Valeria stood at the edge of the arena, the booming voice of the spokesperson reverberating through the crowd. The deafening cheers, the grandiose declarations, the never-ending praise for the Marquis—all of it grated on her nerves.
'Rubbish,'
she thought, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scanned the throngs of people swept up in the spectacle. The spokesperson's words were filled with nothing but hollow flattery, designed to stir excitent and inflate the egos of those in power.
She had seen this type of showmanship before—too many tis, in fact. The words, the theatrics, the way he spoke of "honor" and "glory" like they were commodities to be bartered in front of a crowd. It reminded her too much of the banquets and gatherings she had been forced to attend in her youth, surrounded by nobles who wore their charm like a mask, hiding the emptiness beneath.
At those events, it was always the sa: flattery, smiles, and political maneuvering. Everyone vying for influence, using complints as weapons and alliances as shields. They would speak of "honor" and "duty" with the sa hollow reverence she was hearing now. Words that ant nothing, spoken by people who cared more about appearances than about the principles they claid to uphold.
Valeria did not like it.
'Sigh…..'
Valeria sighed quietly, shaking her head at the empty spectacle unfolding before her. She stood alone at the edge of the arena, surrounded by the roaring crowd, yet feeling completely detached from the excitent around her.
The cheers, the praise for the Marquis—it all felt hollow. She had seen it all before. It reminded her too much of the banquets from her youth, filled with false smiles and shallow words, where nothing was ever as it seed.
She clenched her jaw, trying to push the mories aside.
It doesn't matter if I like it or not,
she thought, her hand brushing the hilt of her sword.
Today wasn't about those hollow words or the gas of the noble class. It was about proving herself, about pushing past the stagnation that had held her in place for so long.
Still, despite her best efforts to focus, her thoughts drifted to Lucavion. '
Why am I even thinking about him?'
she scolded herself, but the mory of their argunt from the day before lingered.
She had stord off after his relentless teasing, her frustration boiling over. At the ti, she had been so sure she needed to get away from him—to escape his constant jabs and that irritating smirk. He had a way of making everything seem trivial, and that had rubbed her the wrong way.
Yet, after spending ti alone in her hotel room, she had started to feel… bored. The empty silence of the room had given her too much ti to think, to reflect on the tournant, her stagnation, and even Lucavion's infuriating presence. She had tried to push him out of her mind, but the truth was, even his teasing had brought a strange energy to her day—sothing she couldn't quite define. Now, standing here in the arena without him, she felt a strange emptiness.
'I didn't even tell him where I'm staying,'
She realized this yesterday. She hadn't ntioned anything when she stord off, too caught up in her frustration to care. It wasn't like Lucavion would chase after her, and honestly, she had preferred it that way at the ti.
But now, the thought that he wouldn't be contacting her—wouldn't even know where she was—left her with a weird feeling.
'Why do I care?'
she asked herself, annoyed at the flicker of disappointnt creeping into her thoughts.
I don't need him. I'm perfectly fine on my own.
She straightened her posture, determined to shake off the odd sense of loneliness that had settled in. There was no point dwelling on Lucavion or his absence. He had his own path, and she had hers. '
I don't need him',
she repeated in her mind, trying to convince herself of the fact.
As the cheers of the crowd swelled again, Valeria focused her attention on the tournant. She needed to stay sharp, to keep her mind clear. There would be plenty of ti to worry about everything else later—after she proved herself in this arena.
'I ca here to fight,
she reminded herself, her grip on the hilt of her sword tightening.
Not to get lost in distractions.
*******
The thunderous applause for Marquis Aldrich Ventor had barely subsided when the spokesperson stepped forward once more, his voice booming across the arena.
"And now, to honor the start of this magnificent tournant, we shall witness a grand spectacle! A show match, the first of many to co, featuring none other than the
two great knights
of House Ventor! Let this be a display of discipline, strength, and the fierce spirit that resides within the Ventor family!"
