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The murmurs about Eli’s presence at the tournament were, suffice to say, a bit more prominent among the crowd. 

It was a reality Eli was quite used to. Lord Elidthianis Hawke, the youngest son of the Marquess of the North, and the Lord of The Aerie. The Absolute. The Reincarnation of Alexander himself.

The words and titles still ran his blood cold and the whispers from above did not aid his temperament at all. He moved forward, going through all of the motions and preparations. Use aura to dull his blade to avoid an incident, make sure all pre-measures were made, and contain any excitement to a bare minimum. It would be unwise if he was caught off guard in a battle of skill and he wanted–no, [i]needed[/i] to show that he wasn’t a pauper playing a game of pretend. Everyone had told him he should’ve been studying politics and magic. But he wasn’t “playing” knight. His intention had always been to reject the twin gods of fate and destiny and give them a bitten thumb for all to see.

When he arrived at his destination he smiled, full of confidence and readiness.

[color=69D7CC]“I suppose you're my dance partner?”[/color] Eli commented, nonchalantly as he looked over the opponent in the circle before him. [color=69D7CC]“You don't look like much.”[/color]