Gallery Boxes
Battle Grounds First Arena
Training Grounds of Cessine city-fortress
On the other side of the First Arena, a glass rooted viewing box was bolted on the far side of the Grand Galleries. It was positioned discreetly, enough to be out of sight of the normal spectators but still offered a wide view over the event.
Tap-tap-tap
“First of fire, first of earth. Dare?” a voice asked, his gloved hands continued tapping the table in boredom.
Dutullique's eyes didn't left the arena's center stage. A lone boy was standing resolutely at the center of the combat field, for all the spectators to see. The eight obelisks of the barrier flickered briefly.
Inside the obelisks were four stone pillars with a two meter height and four inch girth and an orb of pure mana hovering inches from the pillars.
When the young student released his mana, a visible aura appeared and enveloped the child. Raciv, who was sitting languidly on the other side of the table squinted his eyes, and released his own appraisal skill. At his next blink, Raciv's vision saw few wisps of colors swirling atop the boy, and runes indicating some status not visible to the naked eye.
Raciv raised his hand and said, “Dare, second of water. Fifty.”
“Hah, let's see then!” Dutullique answered back, life returning to his eyes at the challenge.
Back at the combat field, a huge discharge of mana came from the trainee, the pillar that was strategically placed on the cardinal direction of East glowed, and with it, one of the eight obelisks with a rune for 'Light' gave off particles of mana and gently settled on the applicant.
When the mana has settled without any crisis, the examiner announced the results with a booming voice.
“Lumar, a proud common shade under the Stormcloud Silver,” the voice amplified on all corners of the area, “the fates has spoken. Congratulations. Your affinity is a Second-Circle of Vestrine Water and received the blessings from The God of Light, Bjartra, Keeper of Candle and Courage.”
A deafening applause was heard.
For a level ten beginner, he could already be considered a prestigious talent to have the potential to reach the next tier. Beads of sweat trailed down the Lumar's forehead but there's a satisfied smile on his face. The ten year old boy bowed his head in the preferred obeisance infront of the Grand Masters and Principalities.
A first-circle water mage could only manipulate the existing air from his surrounding to produce results. So to materialize an element out of pure mana would need more adept and sophisticated magic. Second-circle mages had a better foundation in terms of unlocking the next tier.
“Tsk, I lost again,” Dutullique was frowning and placed a hand on his ring, a small yellow mana core was clearly on display and he made some adjustments. He stiffened for a second and then relaxed.
“How many weights did you added since the start of the Test?” Fylie asked curious but obviously bored at the two's betting game. The young woman folded the hem of her immaculate dress filled with vermillion ribbons and laces of carnation before she skirted towards her seat.
The young woman was beautiful. Her hair was cut in short brunette tassels that framed her pixie face that gave a certain charm on her. Petite, with milky white skin and with just enough curves on the right places, Fylie Sudri Amaranth invoked an almost instinctual urge for protection few men, and even women, could resist. But the solid muscles beneath all those clothe told anyone that she had no use of that, and she would place no second thoughts in demonstrating that fact.
“That'll make it two one-forty already, Princess,” and Dutullique slumped his shoulder in defeat. He made an annoyed groan at the Raciv's unadorned hand, the additional kilograms weighing him down already, not only physically, but also on his spirits.
The informal tone raised an amused expression from the second princess of the Cessine City-Fortress. The two chevaliers had been her close guards for so long that their relationship had a warmth camaraderie, founded on years of trials and near deaths.
“Ah too bad he has no fire affinity. Another talented one gone,” Princess Fylie's perfect brows furrowed as she changed the subject, afterall she had no interest in any form of gambling even if it was disguised as physical training.
The princess gazed at the Grand Galleries and pointed at a man sitting on the left side, wearing a purple habit and an amethyst brooch on his chest. “Look. The ambassador from the Trissine Training Ground is grinning like a hound! I won't be surprised if he shipped our water affinity passers to the borders before nightfall!”
