"Scholars struggle to pinpoint when the age of gods ended. Somesay it was the Void Singer and her undead plague. The gods did nothing when she pushed humanity to the brink of extinction. It was Yggdrasil's Druid that crossed the dimensional rift and brought us the world tree. Then, it gave us magic. We saved ourselves while the gods twiddled their thumbs. The bastards didn't stir until the worship and sacrifices stopped. Then they wanted us to bow while giving us nothing in return. Feck the lot of 'em. We can take care of ourselves." - Archwizard McClagen
The Merchant Queen’s annual tournament typically lasted two weeks. The first trial went on for five days, and the participants got to rest for three days before attempting the second. They had seventy-two hours to complete it, but the sooner they met the requirements, the greater their chances were of making it to the final stages.
The crowd cheered as the final four entered the Golden Isle’s arena after two days of recovery. Glass walls lining the fighting pit’s boundary still displayed highlights of their escapades. While the masked participants toiled, they watched the events of the eight days in a couple of hours. Failed competitors sat just above the entrance, still wearing their disguises. None moved or reacted as the final four marched across the arena and stopped before the Merchant Queen’s viewing box.
“My great-grandmother, the first Merchant Queen and the founder of our empire started this competition.” Queen Mercer’s voice boomed across the arena. Enchantments made the air around her mouth ripple as she spoke, amplifying her voice loud enough for all to hear. “She believed it would breed healthy rivalry between the factions under her and exhibit the skill and power to our allies and future clients. I can honestly say all of you—the four on the ground and the thirty-two in the seats—have succeeded at your tasks.”
Cheers rang through the crowds. Whoops, whistles, and clapping hands drowned all sounds for close to a minute before the queen raised her hand. Everyone quieted within a couple of heartbeats.
“The trials grow challenging with every passing year. We’re not trying to weed out the weaklings. My fellow audience members will agree that we’re all busy people. If the trials didn’t cut down the numbers before the final stages, we’d be stuck here for several days instead of a handful of hours. However, I’ll admit, given the challenges you faced in the Trial of Survival, my two-decades-younger-self would be sitting with the eighteen that didn’t finish. It doesn’t matter whether you surrendered or failed to reach the rendezvous point at the given time. You tried your best, and the trade empire is proud of you for delving into the Evergreen Depths. All participants will receive a simple weapon, tool, or garment of their choice from one of our trade houses. Please submit a request after the tournament closes.”
The audience cheered once again, and the queen let them quieten naturally.
“I understand that some of you are unhappy with this year’s Trial of Courage. The truth is it wouldn’t be a test of your mettle and bravery if it didn’t incite fear and doubt from the get-go. You’d be foolish not to hesitate before entering the Yellowrock Wastes. I implore the eight who forfeited not to feel shame. You’re all being reared for positions of leadership. This involves making hard decisions and occasionally retreating when you and your people are in danger. Be assured, our best mages spent months testing the wards and ensured they’d protect all competitors from the natural decaying aura and toxic air.”
The glass walls showed flashes of the ten competitors who attempted the trial in search of the waste’s treasures—Aether Crystals. The images showed the two who got lost and cornered before surrendering. It spent a while longer displaying the skills and prowess of the next three. The amulets around their necks flashed when victory against the beasts of Yellowrock proved impossible. It teleported them away. The last person to fail the trials survived the hazards and prevailed against the beasts. Unfortunately, she failed to find an aether crystal before time ran out.
“Now, there are four,” the queen said. “Everyone who attempted the second trial will receive a twenty-five gold letter of credit to purchase goods from our convoys. Instead of market rates, you’ll get whatever you want at cost.” Queen Mercer’s eyes moved from the seated thirty-two to the four standing before her. “Regardless of who wins the tournament, all four of you have done yourselves, your houses, and the Trade Empire proud by making it this far. The final four shall receive a bronze token to claim a prize from our vaults.”
“With the group trials passed, the need for anonymity is over,” the Merchant Queen continued. “There is no chance of bias or nepotism influencing the Trial of Combat. You shall fight until three of your four life wards are shattered, or you surrender. I’d prefer you avoid the latter.” The crowd cheered, and the queen whooped with them. “Now, remove your masks and speak your name. We’re eager to learn the identities of the very best my empire has to offer.”
All four competitors stood at attention as their queen spoke. Despite the mask and nondescript attire, it was apparent that the first in line was a woman. Her shape betrayed her. Yet the candidate had completed both prior trials in record time. A shield and short spear sat on her back while a rider’s axe hung from her belt. Her position in line said she had performed the best in the previous two trials.
