Eagerly watching the beginning of the melee with a slight smirk on his face, Olyvar was already wishing for the fight to finish before it even started, like a restless child who had already grown bored with a toy immediately after holding it. Sitting idly by while waiting for something to happen was incredibly wearisome for him, he loathed periods of inactivity, especially when everything else seemed more entertaining. Looking back, Olyvar realised he probably should have been spending this opportunity to better prepare for his own fight, but it was obviously far too late now, not that Olyvar would care, he would view the disadvantage as some sort of challenge, a factor that would somehow make the fight more 'fun' for him.

The fighters seemed fascinating, particularly the contrast between their fighting styles, one light and fast, the other slow and heavy, encased in armour. Olyvar never understood why anyone would wear something that hefty and restrictive in combat, though he could recognise the value in its protective qualities, he detested the idea of standing there taking hit after hit until the opponent finds a fatal chink in the armour. Compared with the other fighter's agility and weapon choice, this would appear to be a most captivating fight indeed.