“It can't be helped, your highness, water mages would have a better mentorship in Trissine compared here,” Raciv replied, always the voice of reason. He fixed his glasses and took a long lazy sip on his wine.
“It's still unfair," Fylie said, her regal image starting to crack showing a stubborn side of her, "I still think we would benefit in understanding magic if we could interact more with other elementals. All these fire elements in the Cessine Training Grounds are not helping in refining any other magic types.”
“That would only be perfect for magic research, but for cultivating mages? That would be counterproductive, don't you think?” Dutullique took a deep breathe, still adjusting to the additional weight equal to a fifty sack of rice on his chest. But aside from the shortened of breathe, he was holding quite well.
“Well, it's much way better than families getting forcefully separated because of their affinity magic!” the young woman answered, her voice heated with raw emotions from her statement.
"How youthful, contesting traditions is really the role of the young, I see," an old man suddenly barged in the room.
Normally, any person would think twice to disturb their conversation, but sensing the presence of their visitor, the two Emblems stood in respect and made a bow while their right hand was clasping the hilt of their ceremonial daggers, "greetings, Consul Azrentin of House Tharlier, under the banner of Chattreuse Gold" they chorused in precise words.
Azrentin smiled benevolently like a grandfather looking after his little ones, pleased at their greeting, "how nostalgic, wasn't it just a decade ago when I last laid eyes on you child?" he said as he took the gloved hand offered to him by the young princess.
"Lord Consul," Princess Fylie said, her hair swayed in huge curls as she made a curtsy, "we were not expecting you..."
The old man bowed respectfully in deference of the royalty and said, "Apologies, your highness, but High King Iralius had other engagements, as you are well aware of, I hope you wouldn't mind this old man to step in?"
"Is my brother causing you trouble again?" she smiled empathetically.
"Your highness, I can't speak ill of our young king."
"Ah so he did," Princess Fylie sighed and made an apologetic smile to Azrentin.
The old man chuckled. Formalities resumed and good wine flowed between the customary talks of good will and greetings. Chevalier Raciv poured the consul another glass. The blood red liquid had the same mesmerizing color as the sudrine rubies that decorated the chevaliers' left vests, symbolizing their status as Emblems, the elites of the elite under direct command of Regalia.
But once in a while the talk would cease whenever a student would take on the combat field and attempt to challenge the Test of Affinity.
Azrentin had not missed the minute agitated sighs of the princess, whether it was her petite hands not leaving her hem or the littlest stiffness of her cheeks were not left unnoticed. Clearly, the young princess would prefer to don her usual armor and military habit.
"This season's batch is impressive," Azrentin remarked while caressing his graying beard, "hoh, brings back memories doesn't it?" He placed the delicate wine glass back on the table and said, "Princess Fylie?"
The young girl took her eyes away from the apprentices and looked at Azrentine, "yes, lord consul?"
"You seem to be plagued by thoughts, care to share them?" he asked.
Fylie held her head high and said in a voice full of conviction, "I agree, they are impressive, the steady growth of our people is an aspect we should give tribute to the eight gods, but..." she paused and her amber eyes, the same eyes passed from the royals of Cessine Regalia, scanned the fervent faces of the students, "the disparity of affinity has grown significantly since."
"Hmmm," even if Azrentin had the title of head consul of the city-fortress, his position had always been close to the royal banner, "do you still hold grudges, your highness?"
Princess Fylie bit her lips and went back to observing the children at the training grounds.
With the passing of the war against the demons not too long ago, the Royal Banner of Amaranth, Keeper of Regalia, had protected the southern territories of Alvalar without fail. Their impregnable city-fortress was a testament to that.
They have the largest domain and population among the four city-fortresses. But unfortunately their land was the closest to the Lahar Desert borders which the demons had used as passage to invade the Land of Man during the last demon war. That was why there was a great emphasis for Cessine in military might that it became indoctrinated to their tradition and culture. Having the biggest contribution of soldiers during the demon war, it was no wonder that they also suffered the greatest number of casualties.
