Ser Galen of House Rosewood, a tall young man in his mid-twenties with long brown hair and a sharp, chiseled chin, rode into the tournament grounds with confidence. His piercing blue eyes, catching whispers and glances from spectators as his banner-a delicate rose set against a field of white and green-fluttered in the morning breeze. He carried a single rose in his hand, the sigil of his house, symbolic of grace and honor.
As his horse trotted through the arena, Galen's gaze locked on a young woman seated in the spectator's gallery. Her beauty was undeniable-golden hair falling softly over her shoulders, her lips slightly parted in surprise as she realized he was riding toward her. Her heart beat faster, but his face betrayed nothing. The knights of Rosewood were known for their calm elegance, and he intended to uphold that tradition.
Galen stopped his horse just beneath the gallery where she sat. Without hesitation, he dismounted, the crowd watching in silence as he approached the girl. He held out the rose, its petals as soft as her fair skin, and she blushed, eyes widening.
"For you, my lady," he said softly, presenting the rose to her with a bow.
The girl smiled shyly, clearly flattered by his gesture. He gently took her hand and kissed it with the grace of a seasoned knight, sending whispers rippling through the crowd. As he turned to leave, the girl, caught in the moment, called after him with a voice that echoed through the stands.
"May you conquer the field just like you conquered my heart, Ser Galen!"
Galen smiled as he mounted his horse again, casting a final glance her way before he rode into the battlefield, his heart steady. The beauty of the encounter faded quickly as he turned his thoughts to the bloody contest ahead. There was no room for softness in the arena. Only survival mattered here. The bloodbath was about to begin.
The sun hung low in the sky as the first round of the tournament began, casting long shadows over the fighting pits. The arena stretched wide, divided into large, circular pits, each lined with coarse sand stained by years of spilled blood. This was no ordinary tournament. It was a brutal trial of survival, where dozens of men fought at once, and only the last four standing in each pit would move on to the next round.
The crowd buzzed with excitement, eager to see which warriors would emerge from the carnage. Banners flapped in the wind, the sigils of noble houses fluttering above the chaos that was about to unfold.
In the first pit, Ser Galen of House Rosewood and in his hand, he twirled a blade as sharp as it was beautiful.
Galen moved with precision, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he sliced through the first opponent with ease. His blade found its mark in the man's side, dropping him to the sand in one fluid motion. Galen barely broke stride as he spun to deflect another attacker, parrying with grace before driving his sword through the man's chest. It was as if he were slicing through air. With each strike, To the spectators, he was a master at work, cutting down enemies with the same ease as one would slice through a loaf of bread
In the second pit, Eldren of House the Unbroken Fist fought valiantly, managing to down his first foe with a clean strike. But the battle was far from over. As he fought on, four warriors closed in around him, seeing him as a target. He could sense their hunger, their desire to take him down and secure their place in the next round. Eldren parried one attack, sidestepped another, but the numbers were overwhelming. His breath quickened as they circled him like vultures.
His breath came quicker, his muscles tensed as he readied himself for the next wave of attacks. They were closing in, too many to fend off at once. His sword felt heavy in his hand, his shield barely holding off the relentless strikes. One wrong move, and he would fall.
The crowd gasped as one of the warriors swung from behind, aiming for Eldren's back. His instincts screamed at him to react, but time seemed to slow as the blade neared him. Was this the end?
A moment of silence hung in the air, the outcome uncertain.
To be continued.....