Cheers filled the air, marking the countess procession throughout the city. Dallion could pretty much determine the path she was taking. It would have been better if he could actually see her, but for that, he’d have to wait a bit longer. At breakfast he had checked the tournament ring, only to find out that he was required at the arena immediately. Once there, he was quickly approached by someone and taken to one of the preliminary waiting rooms. There, as it was explained, Dallion was supposed to wait until five minutes before the countess’s arrival, when everyone was supposed to gather at the arena grounds. Everything was perfectly organized. Dallion would be impressed if it wasn’t for the amount of fear that he could feel coming from everyone.

“It’s strange the first time,” Gola whispered. He too was here, along with all the thirty wildcards that had made it to the official preliminary round. Unlike before, he was dressed in a weird combination of blues and grays, wearing a tunic with the city’s emblem on it. “Be sure to look at the countess when she arrives.”

“It’s not forbidden?” Dallion asked. Normally, he would have thought that it would be forbidden to look nobility in the eyes.

“Not with domain rulers. They like to see more about people they are dealing with.”

That was interesting to know, if not slightly ominous.

“Discussing strategies?” Celia joined in. She was so different that Dallion almost didn’t recognize her. Gone were her children and the mom-vibe. Instead, she was wearing something akin to a roman robe.

“Just talking about etiquette,” Gola replied.

“Nice change of clothes,” Dallion said.

“Requirements,” the woman sighed. “Since I have fury blood, I have to look the part. I’m surprised that they didn’t ask you to have a more country bumpkin feel.”

“Country bumpkin feel?” Dallion blinked.

“All part of the spectacle.”

And that’s another reason why I dislike the festival so much, Nil said. It’s more about appearance than skill. At some point maybe the focus was different, but since I’ve been here, it’s one big farce. Everyone must be dressed in such fashion that the crowd clearly understands what’s happening. The city sanitation worker facing the fury, or this guild facing that. It’s annoying enough that every year we have to go through the obligatory guild outfit changes.

There’s a dress code? This was the first time Dallion heard of this.

Yes and no. The guild doesn’t have one.. except during the time of the festival. The city determines the color combinations of every guild that takes part. Naturally, the more influence the guild has, the better the permitted outfit. The big five get to wear lots of metal, while everyone else. Well, you get the idea.

The door of the waiting room swung open and a very worried organizing assistant rushed in.

“Everyone ready?” she said, out of breath. “Quickly, you need to get out on the arena,” she added almost in the same breath. “Remember, the back left.”

Back left—that sounded like the spot of least importance. It could be no other way, but hearing it made Dallion somewhat annoyed. After all, he had earned his way here through combat and he felt that should be taken into account.

Checking he had all his gear on him, Dallion followed the rest of the group. For this fight, he was equipped with two swords, a dagger, and his shield. Initially, Dallion wanted to bring the dartbow and training stiletto as well, but Aspan had advised against it. The fight was in the real world, so weapons he only carried would only be a hindrance.

The group walked through a series of hallways and corridors until they finally walked out onto the arena grounds. Seeing the amount of people already gathered was enough to make Dallion’s breath stop. Back on Earth he had seen full stadiums many times. There was no comparison. It wasn’t that the people here were more, rather there was an air of anticipation, joy, and eagerness that overwhelmed him. Thanks to his music skills, Dallion could feel as if he were part of an unparalleled event, a one in a lifetime occasion.

Over twenty rows of fifty—more than a thousand people—assembled, each in their place, ready for the magical moment. People of all sorts of life—from the poorest to Nerosal’s nobility were in the stands, separated in sections. City guards were visible throughout, positioned in the common section in groups, keeping an eye on things. It was reassuring that they were taking the chainling threat seriously, even if they hadn’t made any public announcements.

Suddenly something caught Dallion’s attention. Near the nobles’ section, he caught a glimpse of the overseer. The “woman” was dressed in black as usual, discussing something with a few lieutenants. That wasn’t the main focus of Dallion’s attention, though. One of the others near the overseer was Euryale. From this distance, it was impossible even to attempt lip reading, but it was pretty certain that these dealings had to do with the gorgon’s business in the last few days.

“Keep your eye on the balcony,” Gola whispered behind Dallion. “That’s where she’ll appear after the trumpets.”

“Trumpets?”

Dallion hardly managed to ask when a chorus of sounds filled the air. Instantly, everyone at the arena straightened up in almost perfect unison. Being awakened, they had no problem in hearing or reaction. The trumpets continued for another ten seconds before abruptly stopping. There was not a peep from the entire crowd. Tens of thousands of people held their breath, waiting for the moment the county’s ruler made her appearance and she did.

Dressed in a simple but elegant attire with threads of pure diamond the countess emerged on her balcony. She looked much younger than Dallion had imagined—barely in her mid-twenties—with short raven black hair, bronze skin, and emerald eyes. An air of dominance emanated from her, giving no doubt who was in control. It was as if the city itself acknowledged her power, and likely in many ways, it did. According to the principles of domain control, the county’s guardian must have been subjugated by her, which meant Nerosal’s city guardian was as well.