"I find it upsetting that we continue losing our people even when the war was won," she whispered, knowing the selfish unpleasantness of those words. She laughed weakly, "I sounded like a whiny princess, didn't I? Please forget what you heard today."
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Azrentin took hold of her hand gently, "it was a grievance of a princess borne out of her concern to her people, you should not be ashamed of your honesty."
"Yes, lord consul," Fylie said with a grateful smile.
"Your highness, permission to speak," Chevalier Raciv adopted the acceptable role of an Emblem especially with the Consul in their presence.
"You may," Fylie said.
"You might want to see this," Raciv motioned for the glass panel of the gallery box.
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At the combat field stood a female student, they had missed the beginner's initial preparations but just from the gathering of mana, Fylie could feel herself astounded and rooted at her feet.
Infront of the beginner a tiny bluish flame bloomed against the small palms of a child. The size itself was not impressive but the color of the fire had made the spectators restless. The more experienced ones were edged on their seats, their painful silence was broken by a few sniggering and off-handed conversations from the younger students who were unaware of what the applicant was trying to invoke.
Fylie took a great shuddering breath, "a [Will-o-Wisp]," she could feel goose bump trailing on her arms as her eyes never left the blue flame dancing on the child's fingertips. Every now and then, Fylie would see a semblance of a creature, a silhouette of a lady. The calm, almost unmoved expression of the girl, as she took in a spell that even champion-tier mages had difficulty handling, captivated the princess in its pure serenity.
"To create a living flame, amazing," Azrentin remarked beside her, calmer than she would had expected
“Leian of House Gallinthe, under the Honorary White Banner. The fates has spoken. Congratulations. Your affinity is a Fourth-Circle of Sudrine Fire,” the examiner declared without any lapse or break from the impossible announcement while Leian already made her bow towards the principalities.
Not only was Leian already had a fire spirit, she also had the potential to break into the fourth-tier of fire magic, the status of legends and above. What's more, if you factored her youthful age, her potential raised astronomically.
Before the battle arena could recover from the news, Leian already left the field.
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"Leian of House Gallinthe, under the Hononary White Banner. First decade of age. Now, officially that of novice levels. Fourth circle of Sudrine Fire. Daughter of Sir Kieve of second mercenary class, and Madame Ailyn of first alchemist class," Azrentin said while fiddling on a data orb with the records from the training grounds. Each of the applicant's profiles could be found on the orb, hovering at eye level between the lord consul and the princess.
"I have not heard of any prominent Gallinthe in Cessine," Fylie remarked.
"Not surprising, your highness. They were the first of their house to rose nobility rank during the past demon war. The title was bestowed during the ascension of High King Iralius together with the 34th Battalion of Crescent. His military records were mediocre at best, if not for the siege of one of the hamlets near the southern borderlands."
The unit was known even to Fylie that her eyes widened, "the Valley of Mirdain?"
The consul nodded. It was one of the key chokepoints during the initial efforts of the Demon Kingdom to usurp the Exine City-Fortress of its stronghold. The Lady of Red Flag was even present during the retreat which cost the Alvalar Kingdom a huge part of their eastern territories.
"House Gallinthe, hn, let's see. Shall we wait a few more years before we recommend her for a candidacy?" Azrentin said.
"But why not now? That sort of talent is one of a hundred thousands," Princess Fylie retorted, the remainder of the Test of Affinity had lost its appeal after the results of one girl under a nameless banner, "and compared to our other candidate, she had surpassed..."
"You forget, your highness, 'that' other candidate came highly recommended by the Principalities themselves."
She straightened and replied, "I am fully aware of that, our current hero candidate's circumstances were truly...unique. But I feel if this young bud was not nurtured properly, it would be of loss to our side," she said.
Even without a spying glass, the whole audience stand was clear to her eyes and her focus came down to the young novices. The applicant's background was clear to both of them and for Fylie, she find the Gallinthe's to be lacking. A member of any lowly honorary banner would require a lot of groundwork for the young bud to reach the limit of her potential.
"Interesting..." Fylie mused.
