The evening of the face off had arrived, and after a long day of packing my things and coordinating with my parents, the time to leave for the stadium and hotel was drawing near. I had just finished stuffing myself into my suit—the same suit that I had worn back at the press conference. Unlike back then, however, I left my hair flowing free down my shoulders and back.
Now that I was packed and dressed, I stepped out of my room and found my parents dressed in their own formal attire, stacking their bags by the door.
“I can’t believe we get to be so close to all the world’s most important future leaders!” my dad squealed.
“I know. Who would’ve thought we of all couples would end up leading such exciting lives?” my mom replied.
They kissed each other and laughed with giddy joy.
I will never understand their excitement over things like this.
“Well, I’m glad you two are happy, at least,” I remarked.
A knock at the door drew mom’s attention.
“Hey, can you get that, Shinsuke? It’s probably Mizuki.”
I opened the door and, just as mom predicted, my childhood friend was standing on the other side. “Good evening, everyone,” she greeted us. Both of her hands held the straps of a backpack she wore on her shoulders.
I let her inside and said, “Hey Mizuki. We’re all ready at this point. We’re just waiting for the car to get here. Cynthia said it shouldn’t be too long.”
“You said there was one other person coming?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “She should be here any second.”
As if on cue, there was another knock at the door. I opened it, and there was Eva with a big grin and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
“Hey Eva,” I welcomed her. “You can come in and wait on the couch if you like.”
“Thanks! Ooh are these your parents?!” she asked, practically dashing inside the apartment.
My parents’ mouths fell open and they looked at each other in stunned silence. Eva held her hand out to them and said, “I’m Evangeline Dioli. It’s nice to meet you two!”
They shook her hand and introduced themselves with bright smiles and barely contained excitement. Mom, though, turned her attention to me with a death stare.
“What?” I asked.
In a blink, her slipper appeared in her hand, and in an even faster motion, she clocked me in the head with it.
“Ow! Mom!”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were friends with Evangeline Dioli!?”
Being around Eva had become so common that it sometimes faded to the back of my mind that she was quite famous. I never once considered that my parents would make a big deal about me knowing her.
“There was nothing to tell!” I argued. “We’ve been friends for weeks; sorry I didn’t mention it!”
“Anything else you aren’t telling us?”
“No. But if there was, why would I tell you if you’re going to assault me with a shoe?”
“The longer you keep important things to yourself, the harder the shoe flies. Got it!?”
“Yes, mom…” I conceded.
“Whoa,” Eva chuckled. “Momma Watanabe’s got some fire!”
My phone rumbled and the message alerted me that our car had arrived. We all left the apartment, loaded our luggage into the vehicle, and boarded.
The long car ride was bustling. My dad bantered with the driver in the front about delivering mail, while mom and Eva joked around with each other. Mizuki had grown used to my parents a long time ago and was comfortable with them, but I think the presence of Eva rendered her quieter than she would have ordinarily been. All things considered, it was a pleasant trip, though.
***
Eventually, we were dropped at the hotel we would be staying at for the next few nights to drop off our luggage. After that, we hopped back in the car and were driven to Royal Stadium, the venue that would serve as the location for both the face-off and the fight the following evening. Some of Cynthia’s staff were waiting in the parking garage and separated us. One group led my friends and parents to their seats in the audience, and another group led me to an area beside the stage. Cynthia was waiting for me when I got there, and she looked more than a little nervous.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey…”
I wasn’t sure what to expect from her demeanor. Ever since our odd confrontation over the identity of my masked assailant, it felt like things were cold as ice between us.
“Just keep your cool. Remember we’re in this together. You’re not alone,” she insisted. I had my doubts. “I’ll be sitting right over there beside the stage with my mother.”
“Right.”
The king stepped up to the stage and approached a podium facing the audience. He gripped the microphone and, with palpable excitement in his tone, said, “I’d like to thank you all for coming today, valued members of the international media. We will begin by bringing tomorrow’s combatants up to the stage.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“That’s your cue…” Cynthia indicated.
I groaned and walked up the stairs, taking a seat at a table on the right side of the king. Emil stepped up to the stage from the opposite end and sat on the king’s left side. From where we sat, we faced a huge audience of media far off in front, while a wall of logos from different advertisers stood displayed behind us. Complimentary cans of Guardia Cola sat on the table in front of me.
Clown show.
“Thank you for joining me up here, gentlemen” the king said. “Now, then. As excited for this bout as I may be, I think it’s more appropriate for someone more accustomed to hosting these kinds of events to take over here. So, please welcome to the stage, the king of magical combat sports, Mr. Nick Arias.”
The king stepped off the stage to sit with Luitgard and Cynthia. A man with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a black suit approached the podium.
“Thank you for the introduction, Your Majesty. Good evening, everyone. Gentlemen,” he greeted us. “I will be the host of this press conference and subsequent face-off. We’re going to start by taking questions from the media, then you two gentlemen will sign the contract to make the fight official. After that, you two will face one another, shake hands, and pose for a photo. Understood?”
I nodded and Emil responded, “crystal clear~.”
“Good. Let’s see, you get the first question.” Nick pointed to a man in a sea of raised hands.
“Thank you,” the reporter replied. “My question is for Mr. Watanabe.”
Oh great.
“How have you been preparing for this fight? What is your training regimen like?”
I scanned the audience, looking for my trainer. My eyes first spotted the other royals, watching from high above everyone else in their own private section of the audience. I then found Eva along with my parents and Mizuki, sitting just above the horde of media. The pink haired girl shook her head, indicating we were on the same page.
