Fahon did a double take at the tourney listing board.
He stood in the lobby of Argent Arena. The twins bestowed their reddish light in thick beams through the skylights above. A heroic statue of Fetrik, Fahon's grandfather, dominated the center of the room. The bronze casting of him stood in uniform with resolute eyes cast forward and a Phase-crafted longsword in both hands pointed towards the heavens. The weapon was a large carved sapphire crystal that shimmered in the descending rays.
Worker Sect people filtered in, clad in their usual colorful exotic clothing. Those folks were only allowed to buy tickets after the Warrior Sect seats were filled. A few minutes earlier, men in uniforms had been pouring through the gates instead.
"Who are you fighting?" Arik leaned on a concrete pillar beside Fahon using his comm.
Fahon pouted. "Vivana. Of course, they would pit the two newcomers against each other."
"Well, she won't be happy about that."
"Why?"
Arik tapped away on his screen. "She hoped she didn't have to face you. Said she didn't want to be the one to embarrass the Inheritor in front of the whole country."
What is he up to? Fahon glanced over Arik's shoulder to peek at his comm screen. "Are you…placing bets?" He wasn't surprised. "And—did you bet against me?"
"Look, I have marks to pay back. Nothing personal."
"How do you know she said that? Did she post it on her Repository Stream?"
"No. Her Stream is lame. She barely posts. Mostly images of her pet cat. She told me during our dinner date."
"She went to dinner with you! When? How did you get her to go?"
Arik closed his comm and put it in his coat pocket. He rested a hand on Fahon's shoulder. "Last night. And I simply asked her."
The two left the lobby and passed into the roundabout. The crowd gathered in queues, waiting to purchase beer or confections. A few stared and pointed at Fahon. Ever since the incident in the park, his face had often been on the news broadcasts.
A disheveled man stumbled over to them, mouth agape and smelling of booze. "Inheritor! There's no way you're going to beat Vivana. Are you scared?"
Fahon smiled and waved at the staring crowd.
Despite the taunt, the man gave a clumsy bow of respect and meandered a little too close. Arik stepped forward and shoved the wobbly man back.
"Scram, buddy. The Inheritor isn't here to sign autographs."
The drunk stumbled back with a furrowed brow, clearly offended.
"Come on." Arik tugged Fahon's uniform jacket, and they kept walking, skirting around the crowd.
"What did you and Vivana even talk about?" Fahon whispered, now clear of the crowd.
"Mostly about you. It was such a bore."
"I'm sorry that I'm such a boring subject. What did she say exactly?"
"Apparently, she thinks you joining the Argent Knights was a mistake, and you're only doing it for popularity with the Warrior Sect. She said you should have become a scholar, like your father. Wihtou proper training you'd be a liability in a real war and get yourself killed."
Fahon scowled. What does this woman have against me?
"Ut-oh. Your face. You're mad, aren't you?"
Fahon neutralized his expression. "She doesn't know me."
"I tried to explain how you've always dreamed of following in the footsteps of grandfather. She didn't seem to care."
"This is why she called me Initiate. I bet it made her cringe, bowing to me during initiation."
"Your House Rank doesn't matter to her," Arik said. "You're the new guy. No one likes the new guy at work. It's how it always goes."
They arrived at a guarded elevator. It led to the Knights' private locker rooms. The guards checked the special passes Arik and Fahon wore around their necks, and let them in.
"Maybe you can prove her wrong."
"Maybe," Fahon replied. He stood with his arms folded. Arik pressed a button on the control panel, and the elevator descended smoothly.
He decided not to say anything more. It would only encourage Arik's teasing.
Of course, Arik continued as any good cousin would. "You saw her at the park. She was amazing. It's why I asked her out. I'm not intimidated by a strong woman. Plus, she will defeat you, and I will make a buttload of marks off it."
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open at the basement level. Fahon pushed ahead of Arik, leaving him trailing behind.
"We'll see," Fahon grumbled. "If I win, it will teach you a lesson Arik. Maybe you'll finally stop gambling."
"Aw. Then I'd have to get a real job. No thanks."
"Wait here." They reached Fahon's private locker room, and he entered.
It was a decent-sized room. A row of lockers stood on one side and a massive viewscreen on the other. Currently, a sportscast was discussing who was favored for the upcoming matches.
At the back of the room was a freshly delivered stack of black plastic cases.
Each Argent Knight wore a suit of modern heavy combat armor into battle, called Sterling Plate. As powerful as Bonded were, they were only ordinary humans and painfully mortal, so the armor was extremely important.
