“Straighten up!”

“Look up please lord.”

“Just a little bend so I can reach lord”

The tailors were very demanding of Lucian. It had to be perfect. Today was the day of the preliminary rounds.

Haymond sat at his desk, sipping tea, watching Lucian be fitted. He was insistent that he be properly equipped with protective gear.

“Just relax, Lucian. It's only the preliminaries. Do your best,” Haymond grumbled, his voice betraying a lack of confidence.

Lucian nodded, his face a mix of determination and nervousness. "I will, lord Haymond. Thank you for believing in me."

Haymond snorted. "Believe in you? Don't get ahead of yourself, boy. Just try not to make a fool of yourself."

Lucian’s face flushed slightly, but he held his tongue. He knew better than to argue with Haymond. He had no reason to believe in him at all. Somewhere under all that grumpiness, Lucian knew he cared. The tailors continued their work, pulling and tugging at Lucian's outfit.

Finally, the tailors stepped back, satisfied with their work. Lucian stood, looking every bit the part of a competitor. His eyes met Haymond's, seeking approval.

"You're ready," Haymond said curtly. "Remember, just stay focused and do your best. Or at least try not to embarrass me."

Lucian took a deep breath and nodded. "I will."

Outside, Mortis and Aric were waiting for him.

Aric and Haymond had some sort of connection that Lucian was not aware of. They acted very strangely towards each other, almost in a dismissive manner. Aric did not want to go inside the estate.

The preliminary round's official starting time was midday. The arenas were sectioned off all over Kinghaven. Too many matches would occur at the same thing for there to be only one arena. Lucian was assigned to a small one near the inn. It was within walking distance and unimpressive in view.

“Don’t worry, you just got to prove ‘em wrong,” Aric said.

There was a total of 3 days for the preliminaries. To qualify, one needed to win five matches. There could be no defeat at all. Though there were 3 days, participants did not need all of them. If one were to win their first match, they would face another opponent in the bracket on the same day. However, if that other person or the participant themself wishes to do it the next day, it can be delayed. If only one wishes for it, and the other does not, the person who wishes to fight the same day gets paired to fight someone else who is ready, and their opponent needs time. The catch that made the preliminaries extremely difficult was that only 40 individuals could qualify for the main tournament. The first 40 to get the five wins would be qualified.

Lucian learned the name and affiliation of his first preliminary opponent.

Artym Lerd, a swordsman representing Baron John O’Seanelly.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The baron was not anyone special according to Mortis. He was simply one of the many barons. The swordsman, Artym, is the captain of his men.

The arena was the size of the cafeteria at the inn. The ground was solid and sandy. It was carved into a square shape, and have Haymond’s banner, a triangular blue flag with a symbol of a mask on it. On the other side was the baron’s flag, which was a black flag with claws on it.

It was the scheduled time now exactly for his bout.

There was no audience. This was only the preliminaries. Only a few judges, and guards to watch. Mortis and Aric stood in the corner, along with an old man with a black pointed cap.

When his name was called, Lucian rode in with a horse that Haymond bought for him. You did not need one, but it was not restricted. Lucian stood firm on the left-hand side of the arena looking directly at Artym. He could not tell who was Artym truly for the captain was behind a silver bascinet on his face. His body was covered in the same colored armor. In his hands, he carried a great sword, thick, heavy, and dull black.

Lucian felt naked compared to him. His armor was light, comfortable, and casual. He told Haymond he wanted it, but looking at Artym, he was not sure how he would attack such a protected fighter without being exposed himself.

His healing factor would help, but he was not sure if it was against the rules. If the judges saw it, there could be issues.

I just have to try my best to not get hit once then.

A judge walked into the space between them, took out a curved horn, and blew on it.

“Begin!”

Both Lucian and Artym charged at one another with their horses. Artym held the great sword in his hands while Lucian held his longblade. A straight engagement would not favor him at all, Lucian decided. When he got close enough to Artym, but not close enough to get struck, he jumped down from his horse and rolled underneath the charging Artym. Longblade ready, he sliced the legs of his opponent’s horse. It neighed in agony and awkwardly fell while running. The captain disembarked swiftly and stood poised, ready to engage once more.

On the ground, Lucian knew the heavy armor might wear on him more, both from a speed point of view and endurance. The trick would be to not let him hit.

He had to take the risk of closing the distance. Range for range, his longblade, and the great sword could duel it out, but Lucian would be inflicting almost no damage unless he aimed for gaps in the armor. A better and more assured way was to forward charge. Lucian dashed, and when he was close enough to the great sword’s range, he threw his longblade like a spear causing Artym to deflect it away. In that wasted slash that the captain took, Lucian was able to roll underneath the great sword, trip his foe, and unsheathe his dagger. Momentarily on the ground and arms flattened out, Lucian climbed up behind the man and took his back. He wrapped his legs around Artym’s and restricted his movements like an anaconda. Still struggling to pick his great sword up, the captain tried to use his hands to loosen the leg lock, but as soon as he did, Lucian held the dagger near the armor gap in his neck. He stabbed it in barely, but enough for small blood to trickle down. It was his way to show that he could kill him right now if he wanted to.

“Yield!” he shouted.

Artym’s facial expressions could not be determined because of his helmet, but something told Lucian that he would not. He might have to kill him.

“He yields, he yields!”

The judges rushed in and signaled for Lucian to get off. He did so.

Artym stood back up and yelled, “I don’t yield!”

One judge separated them and waved to the others. “It is over. Lucian Auric of Lord Haymond’s house wins.”

“But I didn’t yield!” the captain screamed furiously.

The old man with the black pointed cap walked forward and spoke. “That’s enough, captain. I yielded for you.”

“Baron …” Artym whispered.

“I cannot have the captain of my men dying so foolishly.”

Lucian was ushered away, and a judge asked him, “Lord, you are on one win. Would you like to fight again, or wait until tomorrow?”

Aric and Mortis were waving frantically, and celebrating.

Lucian smiled and said, “Again.”