“Hahaha!” Agnes had a hard time reigning herself in, “So, this guy, he tried to sell you a bunch of fake artefacts? But you don’t have any coins on you, haha!”

“The people of this city are all a bunch of lunatics.” she shook her head.

The two of them had left the roof in search of a road that led to the harbour, by now there no longer was any sign of Agnes’ overwhelming emotions.

Dusk had come and gone, the city was illuminated by lampposts, that stood several meters apart.

Within them burned a bright flame, “Now that’s an interesting way of utilizing runes and artefacts if I have ever seen one.” she said as they strolled through the nearly empty streets.

Few citizens were still out and about, though the city was known for its lack of hoodlums and criminals, there could still be a few outliers who attempt to make some quick coin, all while risking their life in the face of repercussions.

The harbour itself was a lot more populated than they had expected, personnel was loading crates on and off the ships, some either having just arrived, or making preparations to set sail at the earliest hour.

Agnes froze in place at the sight of the nearly still water, Frey stopped next to her, he wanted to get a closer look, to go and feel the water on his skin, but he fully understood her apprehension.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to...” Frey told her, but she gritted her teeth, if she didn’t even attempt to make the first step, then she would never get over her fears, her trauma.

With slow and shaky steps, she followed Frey closer to the pier.

He kneeled next to the pier’s edge and stretched his hand into the water, “Wow! It's totally warm!”

Agnes movement became even slower and more sluggish as she sat down on the edge, her legs and feet suspended just above the water.

She leaned backwards and used both of her hands to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally fall into it.

Frey joined her, and the two sat in silence for several minutes, while one enjoyed the warm breeze and the dark sea in front of himself, the other did her best to stay calm and composed.

“Frey?” she finally broke the silence.

“Yes?”

“I want you to promise me something...”

“Hm?”

“The competition... I want you to do everything in your power to survive, no matter what that may be, no matter what disgusting or inhumane actions that includes...”

“I want you to promise me that you’ll return, return to us...”

Frey mulled her words over; at this point it was clear to him that the competition would involve killing, as well as destruction, and whatever other strategies were going to be utilised against these ‘locals’ that inhabit the swamp plane, the Sunless Mire.

He wanted nothing more than for this peaceful life he experienced alongside of Agnes and Cykrus to continue, but that would be impossible if his results within the competition were not up to par.

His books tended to become chaotic, and filled with conflicts, it was impossible to avoid this forever, even his own experiences showed, that no matter who you are, or what you do, there will always be someone that picks a fight with you.

Whether one loses that fight or wins it is up to oneself, up to their preparations, and not just physical preparations, or magical attainment, but the one thing Frey still lacked... mental preparation.

The will that is required to choose an action, and follow through with it, come what may, be that inconveniencing someone, hurting them... or killing.

“Why is this world so cruel?” Frey answered with a question instead.

Agnes moved one of the hands she was supporting herself with and placed it on Frey’s shoulder, “Humans are greedy and selfish, they will step over corpses to get what they desire. You either take from others or watch as others take from you. That’s how the world works, and nothing can change that; at least not puny figures like us. Your only choice is to play by the rules and beat them at their own game!”

Frey looked at her long and hard, before coming to a decision, “I promise...”

“Good. Just one more thing... don’t trust anyone.”

“Not the members of the church you’ll find on the other side, not the observer that they will assign to you, and especially not that boy you have teamed up with, Mars, or whatever his name was.”

“In the end, the only one you can rely on, is you.” she said and stood up, “Come, let’s head back to the castle. I have no idea where we are staying tonight, but that’s most likely where we’ll find out.”

... ...

Cykrus was waiting at the entrance of the castle, speaking to one of the assigned knights, when he noticed two familiar silhouettes approaching.

He wiped a bunch of sweat from his forehead, “Gods, I thought you would never return...”

“I am sorry for-” Agnes wanted to apologise, but was interrupted by him right away, “Don’t apologise, your reaction was justified. I don’t know how I would have reacted had I been in your shoes.”

“Aren’t you mad?”

“Mad? Never! I was angry at your brother, because I thought he was a stranger and harassing you... but... this? I am just glad that you managed to calm down. Let’s head inside, I already learned of our rooms for the time being.” Cykrus led the way inside, up the stairs at the end of the painting-hallway, and down some more corridors.

