As the fight continued to rage in the arena, Patroclop sat on his rump, lost in thought. He had made it to one of the biggest combat events anypony could ever wish to enter. Looking around the room, Patroclop saw Equestria’s combatants already geared up; but he wasn’t. And he was up next.
The other colts seemed completely focused on what was to come, not even talking to each other, or their squires. They were completely clad in thick, dark blue armour with only their snouts and eyes showing, as per tournament rules. The dim lighting in the room made it difficult to see them; especially as the walls were also dark blue.
Patroclop was the only new combatant on the Equestria side this year, so everyone else in the room was used to this setting. He had never felt so nervous in his life. His fear made him shiver slightly, and he lost himself in his mind, not listening to the ongoing fight like the other combatants were. He was a tall, white colt, fairly young for a combatant. He had a head of short, blonde, bushy hair. His dark brown eyes burn with the passion of battle, so his mentors had told him. His Cutie Mark was his weapon of choice; a long, slightly curved sword, one edge thinner and slightly more jagged than the other.
“Patroclop, you look sad” Putchuk said, “Are you ok?”.
Patroclop smiled at his young squire. The small colt was obsessed with him. He seemed to aspire to be exactly like Patroclop in every single way. He had even dyed his hair blond to match Patroclop’s, seeing as Putchuk was also white. The poor thing even had a blank flank; he had asked Patroclop many times to practice with his sword, as he was sure that his Cutie Mark would be the same as Patroclop’s. Patroclop often let him, but the poor boy always stopped practicing swiftly after starting, due to never getting the Cutie Mark.
“Ah, I’m fine, Putchuk” Patroclop replied, trying to put a smile on his face, “I’m just very nervous, that’s all. I’ve never fought in something this big”.
“But you’re gonna win!” Putchuk cried happily, “No colt can defeat the magnificent Patroclop! They’ll be talking about the colt with the sleek, thin, white coat and shaggy, blonde mane for years to come after your amazing victory! Hell, I’d say you could beat all of Porea’s combatants at once!”.
Patroclop blushed as all the other combatants turned around to look at Putchuk’s outburst, with smiles on their faces, some laughing quietly to themselves.
“Quiet down a bit, will you?” Patroclop replied, slightly angry, “You’re embarrassing me! The Equestria versus Ponea competition is serious business! I’ll be fighting in front of Princess Celestia herself, and in front of a colt chosen by Ponea! My opponent may be fighting with a fighting style I’ve never fought before, due to them fighting a bit differently over there!”.
Putchuk’s face fell at this outburst, but he didn’t feel like moaning about it.
“I’m extremely nervous as I don’t want to fail my homeland!” Patroclop went on, “Ponea won last year, and I don’t want to contribute to them having another victory! Now, it’s best that you gear me up so I won’t miss the fight!”.
Without saying a word, Putchuk got ready to put Patroclop’s raiment on him as he stood up. Putchuk put on his chest piece, helmet and greaves, respectively, each a perfect fit, tightened securely over Patroclop’s body. He then gave Patroclop his sword; the same one he had used all his life, and the one that was also his Cutie Mark. Putchuk had sharpened and cleaned it since Patroclop had last seen it. Putchuk obviously wanted him to have a clean sword in order for him to look better or become famous or something like that, he thought to himself.
“AND THE WINNER OF THE FIRST ROUND IS PONEA!” the announcer from outside bellowed, “WON BY…. ZIADO!”.
Patroclop lowered his head in disappointment as the cheers went on outside from the spectators. He had even more pressure to win now, since they were already a point down. Podre walked in after about a minute, looking even more disappointed, and he seemed to be barely able to move in the combatant armour.
“I’m sorry I lost, everyone” Podre said crying, “I have failed you”.
Podre was a black colt, about the same age as Patroclop, taking after his mother, Luna. He had a frail body and frail health, most of the time, if the stories about his many illnesses were true. His high status in society had made him a spoiled child, and he never lost that attitude.
Nopony tried to console him. Patroclop and the rest of the team felt that Podre was a useless attention seeker. From what Patroclop had seen of his fights, he was never very good with his fencing sword, and he was a real drama queen. After about fifteen seconds of noticing that nopony cared about his sadness, he went into a rage.
“Why don’t you guys take me seriously?” he snapped, “Yes, I may not be as good as you all, but I was still chosen to fight here, and I deserve respect!”.
“HAH!” one of the Equestrian combatants shouted, “You’re Celestia’s nephew! If you weren’t Luna’s son, you wouldn’t have even be considered for this tournament!”.
“Oh, yeah?” Podre replied, “Celestia chose me personally, although there were many different ponies to choose from. If she cared about winning this time, which she always cares about, she wouldn’t have picked me to be one of the fifteen contestants!”.
“She picked you to go first” another combatant said cruelly, “She wanted your performance out of the way since it was so short! She knew you were going to lose, but put you at the beginning so the crowd had better fights to watch! She’s also been watching the other team, and believes that we have a really good chance of winning this year as they aren’t looking too good. So, stop your whining and get out of here, before you get roughed up!”.
Podre was stunned by this outburst. He wasn’t used to being addressed in such a way, seeing as he was pretty much royalty in Canterlot. He stormed out of the room without a single word.
“Anyway” the same combatant said, looking at Patroclop, “From what I’ve seen, you’re far better than that chump! And I think you’ve got a fair chance against your opponent!”.
Patroclop was confused. “You know who I’ll be fighting? He asked eagerly.
“Of course I do!” the combatant replied, “Didn’t you know that the fights are randomly selected before the event, and we know who’s fighting who? Anyway, you’ll be fighting a staff user. He had very good control of it, but prefers high, horizontal strikes. You should be well able to deal with him”.
Patroclop’s face fell. “But I’ve never fought a staff wielder before!” he cried, “And he’s surely fought a sword wielder! He has a massive advantage!”.
“Relax” the combatant replied, “You’re fairly unique to other sword wielders. I don’t know what it is, but from what I’ve seen of you, you have some sort of…. Gift for battle”.
Patroclop began to blush, and hung his head down lower.
“You have no reason to be afraid” he continued, “Staff wielders prefer lighter attire than the standard tournament armour, anyway! He’ll be too weighed down to do his normal, quick moves!”.
Patroclop listened to the combatant’s words and began to become more confident. He could do this. He’s won many fights before, and a new stick guy won’t be enough to stop him, he thought to himself.
“That’s the spirit!” the combatant said happily, as he saw Patroclop’s eyes light up. “Now, your match should begin any minute now. Calm your nerves a bit while you can”.
Patroclop sat down and took a few deep breaths, before the announcer began bellowing again.
“Now, citizens of Equestria and Ponea, welcome…. YOUR NEXT TWO COMBATANTS!!!”.
The crowd started roaring as Putchuk began nudging Patroclop towards the door. Patroclop took a deep breath, before opening the door and walking out into the bright, sun-lit stadium, thousands of fans there to greet him.