"What is it, princess?"
The princess recovered another orb and handed it to Azrentin. The two emblem chevaliers were quietly watching the proceedings of the Test of Affinity, but Fylie were certain that their interests were also piqued by her conversation with the lord consul. The Emblems had a big part on the selection, afterall.
Lord Azrentin had read the orb, and on it was the complete profile of eldest of the House Gallinthe. "Aiven, three moons past the first decade, novice, as nondescript as his father. Should this concern us?"
The child had dark looks, not merely because of his hair was black, cut on a practical length, but also because of his eyes. There's no youthful mirth present on those dark obsidian eyes.
"No, it's nothing," she shook her head indulgently, "his situation is just amusing."
"If I'm not mistaken, he was grotesquely handicapped, correct?"
"Pity. And yet the Canary has taken him as pet. Two of our best, and now even his sister was also blessed with potential only legendaries possess."
"Ah, surrounding yourself with those of power, that too, could be called a talent," Azrentin said.
"Possibly," and that ended their conversation regarding the unknown house of the white banner.
A few more talented and promising youths came up to their leisurely discussion but they would still went back to that one name that had been on their minds when Azrentin sensed something. His eyes sharpened and one of the portraits on the dimmed room burst into flame in a shape of crimson flower. Both the princess and the emblems were surprised but before they could move, they stiffened at what they heard next.
“Kukukuku, what fun!” a young childish voice suddenly snickered.
The spell warped and from the burnt portrait, the girl that was painted over the oil canvass's ink flowed in rivulets of liquid and dripped to the shape of the beautiful child, except the girl's eyes were the forever changing colors of blue to green to white, like the color of a rolling waves and there were fangs peaking from her thin lips.
“Asdale, I see you are still fond of using [Sirens]” Azrentin calmly said before taking another taste of wine.
The girl skipped towards them and smiled happily, her steps so light she seemed to flow towards them.
“Why not, old man? They are cute and they don't burn,” the siren licked her lips suggestively.
"High King A-asdale?" Princess Fylie stuttered, High King Asdale Vestri Catalina? What is he doing here?
“No need to be polite, princess," Azrentin said, "this form he took does not deserve respect. So how did you find eavesdropping on our private meeting, Asdale?"
“Booo~rrring," the being snickered playfully, the voice was truly that of a girl and even the mannerism could be easily be mistaken for one, but if what Azrentin said was true then the one behind the siren's facade would be no other than the head of the western territories of Alvalar. "But, na~h, the hero champion is still alive and you are already collecting hero candidates, how sly. Now that one of the Forbidden Treasures..."
"I think that's enough," Azrentin said and the words were blurred from Fylie and her knight's ears.
"...slip away, that's a huge blow. The Principalities would not be happy. Not happy at all,” the threats drop to the being's lips one after another in smooth successions, her tone is like an old man scolding a child but her high pitch made it sound nonsensical.
Azrentin's eyes narrowed dangerously adding more prominence to his aged face, but his benevolent smile was still the same, "Asdale, shall I remind you of a warning?"
"What? Don't act like a child," the siren remarked, "you know that damn brat Iralius also had his own [Replica] littered all over my port. And don't deny you have no hand on that. Tsk. I'm simply paying back the favor while visiting my good old friend and my beautiful niece, isn't that right, Princess Fylie?" The siren took hold of Fylie's hand and placed a plaintive kiss on her gloved hand.
Fylie felt the cold lips soaking deep even under the white leather. The entrancing eyes of the siren never left hers and the voluminous locks of the siren swayed into a play of magnificent marine blue. She remembered the man, androgynous features, beautiful and menacing. High King Asdale, the royal bannerman of Alvalar's western territories, was a known adventurer and explorer of the perilous depths of Bermuda, and the one who would tease her with glitering gifts from the seafolk coves.
Smiling at the memory, she noticed the emerald crest of Trissine City-Fortress on the siren's bodice and courtsied in respect, "gracious morning to you High King Asdale, your humor is really refreshing,"
The siren paused, then laughed, "it is when the young ones treat you as a joke that you really feel old, isn't it, Azrentin?"
