conan/pyr.
The crowd roared with excitement, thirsty for the show of violence and talent. Outside the ring was another battle, an imaginary one. Conan brought his toy sword along to watch and playfight (without reprimand) with the other children in the masses. The enemies he fought existed only in his head, shadows that stretched and danced around the innocents' feet. He stabbed the dirt and kicked up dust killing these fake monsters.
Something in the distance moved. Conan's grip fell loose as he squinted his eyes for a glance. He caught side of a familiar face, small frame. Pyr Min! Their eyes fixated on the competitors, spectators paid no attention to the lanky teen pushing his way through for a better view.
"Hey, Pyr! Pyr!" the squire called to the other (except the "other" was not a squire at all). He tapped the shoulder of Not-Squire Min with a blunt end of his wooden sword. Laughing, he waved the blade around in a mock effort at battle. "En garde!"