He opened the cases and examined the pieces set in the soft foam inserts. The heavy breastplate had large shoulder pauldrons draped over the upper arm, bracers, and sturdy gauntlets. It also had attachable skirting to cover the upper thighs. Also optional were a utility belt, knee pads, and greaves. The helmet's shape was angular to help deflect projectiles, with a reflective yellow visor.
The complete set was constructed of overlapping ceramic scales stretched over layers of impact-retardant fabrics. Sterling Armor's chrome scales contrasted against the charcoal of the uniform beneath.
It took him a few minutes to don the cumbersome suit. The restriction to his movements was unfamiliar, and he regretted not training enough in body armor.
Fahon tucked his helmet under one arm while studying himself in the mirror. Everything looked in order. After nodding to his reflection, he opened the door and strode out.
Arik whistled. "Looking good."
Fahon snorted. "Come on. Let's go."
They found a ramp into the dugout and ascended into the Twin's light.
---
Fahon and Arik settled into an open spot in front of a thick reinforced glass window.
The dugout, about four feet deep, ringed the arena floor. The walls were reinforced concrete, dull gray in color with rings of yellow paint. Windows shielded spectators from any danger. Metal benches were set in intervals along the circular walls. Arena staff and the entourages of Argent Knights sat on the benches and gathered in clumps, socializing.
He noticed Vivana, clad in Sterling Armor, enter the dugout from the locker rooms/ Arik was waiting for her. She was discussing something with her retainers. Spotting Arik, she gave him a short wave. He smiled and eagerly waved back. As her amber eyes met Fahon's, she scowled.
Outside the dugout, the arena floor was a fifty-yard circle, the surface concrete coated with gray rubberized matting. Above seats lined steep three-tiered slopes. Atop the highest slope sat box seats with dark tinted windows, occupied by the staff and families of the Great Houses. Without Fahon, Hous Drakk's box would be empty. His family was busy and uninterested in watching the Knight's compete.
Camera-drones, buzzing like giant insects, zipped around the arena, recording for the Repository broadcasts. The crowd packed itself into the rows, shoulder to shoulder.
Most Ophani loved watching Bonded fights. Fahon hated the fact Argent Knights only hosted one tourney a year. They could have the place packed all the time and make tons of marks. If they allowed Promise League matches, they would make a fortune.
In the past, there had been four tourneys a year, with a single finals match to determine the champion. Fahon's father had seen to changing it. At first, he had stopped the games between the Argent Knights altogether. He said it fostered internal rivalry, which wasn't good for the nation.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Denying the people their entertainment didn't win his father any respect. In fact, his approval ratings plummeted with the decision. He compromised to allow a single tourney a year, helping to restore his credit some.
This year eight Knights registered for the fights. The matches were split into three elimination rounds. Luckily, in the first round, Fahon would be fighting last. It gave him plenty of opportunity to watch his competition and study their fighting styles.
And to practice using his Bond-sense to read and predict attacks.
Arik now faced the window, watching out with giddy anticipation. He loved the fights as much as Fahon did.
Trumpets blared, and the Ophani National Anthem played. The song was familiar to Fahon. It was a triumphant and riotous song. It had a sense of nobility to its rhythm and reminded him of honor. Ophan had always been a nation of strength and prosperity. The piece eventually folded its celebratory undulations into a quiet reverence. It ended with the cry of trumpets, and the crowd burst into vigorous applause.
The first two fighters ascended from the dugout and onto the arena floor. Both raised their arms at the crowd, Sterling Armor shining bright. They paced around the arena's perimeter, across from each other, as fans screamed in adoration and reached out to touch them.
Both Knights had been present during his initiation. Arnir of House Temer had ear-length blonde hair and a handsome hawkish face. He was the younger of the combatants, with an agile build, even in all the armor. A Caster floated behind him, shell white with a red star.
House Temer controlled the small province of Temerland in the southwest. It was a rugged land and stormed often. Most of the population lived in the seaside city of Laren.
Laren was a relief from the frantic pace of Whitestone. Fahon had visited several times. The locals were polite, patient, and peaceful, and strove to enjoy life.
Ven of House Yori's squarish head had a tuft of brown hair. His face held a natural sternness to it. Even when he was shouting in excitement at the crowd. Ven was built like a brick, stout, and firm. His Caster had a matte black shell with no decorations.
House Yori controlled most of the Striped Mountain province. The mountains earned their name from their famous alternating red and white strata, a gorgeous sight to behold. Their province's low population was scattered among dozens of tiny mountain towns and villages. They were industrious people: miners and metalworkers. All were highly skilled and well-paid.
The two combatants met in the center of the arena floor and shook hands. They slipped on their helmets and retreated to the start positions.
The horn sounded, beginning the match. The crowd roared.
