"What do you mean you can't let us partake in the games?" Ella demanded, her eyes flashing with anger.

"I meant exactly what I said," Gelvin replied firmly. "I can't allow both of you to participate."

"Why not?" Helletta asked, her gaze steady.

"Because it's too dangerous," Gelvin said, his tone softening slightly.

Ella stepped forward, her temper flaring. "It's not for you to decide if the games are too dangerous for us," she shot back. "We know the risks, but we passed the test fair and square."

Gelvin met her fiery gaze without flinching. "It was Helletta who passed the test, not you," he reminded her. "And I'm more concerned about her safety than yours. In fact, I suggest you back off."

Ella glowered but held her tongue.

Turning to Helletta, Gelvin's expression softened.

"Look, I reviewed your background—as much as was available. You're from one of the islands in the Sorrich region of Kerrasuk, near the Enclosure Zone. I know what life is like out there: remote and disconnected. The advances of civilization don't reach those places easily. People there are often less informed, more susceptible to the lowborn tales about the games, festivals, and the Climb that we Highborn promote. Whatever notions you have about this game, please set them aside. Go back home to your master. Live a life of peace and simplicity. I'm asking you—no, I'm begging you."

Helletta felt the sting of his condescension but couldn't deny the truth in his words. Her knowledge of the Climb and the festivals came from stories spun by fishers and sailors who had never participated themselves.

They spoke of fierce battles and the bounties to be won, tales of how, if you were strong enough, you could be employed by a noble house, become a noble yourself, or even ascend to the Realm of the Lords.

Born at what seemed like the edge of the world, where the sky was perpetually gray and tumultuous, Helletta had always been captivated by stories of distant lands.

She spent her childhood dreaming of anywhere but home. Home was a tiny cabin perched atop a rickety pier—a dreary, cold place that reeked of fish. She loved her master dearly, but the thought of returning filled her with dread.

"It doesn't matter to me how dangerous the games are," she declared, her voice resolute. "I've always wanted more from life. I want to see the world, explore new places, meet people like you and Ella. If that ends up killing me, then so be it."

Both Ella and Gelvin stared at her, momentarily taken aback. Ella studied Helletta intently. Until now, she hadn't pegged her as someone with such strong convictions.

Ella had initially seen Helletta as one of those strong individuals whose aloofness made them oblivious to those around them—like a wild torrent sweeping everything aside. Ella had hoped to ride that torrent, using it to propel herself closer to her own ambitions.

Gelvin, on the other hand, saw a reflection of someone he once knew. Her determined words echoed sentiments he'd heard before. He knew all too well how this path could end. Steeling himself, he remained firm.

"I still won't allow it," he said quietly.

"Why not?" Ella challenged, her frustration boiling over.

"Because..." Gelvin hesitated, searching for the right words.

Ella seized the moment. "Because he's scared," she interjected.

Both Gelvin and Helletta turned to face her.

"You might not know this, Helletta, but I do," Ella continued. "Gelvin once participated in a festival—a small affair hosted by the Blue Sea Cradle after Lord Koleson banned the actual festivals. Gelvin lost, and all his teammates died. Now he hides behind a desk, playing the administrator. He's a coward, and he's holding us back."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Gelvin recoiled as her words struck home, memories flooding back—memories he'd tried hard to bury. The festival had been meant as a tribute to the Emperor's Climb, a chance to gain delegates and, upon winning, earn scholarships to prestigious cradles.

Coming from the Heltrin clan, a family of engineers, Gelvin had been ambitious. His father had studied at the esteemed Full-Bright Cradle, Hypatia, and was a distinguished peer.

Gelvin grew up steeped in the legends of his clan, proud that his father had invented the Helsuk and the reel inventory—innovations that modernized fishing beyond the Kerrasuk region.

Y

et, despite his father's accomplishments and influence in Kerrasuk politics, Gelvin was puzzled by his lack of ambition to succeed Koleson. Gelvin was the son of Galvas Heltrin Whydit, one of the Serpent Heads—perhaps the only one remaining.