That’s the countess? Dallion asked Nil.

That she is. Now what you were expecting, dear boy?

I didn’t think she'd be so young.

She isn’t, she only appears to be. Unless I’m mistaken, she’s half a century old. Remember, the appearance is merely the embodiment of one’s realm. With enough skills and effort, one can maintain a realms appearance and, through it, their own.

For a moment, the countess’ glance fell on Dallion. It was only in passing, but Dallion felt special, as if he was noticed by someone important. In his mind, there was no question that was due to a skill, or effect of the domain. In his heart, however, he felt honored to have been given as much attention as he was.

“Hello, people of Nerosal, and all you who’ve arrived from within the empire,” the countess said. Her voice was soft, but loud and crisp enough to be heard by all in the vast space. “Today marks the start of the Nerosal Festival. Two glorious weeks during which the skills and prosperity of the city will be displayed. There were times during which this was a simple event. Now, people through the entire province and beyond arrive to witness it.”

Cheers erupted. In all the fantasy movies Dallion had watched, this was usually the time at which the noble would raise a hand to restore silence. The countess did nothing of the sort; she didn’t have to. An instant before her lips started moving again, the cheers had ended.

“Today marks the start of the festival with the grand tournament,” the noble continued. “A thousand and forty-eight awakened challengers will fight for the right to be called champion. And to witness this spectacle, we have been honored by a member of the Imperial family come just for the occasion. I will leave it to him to make the official announcement.”

There was a new set of cheers as the dignitary in question joined the countess on the balcony. Dallion froze. It wasn’t the noble that had caused that reaction; the member of the imperial family was a boy barely the age of Falkner dressed in an intricate clothing of a material Dallion hadn’t seen before. It was the person behind him that was the point of concern—the last time Dallion had seen him, the man had warned him to give up on meddling with anything relating to the Star.

Nil, the person behind the kid. Who is he? Dallion asked.

Alien Eval, the echo replied. Imperial mage on loan from the Academy. Surprising that he’s come here for something as trivial. Normally he’s dealing with far more important things.. and people.

He’s the one that tried to make me fail at the Drum.

Are you sure?

Dallion didn’t respond. The best course of action now was not to attract more attention than normal. The past him would have rushed to challenge the mage head on. Now he knew he had no hope of winning or even achieving anything. From the little he knew of magic, it was just as efficient in the real world as it was in the realms—that was one of its particularities, very much like the tears of Vermillion.

I’ve no doubt, Dallion replied.

“People of Nerosal,” the imperial said. Unlike the countess, he was forcing his voice, an indication that he was new at this. “The time has come to start the tournament of skill. Let the fighting begin!”

A new wave of cheers followed, though with a slight delay. Pleased with his performance, the imperial went to his seat, followed by the mage who remained standing nearby as an adviser would.

“Bring the walls!” someone shouted. “Fighters, go back to the arena hall!”

Arena hall? Dallion wondered.

Just for show, Nil grumbled. The people have come to expect this, so.. Most of them will never set foot in that section of the building, anyway.

As he moved out, Dallion had the good insight to check his tournament ring. It was a good thing he did, too. The echo inside was quick to explain what was expected, faster and more efficient than anyone in the real world would. All participants were assigned a spot in the grid of arenas that was being currently assembled. Dallion was to fight in lot forty-three. The space was limited to ten square feet, making ranged weapons less efficient. That meant that Dallion’s new weapon wouldn’t be as useful as he had hoped. Even so, it gave Dallion the element of surprise.

Just be sure to focus on the fight, dear boy. No one, let alone a mage, would try anything during the festival. Such a breach of etiquette would not only make the countess lose face, it would also embarrass a member of the imperial family, and that’s an offence punishable by death.

That was somewhat of a relief. At least Dallion wasn’t going to get harmed in public. The moment he left the arena, though, things could well be different.

The mage incident seven years ago. Did it happen during the festival? Dallion asked.

As I said, don’t worry about it. You’ll have a tough enough time against your first opponent. Remember, this won’t be a joke. All the opponents you’ve faced so far will pale in comparison to your next battle.

I’ll be facing someone stronger than March?

Very funny, Nil grumbled. You know perfectly well what I mean.

I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be calm and collected, as I should be.

It took around a quarter of an hour for the arena grounds to be prepped for the fight. The moment they were, all the challengers were sent out to their respective grid spots. When it came Dallion’s turn to go to his, he found that his opponent was already there waiting.

“Here at last,” Mord said. There was no smile on the man’s face. Even without his music skills, Dallion could tell that the man wasn’t going to give him any slack. “Ready?”

Dallion strapped his armadil shield to his left arm, then drew the blade whip. In its current state, it looked no different from a very impressive sword of sky silver.

“New sword?” Mord inquired.

“Something I picked up recently,” Dallion replied in casual fashion. “Do you have any new tricks up your sleeve?”

“Nope.” Mord smiled. “You just never got to see what I can really do last time.”