“Great match,” said Raimund as he nursed his shoulder. “Nobody can complain about that one.”

“Thanks,” Kieran replied. “Yours was close.”

He chuckled, “I’m glad it looked like it was. I’m sure if Bilal was here he’d berate me for losing but Weron was strong. Who would have thought a man whose first impulse was to stuff himself silly would make it to the top four. You better watch out.”

“I saw the fight and I might be a little in over my head.”

“Worry not, Dewey,” Josette said, stopping next to them. “I will win in your place.”

“That’s a bold claim coming even from you, Josette,” Raimund said. He cringed when she pushed his shoulder.

“Are your attendants not coming today?” She asked.

Kieran glanced at the doorway half expecting them to be there, “No. I told them to enjoy the show. One of them’s been a bit overbearing lately.”

“Is that not a good thing? It means she cares. A trait some of them only seem to have when their positions are at stake.”

“I agree. Good help is sometimes difficult to find. Be wary though, Dewey. Like Josette said, sometimes it’s just an act,” Raimund added. “Like with Bilal’s attendants. You can tell they don’t particularly favor him. I’m willing to gamble that they wish our old spymaster would win.”

On the screen, Felicia and Bilal waited for the official’s mark. When it came, two elemental bolts flew out simultaneously and collided, creating steam.

Felicia used the short period between to close the distance. The crystals flashed and the screen zoomed in. Bilal scrawled something into the ground and flung a small bolt at Felicia. It struck the ground in front of her, causing her to trip.

He smirked. At that moment, a bolt grazed past his face. She rushed him. A powerful wide arced swing aimed at his midsection. He blocked it with his sword but the force pushed the edge into his arm. Blood trickled down. She pulled back the blade and checked him with her shoulder. He fell and the match would have been over but the ground began to glow.

“He got her,” Raimund commented.

In an instant, she was trapped like a bird in a cage, surrounded by bars made of Water Essence. She tried to break free, hitting, kicking, and slashing at them but they didn’t break. Blial’s face twisted into a hateful grin. He shoved the point of his sword into the cage. It drew blood.

He repeated the action, stabbing into the space between the bars. Each time, she managed to throw herself to the side and escape major wounds. The tournament official had come closer to their fight, eyeing the situation with great care.

Bilal thrust the sword in again. Felicia took the cut to her side and plunged her sword into his shoulder, opening a wound on the top of his thumb along the way. He dropped his weapon in a panic as he leapt away.

She switched her attention to the cage and tested a bolt on its bars. It did nothing. He regained part of his senses and scrambled for his blade. Finally realizing what caused the bars to appear in the first place, Felicia fired a bolt into the ground. The bars were swept up by the wind like raindrops.

“Yeah! Teach him to eat his words,” said one of the non-nobles in the room.

Bilal, after rearming himself, turned tail. Felicia was hot on pursuit and gaining every second. He sent spell after spell at her but she dodged and blocked them all. Pressed against the wall, he kept her away with the tip of his sword.

They traded attacks. Hers were fast and filled with what little strength she had leftover. His were muted, impeded by his wounded shoulder, but traces of techniques shone through. They weaved in new elements, a water bolt from Bilal, and new attack patterns from Felicia.

It was a pitched fight. Each person trying to tilt the balance into their favor. A single spell from Felicia might have done just that, but they had to have their limits and it looked like she reached hers in the magic department.

A breakthrough happened. Unafraid of using her body, Felicia parried and put her fist through his gut. He dropped on all fours. She kicked his sword away, the sheer effort causing her to stumble. Somehow, she stabilized and lifted her sword for the final blow. She swung. The tournament official ran to them.

“That fucker!”

Before the match was called and before the sword hit its mark, ten claws stopped the blade short. Surprise evident in her wide eyes made her all the more vulnerable. He spit in her face and knocked her weapon out of her hands. He pushed her down and rended her shoulder open. As his claws pressed against her neck, the official stopped the match. The despicable piece of shit, gloating in his undeserved victory, ran his claw down her cheek, drawing more blood.

