With a heavy sigh, the young boy tries his best to dismiss his frustration with his older brother. It’s such an important day and such an important event for the kingdom, yet his brother would rather fool around with his girlfriends than watch the Knight Selection Tournament.

It’s the event that not only decides who is worthy of joining the ranks of the Radiant Knights, the strongest military force in the country, but also shows the level of skill of all those participating. One should not only focus on who wins the tournament, but on who could be the one to claim victory next time.

Eliot Ulster, the second prince of the Radiant Kingdom, makes his way to the VIP spectator’s area as he walks the halls of the castle with heavy and annoyed steps he’s very aware of. He knows he needs to calm down, but in two years, his brother will become the next king. Can a man such as him really do what’s best for the kingdom and its people?

The thought makes him anxious.

With a final deep breath, he stops before the door to his destination. He might only be the second prince, but he’s still royalty. His behavior reflects on the crown as a whole, and since his brother’s promiscuous activities are already making people whisper, he needs to work twice as hard.

He pushes the door open and enters the small balcony. There’s a total of 13 chairs prepared for the people allowed here. Ten of them are already in use, two of them are for Eliot and his brother, the first prince. The last one, however, the biggest and fanciest of them, will remain empty, for it is meant to represent the absence of the late king, his father.

Eliot takes in a deep breath through his nose and releases it softly and slowly. He’s already mourned enough. His father would not want them to stop moving forward just because he isn’t here. In that sense, perhaps his brother is ahead of him. Maybe.

The people occupying the other 10 chairs are the heads of the four great noble houses and some highly regarded knight captains. Of course, those two are here, as well. They would be the last ones to miss this event.

Eliot greets every single person present by their name and title, not having difficulties remembering them by this point. The last two people he greets are the ones he’s in friendlier terms with. The vice-general of the Knights, Sir Samuel Alba, and the general himself, Sir Kain Grant, both bow respectfully with a hand on their chests.

“Sir Kain, Sir Samuel. I hope I’m not too late.” He gives them an apologetic smile without bowing back. It’s not out of arrogance, but simply a matter of etiquette. Royalty doesn’t bow to anyone save the Gods, and doing so would make the other nobles think less of him.

“The first match is still a few minutes away.” Sir Kain says in that gravelly voice of his that almost betrays his warm smile. “You’ve made it in time, Your Highness.” He nods.

Sir Kain is a huge man in every sense of the word. He’s just over two meters tall and has a thick, muscled body. Every inch of his body has been trained extensively on top of his already incredible power as a [demigod]. The top of his head is completely shaved while a dense but neatly taken-care-of dark beard covers his face. His skin is just a little darker than most of the people here, and it’s what gives away his status as a commoner that ascended to his rank on deeds alone.

Sir Kain was the late king’s best friend, but they only became so after he had been made general. As a result of both his sons still not being of age to lead the country, the king appointed the knight general as the head of the kingdom right before his death and until the first prince became an adult and could take the throne. Only two more years for that, Eliot grimaces internally.

Sir Kain’s reforms may be more militaristically focused than his father’s, but every single one of them still has the safety of the people in mind, and Eliot can easily support that. He does find a lot of opposition in the noble houses, but as Eliot sees it, none of them push too hard against him due to the fear that Sir Kain might just overthrow the government and permanently take power for himself.

And truth be told, Eliot has conflicted feelings about that, but he’s getting distracted.

“Is your lord brother not coming?” Sir Samuel asks with some hesitance.

“He said he’ll come to watch the final fight.” Eliot shakes his head, unable to hide his frustration and chastising himself mentally for that.

The second prince is on friendly terms with two of the strongest men in the kingdom, but every time he meets them he feels inadequate. After all, he’s only 14 years old and 1.60 meters tall. These two tower over him, and they’ve accomplished heroic deeds that make everything he’s done pale in comparison. But he’s sincerely happy that they work for the benefit of the country.

“I see.” Sir Samuel answers, keeping his voice politely neutral. See? Just like that. Eliot knows Sir Samuel is disappointed as well, but he can hide it effortlessly to avoid being criticized and read as easily as him.

All three of them take their seats, and Eliot takes the opportunity to ask some things he’s been curious about.

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“Sir Samuel, is it true that you recommended a participant this time?”

“It is.” The young knight nods with an easy smile. “I regret that I could not support him as is custom, but I have faith in his skill. Besides, he’s young. Even if he loses this tournament, he can try again next season.”

“So, you have that much faith in him?” Sir Kain asks with a raised eyebrow. “This is the first time you invite someone.”

“I believe he can become an important asset to the knights. I’d rather we be the ones to help him grow, rather than let him go to the Dusty Hall.”

“How do you think he’ll fair?” The older knight asks after nodding in approval.