The woman stepped forward, removing her mask and lowering her hood. Long golden locks cascaded over her shoulders, and blue eyes sparkled in the midmorning sun. A scar across her left eye and another on her chin suggested her battle experience.
“Elyza Tarth of the Second Convoy,” she said, bowing as mages projected her escapades from the previous trials on a giant glass wall. A wave of cheers washed over the audience. While most quietened, a far section continued its whoops and clapping. “It’s an honor to serve you, my lady.”
All of the queen’s twenty-four convoys had sent a representative. They transported goods across the continents using trade routes lesser merchants feared. Utilizing the treacherous roads required fighters capable of repelling bandit hordes and dungeon-born monsters. The candidates were either children of the convoys’ leaders or born from their guard captains. Their training involved physical and magical arts tuned for skirmishes. The convoys also taught their young the secrets of merchant craft and the relevant mathematics. However, it was combat where they excelled, giving them the best odds in the tournament.
A worker from one of the artificing houses approached Elyza. He carried a bulky hexagonal device made of crystal and bronze. It appeared bigger than his head and floated an inch above his rune-covered gloves. Elyza pressed her palm against the object. It lit up with an aetheric blue light. The glass walls around the arena flashed.
Elyza Tarth | Protostar
Foci: Haste
Mana Level: 29/31
Rank: Novice
“You honor us with your tenacity and grit, Elyza,” the queen replied. “I heard you failed to complete the second trial last year. I’m glad you’ve returned and made it to the final four.” When the queen nodded, Elyza retreated to her previous position. “Next.”
The remaining competitors were more non-descript in comparison to Elyza. The man standing next to her was tall and featured a wide build with powerful shoulders. The longsword hanging from his waist and the buckler strapped to his left forearm suggested affluence. Runes and luminous crystals covered them. Several cheers rang through the crowd when he removed his mask and hood, revealing a handsome tanned face with golden hair and blue eyes. The audience recognized the young man instantly. His popularity with the women of the Golden Isles was no secret.
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“Edward Gedge, son of Marcus Gedge, and royal guard in training.” The queen’s stepson dropped to his left knee. He hadn’t won the privilege of using her last name but enjoyed all the benefits of princehood. Most considered him spoilt and lazy, making the murmurs accompanying the applause unsurprising. He had recently celebrated his twenty-second year and benefited from arcane training at Woodson University in the city-state of Ygg. However, his swordsmanship tutors and the royal guard called him average at best.
Nine competitors came from the leading powers of the Golden Isle—the sky-bound cluster of islands that floated along leylines and served as the Merchant Queen’s home and throne. The participating families included advisors, military leaders, and similar ranking figures that served the ever-expanding trade empire. Rumors suggested the queen had also sent two young men from her household, but the masks kept the participants and audience from confirming the whispers. Now, they knew for sure. Queen Mercer’s son from her second marriage hadn’t just entered the tournament but reached the final four.
The privileged young folk had tutors filling their heads with education to rival that of royalty and nobility in the Imperium, the Grand Tribes, or any city-state. Their affluent background also won them the best combat and arcane trainers too. Unfortunately, they lacked experience, unlike the convoys’ representatives. It was rare for more than one such candidate to reach the final four.
The artificer approached Edward. His information also appeared on the glass wall when he interacted with the device.
Edward Gedge | Newborn Star
Foci: Galvanising Touch | Shaping
Mana Level: 35/37 | 12/16
Rank: Apprentice
The queen smiled and waved to the next in line.
“Louis Mercer, son of Queen Mercer and heir to the Golden Isle Guard,” the man third in line said, removing his mask. Louis had his half-brother’s hair and eyes but featured a more androgynous build. His bow came with a flourish, and the crowd’s cheer put the previous two applauses to shame. He smiled and waved as the glass walls showed him and his illusory doubles dancing around wolves. The young man had only just hit eighteen, but talk of his fencing and arcane abilities had already dominated the Golden Isles. Much like Edward, he too enjoyed training at the continent’s finest institute of arcane arts.
Louis Mercer | Newborn Star
Foci: Fae Fire | Illusory Forgery
Mana Level : 40/44 | 19/25
Rank: Apprentice
“Nothing makes a mother prouder than to see both of her boys in the final four,” the Merchant Queen said. “I recognized Louis’s spellwork, but I’m glad to see Edward here, too. Your father and I couldn’t be prouder.” She finally turned her attention to the last person in line. “It’s your turn, young one. Don’t leave us in suspense.”
“Nox Ratra.” The young man stepped forward and removed his mask and hood, revealing a head of messy dark brown hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes tinted with green. He put on his best smile and only offered the queen a curt, half bow. “Disinherited son of Queen Mercer, firstborn, and former heir to the Golden Isle Guard. I represent the Gilded Alchemists.”
