The flowers withered away alongside Sir Larry, spring had passed the fall had begun,flowers falling in a sudden, heavy silence.
"You did it!" someone in the crowd shouted.
Instantly, the rest of the spectators erupted into loud cheers, as if the initial shock of the death had completely worn off.
From where I was standing, I couldn't see Kit's reaction, but I could easily imagine his quiet satisfaction.
I had instinctively closed my eyes when the vines began choking the young knight.
Yet, oddly enough, I didn't feel sad. I mostly just felt a chilling terror at the sight of the corpse lying motionless in the dirt of the stadium.
On the other hand, a sharp surge of raw emotion hit me when a woman suddenly started wailing at the opposite end of the arena, where the high lords and their families sat.
"My son! My poor son!"
The rest of the stadium didn't even acknowledge her cries; everyone was far too distracted, thrilled by the prospect of the upcoming second duel.
She began coughing and gasping from the intensity of her screaming, punching her husband's chest in blind agony.
"This is all your fault! Your sins have turned our son into a corpse today!"
The husband had soft, gentle hands, trying desperately to ease his wife's coughing fit by rubbing her back.
His face was twisted in deep discomfort and sorrow as he stubbornly looked away, refusing to gaze upon the body of his boy.
The highest Lord, who had been peacefully dozing through most of the match, woke up at the sound of the wailing woman. Instead of looking annoyed, he grinned broadly as he stared right at the scene.
The sight deeply unsettled me. Is something wrong with this man? Why is he enjoying a grieving mother's tears more than the actual duel?
The old geezer shifted his position on his throne just to get a better view of the weeping lady. He genuinely relished watching her suffer.
Suddenly, the woman grabbed her husband by the shoulders.
"Valaris, please! I won't blame you for anything anymore. Just bring Larry back to me—at least his body!"
She broke down entirely, dropping to her knees on the stone floor.
She pressed her hands against her trembling lips as if checking how violently they shook, having finally accepted that her boy was gone and that what lay in the dirt was nothing more than a body.
"Bring me my boy!" she screamed at her husband.
The man immediately fell to his knees, turning his plea toward the highest Lord.
"Your Grace! The sun of the kingdom, the highest of high lords! Please grant me the order to send my knights to retrieve my son."
The old geezer twirled a ring around his finger, flashing a smug smile down at Lord Valaris.
"Lord Valaris, you are one of my most beloved lords, and you have shown great valor in my campaigns.....On the other hand, you also know I am a man of my word. I cannot bend the rules for anyone—whether they be high lords or common folk!"
The mood of the crowd shifted instantly at his words. They began praising the old geezer, chanting his name in approval:
(All hail the highest Lord! The bearer of equality!)
I tuned most of their chanting out. His words meant nothing; I was far more fixated on his facial expressions, watching how he smiled whenever the mother wept and grinned as the father begged for his son's corpse.
"The matches will continue exactly as planned!"
the highest Lord declared, rubbing his stomach.
"No one is permitted down on the combat floor until all the duels are finished. You may collect your corpse after the battles conclude!"
The mother's cries grew even more piercing. It must have broken whatever was left of her heart when the old geezer referred to her son as a "corpse" instead of a person.
The father remained frozen on his knees, perhaps hoping that a little more public devotion might melt the highest Lord's frozen heart.
"My decision is final," the old geezer snapped, a sudden flash of dark rage briefly replacing his smirking expression.
Across the arena, another shift caught my eye. The crowd's collective mood snapped back to intense curiosity as everyone stared down at the combat floor.
Araegon had torn a large leaf from a nearby plant, wrapping it tightly around his fresh hand wound to stem the bleeding.
He slowly sat down beside Sir Larry's body, systematically breaking and tearing away the thick vines that still choked the dead knight's neck and limbs.
(Rip! Crack!)
After a minute of heavy labor, he successfully cleared away all the vines, freeing Sir Larry—or at least, freeing his remains.
It was fascinating to watch the highest lord's reaction. He slammed his fist down onto the armrest of his throne in suppressed fury.
The crowd wasn't too fond of Araegon's defiant act, either. Murmurs of disapproval rippled through the stands.
"He really has some nerve defying the direct orders of the highest Lord!"
"He's getting way too cocky for a mere slave. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he loses."
Araegon didn't spare a single glance or expression for the jeering crowd. He had lived through their cruelty his entire life; their approval meant nothing to him.
He slipped both arms beneath Sir Larry's body and heaved him up.
Fixing his gaze on the towering walls of the arena, he crouched and launched himself upward.
His legs moved like coiled springs or a grasshopper's, bounding off one stone pillar to land on another, climbing higher with every effortless leap.
With one final, massive bound, he vaulted straight into the high-lord section.
As if guided by cruel fate, he landed directly in front of the grieving mother.
He didn't look at her, nor did he try to speak. He simply knelt and gently laid Sir Larry's body out on the floor before her.
She recoiled in disgust at the sight of her son's killer kneeling right beside her.
She stared at Aregon for a while.
"You wretched being, you heartless monster! ..." she choked out, before pulling Sir Larry's body into her arms and breaking down into a fresh wave of weeping.