The weight of the Queen's condition settled upon the assembly like an unspoken challenge, a pivotal moment that would determine the fate of my future course.
I nodded with resolute acceptance. "I understand, Your Majesty," I replied, my voice steady. "I am prepared to face this test and demonstrate my abilities, to prove myself as a worthy member of the team that will confront Astaha."
The room, now rekindled with anticipation, was abuzz with the murmurs of knights and ministers, each exchanging speculative glances.
The impending trial would not only serve as a measure of my capabilities but would also be a pivotal moment in the journey to protect their kingdom from the malevolent dragon.
Ernst, my soon-to-be adversary in the trial, stepped forward with a firm resolve. His daughter's determination and the Queen's trust in me had swayed his judgment.
He addressed the assembly with a voice that resonated with fatherly pride and knightly duty. "I have faith in Mumei's abilities and her unwavering spirit. I will conduct the test, and together, we shall ensure that our raiding team is prepared for the challenges that lie ahead."
The ministers, knights, and dignitaries from the Kingdom of Arvandor, including the steadfast Lancelot, began to make their way toward the training grounds.
The Queen, regal and composed, led the procession, her presence commanding the attention of all. She was flanked by her loyal ministers, who carried with them the weight of their kingdom's concerns.
Lancelot followed closely, her expression still marked with disapproval but unable to deny the weight of the moment.
The group made its way through the opulent palace, their footsteps echoing in the grand hallways adorned with magnificent tapestries and elaborate marble sculptures.
The nobility and courtiers who lined the corridors watched in hushed awe as the procession passed, acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
Tomoko, her heart aflutter with both trepidation and pride, joined the entourage, eager to witness her father and her newfound friend in this defining trial.
Her unwavering support for me was palpable as she walked alongside the Queen and the other dignitaries.
As the group reached the training grounds, they were met with a transformed scene. Where once there was serene grandeur, the training grounds now hummed with a sense of preparation and purpose.
Knights in shining armor stood at attention, their blades gleaming in the sunlight. Banners displaying the emblem of the Azurith Kingdom fluttered proudly in the wind.
Wooden barriers lined the perimeter, creating a safe viewing area for the ministers, the Queen, Lancelot, and a multitude of knights and palace staff who had gathered to bear witness.
The ministers, adorned in their regal attire, arrived in a procession. Their flowing robes and ornate jewels glistened in the morning sunlight.
They took their seats at the forefront of the viewing area, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension, for the outcome of this duel would significantly impact the kingdom's future.
Lancelot, wearing her resplendent armor, took her place nearby. She had maintained her reservations about Mumei but remained determined to watch the battle unfold.
The Queen, flanked by her loyal advisers, exuded an air of regal authority as she arrived. She occupied the central, elevated platform with a commanding view of the arena. Her presence imbued the event with a sense of importance and gravitas.
The duel itself was a carefully coordinated affair. The arena's stone covert ground had been marked with boundaries, and the crowds fell into a respectful hush as Ernst and I made our grand entrance.
The clinking of Ernst's meticulously crafted armor, every polished plate reflecting the sunlight, resonated through the arena.
My cloak, the color of brow, flowed like a shadow behind me. The weapons we bore, forged with the utmost precision and care, glistened in the sunlight, serving as a testament to our readiness for the contest ahead.
The signal to commence the duel came from the Queen herself. Her regal presence dominated the dais, a symbol of authority and grace, and her slightest movement commanded the attention of all.
With her royal scepter in hand, she signaled the beginning of the spectacle, and the crowd collectively held its breath.
Ernst's piercing eyes were locked on me, his gaze unwavering, as he analyzed my posture and movements for any hint of weakness.
With a single, smooth step forward, he closed the distance between us, his imposing figure leaning slightly forward, exuding confidence and determination.
In the blink of an eye, he pushed off from the ground with incredible power, and as he did, the very earth beneath him trembled and shattered under the force of his movement.
The audience was captivated, their collective breath held, as we engaged in a mesmerizing display of skill and unwavering determination.
The clash of weapons, the precision of our strikes, and the agility with which we dodged one another's attacks left the onlookers in awe.
The cheers, gasps, and whispers of the spectators were woven into a symphony of emotions, echoing through the arena.
But amid all the commotion, the Queen remained a picture of regal composure, her eyes fixed intently on the duel.
Her hand rested atop her jeweled and ornate regal staff, a symbol of her authority and a reminder to all that this duel was taking place under her auspices.
Ernst's astonishing speed left an indelible impression, a testament to the remarkable mastery he had achieved in the realm of the sword.
As he glided across the battlefield, his footwork displayed the precision of a seasoned artist, every step imbued with effortless grace.
It was as if he moved with a supernatural elegance that defied the earthly constraints of time and space.
The air hummed with anticipation as he lunged forward, his blade an extension of his very being, a flash of steel that sought its mark with lightning-fast precision, the target being my vulnerable neck.
The sheer velocity and ferocity with which Ernst closed the gap between us left no room for doubt: this was a combatant not to be taken lightly.
His actions unfolded in a breathtaking whirlwind, movements so rapid that the human eye strained to follow them.
It was abundantly clear that Ernst was a true virtuoso in his craft, and his control over the art of the sword was nothing short of mesmerizing.
As Ernst's blade collided with my dagger, the impact was jarring, reverberating through the room with such force that the very floor beneath us quivered and shattered.
The thunderous roar of their clashing weapons echoed through the space, as though the foundations of the building itself were under assault.
The overwhelming might of the blow distorted the very air, creating ripples and vibrations that seemed to warp and bend reality itself.
Nevertheless, I swiftly regained my composure, unfazed by the tempestuous power of Ernst's attack.
His fighting style was a relentless whirlwind of speed and raw power, akin to the devastating force of a lightning strike.
Each strike was a concise and calculated attempt to terminate the battle in the briefest span possible.
Yet, this aggressive style bore an Achilles' heel: a lack of defensive techniques that rendered its practitioners susceptible to counterattacks.
We remained locked in a fierce exchange of blows, our weapons colliding with deafening, thunderous roars that reverberated through the arena.
Although I could feel the sheer force behind Ernst's strikes, I stood resolute. With every clash, I gleaned more insight into the intricacies of Ernst's fighting style, finding the path to victory within his relentless onslaught.