have his mageroot making him unstable, his fear would have transpired from his body.
Raising a hand, Lara spoke up. "Come on, it's not a death match. Don't cast lethal spells."
It sounded more like an encouragement than an order. The other mage stood ten meters before him, his arms ready to cast a spell, anything at all at his assailant. Beli assumed a defensive posture he knew by heart before indicating to the duel master that he was ready.
Holding his weapon firmly in both hands, he had already indicated to his opponent that he had no intention of using magic, an obvious insult.
