CHAPTER 13: THE GRAND FINALS

"On to your posts," Kael commanded. Over fifty silver-armored knights nodded, then marched away, heading to their positions, both at the front and back of the audiences.

Every minute the noise around the circular arena had grown louder as the citizens filled the seats. It was almost noon, but there was light snow falling fromthe gloomy sky.

A thick, dark tent had roofed the small grandstand.  Kael stood on the dais beside Councilor Rowan with his team on his back. While the old councilor ate his lunch, Kael observed the audience, trying to find the face of his brother in the arena. He was certain that the Forgotten Winter had already arrived, as he sensed the strange, powerful presences around. But he needed to be patient until the enemies would show themselves. His plans were ready for anything that would happen.

“Sir Kael.” Grand Knight Bryle and Sadon just came, taking their positions on the other side of the councilor. They had been Rowan's guards ever since, popularly known as the Grand Duo, and both were members of The Order of the Grand Knights in Crown Galacer.

“Is everything set?” Kael raised a brow at Sir Sadon.

“All City Gates are closed … and we have the entire mile radius outside the arena covered … they’ve got nowhere to run, Sir Kael.”

With no intention to reply, Kael tilted his head to the side. "Eyes and ears open," he reminded to his three subordinates standing behind him. Cedric, Dain and Ryia nodded and then brought their eyes back into observing the people around the arena.

‘The favor is ours…’ Kael thought. ‘If they will take the bait after the tournament, then my plan will work perfectly … and if they somehow attack the councilor now … we’re still prepared.’ 

The tournament had started and the wild cheers thundered around the arena. The announcer, a middle-aged man wearing black winter clothing, entered the wide circular stage at the center.

"For our first match … we have Merek from Vale … and Caston the Blackdog!"

The two warriors appeared in the stage, and then they drew out their swords. At the sound of the bell, they started fighting, the clanging sound of the two blades overwhelming the loud yells of the audience.

Kael sighed, shaking his head. The tournament started with distaste for him. Those foolish warriors just kept on hitting their swords against each other … and … nothing else. No tactics … no plans … no tension … just complete nonsense movements coming again and again and again.

‘Oh gods, help me with this,’

Kael thought, raking his hair backward. He needed a real fight.

A few matches had been called, and then it was time for the next match. Kael's eyes were suddenly caught by the blue-cloaked participant stepping into the circular ring. The young man carried himself like a true warrior, and the confidence in his movements had made Kael see through that cloak. He could see a young, but a seasoned warrior.

"Arth from Frostwood … and Barak of Winterrun!"

‘Arth? Interesting name,’

Kael thought with one eyebrow raised. Arth’s back was on him, so Kael had yet to see the face.

The people were loud enough to cheer for Barak; perhaps a famous one for his fitted body shape. When the bell rang for the start of the match, Barak immediately drew out his own sword, while Arth, however, just stood in his place, not moving any muscle. Kael could say that Barak was taller than the young man. From a normal person’s perspective, it would seem that Arth was in a great disadvantage. However, one could not predict the outcome of a battle by mere visual speculations only.

Barak lunged forward, giving a heavy swing of his cleaver sword. Arth turned out to be swift enough to evade the attack—and it only took him one step to do it. The big man grunted like a bear as he continued giving strong blows, but his attacks could not even hit the young man. The wind blew harder around the arena, created by the force Barak was exerting.

“Fight me!” Barak yelled, his face dark and angry. He rotated his body and spun one leg, aiming a strike at the side, but Arth crossed his arms to block the kick. Then it all happened in a manner of seconds. While Barak's one leg was still on air, Arth dropped himself, both hands on the ground, then he swept the big man’s other leg with a slide kick. With both legs on air, Barak lost his balance, causing his enormous body to slam hard against the stone floor.

The big man shouted a curse, wincing as he got back on his feet. Barak pulled off a stance, reeling back, the next he charged, driving the point of his sword to Arth's legs. But with his light body, Arth took a jump, higher than the big man to dodge the sword. He landed on Barak's shoulders and then locked his strong legs around the big man’s neck, then he twisted. A loud bone crack snapped from his neck. The audience gasped as Barak fell to the ground, dead, with his eyes wide open.

Arth stood up, wiped his blue cloak, then walked out of the circular stage.

"A ... Arth from Frostwood wins the match!"

"That one's not bad," High Councilor Rowan spoke in a low tone, playing with his fingers. "What do you think, Sir Kael?"

"He’s far more experienced than any young warrior at his age would be," Kael replied, narrowing his gaze to the young man. But then, his eyes widened after finally seeing Arth's face turned to him. Their eyes met.

“Bloody hell …” Kael stormed his eyebrows, seeing the young man's ocean-blue eyes. ‘Is he ... what I think he is? No ... this is impossible. Those blue eyes could be fake.’

Kael was lost in his thoughts for a moment, but he was then interrupted when the bell rang for the next match. It was another set of tedious matches for him. His interests were still drawn to Arth earlier, since he had sensed something familiar from the young warrior, but he could not determine what exactly.

The match of Tristan came, so Kael got his attention back on the ring. After his observation of the earlier fights, he could predict that Tristan and Arth would be the ones left for the finals.

The bell started the match, and as what Kael had expected, Tristan had already owned the round with a single move, slashing his opponent's neck in just a blink of an eye. The audience fell speechless, both in surprise and amazement as the match had ended in less than five seconds. One moment the bell rang, and now Tristan's opponent was on the ground, with dark blood spurting endlessly from his open throat.

The knights scurried in to clean off the stage from all the blood, before the next match began.

"Your subordinate is without a doubt a talented one, Sir Kael," Councilor Rowan said.

"He never disappoints," Kael replied shortly without giving a glance.

"Hmm … I might need someone like him in my guards … What you say?"

Kael eyed the councilor with a blank expression and then shook his head slightly. "He's one of my team now, Rowan. Find your own man."

The councilor gave out a loud snort. "Not a big deal, I should say. I already have two of the strongest Grand Knights in the capital," Rowan said, pointing a thumb towards Bryle and Sadon standing beside him.

The sun had almost settled when the elimination rounds finished. In the end, Kael’s prediction was never wrong. Tristan and Arth were indeed the grand finalists.

Minutes after, the announcer came to stand at the center of the ring. "On my right … entering the stage … is Arth from Frostwood!"

The crowds responded with thundering cheers.

"On to my left … is his opponent … Tristan from Cold Hills!"

The yells grew louder in every second as the two warriors entered the ring. Arth was on his blue cloak while Tristan had his cerulean one. From Kael's perspective, Tristan's advantage was his speed. But still, he had only known a little about Arth, so he was yet to be certain of who would win the tournament.

"Now this is interesting," Councilor Rowan said, clapping his hands in excitement.

Kael’s lips formed a smirk as he looked at the two young warriors, facing one another in the ring. "Yes, it is."