The empire’s production and manufacturing houses filled the final three slots. They also lived on the Golden Isles but lacked the time and privileges to learn from as many tutors as their better-born peers. Instead, they focused on their family’s craft, sharpening their production skills. They rarely received arcane training outside of the essentials for their trade and only participated in the mandatory combat training all young folk of the Golden Isles received. The ten crafting houses rarely sent participants, and the few that attended rarely completed the first trial and never made it to the final four.
Even though the glass walls displayed Nox flawlessly sniping monsters from treetops and rocky outcroppings, no one except a cluster of people seated far behind the queen cheered. Nox was two years older than Edward. He had received no arcane training from any renowned academy and didn’t benefit from the island’s tutors. The only training he had came from the empire’s alchemists and related artisans. Short ingredient-collecting excursions to passing forests taught him survival skills and helped sharpen his archery.
The artificer hesitated before offering Nox the device of crystal and metal. He glanced over his shoulder at the queen and then at his colleagues bordering the arena’s floor. Nox didn’t give him a chance to retreat. Instead, he approached the man and pressed his palm against the device’s sky-facing hexagonal surface. The runes lit up as he fed it mana, and his information appeared on the glass wall.
Nox Mercer Ratra | Protostar
Foci: Slow
Mana Level: 32/31
Rank: Novice
“That’s my boy!” A woman cheered. The distance and crowd made it impossible to pinpoint her, but Nox identified the woman’s voice. It was his paternal aunt, Mou. “That’s my nephew! My nephew made it to the final trial!”
The color drained from Queen Mercer’s face. Everyone in her vicinity appeared furious except the woman seated directly beside her. Nox failed to recognize the amused face. He guessed his mother had invited a foreign guest. The unknown woman smiled and nodded at him.
“We’ll forego the lots this year,” Queen Mercer said, the smile returning to her face. “I’d like to see Louis fight Lyza and Edward combat Nox. After witnessing everyone’s performance in the previous trials, I believe they’ll offer us the best demonstration of our empire’s power. Finalists will receive silver tokens, and the victor shall win a golden token for one of our best prizes from the vault!”
A half-hearted cheer pulsed through the crowd, barely interrupting the cacophony of conversations. Meanwhile, guards escorted Lyza and Louis from the arena. Edward and Nox wasted no time. They walked to the marked spots on either side of the dividing center line.
“Mother really doesn’t want to give you a chance,” Edward whispered, grinning. His eyes drifted to the quiver hanging from Nox’s belt and the bow in his hand. Then the young man’s brows furrowed as he peeked at the bulky box-like container on Nox’s back. “Did you seriously complete the previous trials with that load? Can’t you do anything without your potions? Do you honestly think you can fight me with that on your back?”
Nox laughed. “You need to try harder if you want to get in my head, Eddie. Mum might think she did you a favor. She couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I’m going to make you beg for mercy, father killer.” Edward’s face contorted into a snarl, making his otherwise handsome face appear viscious. "People might think of me as a bully since you're half my size. I don't care, though. I'm going to take my time with you."
Nox laughed even harder. “You speak like a villain from an amateur bard's tale. It’s going to be so satisfying when you get nothing but a bronze token.”
“You might have settled on a focus and started your mana system, but the difference between a Protostar and a New-Born is unimaginable. You must be stupid if you think you have a chance against me. I’ll bet fifty gold—”
“Too rich for my blood,” Nox said, interrupting his stepbrother. Even though ten years had passed since the day his mother announced Louis’ ascension and his disinheritance, he still remembered Edward’s gleeful smile during the speech. Nox wanted to make his stepbrother pay for every insult and attack, but mostly for decade-old moments. “Mother doesn’t spoil me with an allowance. I earn my keep. Let's bet our tokens and competition winnings instead.”
“Agreed!” Edward exclaimed, his cruel laugh almost carrying over the crowd’s chatter.
“Referee,” Nox called to the woman hovering near them. The woman skittered over. “Will you bear witness to this wager?”
“Witnessed and marked,” the referee replied. She scribbled in her ledger before retreating to her prior position. “Shake hands.”
The stepsiblings went through with the ceremonial pleasantries. Even though Edward grinned and waved at the crowd, he appeared stiff. Nox matched his opponent’s gestures to the crowd but projected the body language of someone more relaxed. He didn’t consider the event to be a true duel. Instead, he intended to put on a show for the audience. After all, they would soon serve as his future customers.
Louis and Lyza’s names disappeared from the glass wall as the referees, artificers, and all support staff left the fighting ground’s border. Now, they were two. Soon only one would remain.