The Tribe Hunt field was cleared, and the pillars used for the onlookers to the previous game were emptied and reserved for the various nobles attending the fight. Further pillars were erected within the hour as the farmers and masons shaped the earth in their image, giving enough room to fit the general populace who hadn't already succumbed to the days' events of drunken debauchery.

Floating platforms were then made, through a combination of work from the earthshapers and weathermen working in unity which would allow the higher ranked nobles, such as the King and his brothers, the best view throughout the Kingdom. 

The King himself stood solitarily upon his own platform, as his wives had all left long ago. In stark contrast, the brothers, Thomas, James, and William, sat with a bevy of women at their beck and call, bursting with excitement to see either of their brothers befall the embarrassment of losing the Game for Nobles.

While it may seem that their lack of participation in the creation of the banquet may have seen to have been born out of a lack of motivation. It was more akin to a trio of coyote's waiting for the mutual destruction of two apex predators fighting over a hunted prey.

Closer to the ground, the two teams took their positions and began preparing for the fight that was about to take place.

"It would be best if we knew the extent of each other's abilities Virgil," Guy said to the sullen noble next to him.

"It doesn't matter. This is a grudge match that Ciacco planned for the sole purpose of punishing me," Virgil replied back.

Cormac, who unbeknownst to himself had entered a game that had been rigged against himself, looked quizzically back at his uncle. "You're saying we can't win this?"

"No. We can't win this, we may have a competent Exiled with us, but Ciacco is blessed by the Gods. Not to mention that your brothers are far more than competent in their own respects."

Just these words alone caused pressure to build up within Cormac's chest.

"We are not as weak as they think we are Uncle. My teacher is a man born in the Tribes, he is not unfamiliar with violence brought up by war. You are a vastly intelligent noble with an army at your fingertips. And me, I am the next King. You said it yourself, I will be the man who pushes back the invaders and takes back the land from the Tribes that is rightfully ours!"

Virgil looked sullenly back at the boy in front of him, resting a palm on his shoulder he slowly turned the boy around and kneeled in until his head was almost directly behind the boy's ear.

"You haven't even noticed that presence. It's not that we are weak, boy. It's that they are strong."

What stood in front of Cormac was... a wall. A wall not meant for mere mortals to surpass. Beyond the Neshamah that screamed ice and lightning lay sheets and sheets of what seemed to be pure power, stressing and flexing, ready to be released. Even further up flew a large bird, which seemed to be feeding in excess, the ever-growing wall.