"I assure you, I do not share the sentiment," Azrentin snorted.
"Certainly, High King Asdale, I didn't mean...to say that..." Fylie panicked.
"Just kidding, just kidding, hehe, Fylie is really adorable, would you marry my grandson?"
The familiar question put ease at Fylie and she readily answered, "I respectfully decline, your majesty."
"Tsk."
"Didn't you receive the same invitation as High King Iralius at the Royal House Regalia?" the Lord Consul asked, almost at his wit's end at the randomness of the High King of Trissine, "our King Regalia would..."
When Azrentin looked back at the siren, the being was already poking fun with the emblems.
"So you're also here, Raciv and Dutullique, assignments came tough, huh? Go and visit my palace everytime you want, understood? Understood? My brothels are packed but I could sneak in a visit or two," the siren said making itself comfortable on the lap of Raciv who was clearly ill at ease, but still sported a brave exterior, "also, say hi to your grandfathers. Those devils still kicking, correct? Goddess Myrkva, of Howl and Shadows, would be pissed to have them on her cloak this early."
"As you will, your majesty," the two emblem chevalier answered with perfect respectful tone.
"This generation's kings are really a handful," Azrentin lamented, his graying beard seemed to have turned a shade whiter.
"By the way, Azr," the siren said, the serious tone was uncharacteristic of the carefree eccentric High King of west port, "the tides will change. The recent 'excitement' at the Central Regalia was just the beginning. I don't know when or where, but..." the siren jumped away from poor Dutullique and made its way towards the old consul, it would have been comical if not for the next words it said, "the city-fortresses must not fall."
"It never had, your majesty," Princess Fylie answered and the siren's piercing gaze came to the young princess. Unyielding and determined, the princess' brave smile was filled with confidence, an exact mirror of her brother, Iralius. The siren smiled warmly and nodded.
"Good! Now I'm off to pillage some bou~nty!" it declared, "also tell that bratty king of yours to stop eyeing my ports or I'll smack him in his bottom, tsk-tsk, young ones these days," and the being plunged itself back at the burnt portrait and it was gone.
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Aiven sneezed. Rubbing his nose, he nodded briskly at Delica when she handed him a clean kerchief as they walked out of the arena. The unsettling excitement of Leian's examination results didn't surprised their group. It could be said that it was to be expected.
"What's with that far-off look?" Delica asked, studying Aiven and fussing whether she should drag him to the hospit in case he was brought down with flu.
["Someone is remembering me,"] Aiven replied in signs, Delica only looked at him in confusion before her brother interjected.
“Forget about that, are you ready for tomorrow?”
“Nee, are we still going for it, Simos?” Delica asked.
“Of course, I already have the map, see?" Simos tilted his head. "Weren't you the one who suggested this quest? And it's not that far from here, Delica. It's just after the Termina Silva Forest. And it is close by the Settlements,” he said, completely taking away any mannerism of a noble and was back to the thirteen-year old kid with the craving for mischief
“Do we really have to?" Delica fidgeted uncomfortably, having second thoughts at the notion of another expedition right off the season.
Aiven looked at the scroll and saw just below the Cessine Fortress, few miles down, was a location circled by deep ink named 'Milodas Forest'.
Simos continued his explanation. You could feel the excitement radiating out of him “it's just a scouting expedition, dull magical beasts, nothing much. So are you in?”
"You're going to drag us into one of your adventures again.”
“Nah, compared to what we've done before, this is just a cinch! We go in, then out. Even if we find monsters they won't be any problem.”
“Beginner's grounds, huh? Not even a quarter of the base tiers...I think it would be safe?” there's an open question on her statement, as if waiting for the others to agree.
The two siblings stared at Aiven expectantly, waiting for his decision. There would be no meaning for it if the three of them are not complete.
And without much raising his voice, Aiven nodded and with a smile said, “I'm good.”
Sure, why not? What could possibly go wrong?
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