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While Lizbeth led Hurman around during her final errands, the dean and professors took a moment to visit their final combatants.

Though Burt was surrounded by nobles trying to get to know him, the hosts could sense the hidden loneliness under the young man’s smile. He never got too close to the nobles and he never let them know anything regarding his origin or background. Everything Burt jokingly said was more calculated than anyone gave him credit for. And the hosts each chuckled as they approached him, letting the nobles and businessmen part to clear a path.

“Burttin, congratulations on reaching the finals!” Dean Jarrit stated with a slight bow of his head.

Bowing respectfully, Burt laughed, “Thank you! But this only went as I expected, so I’m not surprised.”

“Either way, you’ve still proven yourself to be amongst the most promising youth of this generation.”

“But isn’t he an even bigger surprise?” Burt pointed to the other side of the waiting area. “No one knows where he’s from and Old Man Hurman isn’t saying a thing about him either. I can’t wait to face him!”

.....

While the small crowd around Burt was a little confused by his wording, the hosts chuckled. Jarrit added, “Perhaps... But your entry into the tournament is just as much of a surprise to us. We’re glad to have such outstanding, competent competitors face the overwhelming odds and win their way to the top.”

“You won’t go making him forfeit, will you?”

“No, we’ll do no such thing.”

“What about–”

CAW! The hawk perched on Hurman’s staff cried out, interrupting Burt.

“Assistant Lizbeth won’t either, I can assure you,” Jarrit chuckled. “The decision will lie with Oliver and how he feels with his injuries.”

“You can heal them, right?”

“They’ll be healed but likely to reopen if he decides to fight.”

“Can’t we–”

CAW!

“Burttin, I’m sorry but that’s the best we can manage. It’s expected that he’ll either surrender soon after the match begins or you’ll win by reopening his wounds, forcing us to call the match soon after his blood loss becomes grave,” stated Jarrit.

“I guess that makes sense...” Burt sighed, disappointed at imagining such an outcome.

“Either way, you both are phenomenal talents. That’s been proven many times over.”

“First Trenk rings out, then this... How annoying!” Burt whined and glared at the hawk, surprising those around him with his childish tone. “There’s no way to get him healed before the finals?”

“Not with the available resources.” Bowing his head once again, Jarrit waved to the young man. “We should be going now, but know that we’ve enjoyed your matches and the talent you’ve shown.”

“Thanks...”

The nobles and businessmen returned to hounding Burt with questions as the host left, most asking about what Burt meant in that conversation. But Burt didn’t reply to anything. He only said a few words to some questions about meaningless matters while he eyed his future opponent with disillusionment painted across his brow.

Jarrit and both professors also visited Oli but didn’t stay long. With Oli busy recovering, they didn’t feel interrupting him was worth anything when they could greet him after the match. Also, seeing Oli’s determination to recover proved to them how tenacious the young man was, and how likely it was that Oli wouldn’t be surrendering the match. But that only made them more eager to learn more about the young man.

To their surprise, they found the man they were looking for standing beside their fellow host. Nearing their seats, Nixt ran forward and threw an arm over Hurman’s shoulders. “Wow... You need to hurry up and ascend before you wither and die.”

“So I’ve matured sooner than most, what of it?” replied Hurman, briefly rubbing Nixt’s head. “Don’t look, but your hairline is receding while mine matures.”

“It’s good to see you too, Hurman,” chuckled Bastol.

“It’s been a while... Professor.”

Accepting Hurman’s humble bow, Jarrit bowed in return. “Still an elder, I see? For the star pupil to be the last of the bunch, I’m always surprised by the fact.”

“At least I’m carving my own path. It’s more difficult but my understanding of techniques and arts is deeper than ever,” stated Hurman. “You won’t need to wait for much longer.”

“That’s good to hear... By the way, how did you find that young man?” asked Jarrit, getting all the hosts to listen carefully.

Hurman sighed and shrugged, “As I told Lizbeth, he found me. I just happened to test him and see potential in him, so I agreed to let him enter the tournament.”

“Says the man who hasn’t sponsored someone since Jonon and Mertin,” chuckled Bastol. “You’re too picky. But you always were.”

“My offer still stands.”

“Sorry professor, but I’ll have to decline yet again.”

“Fine... but I’ll be waiting. I’m sure you’ll accept my offer once one of your boys is finally an elder. Just give it time.”

Chuckling, Hurman sighed, “Sorry, but I doubt that...”

“So, what are your thoughts on this young man? How do you think he’ll fare in this next match?”

“... I’m not entirely sure. But I do know that you’ve yet to see everything that he has to offer.”

Noticing the strange expression on Lizbeth’s face, Jarrit smiled. “I take it you’ve figured it out?”

“I suppose,” Hurman responded with a humble bow, but to the hawk and not Jarrit.

“You would’ve learned about him eventually... But no matter. Do you think Oliver will genuinely fight or just surrender after testing his strength with the injuries?”

“I believe he’ll fight.”

“Good... Lizbeth, would you care to make a wager?”