"You what? You want to be a combatant?" The man scoffed with a laugh, " Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she's dead! Wait, you're serious, aren't you? What is it with you people? You walk in here, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up decorating my Red Room. All right. It's your funeral. Welcome to the Arena, you filthy Pit Dog," (Tristyn assumed this was a rank or an insult), "You're free to fight, so long as you know the rules of competition." At hearing this, Tristyn had to hide a smile; upon reaching higher ranks, he'd be revered by this man, surely.
"Well, how about you tell me the rules, then?" Smirked Tristyn, drawing himself up to full height. Owyn, ignoring his attempts at looking brave, informed Tristyn of the various conditions for fighting in the Arena:
- You must wear a Battle Raiment during the matches, but you can have your own shield, weapon and helmet.
- No looting of corpses
- Matches take place between 9:00 AM and 9:00 PM.
Owyn then questioned Tristyn which Battle Raiment he wanted, to which Tristyn with a smile, responded;
"Heavy.", making Owyn look slightly less annoyed somehow, remarking how it was strong and he should wear it proudly.
"So, can I partake in a match?" Tristyn asked with an eager look, hurriedly pulling on his Raiment- which seemed to glow slightly, giving him an odd feeling of power.
"Yes, so get up there!" He replied with a roll of his eyes. "Going to get himself killed." He muttered contemptously, not noticing Geel in the midst of this.