The crowd roared with approval, the anticipation of seeing the Marquis' personal knights in combat adding a new surge of excitent. The arena floor was cleared, the dust from countless battles past swept away to prepare for the first clash. Two figures stepped forward, erging from opposite ends of the coliseum.
Both knights were clad in gleaming armor, the sigil of the golden phoenix proudly emblazoned on their breastplates, the mark of House Ventor.
One knight, taller and broader, carried a large shield and a longsword, moving with the calm, steady grace of a seasoned warrior. His na echoed through the arena—Sir Gavron, the Shield of Ventor. Known for his unyielding defense and relentless patience in battle, he was a pillar of the Ventor family's martial force.
Across from him, a smaller, faster figure stepped into the arena, her movents fluid and light as a breeze. Lady Serine, the Falcon of Ventor, was the other knight, her reputation built on speed and agility, with a pair of short blades gleaming in her hands.
Her footwork was what she was good at and what she was famous for coupled with how she danced across the battlefield with a swiftness that made her a terror to her opponents.
The two knights took their positions at the center of the arena, facing each other with practiced focus. Though this was a show match, there was no question that both would give it their all. The honor of House Ventor, after all, was at stake.
The spokesperson's voice filled the air once more. "Let this battle be a demonstration of the strength that upholds the Ventor na! May the Shield and the Falcon of Ventor show you what it ans to stand as champions!"
The crowd hushed, waiting for the signal to begin. The sound of the drums grew quieter, their deep tones underscoring the tension that now filled the air. Every eye in the arena was fixed on the two knights, their poised stances revealing the depth of their training and skill.
Then, with a single sharp note from a horn, the match began.
Sir Gavron charged forward with a surprising speed for a man of his size, his longsword raised and ready. His shield was a towering wall before him, moving like an impenetrable barrier. Lady Serine, however, was already in motion, darting to the side with a blur of agility, her twin blades flashing as she circled her opponent.
The first clash ca swift and loud, Serine's blades eting Gavron's shield with a tallic crash that echoed through the arena. The crowd gasped as the impact sent sparks flying, but neither knight faltered. Serine danced away from Gavron's counterattack, her speed keeping her out of his reach, her movents almost too quick to track.
Gavron, undeterred, kept his ground, his shield always between him and the relentless strikes of his opponent. He swung his longsword in powerful arcs, forcing Serine to stay on the defensive, but her agility was unmatched. With each swing, she seed to slip just out of range, her blades striking back like a falcon's talons.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching the display of skill and strategy unfold. Gavron's powerful, thodical style was a stark contrast to Serine's lightning-fast, precise strikes. It was a battle of endurance versus speed, strength versus finesse, and neither knight was giving an inch.
Serine leapt forward, aiming a flurry of blows at Gavron's side, but his shield moved swiftly to intercept, the clang of tal on tal ringing out once more. With a grunt of effort, Gavron pushed forward, using his weight and strength to drive Serine back. For a mont, it looked as though he might have the upper hand.
But in a flash, Serine pivoted, her footwork impeccable, and she slipped behind Gavron's shield. Her blades ca down in a swift, cutting arc, but Gavron's sword was there to block, his reflexes honed to perfection.
The crowd erupted in cheers, marveling at the skill on display.
For several long monts, the two knights continued their dance of steel, neither able to gain a decisive advantage. The crowd could sense the tension between them, the respect they held for one another's abilities, but also the fierce determination to win this match for the honor of their house.
Finally, after a particularly fierce exchange, both knights stepped back, their breathing heavy but their resolve unbroken. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers filling the arena.
With a final clash of blades, the horn sounded once more, signaling the end of the match. The spokesperson stepped forward, his voice booming again.
"And there you have it! A magnificent display of skill and honor from the knights of Ventor! Sir Gavron, the unbreakable Shield! And Lady Serine, the untouchable Falcon! Let their strength be the standard by which this tournant is asured!"
The crowd roared its approval once more, their applause echoing through the arena as the two knights saluted each other with the utmost respect. The tournant had officially begun, and the crowd was ready for the battles to co.
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