Olemnu patted Beseth on the back. He stood, too silent, in the hallway. Beseth looked over at Buddy, whose jaw clenched, staring at him. Buddy had to be elated. 

Beseth was ready to go. It hurt to be with them. At that moment, he realized his friendship with Olemnnu seemed so shallow. There was so much they hadn't communicated, and this wasn't the time. Some things couldn't be. 

Beseth clenched his fists. The flutes blew their high pitches, calling them to the field. All the players and their subs walked out into the sunlight, the smell of perspiration already lingered in the air. But Beseth stayed put. Buddy turned around. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you play." Beseth answered, forcing a smile.

Olemnu looked shocked. But when Buddy turned to him, he quickly restrained himself. "That's for when you're tired! Come on, you're just sulking. You can still play."

"I have no problem taking over once you're gone." Buddy said. "But I don't want to hear any complaints about this."

"Oh, don't you worry, Buddy. I'm playing."

"Then what is this? You just didn't have enough time to pout?" Buddy chided. "So sad about your parents not being able to stop your conscription? Gonna cry in here, out of the eyes of the 'fans'?"

Beseth scoffed, pushing his chip into Buddy's hands and walking past him. "You'll see what I do. Then you'll understand just how far the gap is between you and me."

Olemnu glided on the field. That wasn't what he used to call it, but Beseth's lust for all things novel must have rubbed off on him. By tomorrow he'd just be "moving very fast". He contorted in every direction, blocking some outright, others just getting a touch. The discs thunked heavily into his bowl-like buckler, every Javelin taking shots at them. Piruwe was a hard guy to Shield for. He moved so sluggishly at this point. His breathing was heavy, sweat pouring from his face despite the cool breeze. It was the third round. And Beseth refused to give either of them a substitution. He stood on the side, back up against the wall, playing with his dreadlocks.

Piruwe was hit twice in a row by the team to their left. A little breeze hit Olemnu's neck, causing him to shiver with the piping of the flutes. The man let out a grumble through clenched teeth, falling over his own feet to reach out of bounds and sat. Which would make him lock up. Which would further decrease his mobility. Olemnu cursed the man. Why did I have to be on a team with such ramheads? 

Three pips from the flutes and suddenly the round was over. They were down three, four, four, and seven. The team to their left was in the lead. Olemnu didn't know the Javelin personally, but Beseth probably did, as he knew most everyone from them coming up to meet him. And though it was nice to have a celebrity on your team, the fact that it was a team sport made it seem as if his partner would recieve an equal amount of recognition. Olemnu clenched his jaw. Maybe it is better this way. he thought.

Beseth stuck out both hands towards Buddy. One held a bottle of water, the other was empty. Piruwe shook his head, placing the sweat covered chip in Beseth's hand, and took the water. "Do you want to fill in for Olemnu, this round?"

"Not really." he huffed, hands resting on his knees.

"Well, you'll need to anyways. It will be a quick round. Your presence is superfluous, and I need Olemnu ready for our last round together."

"Last round, huh? How did I get so lucky?" Buddy said.

Buddy did as he was told, taking Olemnu's face mask and bucklers and cleaning it at a nearby station where people attended Subs with wipes. After five minutes, the teams stepped back into the circular field. Beseth jumped from one foot to the other keeping his body prepared. Piruwe stepped in front of him. The flutes sounded one long pip.

Chezyr started off the round with a move that was familiar to Beseth. A collection of discs cascaded over Beseth and Piruwe. Any normal person would hide. Not Beseth. For the second day in a row, Beseth called, "One and Two!" He stepped out of the shadow of Buddy as the man backed up to block for the pins. He stepped into the open lane to their left, throwing down a disc to the ground, to the surprise of Chezyr. He had known what Beseth would do, but by the look on his face he hadn't completely believed him. To anyone else, it would be a smart play by a strong player. But both Beseth and Chezyr knew what they were now.

The thrown-down disc popped back up over Chezyr, as the player got ready to slap it with his own disc. As Chezyr was looking up, he wasn't ready for the smack to his forehead. Though Javelins wore head protection, they weren't barred like the Shields'. Chezyr fell backwards, and the falling disc took out two pins with its bounce. Beseth bounced another along the ground, and Chezyr's Shield had barely noticed his partner on the ground before falling over him, thudding to the grass. He did end up blocking Beseth's strike, however. Beseth ignored a disc to his right, which smarted above his hip, barely counting. Instead of dwelling on it, he whistled a disc into Chezyr's last pin.

He sat there, stunned, his Shield trying to untangle himself from the Javelin. Beseth didn't even give him time to cheat. Maybe he was doing a good deed, stopping a cheater by cheating? More pips from the flutes, wild cheers, and another five minute break. Soon Olemnu stood in front of him, for one last go. Neither of his teammates could believe what they had seen. Beseth had taken them from a four point deficit to just one in fifteen seconds. (6,4,4,7)

"I don't know how, but you've outdone yourself, Beseth. Whatever the outcome, you should be proud." Olemnu said.

"Thanks." Beseth said. "Olemnu?"

"Yes?"

The flutes were about to sound. "I'm going to miss this."

"I'll miss you, too. Even though you'd never say it." Olemnu said, peaking over his shoulder at him. Beseth nodded and the final round of the tournament began. 

