Chapter 25
The arena was electric with anticipation as the semifinal round began. Edger, the steadfast knight of the Duke, stood on one side, his focused gaze never leaving his opponent. Across from him was Alaric, still wearing his royal knight's armor but brimming with excitement. Both men were visibly weary from the previous rounds, yet there was a fire in Alaric's eyes—a fierce, almost childlike eagerness to finally face Edger's renowned skill.
The crowd buzzed with energy, placing bets and arguing fervently over who would win.
"Alaric's been unstoppable with that dwarven weapon," someone said, eyeing the disguised prince. "But Edger's sword—there's something special about it."
"I'll bet 50 gold on Edger!" shouted another. "No way he loses after all he's shown us so far!"
But Alaric ignored the crowd's chatter. He grinned as he drew the weapon of his choice, a long spear that gleamed in the afternoon sun. This time, he would stick to one weapon, eager to test himself against Edger's skill with the sword.
Edger raised his longsword, meeting Alaric's gaze with a determined expression. "It seems you're taking this seriously."
Alaric smirked. "More seriously than anything. Let's give them a show, shall we?"
The announcer's voice boomed, signaling the start of the match, and Alaric immediately lunged forward, spear aimed directly at Edger. A flurry of precise stabs followed, each one calculated to probe Edger's defenses.
Edger deflected the stabs with practiced precision, countering each strike with his own quick thrusts. The tips of their weapons met in midair, producing resounding clangs and sending shockwaves through the arena with each collision. Sparks flew, and the vibrations of their repeated clashes seemed to reverberate into the stands.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with excitement.
"Look at the speed!" a man exclaimed, unable to tear his gaze from the fighters. "I've never seen anything like it."
Both warriors pushed harder, moving with a controlled ferocity that belied their exhaustion. Edger countered Alaric's stabs with well-timed parries, each tip-to-tip collision sending another wave of force rippling through the air. Alaric, feeling his arms ache, adjusted his stance and delivered a series of sweeping strikes, each one faster and more aggressive than the last.
Edger grunted, narrowly dodging the spear's deadly arc before retaliating with a downward slash. The blow missed by a hair, but it was enough to knock Alaric off balance, if only for a moment.
They pressed on, neither willing to give ground, and the crowd's cheers grew louder as the two warriors circled each other, their weapons a blur of motion. In a swift maneuver, Alaric's spear struck toward Edger's side, but Edger twisted, meeting the spearhead with his sword and angling it away from his body. The move left Edger momentarily open, and Alaric seized the chance, swinging the spear's blunt end to knock Edger back.
The crowd gasped as Edger stumbled, but he recovered quickly, retaliating with a powerful thrust that clanged against Alaric's helmet. The blow was forceful enough to dislodge it, and as Alaric's helmet clattered to the ground, a collective gasp rippled through the audience.
"It's...the second prince Cailum Althares!" someone whispered, astonished.
But cailum didn't seem to care. If anything, his grin widened as he shook his head, his blond hair catching the sunlight. Without the helmet's weight, he felt lighter, more agile. He spun his spear with renewed energy, eyes blazing with exhilaration.
"This is incredible!" cailum laughed. "Edger, you're exactly the challenge I was hoping for!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the face beneath the armor was revealed—the unmistakable features of the second prince of the Empire, Magnus Verrin.
The shock of the crowd was palpable, whispers spreading like wildfire, and yet, Magnus himself seemed unfazed. The thrill of the battle was all that mattered to him now, his eyes alive with excitement as he faced Edger with renewed vigor.
Edger, slightly taken aback, recovered quickly, tightening his grip on his sword and maintaining his focus. Magnus' identity had changed nothing about the challenge before him—he was still a warrior, facing down an incredible opponent.
In the final moments of the duel, with both combatants exhausted and the crowd on the edge of their seats, Edger managed a decisive strike, just barely claiming victory. The crowd erupted into cheers, half in awe of Edger's resilience and half in admiration for the prince's skill.
Magnus, breathing heavily but with a broad grin, extended a hand to Edger as they left the arena. "You've given me the most fun I've had in years," he said, still energized by the clash.
Edger shook his hand, nodding with mutual respect. "The honor was mine, Prince Magnus."
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the face beneath the armor was revealed—the unmistakable features of the second prince of the Empire, Magnus Verrin.
The shock of the crowd was palpable, whispers spreading like wildfire, and yet, Magnus himself seemed unfazed. The thrill of the battle was all that mattered to him now, his eyes alive with excitement as he faced Edger with renewed vigor.
Edger, slightly taken aback, recovered quickly, tightening his grip on his sword and maintaining his focus. Magnus' identity had changed nothing about the challenge before him—he was still a warrior, facing down an incredible opponent.
In the final moments of the duel, with both combatants exhausted and the crowd on the edge of their seats, Edger managed a decisive strike, just barely claiming victory. The crowd erupted into cheers, half in awe of Edger's resilience and half in admiration for the prince's skill.
Cailum, breathing heavily but with a broad grin, extended a hand to Edger as they left the arena. "You've given me the most fun I've had in years," he said, still energized by the clash.
Edger shook his hand, nodding with mutual respect. "The honor was mine, Prince Magnus."
Up in the imperial stands, Queen Celeste Verrin sat fuming at her son's reckless, un-princely actions. Her piercing gaze remained fixed on the arena, watching as her second son, Magnus, reveled in the aftermath of his duel.
Beside her, King Aldric Verrin let out a hearty laugh, clearly entertained by Magnus's audacity and skill. "Our son fights with a warrior's spirit!" he chuckled, but his laughter quickly faded as he caught his wife's icy glare.
On the queen's other side, their young daughter, Princess Elara, nervously fidgeted with her dress, glancing worriedly at her brother down below. She leaned toward her mother, whispering, "Is Magnus going to be in trouble, Mother?"
Queen Celeste gently patted Elara's hand, her expression softening only briefly. "He most certainly is," she replied, turning her attention to her eldest son, Prince Alistair Verrin. Her voice was stern as she asked, "Did you know anything about this?"
Prince caelen bowed his head slightly, a hint of remorse in his voice. "Forgive me, Mother. I tried to dissuade him, but he was determined."
The queen let out a frustrated sigh. "Then he will receive a proper scolding before the celebrations in the castle tonight," she declared firmly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
Caelen exchanged a knowing look with Elara, both siblings feeling a mix of worry and sympathy for Cailum. But they knew their mother's fierce love came with equally fierce expectations.
Meanwhile, King Aldric placed a calming hand on Queen Celeste's shoulder. "Come now, my love. He's proven himself as a true fighter in the eyes of the people. Let's allow him this moment."
Queen Celeste shook her head, still steely but softening slightly. "Perhaps. But he will remember that a prince's honor is not his alone. He has a responsibility to uphold."
As the family watched Cailum below, each felt a mix of pride and concern—an unexpected twist in the royal family's story that would surely be remembered long after the tournament ended.