“Mmm.” Sir Samuel holds his chin as he thinks. “I’d say he has a 40% chance of winning.” He nods to himself, satisfied with that assessment. “He’s inexperienced in real combat, but so are most of the young nobles participating today. He also has good instincts and a strong soul. It’s all up to how well he can push his advantage without letting his opponents press theirs.”

“What did you mean when you said you could not support him?” Eliot asks.

“That I was only able to meet him a few days ago and could only give him some pointers yesterday during a spar. If he could get anything out of that, we’re about to see.” He chuckles. “It seems he’s up in the first round.”

The castle’s steward stands in the middle of the arena below the balcony they’re in. The arena is located in the middle of the castle’s first floor. It’s perfectly round with a dirt floor and surrounded by 2-meter tall stone walls. Over and around them is the gallery that can seat about 200 people.

The seats are full, which is not really a surprise to anyone. The people here had to buy a ticket to watch, but it’s not for money that they sell the right of entrance. It’s only to allow a maximum amount of people in, since the tournament takes place inside the castle and there are limited seats. Security around today is even tighter than usual. Eliot knows that both Sir Kain and Sir Samuel’s brigades are patrolling, and they’re not the only ones.

The steward breathes in to speak, and even Eliot can feel a small amount of prana coming from him. The steward is not particularly a mage, even though he knows a little magic. Right now, he’s using one of the few spells he knows to make his voice louder.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Radiant Castle is proud to present this season's Knight Selection Tournament!” As his booming voice travels across the arena, the cheers of the crowd follow it. “Of our 14 participants, only one will earn the right to join the ranks of the Radiant Knights! Do you have any favorites? Then be sure to cheer for them, because things are about to get wild!”

Eliot chuckles to himself. The steward does a great job at hyping up the crowd, even though he’s usually so serious.

“Let’s give our participants a round of applause! The first bout is about to begin!”

The cheering gets even louder, but the steward’s voice still prevails thanks to his magic.

“In the blue entrance, we have a man from the Dusty Hall Mercenaries. A daring warrior who takes on quests on his own and jumps at the opportunity to save those in need! He was invited to this tournament by His esteemed Grace, Bartholomew Cormag: Mister Jiv!”

The clapping and cheering gets divided. Some of the people watching are nobles while others are commoners with enough money to buy their ticket. Generally speaking, nobles root for nobles, and commoners root for commoners.

The man who enters is skinny and of average height, about 1.70 meters tall. He’s wearing different pieces of leather armor over his clothes and a short sword at his waist. His appearance reminds Eliot that looks can be deceiving. At first glance, Jiv might look weak, but he was invited by a noble for a reason. He’s excited to see what he’s capable of.

“In the red entrance, we have a man of many talents! Farmer, carpenter and tavern waiter, he’s done it all to support his aging mother, and now aims to become a knight! He was invited to this tournament by none other than our esteemed Sir Samuel Alba! Coming from Yellowseed village: Mister Arthur!”

There’s clapping and cheering, yes, but there’s also laughter and a lot of whispering. People are wondering who this man is, and what has he done to be invited by the strongest knight. Truth be told, Eliot is extremely curious, too.

The young man enters the arena from the east entrance. Eliot has very few talents he’s willing to brag about, but his eyesight is one of them. He can clearly see Arthur’s embarrassed blush as he looks down, trying to avoid the crowd. That makes Eliot even more curious. Is he embarrassed of the steward’s presentation? Why would he? Working to support your family is extremely honorable. Still, how will a farmer, carpenter and tavern waiter fare against an experienced mercenary?

The two participants stand about five meters away from each other. For reference, the arena has a diameter of 20 meters, and they’re standing near the center of it.

“The rules remain the same as ever. Leaving the area and going beyond the walls counts as a retreat and will get you disqualified. You are free to use your own style of fighting, but killing your opponent will also get you disqualified. A match ends when one of the combatants falls unconscious, when I, as the referee, declare a clear winner, or when one of the contestants admits defeat.”

“Why does killing your opponent count as disqualification?” Eliot asks the two warriors beside him. It’s not that he disagrees with the rule. In fact, he endorses it, but it is strange. This is a full contact tournament. People will get hurt, they will bleed and break bones. And as knights, there will be times when they have to kill. So why?

Sir Kain is the one who answers. “Knights are warriors who wield deadly weapons and power, that’s true.” He nods. “We fight monsters to protect the people, but there are times when we must point our blades to fellow humans. Even if such humans happened to be criminals, they’re still part of our country. Killing is easy. A knight must be stronger than that. A knight must be strong enough to win even without killing.”

“…Sparing someone is harder than taking their life, huh?” Once more, Eliot is reminded of why he admires the knights as much as he does.

“With that, let’s get the first bout started! Down into the pit they go! Which side wins? Nobody knows! Let’s get it on!”

With the wild roar of the crowd, the first battle begins.