The other Serpent Heads, Lord Helturna Vaingrace and Chief Hellflyn Moore, were deeply involved in politics and wielded influence across all of Aquilora.

Helturna had transformed his clan into a noble house in the Purple Ranges. There, he exposed a grievous secret about House Valen, a minor noble family and vassal to House Myrrar, leading to their downfall.

With approval from the Needle's magistrate in the Spotless Realm, Helturna eradicated House Valen, seizing their hold and claiming their place in the Radstadt. He effectively established himself in the Realm of Men.

This bold move surprised no one; the Whydit family was powerful, boasting prominent figures in various institutions—cradles, workshops, tamers, hunters, fishers. Koleson himself, along with two of his children, was a Lancer, one of whom was a Spotless Knight.

Whispers in the Realm of the Lords speculated about when Koleson would join their ranks and claim the title of Ruler of the Southern Seas of Men—a prospect met with both fear and excitement.

What truly shocked everyone was when House Myrrar offered Helturna the position of not just a vassal but a Guardian House—a prestigious role acting as the ruling house's right hand in diplomatic events and festivals.

Given his reputation—a high ranker who had served two centuries in the Imperial Army—any ruling house would covet his allegiance. Yet, Helturna declined, revealing his true ambition: to elevate the Whydit family to the Realm of the Lords on their own terms.

While Helturna was feared, Hellflyn was loved. Embracing a different aspect of their father Koleson's legacy, Hellflyn became a larger-than-life figure who championed the Kerrasuk region as a safe haven for persecuted races.

As the head of both the Fishers Guild and the Water Guild, he oversaw the region's culture and economy. If Helturna aimed to ascend to the Realm of the Lords, Hellflyn sought to delve deeper—literally.

Beneath the waters of Kerrasuk lay the pristine ruins of ancient kingdoms, their structures and engineering marvels preserved through time.

While much of Aquilora from the First and Second Ages had been lost in the Corruption Wars, these underwater realms endured. Tales whispered of an Eternal City beyond the Enclosure Zone, untouched by contamination—a city that seemed to repel corruption itself.

Hellflyn dreamed of re-establishing his family in this underwater world, ruling over the vast and ancient kingdoms below. He nurtured the fisher culture his father had allowed, transforming it into a thriving way of life in the southern regions.

To many fishers across Kerrasuk and Aquilora, Hellflyn was a deity-like figure. He married, and in time, had a daughter.

Heltrin, the least ambitious brother, still contributed significantly to the family's prestige. It was often said that if the three brothers had united—becoming one serpent instead of three—they might have saved their family from its anxious fate of unrealized potential. Perhaps they could have saved themselves.

But history was unkind.

Hellflyn's wife died in the festival three hundred years ago, a tragedy that prompted Koleson to ban the cultural practice, shocking many. Years later, during an event hosted by the Blue Sea Cradle, history repeated itself.

Back then, Gelvin was driven by ambition. He aimed to elevate his family's legacy, amassing a following of delegates to bring with him to the Full-Bright Cradle, Hypatia.

He wasn't alone; Seizaki, Helturna's son, and Hellera, Hellflyn's daughter, also competed. They were friends, bound by shared dreams and rivalries.

Now, Gelvin could scarcely recall that ambition. What remained vivid was the blood—the vast pools of it from those he once called friends and delegates. The most haunting memory was the death of his best friend, Hellera.

The games, the festival, the Empire—they all pulled people along on strings of ambition. It might have been an accident at an academic event, perhaps even avoidable, but Gelvin saw a darker truth that day.

He understood why his father's ambition had waned. Since then, he'd wanted nothing more to do with such pursuits.

He looked at Helletta and saw so much of Hellera in her—the resemblance was uncanny. Bearing the name of his estranged uncle, she seemed like a ghost from his past, come to haunt him.

"I won't let it happen again," he whispered to himself.