“I’ve done a few pushups,” I replied. “Next question.”
The reporter looked baffled by my response and sat back in his chair. Nick called upon another one, and, like a parrot, that one said, “my question is the same as the last, except I’d like to ask His Royal Highness.”
“Well, unlike my opponent, I’ve been training with the very best trainers Gliyrhiel has to offer,” the prince bragged. “Not that I’ll need it, clearly.”
I rolled my eyes, and another reporter was called upon.
The lady approached the microphone and said, “my question is for Mr. Watanabe. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking to gain from winning the gauntlet?”
“My freedom, obviously.”
She furrowed her brows and asked, “are you going to answer any of these questions seriously or just keep deflecting?”
“Keep asking stupid questions and find out.”
Emil scoffed. “Would you take this seriously, you idiot? Do you even realize how far I traveled to get here? You ought to be grateful for that.”
“Ah, yes, you came all the way across the ocean just to kick my ass, I feel so honored.”
“Gentlemen let’s get back on track,” Nick interjected.
“Sure, but I implore the media to ask me questions rather than this empty-headed derelict,” Emil suggested.
“Be my guest,” I quipped.
I guess I should be offended but getting these vultures off my back is fine by me.
Nick chose another reporter and the man stepped up to the microphone.
“Your Royal Highness, what do you most want to achieve by marrying Her Royal Highness, Princess von Eisenhardt?”
Emil smiled and replied, “I’m glad you asked. I mean, first and foremost, how could anyone not be enchanted by such a beautiful girl?”
I looked over at Cynthia who shifted in her chair, her nose scrunched. The king and queen seemed touched by his response, though.
“So, you’re simply content with her hand in marriage?” the reporter pressed.
The prince’s smitten smile transitioned to a smug grin as he said, “as compelling as my affections for the princess are, I must admit that a harmonious future with a beautiful woman is not the only thing I wish to achieve in all this.” He crossed his arms and continued. “There’s a prophecy in my family that states one day a LeClair will own this world. That LeClair shall be me, of course. It can be no other. I will ensure this will come to pass through my union with my future wife, and the subsequent union of Steylia and Gliyrhiel.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “That’s what this is about? A stupid, delusional superstition to justify ruling the world?”
“Watch your tongue you vile little worm. You’re clearly too dumb to understand something so important, so let me explain it to you. What I’m doing is bending destiny to my will. The world will witness me become the greatest LeClair—no, the greatest man to ever live.”
“You’re a sentient inferiority complex, LeClair. If you think you can bend anything to your will, then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
Emil burst into laughter. “Worthless vermin like you have no right to speak about inferiority.”
“Gentlemen, that’s enough of that,” Nick intervened. “Next question please.”
The press conference resumed, but I tuned it all out. Flashbacks to prior conversations with Eli and Cynthia struck me. I recalled how Eli mentioned that Emil’s ambitions were flimsy and selfish, and how Cynthia had expressed a fear of what could happen if her future partner had bad intentions and gained access to the power that Steylia possessed as a kingdom. Both of them were right.
In the end, Cynthia was nothing more than a pawn to Emil. She was just a piece on the board to bring him closer to his goals.
The thought infuriated me, and I wondered how it didn’t infuriate Cynthia’s parents as well. But I found myself less than surprised at the absence of outrage from a pair of traditionalists. They were getting exactly what they wanted, I supposed.
***
After an eternity, the press conference finally came to an end. A man came up to the stage and placed a contract in front of Emil. He signed it, and I did the same immediately after. Nick ushered the both of us up and positioned us in front of each other.
“All right, shake hands, gentlemen.”
Neither I nor Emil offered our hand to one another. Instead, I glared at him, and he smirked at me with the world’s most punchable grin.
“Come on, gentlemen. Shake hands.”
“Very well, I’ll be the bigger man. Not that I wasn’t already, shrimp,” Emil taunted, holding out his hand.
I reluctantly shook his hand and said, “you can be bigger, but you’ll never be a man. We both know that.”
He laughed and I released my grip on his slimy hand.
“All right, pose for the picture, gentlemen.”
The pompous prince put his fists up and I put my hands in my pockets. The army of photographers snapped their photos and brought the face-off to its end.
Once the microphones were at a distance, Emil leaned in close to me and whispered, “I don’t give a damn about you or Cynthia. I’m going to make history at her expense. But I must admit, I will enjoy making babies with her~”
Rage flooded my veins and I felt myself practically snarling at the scumbag looming over me.
“Go ahead, hit me in front of all these people. I dare you.”
I clenched my fists and averted my eyes, knowing full well that if I caught even the smallest glimpse of his insufferable face, I would have snapped and done exactly what he wanted. Instead, I looked off into the audience and spotted my mom, who seemed to realize something was wrong.
“I knew you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re pathetic,” Emil gloated.
And then he spat in my face.
“…”
I kept my face turned, still looking at my mom who now looked shocked and increasingly furious with what she had just witnessed.
If you stop worrying about trying to perfectly recreate something, you can make something truly special.
That’s what mom had said. That’s how she made such great art.
And in that moment, it felt like something clicked.
Slowly, I turned to Emil and shaped the fingers on my right hand into a pistol. I pointed it at his confused expression, and I let my mind go blank. A rough shape formed at the forefront of my brain—a magic circle.
Morning Dew.
The words echoed in my ears, and an erratic stream of water drenched the prince’s face on my command.
The night before the first battle of the gauntlet, I cast my first spell.