  Black flew in the sky like bats in the sun. Multiple Javelins had thrown their collections of discs all at once. Joining in, Beseth threw them as a stack of pancakes hurtling towards the pins on their right. The flutes pipped twice, as the stack's upper half caught the Javelin on the chest. One cone pin of theirs was knocked down, but not by Beseth. By Chezyr, whose discharge of discs poured over the team, his popping discs rebounding off one another. (6,4,4,8)

Beseth cursed. They were down by two points. Beseth hammered a disc against the ground, clunking it off opposite team's wooden pedestal. Its bounce caught the Javelin in the back, surprising the man. It had been close to hitting one of their pins as well on its way backwards. The teams traded blows for a full minute without any points, giving the Javelin to Beseth's right time to come back in from the break.

Chezyr's Shield battered at every disc, seeming to expect the attacks from Beseth. Any hits against the Javelin was ignored, as below the hips didn't count towards breaking a Javelin. Beseth changed up his throws, deciding to stay hidden behind Olemnu this round and play against the team opposite them. His hammers and bounces caught the Shield between four directions while his Javelin tried to stay hidden. Finally, Beseth knocked another down. Then Chezyr did. The crowd was raucous, and cheers echoed in the sunlit stadium. (7,4,4,9)

Then the cheering choked off in a moment, turning to audible cringes. Beseth broke, a disc thunking off his helmet. He was out for thirty seconds. Spending time off the field. Losing. His heart dropped into his stomach. He quickly moved off the field.

Olemnu back up to Beseth's place. Just him and the vultures. Even against these odds, his shoulders seemed immense from behind, like he could carry the team by himself. He batted one down. Then another. Soon multiple disc came at once. Olemnu used his whole body, kicking, bowing, and headbutting whatever he could get to. And what he couldn't possibly get to, he hit anyway.

It was a wonder to behold. Honestly, they could still move on to Crown Siege. I don't know how many points we've racked up until now over the whole tournament, but it could be enough. But, is having them move on enough for me? 

A flute pipped for him to go back in, and he ducked down low with Olemnu watching out for his return, batting at the incoming attacks to break Beseth again. He fixed himself in his position again. As he immediately knocked down Chezyr's second to last pin, the other pin fell with it. By another team's disc. 

The blood seemed to drained from his arms, as they fell limp. Final score: eight, five, four, and nine. Chezyr and his team lept, pumping his fist to the piping of the flutes. His cheating was far more noticeable than his own, the little bursts of wind that broke several Javelins were attached to the bottoms of the discs. Beseth's were so much more clever! He looked to an official on his way to congratulate them. He could tell them now. He could disqualify Chezyr, guaranteeing his team's spot in Crown Siege. But Chezyr could say the same of Beseth.

He fell to his knees, the others starting to make their way off the field, exchanging handshakes and congratulations. Laughing and smiling. Pulled up by his elbow, Beseth was led by Olemnu towards Chezyr. Chezyr smiled, and Beseth could see the strain on the man's face. He stuck out his hand to Beseth, he reluctantly accepted it. Leaning in close, as to not be heard, he whispered, "That was close. I'm sure you'll make it in from the point counting."

"Yeah. Surely."

Olemnu led him away, again after shaking hands himself. Officer Jacwe stood in the hall threshold. Making sure Beseth couldn't run. "I'll take him from here." he said. "That was an excellent match, you three. You looked like a real team out there."

"Thank you sir." Piruwe said, stepping up. He looked like he was about to cry for some reason. 

"He's going to be alright, isn't he?" Olemnu said, crossing his glistening arms.

"Of course. He'll be well looked after, and will see great success within a year's time." 

Olemnu gulped. He released Beseth's arm, and Beseth wanted to latch on to him. He mentally swore at himself. Wanting to pout, he'd be like a child, latching onto his father's leg on his first day of academy? He stood straight up, saluting them, his right three fingers across the left cheek. Surprisingly, both saluted in return, even Buddy.

They said their goodbyes, Olemnu crying just a bit, Piruwe looking a little choked up. It's that runt's team, now. he reminded himself. I hope Olemnu isn't too disappointed. Officer Jacwe helped him to his hotel, and took the room across the hall. Guards were posted outside his door during the night, for good measure.

Beseth looked back through morning mist at Blood Gully from the ram-drawn carriage headed towards Command, the tower past the Forgotten Wastes. The stone road was smooth, save for the occassional rock. It wasn't an unpleasant ride, with the heat having died down, and Fall edging in. He sat across from Officer Jacwe, being shaded by the canvas covering. Two guards sat outside with the driver in a separate enclosed part on the front side. "Sir," Beseth said, breaking the silence, "do you think I can commission my own set of weapons when we get to Command?"

"I don't see why not, it will just have to come out of your own pocket for something fancy. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure yet. I just want something... something no one else uses."

"Already looking to set yourself apart." Jacwe nodded his approval.

"Right, sir." 

Jacwe took out an envelope from his flowy coat pocket. "Your teammate asked me to give this to you."

"Olemnu?"

Jacwe shook his head. "Piruwe."

Something struck Beseth. Something was off about what Piruwe had said, earlier. Beseth hadn't told him about his parents intervening with his conscription. "Officer." Beseth said narrowing his eyes. "What did you say your last name was?"

"I didn't say." He said, face growing hard. "I am not a recruitment officer. My name is Sergeant Jacwe Rakhlan." 

Beseth's breath caught, and his blood ran cold. The misty air touched his goosebumped skin, and he shivered. "Piruwe's father?" 

He nodded. "Your brother was a good candidate. Your family tried so hard to convince the others. Oh, but I knew better. From the letters my son had sent me, I knew we had to have you, Buddy. Good job on tricking the refs with your cheating, by the way."

Beseth groaned, softly. He opened the envelope, and on the paper was written two words. Beseth had told him that Piruwe woud understand the gap between them, and here it was. Deciding that from now on no one would ever decide his future, Beseth read the words aloud, "I Win."