James had been subject to the odd assassination attempts here and there before, and it was thanks to those attempts that he was able to bring his hands forward in the nick of time and slap them together in front of his jugular a split second before the silver projectile pierced his neck.
He breathed a sigh of relief as his heart rate slowed down, his brain instantly shifting into high gear as James tried to trace the trajectory that the dart had come from. It took him about five seconds to grasp how royally he had fucked up, as his ears notified his brain that it was no longer being beat to a pulp by the cacophony of discord that had been attacking it for the past few minutes.
James dared a glance at the rest of his surroundings; the rather silent crowd that had descended into hushed whispers, the curious and scrutinizing stares of the other competitors, and the shaky smile that replaced the announcer's previously unshakeable cheery disposition. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the Don, his pudgy face slowly turning a brilliant shade of tomato red.
Time seemed to slow down as James flew past the possible choices in his head. This was why he loathed assassins. Why couldn't they just corner him in an alleyway with a couple of lame death threats and gang up on him like a sane person? It was infuriating. Having to stay wary 24/7 for poison darts and booby traps was such an absolute chore.
Mustering as much of his nonexistent acting skills as he could, James slapped his hands together like he was brushing off some dust, making sure to keep the needle clasped and hidden between his right hand's fingers. "Nothing to worry about," he said with a weak chuckle, "just a mosquito."
A few moments of tense silence passed as James wondered if that had been the right move. That hush was broken by a choir of angels, and not the metaphorical kind. Gods above did he sincerely want it to be the metaphorical kind.
Instead, James watched as Sera, the unofficial goddess of dramatic entrances, descended from the heavens wrapped in an ethereal glow with a gaggle of cherubs right on her tail. The cherubs didn't seem particularly pleased to be part of her entourage, especially the ones forced to carry the fluttering hems of her dress. One of them was even forced to fly directly under said clothing, serving as an impromptu barrier so the audience of mortals beneath couldn't sneak a peek at the goddess' delicates.
Sera smiled daintily as her eyes scanned the arena, her gaze lingering on James for a bit before her rose orbs found their target. She elegantly pointed at a large space at the very top of the stands, a spot reserved for the gods should they choose to watch the tournament, an invitation they had last accepted dozens of years past.
He could almost hear the mental insults the cherubs carried as they followed their master. Although technically their true master was Ara*, and her mother was just borrowing her daughter's toys. The small group of cherubs that were spared from having to lift Sera's dress burst into a new tune as they fluttered around her, their chubby bodies floating after her despite how their tiny wings barely flapped at all.
As soon as Sera took a seat, the whole arena burst. The announcer, who up to the point had his jaw dropped onto the floor, scrambled to regain his composure. James pressed his lips together as he watched the chaos unfold. While he was relieved that the goddess' arrival had taken the heat off of him, he was downright pissed that he now owed her one. The last thing he needed was to owe another god another favor, not to mention the fact that she was his least favorite deity.
"Amazing! The gods have truly blessed us this year! All hail Sera, Queen of the Heavens and Harbinger of Life." The announcer's voice boomed inside the arena as he raised his arms up to the air in a sign of devotion, the rest of the people in attendance quickly followed suit, James begrudgingly doing the same.
Once the raised limbs came back down, the announcer visibly sweatdropped as he communicated with what appeared to be one of the tournament's organizers. After a few seconds of hushed conversation, he turned his face towards the goddess, all traces of his previous wariness gone as he oozed charisma.
"My Lady. We have servants at the ready shall you require anything, and I hope you will find this year's tournament to your liking."
The whole arena was engulfed in silence yet again (James was really getting tired of this) as they waited with baited breaths for the goddess' reply. When she twirled her hand in the air, a sign of her approval, the spectators burst into another round of cheers, all of them giddy at the prospect of experiencing the tournament in the presence of a goddess.
And with that, the introductions continued.
James didn't pay much attention for a while, deciding it would be in his best interest to keep an eye out for any more assassination attempts. He doubted another god would bail him out again if he 'killed another mosquito'. At the mention of the other big question mark that had entered the tournament, James' interest was piqued.
"Introducing the heir to the noble Bougainvillea bloodline, the Golden Knight himself!"
The first word that popped into James' head as the knight stepped forward was: 'shiny'.
The golden metal that made up the man's armor was so reflective that James wondered how he hadn't noticed the noble before. It also made him think about why he didn't see the Lady in Red either, although that one could probably be boiled down to the fact that she was one of, if not the best assassins on the continent.
Now that James could see the noble up close, he realized they were practically the same in height, the bulky golden armor he wore only making him seem slightly taller than James was. His dazzling smile and flashy looks definitely completed the look of a knight in shining armor, at least if the swoons and squeals of the 'princesses' in the stands were any hint.
As the noble knight gave a few practiced waves to the adoring crowd, James noted that, despite his namesake, the man seemed to have no sword on his body visible at all. Scratch that, he had no weapons on him, period.
This brought up even more questions.
Would he use a summoning spell? A flashy and extravagant tactic that most certainly wouldn't be viable if one was to go out on an adventure, but an interesting tactic to keep one's cards close to their chest during a controlled event like the tournament.
Or perhaps he had something more sinister? Something like...
James' hand unconsciously brushed against his coat's pocket, relief evident on his face as he felt the sensation of cold metal against his palm. The feeling sent jolts up his spine, helping to clear his scattered thoughts as he focused on what he had to do.
The golden boy turned around and made a move to meld back into the center of the group of competitors, before he changed his mind and set course right for James.
That action didn't go unnoticed, as James hastily tucked the cube in his hand back into his pocket. As important as it might be, it would have to wait for later.
The noble boy walked up to him, his golden sabatons shaking the platform with each heavy step. He didn't stop walking until the two of them were face to face, their noses almost touching as both stared the other down.
His crimson eyes stared daggers at James, a contained fury hidden behind them. James held his own, his chestnut globes steady and unwavering at the former's assault.
James couldn't process what happened next.
One second they were at an impasse, probably looking like a weird macho staring contest to any who dared glance in their direction. And then the next... James had the knight pinned to the ground, the barrel of his revolver jammed under the man's chin.
"How do you know those names."