He was pushed off. Dozens of staff ran into the arena and carried her away. While the usual cheer of the crowds came, he felt the silent jeers of everyone watching in the room. They were ushered to the side as Felicia was placed in the middle of the spell circle. Her shredded sleeve was torn off. One of the robed men from the previous day appeared without even being called and began reciting a spell.

Someone clicked their tongue.

“Look at her getting all the good treatment. What about me? I’m injured and I’m a noble,” Bilal said, holding his injured shoulder. He ducked. A shoe flew over his head. “Which one of you filthy pigs threw that?”

“I did, you ignoble child,” said the commoner from earlier. He was Josette’s opponent and one of the two men who were speaking to Felicia when Kieran first saw them.

“Hoho, such a big word from a country pig. Or, are you perhaps another street rat like that loser of a girl?”

The man stomped up to him. Bilal, although he ran his mouth, flinched when he saw the fury in his steps. The pure unadulterated rage built up with each breath he took.

“You are treading on dangerous ground,” Bilal warned. “My family will not let anything happen to me.”

As the man chambered a punch, the guide stepped in.

“There shall be no violence outside of the arena,” he said as he stood between them. “Please, cease this quarrelling.”

Undeterred, spurred on by the other non-nobles in the room, the man let loose his punch. In one swift motion, the guide caught his arm and threw him to the ground. The palm of his gloved hand shimmered with essence.

“If you intend to ignore this tournament’s rules and the Overlord’s orders, then I shall expel you from this colosseum posthaste.”

The man said nothing as the guide helped him up. He then walked deeper into the room where Felicia was. Bilal mocked him. Josette shook her head. Raimund sighed.

In the corner, silent this whole time, was Lanky, or Weron as Raimund told him. He hadn’t moved but he watched with interest. Bilal noticed his gaze.

“What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at a boy who gloats about his victory after promising in front of everyone not to use his blessings. Very admirable, Mr. noble,” Weron said.

His blood boiled from listening so Kieran pulled away from the conversation and moved to where Felicia was. Most of the treatment was done and they were finishing up her bandaging.

They helped her to a sitting position as the match-ups for tomorrow were announced. For his bracket, Josette and Weron would face off first. He’d seen both their matches. Josette’s swordplay was elegant and swift, while her magic left little to be desired. He still hadn’t gauged how many spells she could cast but it was at least twice the number he could.

Lanky, on the other hand, was her opposite in regards to his sword style. It was simplistic and a bit barbaric in comparison. His magic was something he rarely used.

Kieran already guessed from the first round that they would make it to the final four.

The second match for tomorrow was, of course, him against Bilal. He could see the bastard’s devil-like grin from across the room. The tournament staff attended him next but kept him away from the spell circle.

“Dewy…” Felicia croaked. He came closer. “Please kick his ass for me.”

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to be here?”

“Don’t worry. You’re basically my personal guard,” Kieran reassured the former royal guardsman. “Just go and grab any book you like. You already did the same thing a couple days ago.”

“It’s different, Your Highness. You were the one to request the book, not I.”

Kieran shooed Kalstras toward the bookshelves. It took a little bit of convincing but after he started, he didn’t stop. Satisfied, Kieran sat at one of the many open tables. The last few times he came here there were some scholars looking through the books, probably because of the recency of the trial, but now it was almost empty.

Kull, probably happy to have someone in his library, walked over. He carried a stack of books in both arms. “Your Highness, is there anything I can assist you with finding today?”

He waved his hand, “No, no. I’m just kinda here to get away from things, you know?”

“I understand. His Highness, the second prince, often did the same.”

“Hansgath did?”

“Yes, your new attendant did as well.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Kalstras?”

“I believe it was a little while before your first visit that he came. At the time, the royal council had not yet decided his role.”

The royal council probably referred to the Council of Nine, the Overlords, and his father.

“They made him into a royal guard?”

“Yes. The Ywenir Family Head is a Wing Guardian of Nyshtim and protects one of the largest trade routes in the kingdom. When his son was found to possess the blessing of wings, a huge fuss was made. Quite a bit of a headache if I may say so. The amount of scholars in here after that revelation left us working late into the night for weeks on end.”

