That was apparently all the announcer needed to hear. He bowed quickly, almost disrespectfully so, and spit out a hurried thanks before waving to some Ylveryans by the door. They departed and soon the next tier of gladiators came into the room, swarming the tables as if they feared only scraps would be left behind by the first group.
The eleven tier two fighters soon settled and started to pick more carefully, realizing now that there were still plenty of weapons to be had and quite the exotic variety to choose from.
As Kre passed the table opposite where Beleg was, he noticed a symbol on the pommel of one of the blades resting there and it tugged at his memory as if he had seen it before.
“If your master can fight with two blades, that is the only matched set in the entire collection,” the Ylveryan behind the next table over called to him. He was manning the table with what looked like a sickle on the end of a short chain, but he took a few steps to stand next to Kre as the boy examined the swords.
“I think,” Kre began, still trying to figure out where he recognized the symbol from, “My Master Beleg is skilled at dual wielding, but the blades seem a bit small for him.” That part, at least, was true. The twin swords were only about four feet in total length and a fifth of that was taken up by the grip and cross guard. The pommel seemed the only decorative aspect of the set, though the blades did have an odd streaking to them.
“What have we here,” Beleg rumbled, stepping up behind Kre. “Ah lad, we’re not looking for practice blades for you.” He brushed his hand against the hilt of one of the paired swords and paused.
“On the other hand,” he mused in his low voice. He glanced over at Kre and raised an eyebrow. “Consider this a test of your training and tell me how well balanced they are as a matched set.” They both knew that Kre had no such training, but they also both knew that Beleg wanted to him to assess whether the blades were… well, wrong was the only word for it. Wrong as the other sword had been.
Kre took the hint and, though he was extremely reluctant to do so, reached for the two blades and grasped them boldly, lifting them from the table. He was almost immediately surprised by the fact that they appeared weightless in his hands. His grip was certainly comfortable and secure, but he had to double check to ensure that he actually held the weapons in his hands.
“I… uh…” he stammered, unsure how to phrase what he was experiencing. He gave the sword in his right hand a practice swing and was surprised again when the sword practically swung itself, flying to its mark. He tested the other blade, and it too whistled through the air as he executed a flawless movement from one of Beleg’s sword forms.
“Seems pretty good,” Beleg murmured, clearly noticing the sudden increase in quality of Kre’s swordplay. “May I?”
Kre handed the blades over, still unsure how to explain what seemed to be at work here. Beleg performed his own tests, executing a handful of movements in rapid succession. Though his movements were impressive enough to make the nearby gladiators pause and watch, mouths agape, and even stellar enough to make the Ylveryan aide raise an eyebrow in appreciation.
Yet, it didn’t seem to Kre that the swords were reacting with Beleg as they had with him.