Part - 1
The second match was called with renewed anticipation. The crowd still buzzed from the brutal dance between Ser Deyric Varn and Ser Jorvan Rhest, the air thick with the scent of blood and victory. Now, the announcer's voice rose again, clear and commanding:
"Second bout Ser Garrick Vale of the Triune… versus Ser Caelric Dorn of the Order!"
The stadium erupted in cheers, especially from the Arcadian side, eager to see their knights reclaim momentum. Ser Garrick stepped forward, a mountain of a man clad in chainmail over thick leather, wielding a longsword with both hands. His reputation was built on relentless offense an unstoppable advance until his opponent yielded or fell. Across from him stood Ser Caelric Dorn, lean and wiry like Ser Deyric, but armed with a curved sabre meant for fast, slicing strikes.
The bell rang.
Garrick surged forward at once, the longsword whistling through the air with a whoosh before smashing against Caelric's parry with a bone-rattling CLANG!. Sparks burst from the steel, the sound sharp and violent. Caelric ducked low, boots scraping the sand, and rolled aside, his sabre hissing through the air in a quick riposte toward Garrick's thigh. Ring! the Arcadian blocked with a sweeping guard, steel grinding against steel before pivoting to drive his sword down in a brutal overhead chop.
The crowd gasped at the force dust kicked up as Caelric barely sidestepped, the ground shuddering beneath Garrick's weight.
The crowd gasped the CRASH! of blade on dirt shook dust into the air as Caelric barely sidestepped, feeling the wind of the strike graze past his ear. He struck back with a flurry shhhk-shhhk-shhhk! each slash a note in the deadly Dancer's Waltz, testing the gaps in Garrick's armor. But the Arcadian's defense was impenetrable, every blow met with a punishing CLANG! or THUD!.
Then Garrick unleashed The Hammer's Descent, a two-handed cleave so powerful it sent a shiver through the sabre's hilt and numbed Caelric's arms. The crowd roared as Garrick pressed forward, each strike faster, heavier, his sheer strength forcing Caelric back toward the edge of the ring. Crash! Clang! Smash! it was a storm of steel.
Momentum began to shift.
With a sudden twist, Garrick feinted low, then brought the sword up in a rising slash Iron Bloom the tip biting into Caelric's shoulder with a wet shhk! Blood spilled down his tunic, and his movements faltered. Garrick, smelling victory, closed in. Caelric tried to launch a counter, sabre darting in a last-ditch lunge, but Garrick caught the blade against his own and wrenched it free. The sabre spun across the sand.
The Arcadian knight raised his longsword high, then stopped short, its edge resting against Caelric's neck.
The announcer's voice cut through the chaos:
"Second bout Ser Garrick Vale of the Triune… versus Ser Caelric Dorn of the Order!"
The Arcadian side erupted in celebration. It was their first decisive win of the day, and it seemed to light a fire under their ranks.
From there, the matches rolled on fierce duels of steel, grit, and pride. Blades clashed, shields shattered, and blood stained the arena sand again and again. The Triune knights fought like men possessed, the Order met them blow for blow. When the dust settled after the seventh match, the score stood at four victories for the Order of Astelvyr, three for the Triune of Arcadia.
The air in the arena was electric. Both sides now knew they were fighting not just for honor, but for the right to shape the fate of kingdoms.
Part - 2
The arena's roar dulled into a tense hush, broken only by the restless snap of banners in the wind.
The sun hung low, casting the stone walls in burnished gold. The King of Arcadia rose from his throne, his voice carrying like a hammer blow. "For our final match, I send forth Caelen Vos, Warden of the Common."
From the royal dais, a figure emerged tall, broad-shouldered, his armor blackened and battle-worn, a jet-black spear in his grip. His calm eyes belied the weight of unshakable resolve, but there was a glint there too—a sharpened edge, honed for this moment.
Veylen's lips curved faintly. "Then I will send Alric, Second Commander of The Order."
Alric stepped forward, his gaze locking with Caelen's. No words passed between them, yet the air thrummed with the memory of that day in Astelvyr's halls, when Caelen had mocked their worth.
This was no simple tournament bout, there was a debt to be settled.
Veylen murmured to Halric, "If Aurelius were here, this would have been easy."
Halric gave a small hum. "But someone must keep the nobles in line."
The King, watching, asked, "And who is this Aurelius? I'd have liked to meet him."
"Perhaps next time," Veylen replied, his eyes never leaving the arena.
The herald's cry rang out.
"Final match! Alric of The Order versus Caelen Vos, Warden of the Common!"
The crowd roared anew. Caelen's spear caught the sunlight like a sliver of midnight, Alric's one-handed sword glinting in reply. A nod, a step, and then—the clash.
The first impact rang like a struck bell, Caelen's Spear of Equilibrium – Line of Judgment met by Alric's parry, the commander angling his blade just enough to deflect the killing thrust. Dust spiraled underfoot as they circled, each movement calculated.
Caelen advanced, weaving the Four Pillar Form with the grace of a master, each strike more forceful than the last. A sudden Glimmer Step carried him to Alric's flank, but the commander twisted, answering with a sharp draw of his blade.