The rules were simple. They could only Phase-craft blunted weapons. A blow to the head or neck was worth three points, the torso two points, and the limbs one point. The first to five points won. Of course, a knockout, or one fighter yielding, could also end the match.
Through his Bond-sense the two fighters looked like they were moving through a viscous liquid. They clashed and tested each other's defenses.
One might mistake their actions as being choreographed. The fighters dodged, parried, and feinted around each other with natural grace.
They never overcommit. They're relentless. Both trying to wear each other out.
After five minutes of relentless combat, Arnir finally slowed as his stamina ran out. Ven noticed and unleashed a furious assault, driving Arnir backward, where he tripped and fell onto his back. Arnir yielded after taking a blow to the helmet worth three points. No use letting a foe bludgeon you a second time.
The second match was Beon of House Urr against Kelma of House Varel.
Beon had a lanky body, a youthful, clean-shaven face, and black hair in a short military cut.
Kelma was dark-skinned with a round face and pale blue eyes. She wore her hair in thick cords lying in a pile atop her head.
Both ruled medium sized provinces in Central Ophan. Beon controlled the Oldwood province and the city of Aster. Kelma ruled the Tri-Rivers province, whose electric dams powered most of the nation.
Kelma embarrassed Beon. He was like a small child swinging at an adult, always out of reach. Most of his attacks seemed desperate and sloppy. After a few minutes, Kelma grew bored of the dance and launched an all-out attack, delivering three hits to the torso and eliminating Beon with six points.
Beon threw his helmet, cursing, eliciting scorn from the crowd. He stormed back to the dugout. Fahon could hear him shouting about 'unfair rules' to his retainers.
Why couldn't I fight that guy? Luck wasn't on Fahon's side this day.
Galos of House Foren and Yull of House Keff stepped into the arena next. The crowd erupted as they were announced. This match was the finals last year, where Yull defeated Galos. It had been close: four points to five.
One more match and I'm up.
Galos was a shorter man, head shaved except for a crest of dyed blue hair. He was a savagely handsome man, his exotic look punctuated by a long-braided beard.
House Foren ruled over the Silver Coast province, the largest province in the nation. It stretched from Temerland in the south to Vivana's home of Northwatch at the continent's tip. A few cities lined the coast, the most significant being Mara, which surprisingly had a bigger population than Whitestone. Mara's advanced factories churned out electronics, motor vehicles, and airships. They were sold all over the world. House Foren was the second richest of the Great Houses because of the prosperity of the Silver Coast.
Yull wore his black hair slicked back. He had an angular nose sitting above a thick mustache. He slouched as he approached, like what he was about to do was beneath him.
House Keff's province was called the Gray Flats and situated north of the mountains surrounding Whitestone. The second largest river in Ophan, the Stormwater, meandered its way through the territory. Rich soils gave way to productive farmlands. The people of Flats took immense pride in being growers and farmers. Their bountiful harvests fed Ophan, and any excess was exported to nearby countries.
Fahon had to dampen the sound of the rowdy crowd with his enhanced hearing, so he could focus on the match.
Galos and Yull tore into each other with the ferocity of bitter rivals. Outside this arena, they were comrades in arms, but in here they fought to dominate. Galos had been training for this. He seemed hungrier than during his previous fight against Yull. He moved like a predator. No one liked to lose, and it was his chance for redemption.
Yull wove in and out of Galos's strikes, keeping him outside his reach, and harried him with ranged attacks. The strategy had worked well against past foes and gave him an excellent win record. Galos closed the gap repeatedly, Phase-jumping over spinning discs of Phasematter with a cat-like grace.
It ended with Galos landing two limb shots and two torso hits for six points. Yull went down swinging, scoring three limb hits for a meager three points.
Yull congratulated his rival and left with his head held high. Galos remained on the field, basking in the roaring crowd, amping them up with roaring cheers. Everyone loved an underdog winning a rematch.
Arik eagerly shook Fahon's shoulder. "Looks like you're up. I feel like your coach. But I can't possibly offer you any useful advice. So…get in there and do your best!"
"Thanks," Fahon said, walking away, "I guess."
He passed a sweaty-faced Galos on the way to the ramp. "Inheritor!" Galos said and turned around. He presented a respectful bow to Fahon.
"Galos! An excellent victory." Fahon extended his hand for a handshake.
Galos took it in a mighty grip and shook hard. "Thank you. I wish you the best of luck against Vivana. You're going to need it."
Wow. No one believes in me. Great.
Fahon took a deep breath, ascending the ramp into the arena.
---
"I'm not going to let you win, Your Highness," Vivana said to Fahon. They met in the center of the arena. She had her arms crossed and studied him with determined amber eyes.
