“Prince Johan’s champion is victorious, to the victor goes the spoils.” The king announced. Geoffrey let out an avian call and took to the air, rising to the balconies above and disappearing. The king didn’t look as a slow murmur broke out among the otherwise silent crowd. A murmur that slowly but surely built up to a roar as the crowd celebrated the outcome of the duel. Several servants rushed out to attend to Shortbeak as Handy fell to one knee. The pain in his torso now nearly overwhelming, the dull roar of sensation in his shoulder protesting any and all movement of his upper body, including breathing. He looked about, only noticing the thin trails of blood spilt about the floor. It was only in small quantities but it was still too much if the swirling light headedness had anything to say about it. 