A Wing Guardian. If he remembered right, it was just under the Overseer rank but both were among the highest titles obtainable by a noble.

Kull continued as he pinched his nose bridge, “The head wanted him to take over the territory but the royal council wanted him in a more active role. The war needed and still needs heroes. Hence his sentencing in the recent trial. I digress. The council sought his deployment in war but with his influence, the Ywenir Family Head managed to chain him to the position of royal guard.”

“Was it what Kalstras wanted?”

“That, Your Highness, is something I do not know. Reading the hearts of those around me is not my specialty you see. That is why I throw myself to the safety of books. They ask nothing of me and certainly they are as loyal as can be,” he said with a laugh. “If Your Highness needs my presence for anything, whether that be for a book or for a simple chat, please do not hesitate to call me over.”

As Kull walked off, Kalstras came back with a pile of books. He plopped it down on the table and picked the top one off.

“That’s a lot of books,” Kieran commented. Eight by his count. “Are you gonna finish ‘em all?"

“I will. I have been meaning to finish this one but it’s been a few years since I read it. These right here are the volumes my family did not have in their possession,” he pointed out the three at the bottom. “And the rest simply caught my interest.”

“Huh. Alexandra would kill for me to be like you.”

“The Blood Demon has recused herself from warriorhood for fourteen years now. I doubt she would seek to return to that life.”

“That’s not what I- ugh,” He buried his head in his hands. “Teal really is the only one I can talk to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, this is you,” he held his fist up, “and this is what I just said.” he makes an arc over the fist.

“I’m sorry. I still do not quite understand.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ll get it eventually. It took Teal a little bit too. Alexandra… Well Alexandra just never gave me the chance.”

“Speaking of your northern-blood attendant, how come you did not invite her to join us? I took it you were quite fond of her.”

“Well,” he sighed. “I did invite her but she declined. I’m a bit relieved to be honest. She’s been trying a little too much recently. I think it’s because of the gift I gave her. She feels like she doesn’t deserve it so she’s trying to make up for it.”

Kalstras closed his book, as he was too busy talking to read it. Kieran felt a little bad since he saw Kalstras earlier doing some chores around the palace, meaning he’d probably be short on reading time. The day when he’d go to the front lines wasn’t far away either.

“Your Highness, if it bothers you so, why not tell her? You’ve no doubt she means well and wishes to repay you. So, tell her in no uncertain terms that the bracelet is something she deserves.”

“All right,” he hit the table, “I’ll tell her the next time I see her.”

Maybe not in front of Alexandra though.

Kalstras went back to reading his book and Kieran looked over his shoulder. The book was about spell circles, one of the most confusing magicky things he didn’t really get about this new world yet. It restored essence but also powered crystals? It could have a spell bound to it and also react to certain others. How? What other things could it be used for?

“Hm?”

One of the spell circles depicted caught his eye. He stopped Kalstras from turning the page and peered at its design. A five layered circle drawn over an octagram. Dozens of shapes and ancient writings were stored inside, other smaller circles contained their own designs. It struck him as oddly familiar.

Written in the ancient language was a label at the top of the page. Below that big text was the translation: ‘Bestowment Ritual’. And the text below that read: ‘Created by Sahndaihere, first prophet of -̷̫̰̰̜̄̆̈̿̕͜-̸̛̦͋̓̅-̸̧̗̹͓͆͒͗-̶̹̐̆-̵̛̪̤̋́-̵͉̭͍̲̻̽̈̊-̵̝̬̺̿͛̇-̷̥͖̂ͅ-̷͎̯̗̅͒͝’. The writing was smudged and impossible to make out.

Kull appeared before them and Kalstras turned the page.

“Fear not,” Kull said, “the laws pertaining to the destruction of blasphemous texts and the like do not apply in this library, such was the decree of King Belekor.”

King Belekor, the king who created the palace library.

“Then did you need something, knowledge keeper?” asked Kalstras.

“Yes,” he turned to Kieran. “Her Majesty calls for your presence.”