Fahon gawked the silent crowd, swallowing his nerves. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"Your grandfather never stepped into this arena. For a good reason."
Fahon nodded. "You're right. He didn't want to embarrass his subordinates. The same reason Knight Commander Crin doesn't participate either."
"My grandmother would have shamed him in a duel."
"I would have paid to see that match. But it has nothing to do with us."
She barely shook his hand and tromped off, putting her helmet on. Fahon put his own on, locking it into place, helmet muffling his sharpened hearing. Its visor limited his field of view to a narrow strip. It would be a disadvantage if he relied on his natural senses, instead of Bond-sense.
He bounced on his toes at the start position, loosening his muscles even with all the armor restricting him. Vivana stood in a crouched stance, making her profile low. A promising idea since most Bonded would try to engage with ranged attacks first.
Fahon needed to figure out how to Phase-craft ranged projectiles soon. But for now he would stick to melee weapons, where he was most confident.
Instead of crouching like she did, he took a sprinters stance. He breathed deeply as he entire body shook with anticipation.
The horn blared. It was off to the races.
Fahon darted across the arena towards Vivana. She threw two spinning disks of magenta Phasematter at him. He Phase-jumped with a flicker of blue, sailing over the projectiles, and landed a few feet in front of Vivana.
Putting his hand out, he Phase-crafted a glittering blue bearded axe with a long handle. The blade was dulled.
Vivana summoned a magenta quarterstaff.
Fahon dripped into a slide, hacking at her feet. With a burst of magenta, she Phase-jumped straight into the air, avoiding the attack. Falling, she brought her staff down in a heavy two-handed swing.
Fahon tucked and rolled. The staff struck behind him, bouncing off the rubberized floor. He rose out of the roll and to his feet smoothly. Without turning her head, she blocked an axe slash with her staff, their weapons clanging on impact.
He hooked the beard of his axe onto the staff and yanked, attempting to disarm her. The staff broke apart into tiny magenta embers as Vivana dismissed it. Fahon stumbled forward, off-balance. She raised her hand and materialized a Phasematter baton, swinging for his head.
When his brain finally sent the signal, it was too late. Despite his enhanced reaction speed, his body moved like a snail.
The baton was intercepted by a sudden shimmering shield of Phasematter. After deflecting the blow, the protection faded into bright blue embers. Fahon recovered, backing off into a defensive stance, confused at what happened.
What? I didn't Phase-craft that shield.
The same happened thing against Kormel, with the dome he didn't create.
The crowd roared with excitement. It had been an instant reaction. They probably had never seen an ability like it during a match.
He let himself get distracted in his confusion. Vivana hurled a baton at him and sprinted after him. The flying baton struck him in the left arm, scoring her one point. He spun out of the way of her follow-up leg tackle.
She recovered quickly from her miss, rising to her feet with another quarterstaff in her grip.
Fahon took the axe in both hands, chopping at her helmet. She tipped her head to the side and took the blow on her shoulder pauldron, two points for him.
She punched him in the chest with a fist encased in Phasematter. It didn't hurt too bad because of the armor, but it shoved him back. The score was her three to his two.
Magenta blurred as she spun her staff. She stabbed forward with it in a barrage of strikes and thrusts, aiming at his chest. He backed away, swatting the staff aside with the head of his axe. She kept her momentum, running after him, and front kicked at his chest.
He blocked the kick with his forearm and lowered his shoulder to ram her in the gut. She sidestepped him in a smooth twirl. Fahon fell onto his knees and elbows.
Hovering over Fahon, Vivana swung the staff with two hands to whack him in the back.
Panic shot through him.
The staff struck a second instantaneous Phasematter shield. The shield vanished, blue embers raining on Fahon. He rolled away and jumped to his feet.
"How are you doing that?" Vivana roared.
He tossed his crystalline axe between his hands, circling around her. She stood firm, staff tucked beneath her arm.
"Fine. Time to end this," she whispered.
Vivana Phase-jumped, doing her trick from the park, running on the air across a magenta bridge of Phasematter. She stopped directly above Fahon, standing on a solid panel. Gravity pulled it down, and his eyes went wide.
She's going to land on me!
Fahon dismissed his axe and raised both hands to catch the panel. He braced himself, anticipating her weight.
And it was light…too light.
The panel shattered into sparkling magenta embers. Fahon had lost focus, letting her distract him. She now stood behind him and swung her staff in a wide arc. It cracked Fahon in the ribs. Grunting, he stumbled sideways and fell to one knee. He growled as he held his side. The armor hardly blunted the blow, she hit like a truck. Two points more points. She had five to his two.
It was over.