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Chapter 0
He never knew defeat. Not even a taste. Still, no one before had made the feeling as clear as it was now. He never anticipated the pain. His head throbbed and his back ached. Every breath was an arduous chore. It was only by the last marks of his own strength, that he remained upright on one knee. The agony stretched into his fingertips, where the hilt of his sword clung onto a loose grip. To give in was not an option. Not while his foe stood before him, untouched.
Even with a cavernous rupture between them, he could feel his adversary’s smirk; it was snide as dry air. Repulsive to every extent of the word. Despicable to every soul in the realm. His spirit beckoned, with every passing second, for him to break through his limits. To stand on shattered bones and shout beyond sunken lungs. The pressure was unbearable.
His anxious gaze casted over charred wood and broken cobblestone, desperate for a second wind. The flames were volatile around him and savaged the city he cherished. It was a downpour of chaos he could not chase away. Nothing came to his aid. So, the mists of fatigue began to close in around him. A grimace of defeat crept dangerously on his front.
Suddenly, a mighty flash of light poured from his wrist. The knightstone embedded in his silvered gauntlet roared with legendary power. A beacon of resolve that beat away the writhing flames. Through his eyes, a pale aura surged; the hallmark of his station. The cardinal badge of an Attendant Knight.
“You don’t know when to quit! The grand city of Gracewind shall be your tomb!”, his enemy declared vast and deep.
The Knight gritted his teeth. There was no pain that could keep him from standing tall, no evil that could break his sword, and no flame that could burn away the white and gold of his legendary cloak.
“I am the light of Ardyn. I will save this city. I will protect my people. I will destroy the evil you wield! Because..”, the knight took in a great breath. “..BECAUSE I AM-!”
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“An Attendant Knight!”, the children cried out in unison.
The knight tripped over his sword. Or rather, the man who fancied himself an ‘artiste’ fumbled his performance. The amphitheater, whose audience sat across sprawling wooden benches, fell silent. All were still with uncertainty, save for the tempestuous group of children in the frontrow. Their smiles shone with fever and their arms flailed with passion when they threw bundles of white flower petals onto the stage. He was a hero to them.
“You damned kids! You’re ruining my performance!”, the actor shouted.
He waved his arm in what was a futile attempt at halting their excitement. They got the better of him and his poise was jostled beyond repair. Not even his fellow performers, who bore the roles of fire and evil, could reel their show back. Smiles of pure anxiety ticked their collective faces. This marked the fourth occasion in which their afternoon play had gone adrift. They were certainly tired. A misfortune for the troupe as the city’s festivities had yet to even start!
The amphitheater, built of smooth stone, laid sunken at the center of Gracewind’s largest park. A host of mature elms hung over its audience while they themselves were enveloped by a great lawn - all laden with an abundance of budding white flowers. A week remained before the capital’s busiest time of the year: a half month dedicated solely to the Order of Attendant Knights and its selection trials. Bearing down on the city was the realm’s latest batch of promising talent, eager to try their hand at becoming legend.
Atalanta Silverton knew this well. She was, after all, the veteran Attendant that had been appointed to oversee the year’s selection. News of her proctorship had spread well and deep, for her reputation was not one of mercy. All knew her as a noblewoman with little regard for the incompetent. Which was certainly the reason for the disdain upon her face when the actor broke character.
She stood at a distance, clear of the audience and easily alone. A seldom used footpath, made purely for variety, was the perch from which her amber glare followed the crumbling play. Not only was she to monitor the trials, she was also burdened with the responsibility of managing the festivities as a whole. Something absolutely trivial for a woman of her position. Still, detail stood at the forefront of her being. Which meant the troupe in the amphitheater had little space left between them and her wrath. Especially now that the crowd had erupted in exuberant laughter.
Atalanta, with lithe posture, folded her arms. The play was an abomination. Overzealous and ridiculous. Her distaste slipped audibly from parted lips. But, it was a thought for another time. Her silken black hair fell regal atop one shoulder when her heed shifted to the path. There, steeled eyes met the hurried footfalls of a messenger.
“Atalanta!”, he panted. “Something has happened at one of the assessment grounds!”
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