"Not as flawless as Aurelius," Alric said evenly, "but I can manage a few tricks."
Silver Moon Draw, Moonshadow Sword Style – Lunar Fang steel flashed so fast it left a phantom arc.
Halric leaned forward. "The Silver Moon Draw…"
Prince Veylen's eyes narrowed. "When did Alric learn this?"
The King scoffed. "It's just a draw."
"You'll see," Halric murmured.
Caelen's expression hardened. "Impressive… but the spear is my world." His attacks surged, the pillar forms collapsing into a relentless storm. Alric's breath grew heavier, but his blade shifted into Silver Moon Draw, Moonlight Severance Style – Eclipsing Blade Dance, forming a continuous ring of steel.
They met again steel on steel, light against shadow sparks fountaining into the air. The crowd held its breath.
Time stretched. Sweat darkened their collars. Then, Caelen planted his spear into the earth, shoulders squaring. "This ends now." The world seemed to still as he began the killing motion of hin final move.
Spear of Equilibrium – The Dawn's…
But then
A scream ripped through the royal dais.
Both men froze. All eyes turned upward.
The King of Arcadia sat motionless, shock frozen on his face. Behind him, Dame Seris Malvarin, Warden of Judgment, stood with her blade buried in his heart. Crimson spread over the blue and gold of his robes, dripping in slow rivulets.
The arena fell into stunned silence.
Part - 3
The crowd erupted into chaos, voices clashing like steel as panic swept through the hall. All eyes were fixed on the sight before them: their hero, a Warden, driving his sword into the king's chest.
Gasps turned to screams. The Warden, Dame Seris Malvarin, wrenched the blade free and in the same breath turned on Prince Veylen, who sat frozen near the throne.
Steel flashed. But before it could reach its mark, the strike met the wolf-headed cane that Halric always kept within arm's reach. With a sharp, decisive motion, Halric stopped the blade dead. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he forced Malvarin back the force was so great that the Warden flew across the chamber and slammed into the wall, stone cracking under the impact.
Veylen, wide-eyed, spat out the words: "How in the hell did you do that?"
"Not now, Prince," Halric replied, voice calm but edged. "We're leaving." He hoisted the prince onto his shoulder as if he weighed nothing, turning to their escort. "Back to Astelvyr. Formation tight. Protect the prince."
The knights answered as one.
Alric looked at Caelen opposite to him "Another day, Ser Vos," he said, voice carrying over the gound. "For now, you've got bigger troubles." And then he was gone, the Astelvyr delegation moving as one, shields raised against the chaos.
Caelen gave a single nod, then turned toward the throne. "Knights! Capture Dame Seris Malvarin before he escapes!"
The first and second princes had already reached the king. His chest no longer rose. Prince Elandor, the firstborn, knelt beside him, tears glistening in his eyes. His gaze turned toward his younger brother.
"It's you," he said flatly.
Maeryn blinked. "What?" he was so shocked that his legs gave out.
"You killed our father," Elandor hissed, his voice shaking. "Everyone knows Malvarin served you. You ordered him to do it."
"That's a lie!" Maeryn shot back, but Elandor was already barking orders. "Guards! Arrest the Second Prince for the murder of the king!"
Maeryn struggled as armored hands seized him. "On what authority?" he demanded.
"As heir to the throne, I command it!" Elandor's voice rang out over the uproar. The guards dragged Maeryn away, his cries echoing through the chamber: "I didn't do it! It wasn't me!"
Caelen watched the scene unfold in grim silence. When the guards vanished with their prisoner, he turned to Elandor. "My prince, I should lead the hunt for Malvarin. The knights alone won't bring him down."
Elandor nodded sharply. "Take Sir Drenwyn with you."
They moved quickly, boots striking the marble in unison. As they ran, Caelen asked, "Why do you think Malvarin did it?"
"We'll ask him ourselves," Althar replied.
They reached the corridor where Halric's blow had hurled Malvarin. But instead of a desperate fight, they found the Warden unconscious, already bound and surrounded by knights. Giving the orders was Lord Malgor the military noble, well-known for his aggressive policies.
Althar glanced at Caelen. "You handle things here. I'll see Malvarin safely to the prison."
Caelen gave a curt nod. Lord Malgor strode over. "How is the king?"
Caelen's jaw tightened. "He's gone."
Malgor bowed his head. "A dark day indeed."
Caelen's eyes narrowed. "And the Astelvyr delegation? Did we catch them?"
"No," Malgor admitted. "Too strong for our knights especially that old man."
Caelen thought back. That's right. He was unusually strong.
"And Malvarin?"
"Unconscious from the blow that councilor dealt him earlier," Malgor said. "Now, I must take this news to the others. The kingdom must not descend into chaos."
Caelen inclined his head, but the thought gnawed at him. Malvarin is a wadren, in the strongest 100, not the kind to be taken down so easily, nor subdued by common knights. So what really happened?
Suspicion rooted itself deep.
End of Chapter.