A warm breeze wafts across the arena, and as it tickles my face, I suck in a deep breath. I glance at my opponent, who is staring at me with a mixture of fierce determination and arrogance. My cold grey eyes narrow, and I echo his expression, readying my lance as adrenaline courses through my veins. The starting blast sounds, the trumpet’s cry reverberating around the restless crowd, and my horse charges forward, stirring up the tightly packed earth beneath his hooves. I am acutely aware of everything happening around me; the reflection of the sun off of my armor, the sweat dripping from my hairline, the tightness of my grip on the reigns. Time seems to slow down as the sharp tipped prong of the opponent nears, and in the face of the impending