All three of them had their own room, each right next to the others.

After bidding one another a good night, Frey entered his, the room was mostly empty, lots of useless free space, aside from the empty white drawers, and the oversized bed.

He closed the blinds on his window and prepared to go to sleep when he heard a knock on his door.

Assuming it was one of his companions he opened it and looked down the hall, first to his left, then to his right, but there was not a single soul in sight.

Neither had he heard any approaching or leaving steps.

He shrugged his shoulders, closed the door, and turned around.

His sight fell on the hooded figure that stood in front of him, Frey’s mouth opened wide, ready to scream, but the figure covered it in a flash.

“Prince Dalton sends his regards.” words echoed inside of Frey’s mind, the figure hadn’t spoken, or at least the words sounded too unreal for that to be the case.

Frey’s mind went blank, he couldn’t think of anything, not a single reaction or spell entered his thoughts.

The figure raised their other hand, Frey’s eyes were glued to it, observing its movements.

The figure extended their index finger, then placed it on Frey’s forehead.

Something began to swirl through his blank mind, but the pain, and the sensation of death he expected never came.

He focused on whatever had invaded his mind for just a moment, but by the time he returned his attention to reality, the figure had disappeared, and his room’s window was slightly ajar.

His hands wandered all over his body, trying to feel a difference, maybe a wound, or something of the sort, especially on his forehead, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

If not for the window, and the swirling thing inside of his head, then he might have even thought he was hallucinating.

Dread filled every pore on his body, what had just happened?!

What had that figure put into his head?!

He closed his eyes, with enough focus the swirling inside of his mind became visible, it took shape, and Frey shuddered...

... ...

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Quite a distance away, yet within the same castle a thirty-something year old man was lazily lying on a couch, his eyes half-closed as he faced towards the fireplace within his room.

His hair was an ashen grey, and behind this couch of his kneeled the same hooded figure Frey had just seen.

“My liege, that inheritance, isn’t it wasted on the boy?” the figure spoke, its words no longer ethereal.

“Wasted? No. Call it an investment. That boy is who Cykrus Aventia chose, his only chance of saving his own hide, and that which his ancestors left him.” the man answered, he sounded sleepy.

“What if... there simply was no one else to choose?”

The man chuckled, “Then so be it. I am not a sore loser, but just in case that the boy turns out to be a diamond in the rough, then I would have missed the opportunity to help when he most desperately needed it.”

“Thank you for enlightening me, my liege.” the kneeling figure bowed even lower.

“That’s that... now, what are my siblings up to?” the man yawned.

“Princess Ren has yet to make a move. Forgive me, I cannot decipher her intentions.” the figure spoke, “Impossible! I don’t believe that she doesn’t yearn for the throne! But still, keeping up the good girl act... heh, that’s so like her. Next?” the man voiced his thoughts.

“Prince Arlin was acting overly familiar with Baroness Vexmonte today, I shall investigate their relation as soon as possible.”

“Hm. The others aren’t as much of a threat, keep it brief.”

“Yes, my liege. To be frank, they are still fighting amongst themselves. The sight is quite pathetic. They appear unaware of the lead you three have on them.” the figure summarised.

Those words elicited another chuckle from the man, “Good. You are dismissed.”

... ...

Frey awoke early in the morning, unable to sleep from the pressure of the decision he had to make.

He should tell Agnes or Cykrus about what happened last night... but would that really be the right decision?

This ‘gift’ was indeed a good thing, wouldn’t the information give birth to unnecessary trouble?

If Frey could use it to gain another advantage during the competition, and to surprise those who believed in him, wouldn’t that be the most optimal outcome?

He sighed, he still had most of the day left to decide, no need to make a spur of the moment decision.

As he left his room, he nearly bumped into an unfamiliar woman.

“Sorry.” he quickly stepped aside to allow her to pass, to go see whether Agnes or Cykrus were awake yet, but the woman he had not even fully looked at stopped in her tracks, “So young... what are you doing in the palace?” she sounded cheerful, curious.

“I- uhm, I’m a participant...” Frey stumbled over his words, but it only became worse when he looked at the woman.

She pushed a strand of her long brunette hair behind her ear, “A participant? Surely you don’t mean the competition?” her expression showed worry.

