Chapter 19: A Gathering of Nations
Morning light filtered through the inn's small windows as Reyn, Liora, and Alistor awoke, the memories of their recent adventures lingering in their minds. The awe of exploring the capital, the eerie discovery of the black market, and the majestic sight of the church were fresh in their minds as they prepared to head to the arena. Today was the start of the tournament—a grand event they had eagerly awaited.
Upon arriving at the arena, they found it already packed with spectators, the energy of the crowd buzzing in the air. The colossal structure was designed to hold thousands, and people from all over the empire had gathered to witness the spectacle. Reyn, Liora, and Alistor managed to find seats with a good view, excitement building as they scanned the stands.
In the elevated royal section, they noticed the Emperor and Empress, resplendent in their royal attire, along with the princes and princesses. Duke Roland Storme of Greyhold sat nearby with the the other 5 dukes, their imposing presence fitting for people that rank. Representatives from the other nations were also present, each distinct and fascinating in their appearance. Reyn's gaze lingered on each, captivated by their differences.
The elves were strikingly beautiful, with an ethereal elegance and graceful features that seemed almost otherworldly. They wore intricate, nature-inspired attire that reflected their mastery over magic and spirits, and their serene expressions held an air of wisdom.
The dwarves were sturdy and broad, their strength evident in their muscular builds. Dressed in robust armor with intricate designs, they carried themselves with the pride of master craftsmen, a reputation for legendary weapons and tools clear from the respect they commanded.
Then there were the beastmen, a group that caught Alistor's attention immediately. Among them was a tall wolf beastman with fur as dark as night and piercing golden eyes. His powerful, agile frame hinted at his people's prowess in martial arts, and his movements had a natural, predatory grace that fascinated the trio.
The emperor rose to his feet quieting the roar of the crowd,his presence commanding as his voice carried across the arena. "Citizens of Caelum and esteemed guests from far lands," he began, his words filled with pride and authority. "Today, we gather not only to witness the skill and strength of our young warriors but to celebrate the peace that binds us together."
He glanced around at the vast crowd, his gaze lingering on the six banners of the dukedoms. "Each dukedom has its own traditions, its own strengths, yet we are united under a common purpose: the prosperity of our empire. In every corner of Caelum, our people stand as one, preserving our legacy and guarding the peace that sustains us all."
Then, with a nod, he acknowledged the representatives from the neighboring nations seated in the stands. "We also welcome our guests—representatives from the nations of the Elves, the Dwarves, and the Beastmen—who stand with us today as allies. Together, we faced adversaries from across the seas, foes that would have seen our lands divided and conquered. But we held our ground, side by side, proving that our unity is our greatest strength."
He raised his hand as the crowd quieted further. "May this tournament be a testament to our strength, our spirit, and the bonds we share. May those who fight today do so with honor, knowing they represent the hopes and dreams of our Empire of Caelum. Let the tournament begin!"
The crowd's cheers echoed through the arena as the announcer stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen! For our first match of the tournament, we have a duel between the renowned adventurer Sir Darius of the Ironfang Dukedom—known far and wide for his strength and courage—and our youngest competitor, the rookie knight, Eren from the Frostvale Dukedom!"
The crowd roared, some already chanting Darius's name. Darius, a towering man with muscles honed from years of battle, raised his massive greatsword, its edge glowing with a faint blue aura—a testament to its enchantment. His armor was scratched and worn, evidence of his many campaigns and victories. His eyes scanned the crowd with a calm confidence.
Across the arena stood Eren, lean and wiry, yet holding a determined stance. His youth showed in his unscarred armor, a lightweight set designed for speed rather than heavy protection. In his hands, he wielded two short swords with sleek, sharp edges. Unlike his opponent, he wore no enchanted gear; his only advantage lay in his agility and the raw skill he had trained so hard to refine.
The gong sounded, and Eren moved first, launching himself forward with lightning speed. He zigzagged across the arena, making it difficult for Darius to predict his approach. His short swords were a blur as he aimed for Darius's sides, hoping to take advantage of any weak spots in the veteran's armor.
Darius, however, was ready. With a well-practiced movement, he shifted his massive sword to block each of Eren's strikes, sparks flying as metal clashed against metal. His stance was unwavering, grounded, and it quickly became clear why he was considered a master of defense.
Eren backed up, circling Darius, looking for any opening he could exploit. He darted forward again, his attacks quick and relentless, each strike aiming to slip past Darius's guard. For a moment, it seemed he might break through as his short sword grazed Darius's side. The crowd gasped as Eren's blade left a shallow scratch on the veteran's armor.
Darius grunted, a hint of admiration in his gaze. "You're quick," he acknowledged, his voice calm, yet full of respect. "But speed alone won't carry you far."
With a sudden shift, Darius went on the offensive. He swung his greatsword in a wide arc, forcing Eren to leap back to avoid being struck. The force of the swing kicked up a cloud of dust, and for a split second, Eren's vision was obscured.
Darius seized the moment, closing the distance with surprising agility. His greatsword came down in a powerful overhead swing, and Eren barely managed to raise his swords in time to block it. The impact jarred him to the core, and he staggered, his knees buckling under the sheer force.
Yet, he didn't give up. Gritting his teeth, Eren steadied himself, darting to the side to escape the range of Darius's next strike. He gathered his focus, breathing deeply as he adjusted his stance. If he couldn't match Darius's strength, he would have to rely on precision.
With renewed determination, Eren closed the distance once again, his swords flashing as he aimed for Darius's legs. The crowd watched in anticipation as he landed a clean hit, denting the armor around Darius's knee. For a moment, it seemed like he might gain the upper hand.
But Darius merely chuckled, his voice filled with an unspoken challenge. "Not bad," he said, stepping back slightly. "But you'll need more than that."
With a final swing, Darius forced Eren backward, disarming him with a well-placed strike that sent Eren's swords clattering to the ground. The crowd erupted in applause, acknowledging the impressive battle between the two fighters.
Darius extended a hand to Eren, helping him to his feet. "You've got potential, lad. Keep training, and maybe one day you'll surpass us veterans."
Eren nodded, accepting Darius's words with humility. Though he had lost, the crowd's cheers made it clear that he had earned their respect—and Darius's as well.