The mood in the stadium was electric, charged with emotion, and surprisingly quiet. While the audience was too far to hear her words, they had seen a greenblood spit on a blueblood. Good (or bad) natured combat with trolls above your caste was one thing, open disrespect was another.

There were plenty of other bluebloods in the seats ringing the arena, and even the occasional purple, a few with the gills of a seadweller. For a moment, it seemed like the entire population of the stands was going to flood down into the pit and start beating the life out of Pyruet, and each other. The crackle of the microphone, when it came, was so startling it made more than a few trolls jump. The queen was calling the end of the battle, her voice no less jovial then at the start, and it cut through the tension like a knife through churned udderbeast milk.

"And it looks like we have the first straight knockout! Livora is doooown for the count, and we have Pyyyyruet Tropos moving on to the final rounds with the only completed match of the second rounds under her belt!"