Frey could not look away from her gorgeous blue eyes, and her black dress with frills, that would stick out among any crowd.

“Oh, don’t go quiet on me now...!” she pouted.

“I...am...”

“My, oh my, what is a delicate boy like you doing, taking part in such a bloodthirsty activity? Which family is forcing you into this?” she seemed to get angry on his behalf.

“No- Noone is forcing me! I want to help Lord Cykrus and Agnes!”

“Cykrus? Ah... Aventia. I see. You sound like you have made up your mind. I’ll be rooting for you. Goodbye for now.” she smiled at him and ruffled through his hair, then left without another word.

Frey watched her disappear down the hall, yet another surreal experience to add to the list.

He shook himself out of his stupor and knocked on Lord Cykrus’ door, ready to begin the final day.

“Are you nervous?” Cykrus asked after opening the door upon hearing the knocking, “Mhm...” Frey nodded his head.

“Heh, thought so. Come on in.” Cykrus stepped aside, then closed the door behind Frey again.

They sat down on the bed, “You are right to be nervous... but not due to the reasons you are thinking of.” Cykrus said, “You will enter an entirely unfamiliar plane, the only ally to rely on comes from a bond that was forged much too frivolously, you are a rank one mage at heart, going up against several rank twos... but what you cannot see, is that you are prepared. Your growth happened at an incredible pace.”

“Sure, you took your sweet time understanding your first rune, but for your age you are already dangerously close to rank two. Not to mention your hidden weapon. Well, both of them I guess.”

“That reminds me...” Cykrus stood up and rummaged through his belongings he had brought along in a bag.

“Now... where is it...? It’s always such a pain, since I can’t feel it’s- Oh! There it is.” he pulled out a short and curved dagger from his bag.

It had no sheath and the blade itself looked dull.

The hilt and blade both had a crude design carved into them, making it look like a ceremonial weapon, something just for show.

“I want you to have it. Don’t be confused by its lack of an aura, whatever this thing is stabbed into, will temporarily gain strength, raw physical power the equivalent of a rank three mage.”

“Wow! That’s incredible! Can’t I just win the competition with this?” Frey interrupted the explanation.

“I am afraid not. I said temporarily, not because the effect disappears after some time, but because the dagger drains its user’s lifeforce... until they are dead.” hearing this Frey just blinked, unable to speak.

“Consider this artefact a last resort, when you truly have no other way of escaping or surviving. I hope that it won’t come down to it, of course.” Cykrus placed it into Frey’s hands.

Frey’s gaze did not leave it for the entirety of their conversation, this object could kill him at any moment if wielded improperly, a rank three artefact, yet it did not feel empowering at all... what use was rank three strength if Frey wasn’t around to harvest the benefits by the end of it?

“Who would create something with such a big drawback?” Frey frowned.

“Humans are eccentric, what they wouldn’t give for power... though I suspect the artefact is incomplete, the rune design lacking in some aspect or another which is causing this major problem, but I can’t even tell what element this rune is supposed to consist of, let alone improve on its design.” Cykrus lamented.

“...Master... what are you going to do if I fail?”

“You won’t. Don’t think about any of that. Focus on doing the best you can, let me worry about the rest.”

Frey nodded; he wrapped the dagger in a white handkerchief, then put it in one of his pockets.

He kept his hand pressed against the pocket; his mind unable to stay calm unless he was certain that he was always aware of its presence, that he wouldn’t accidentally lose it, or worse, stab himself.

Suddenly a black envelop was pushed through the gap beneath the door; a wax stamp of the royal crest ensured that the letter within hadn’t been read or tampered with.

Cykrus went to pick it up and opened it, “It reads: ’Assigned observer for the nominee of Aventia:’... let’s see...’ Marquis Gomon’?”

He sighed, “That guy, huh...”

“Who is he master?”

“He is a water mage, probably one of the oldest there is. I believe he turned seventy a few years ago, but he is known for his bitterness, so don’t mention his age.” Cykrus advised.

The remainder of the morning passed quickly, Cykrus and Frey discussed some strategies, able to dive into deeper details, now that the contents of the competition had been unveiled.

Agnes hadn’t shown up at all during that time, they believed her to still be asleep, however as the time for the start of the competition encroached, and Cykrus entered her room to wake her, they noticed that it was devoid of life, empty.

