The festival grounds transformed overnight, the wide eastern fields that ordinarily hosted nothing more dramatic than routine combat drills now strung with colorful banners in each house's particular colors, temporary stands rising along the field's edges to accommodate the whole assembled student body, and a raised platform constructed at the grounds' center where, Arthur understood from the printed schedule tucked into his pocket, the opening remarks would shortly begin.
FNN: This is it. This is genuinely it.
He'd arrived early, dressed already in whatever combination of practical gear he'd assembled for his own four events, and practically vibrated with the particular contained energy of someone who had been anticipating this exact morning for weeks.
BRR: You say that like you haven't been talking about nothing else since registration.
FNN: I've been talking about the ANTICIPATION of it. This is different. This is the ACTUAL THING.
The whole group had gathered near the eastern stands, the full assembled cast of the past several months standing together in the cold, bright morning, and Arthur, looking around at all of them, Elsie already stretching with focused concentration, Yseult examining her own hands with the particular confident satisfaction of someone entirely certain of her own upcoming performance, Mira quiet and composed at the group's edge, Corin standing slightly apart with Talon and, Arthur noted with interest, a young woman he didn't recognize who bore an unmistakable family resemblance, found himself struck by the sheer accumulated warmth of it, months of friendship condensed into one bright, anticipatory morning.
COR: This is Rosalind. My cousin.
He said it with the particular formal introduction his family's manner always seemed to require, and the young woman beside him offered a warm, easy smile that carried none of Corin's usual careful reserve.
ROS: You must be the group he's been writing about. It's lovely to finally put faces to names.
ELS: He's been writing about us?
ROS: Extensively, actually. Though I'll admit he'd deny it if pressed.
Corin's expression carried the particular controlled discomfort of someone whose private correspondence had just been revealed without his consent, and the group's collective, delighted attention immediately shifted toward him with open amusement.
FNN: HE'S BEEN WRITING ABOUT US?
COR: I mention you occasionally. In passing. It's hardly extensive.
ROS: He described Elsie as, and I'm quoting directly, formidable in ways that continue to surprise him.
ELS: Did he really.
COR: Rosalind.
ROS: And Arthur as someone whose rivalry he considers, again quoting, the most genuinely interesting development of his entire academic career so far.
Arthur, catching Corin's mortified expression, found himself, despite the moment's teasing edge, genuinely warmed by the revelation, and Corin, apparently recognizing the futility of further protest, simply sighed with the particular resignation of someone who had clearly underestimated his cousin's willingness to expose him.
COR: I regret inviting you.
ROS: No you don't.
COR: No. I suppose I don't.
The platform at the field's center drew everyone's attention as Headmistress Wysteria ascended it, her presence commanding immediate, respectful quiet from the assembled crowd, the particular authority she carried without ever needing to raise her voice to claim it.
WYS: Welcome, all of you, to Solmere's Annual Sports Festival.
Her voice carried easily across the whole field, and Arthur, watching her from the crowd, found himself, as always, drawn to the particular quality of attention she brought to everything, the faint iridescent shimmer along her collarbone catching the morning light as she turned to address different sections of the gathered students.
WYS: This festival exists for a purpose beyond simple competition, though competition, certainly, is part of its value. It exists to remind each of you that strength takes many shapes. Some of you will compete today using the gifts your souls granted you at birth. Others will compete using skills built through years of deliberate, patient effort. Both are worth celebrating equally. Neither is worth more than the other.
She paused, her gaze moving slowly across the crowd, and Arthur, though he could not have said precisely why, felt certain, for one brief moment, that her attention had settled on him specifically before continuing onward.
WYS: I ask each of you, competitors and spectators alike, to remember that today is not simply about who wins. It is about what each of you discovers, in the effort of trying, about the shape of your own particular strength. Compete with honor. Compete with joy. And remember that the person standing across from you deserves your full respect, regardless of what today's outcome ultimately reveals.
She stepped back from the platform's edge, and the crowd's applause rose warm and enthusiastic, and Instructor Sutton, taking her place at the platform's front with rather less ceremony, began reading through the day's event schedule in his characteristic brisk, efficient register.
SUT: Academic relay begins in twenty minutes at the eastern pavilion. Precision navigation course opens simultaneously at the northern field. Alchemy demonstrations and strategy tournament both convene at midday in the central hall. Dueling showcase begins after lunch at the main arena. Endurance course concludes the day's individual events at the western track.
He looked up from his notes, his expression carrying its usual weary, unbothered patience.
SUT: Get to your events. Don't be late. I have neither patience nor sympathy for tardiness on festival days specifically.
The crowd began dispersing toward their various events, the whole field dissolving into organized, purposeful chaos, and Arthur, checking his own schedule, found he had several hours yet before the endurance course began, and turned to the rest of the group with the particular anticipation of watching people he cared about compete at things they'd worked hard toward.
ELS: Come watch me first. Northern field.
ART: Wouldn't miss it.
YSE: And then the demonstration hall, obviously.
ART: Obviously.
BRR: And the relay, before that, if you don't mind. I could use the moral support, given certain people's betting practices.
He directed a pointed look toward Finn, who raised both hands in a gesture of exaggerated innocence.
FNN: I've fully revised my position on that matter.
BRR: You bet against me AGAIN this morning, didn't you?!
FNN: The odds simply remained unfavorable!
The group's familiar bickering carried them across the field toward their various destinations, and Arthur, walking among them in the cold, bright morning, the whole festival's colorful, anticipatory energy settling comfortably around him, found himself entirely, thoroughly looking forward to whatever the day had waiting.