This could get interesting (private Deme)

Brett was at the arena after breakfast and a shower, ready to train and compete. He wore a sleeveless black sportswear t-shirt and shorts. Brett wore his blonde hair slicked back, so his bangs wouldn't get in his eyes while in combat. He looked around at some of the trainees putting on protective gear, and he got his custom armor from his locker in the locker room- perks of being a person in power. After that, he got his conquest steel sword and watched as one of the three tribes lined up, waiting for their leaders to get here. They looked pretty legit and ready, so he assumed they were seniors. Brett looked around as they awaited Cyrus' arrival.

Cyrus, being the responsible tribe leader he was, was never late for his class. He took his position as a leader very seriously and almost became a different person when it came to training. He was very calm and very quiet, which meant that he always had to make his presence known if he wanted a more dramatic flare.
"'A warrior thinks of death when things become unclear. The idea of death is the only thing that tempers our spirit.'" He sighed, striding forward slowly from behind his warriors, most who seemed to just notice that he was there. He wore nothing but his breastplate as armor, his sabre sword in his hand, and his shield strapped to his opposite forearm. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants and a tanktop that advertised his tattoos. His facial expression was stern. "Carlos Castaneda said that. He wasn't a warrior, but he knew a lot about them. I - Brett." Cyrus cracked a small smile at the younger. "Training with the other seniors today?"