The boys raced through the street. They could already hear the chanting of the crowds further down in the large Stadium in the center of the city. Tamrick noticed that from the palace they had begun at to this viewpoint of the Stadium, the numbers of people jostling each other had increased dramatically. Stadium-goers vying to get ahead to get the best seats, merchants calling and selling wares, and citizens trying to go about their normal day despite the great commotion the annual games had caused. The Games were an annual holiday that most the city, indeed the empire, took seriously. Tamrick and Achroda had now slowed to a walk, as the running space had vanished.
"Will we even be able to have seats?" Tamrick asked. He looked around at the masses of people from all corners of the empire and beyond. There was no way they would all fit, he knew.
"Of course." Achroda smiled. He opened the satchel by his side and produced a large medallion. "We have access to the Stadium overlook. We simply show the guards this and we will get escorted to seats."
Tamrick recognized the medallion. Baron Miklaeus's insignia was blazoned with gold onto the steel background. The caricature of a flying eagle was known throughout the empire, inciting both allegiances and animosities.
The warm summer's day was intensified by the crowds and the thousands of shimmering specks of wares, jewelries, and weapons. The hub of foreign languages was complimented by the variety of kindreds represented. Tamrick, an Aleread from the West, knew such people existed, but had rarely seen any in the secluded hills that bordered the empire. He was frequently caught staring at an impressively tall Doruk, or the hairy goat-like Venlera. One even growled and lowered his horns slightly, causing Tamrick to catch his breath and quickly move on.
The masses at the front of the gates were at a standstill. Tamrick and Achroda tried to push their way forward, but several angry glares prompted them to stop their efforts. Achroda pursed his lips as he tried peering over the tops of the crowds, looking for a speedier way into the massive stone and wood structure.
"The gates aren't even open yet." He moaned. As if on cue, the boys heard a massive creaking. Looking up, they saw the large doors swinging open. A massive cheer went up from the waiting crowd. Achroda looked immensely pleased with himself. "Hah. That worked." He paused then said. "The crowd isn't even moving." Tamrick's skeptical gaze alternated between Achroda, expectantly looking around, and the large throng of stadium-goers. A few elves in front of them shuffled forward, and Achroda's smile widened. "There it goes again! The power of suggestion."
"You're insufferable." Tamrick said, rolling his eyes.
"You're jealous," was the quick retort. "And you know, if you keep rolling your eyes, they'll fall right out."
The crowd began moving soon after. Guards at the gates kept an eye out for suspicious characters, while others collected the small entrance fee. As the boys stepped up to the table, Achroda held out the medallion.
"The overlook, please." He said confidently.
The gate keeper looked at the medallion and then at the two boys. "The Baron, eh?" His eyes narrowed as he considered. He then looked at the long line behind them, and waved them on. "Fine. Tifard, escort them to the overlook." He said begrudgingly.
A soldier stepped forward and also eyed Tamrick and Achroda suspiciously. "In the Baron's name, is that right?" Achroda nodded. The guard took the medallion and inspected it before handing it back. "This way please."
They took a staircase off to one side of the entrance. Several flights and a hallway later, the guard opened a door to a large, spacious balcony. The large dirt arena spread out before them. There were eight large colored standards in the middle.
Achroda glanced at Tamrick, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. "This is it. Come on, let's find some seats."