Cykrus rubbed his forehead, worried that her calmness yesterday had just been a front, and that she ran away once more.

Or maybe that she met up with her brother and decided to return back home with him...

He decided it was best to just put the matter out of his mind for now, instead he focused on escorting Frey back to the hall.

They were far from the first, but unlike yesterday, the hall wasn’t quite as full, seemingly only the most important members of each family, as well as their candidate were present.

Seeing him arrive Baron Beckett and his son Marv walked over, bridging the time until everyone had arrived with meaningless banter.

The duke that announced His Majesty yesterday walked onto the stage, with him entered many men and women with an aura of rank three, among them Daren, as well as an old and grumpy short man, his head practically shining, devoid of any hair.

“That’s him, Marquis Gomon.” Cykrus gestured for Frey to see.

“Welcome all. For those of you who don’t yet know; I am Duke Monotay, I have been put in charge of the competition's proceedings by His Majesty’s will. Each of you have received notice of who your assigned observer shall be. I ask that the competitors step forward, while the remaining Marquises, Barons, and Lords distance themselves.”

Cykrus patted Frey on his shoulders, “You got this. See you soon.” he whispered.

While the hall’s structure slowly began to shift, Duke Monotay continued, “Now, I ask that the Marquises, and yet-to-be Marquises behind me join the competitors down below, so that we may finish the pairing.”

Everyone went up to their assigned observer, Frey too, he noticed right away that Marquis Gomon’s eyes were almost spitting fire as they glared at him.

He looked around to see who Daren got paired up with; his eyes fell on him, as well as the girl next to him with long black hair, and though she looked no older than twenty, the girl bore an uncanny resemblance to Silvana Ironhoof.

“Now, I ask that all pairs form an orderly line, and follow me deeper into the castle; to all the other families present: you will be kept up to date on the rankings, feel free to stay within the castle grounds, or to return back to your territory while you wait.”

“Until the end of the competition, in the name of His Majesty, I wish you all farewell.” Duke Monotay lightly bowed, then lead the line of competitors and observers out of the hall, and down another corridor, at the end of which was a four-meter-wide staircase, protected by fully armoured guards.

Frey and Marquis Gomon were at the end of the line, he wore a sad expression, thinking about how he hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Agnes before he left.

The sound of someone sprinting approached from behind, and quickly came closer.

Frey turned his head and gasped as it was Agnes who arrived at the last minute.

He turned to Marquis Gomon, who wore a similarly annoyed expression to the one Agnes usually held, “Go... but make it quick!”

“Thank you!” Frey bowed deeply, then ran at Agnes.

The two met each other halfway through, and Agnes wasted no time, she grabbed Frey’s hand and clasped it open, then placed something within and pushed his fingers to form a fist.

“Huh? What is-” Frey blurted out, feeling something cold and somewhat round within his grasp.

“Frey! Go and show them what you are made of! Don’t forget your promise! Now, off you go!” she gave him a quick hug, then pushed him back into the direction of the stairs.

The young boy was flustered, his brain too overloaded to think.

He ran back to the line and joined up with Marquis Gomon, then glanced back at her one last time.

Frey took a deep breath and descended the long staircase, deeper into the underground of the castle.

At the end of the staircase was another set of royal guards, they acted as the last line of defence for what turned out to be yet another long hallway, however unlike the previous ones that were filled with paintings or statues, these were filled with chaotic and rippling cracks in space, that shifted unnaturally over time, beautiful colours radiated out from them… Frey was looking at portals… and not just one or two, but tens of portals, who all likely led to something similar as this ‘Sunless Mire’ he was headed to!

He wasn’t the only one to become breathless at the sight, the other competitors fared no better.

Men wearing white and golden-red armour or robes littered the hallway; their design was something that Frey had burned to memory, as it was the same that the Priest Simerlin and his guards had been wearing… they were all members of the church.

Duke Monotay stopped in front one of the portals, all shades of green twisted within the centre of the unstable structure of space, “I wish you all the best. You youths are the future of humanity, we all, especially His Highness, are expecting great things from you. May your actions preserve humanity forever more!” he said, then gestured towards the portal.

Row after row entered, practically eaten up by the portal, sucked into it, and gone from existence… Frey hesitated as it was his turn to jump in, but he had gotten no choice, as Marquis Gomon pushed him in.