Two hundred thousand people.
The Sovereign's Coliseum held two hundred thousand spectators in tiered seating that rose sixty rows high around a circular arena floor the size of a football field. The architecture was ancient — Founding Era, like the academy — but maintained with the particular investment that the Empire directed at institutions it considered vital to its political identity. Every stone was Aether-infused. Every seat provided a clear view. Every acoustic enhancement ensured that a whisper on the arena floor could be heard in the highest row.
The game had rendered the Coliseum as an impressive set piece. Reality rendered it as a cathedral of violence — a space designed by a civilization to worship the thing it valued most: power displayed for public consumption.
