At the Ranging Eagle inn, the air was heavier than usual. A clear divide had taken root since the match, one that hadn't existed before—those who supported Zeva gathered on one side, while those against her sat in defiance on the other. The ones who hadn't chosen either side were left awkwardly stuck in the middle, glancing between the groups as if unsure where they belonged.
"I feel like they're making this a bigger deal than it has to be," Roland remarked, eyes sweeping over the tense room.
"Yup," Calvinel agreed, leaning back casually though his words carried a nervous edge. "Like, I'm not about to go sit over there with her, because honestly? She scares the hell out of me after our match. But still, I don't see what the big deal is." His body was fully mended now, his four-hour-long soak in the Healing Springs having restored him almost completely, though the memory of pain lingered.
"When I first went into the fighters' waiting room, I was so confused," Quincy said, shaking her head at the memory. "Neither side would even look at each other. And poor Xain—he looked like he had no idea how it even ended up that way."
"But she really did that, huh?" Even muttered, his eyes flicking across the tavern toward Zeva. She sat at a table apart from everyone else, calmly drinking, as though nothing that happened earlier weighed on her at all. He exhaled through his nose, the tension settling across his shoulders. "Cutting off limbs and everything… goddess, I'm in for a long one tomorrow."
Quincy's hand slipped over his under the table, giving it a small squeeze. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do well," she said softly, offering him a reassuring smile.
"Should the holder of the coliseum really show such favoritism?" Drack's voice rumbled from another table, his sharp eyes catching their interaction.
Calvinel's head snapped toward him, his face twisting into an exaggerated expression of shock. "Whoa, you can talk! I almost forgot you had a voice!"
Drack's jaw tightened, his frown deep. "And that," he said flatly, "is why I don't speak very often."
"Hey, I can cheer for someone if I want," Quincy shot back, twisting slightly to face him. "That doesn't mean I'm helping him during the matches."
"You've been training him for hours every day," Drack countered, one brow arched.
Quincy grinned, leaning back comfortably. "Sure, but training in-between matches isn't against the rules. I don't help him during the fights—that's the difference."
Drack opened his mouth as if to argue, but no words came. With an annoyed grunt, he looked away.
"Oh wow, you actually got him to have a conversation. I'm somewhat impressed," Mae said as she approached, amusement flashing in her eyes. Her gaze drifted past Quincy and landed on Calvinel, her grin widening. "Hey, metal man. How're you holding up? Didn't even notice you come in. Guess I was too busy paying attention to someone more interesting."
Calvinel chuckled, unfazed. "I'm fine, thanks to the Healing Springs. And, you know, I think you meant that as an insult, but it's just the truth. Xain is more interesting than me."
Mae pointed at him with a quick nod. "Exactly." Then her grin shifted into a pout as her eyes flicked toward her twin. "Now, if only she understood that it's okay for us to share…" she whined.
Zee's head turned sharply at the comment, her narrowed eyes locking onto her sister before she leaned closer to Xain on the bench they shared. Xain, however, was far too preoccupied to notice. Half the inn seemed to be pressing in around him, bombarding him with questions about his fight with Even, leaving him oblivious to the silent battle happening right beside him.
"So protective, so boring. Doesn't she realize the fun we could have in a threes—"
"Okay, switching the conversation quickly," Roland cut in, raising a hand like he was calling order to a classroom before Mae could finish her thought. "Who do you all think is winning this whole tournament?" His eyes scanned the table, landing on each of them in turn.
"Well, I already gave my vote," Quincy said brightly, squeezing Even's hand again with a small, encouraging smile.
Calvinel rubbed his chin, his tone casual but his words heavy with firsthand experience. "Well, I did just get cut apart by her today, so… my vote's on Zeva." He shrugged, as if it was the only logical choice.
"I don't really see how she can stand up against magic," Drack said, lifting his drink for a slow sip. His voice was matter-of-fact, not mocking. "So I'll go with the Mathers."
Mae's smirk returned, sharp and full of energy. "Well, I like the way the swordswoman cuts people apart, so my vote's for her. She's just way more fun."
"So that's two for her, two for me so far," Even muttered, half to himself, tallying the count with a faint sigh. Then his gaze turned to Roland. "What about you?"
Roland hummed thoughtfully, glancing down into his cup before shaking his head. "I think I'll just abstain. Honestly, I can see both of you winning, so I can't really choose."
"Coward," Even mouthed under his breath.
Roland let out a short, awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why keep this at just one table?" Mae suddenly said, her grin growing as mischief lit up her eyes. "We should get everyone involved!"
Before anyone could stop her, she hopped to her feet and called out over the tavern's chatter, "Hey everyone! We're holding a vote on who you think will win—come join us!"