It had been two weeks since the Fry Shack incident. That was Tanaka's name for it, which, to Roy's dismay, had somehow caught on.
Somehow, despite the chaos, they'd all started to feel tethered.
That made what came next sting a little more.
"Will the following students report to the headmaster's office immediately: Roy Shyam, Daniel Hudson Kevin Morgan, Bicky Backy, Crush Hush, Kieran Nazaroff, Boat Choc and Tanaka Ewu."
The announcement echoed through the halls during classroom; every head in the room turned.
Roy, in astrology, looked up from his notebook. Kieran, in economics, closed his notebook and got up. Tanaka in his class blinked like he'd been yanked out of his daydream.
They all met in the hallway that connects to the headteacher's office.
Roy muttered, "I didn't do anything."
Kieran raised a brow. "Neither did I."
Tanaka sighed. "Then why did we get called then? But why are other people we don't talk to getting called then?"
They did not know the answer, so they walked towards the office for which answers awaited them.
The headteacher's office sat like a fossilised monument at the edge of campus, all stone arches and stained glass older than most nations. A secretary greeted them with a curt nod and waved them in with other people from that list.
Inside, Headteacher Elrin sat behind a massive oak desk, flanked by a military officer in a dark mantle. The room smelt like incense and disappointment.
All eight of the boys got into line and they awaited for the headteacher to speak.
"You eight", Mr Elrin said without looking up, "have been entered into the preliminary trials of the Tournament of Richt."
"You'll represent this academy on the stage," the officer added. "Your applications were received and processed. Clean records and proper documentation."
Huh?
They had no idea as to what was happening.
Kieran's expression turned to stone. "Sir, I, Tanaka and Roy didn't submit anything."
Tanaka opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I don't even know what trails we are talking about, sir."
The officer tapped his clipboard. "Submitted two weeks ago. All signatures match school records."
All of the eyes in the room were on them now.
Roy stared ahead blankly and thought to himself.
"That son of a –"
The headteacher cut him off. "It's too late to withdraw. Your entry is official. Backing out now would forfeit the school's eligibility, and since you, Roy and Kieran are on scholarships, this would end badly for you."
Roy thought to himself, 'How the fuck is that related to anything we are talking about?'
Kieran stepped forward, tone even. "Sir, with respect –"
Elrin raised a hand. "You've been given an opportunity. Use it wisely."
They were dismissed.
Even though they were the big age of 19 years old, they still had to wear a uniform and listen to a grown-up; that's just damn sad, man.
Outside, the afternoon sun hit them like a slap. The three walked in silence until they reached the edge of the training field.
Brock was waiting, arms crossed, grinning like he'd just won a bet with the gods.
Roy stopped cold. "You."
Brock tilted his head. "Me."
Kieran narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"
Brock gestured innocently, "I may have accidentally entered you all into the tournament."
Tanaka stumbled. "WHAT?!"
"Well, you said you wanted the rest of the book," Brock continued. "This is just another chapter in it; you just have to flip the page. And before you get dramatic, I made sure everything was legal; I even faked parent signatures for Tanaka."
Roy just stared. "That's not how the law works, and I have never said that."
"Well, Kieran did; I was going to tell you before the announcements," Brock said, shrugging. "Surprised it was ruined; that stupid man did it quicker than I thought. Oh well."
Kieran said, his voice flat. "You forged official tournament applications."
"Forged is a heavy word," Brock replied. "I prefer you call it 'creative advocacy'."
Roy rubbed his temples, as he was tired from the day and the news he had just received. "Why?"
Brock's grin faded just slightly. "Because I know what all of you are worth, and I'm sick of watching you pretend you don't."
Brock's smile was gone as he started thinking a bit.
The silence that followed was heavier than expected.
Roy met his gaze, understanding why he did it. "Right, if we die, it's on you."
Brock smirked. "You won't. It's alright."
Then he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets like he hadn't just flipped all their futures upside down.
Tanaka muttered, "That man's going to get us all killed."
Kieran nodded. "But we'll look amazing while doing it."
Roy said nothing, just watching as Brock walked away. While he was looking at the serene sky, he felt pity but didn't want to give it, as it would be rude for his circumstances.
Then Tanka brings up, "Do you want to get drinks?"
Roy and Kieran shrugged and headed to the local bar with Tanaka.
The Tournament of Richt is a prestigious, globally recognised competition held every year, where participants from around the world gather to prove their strength to the world. The winner is granted a single wish, anything they desire, without exception or restriction. This could be wealth, power, status, the right and access to forbidden knowledge.
But beyond the prize itself, the tournament is widely seen as the ultimate symbol of one's power and capability. Simply participating, let alone advancing, is enough to elevate one's reputation. Many use it as a launchpad to join elite groups or military factions or even the Celestial Watch.
Victories are often listed on resumes and can fast-track someone into positions of authority across political or magical institutions.
At its core, the Tournament of Richt isn't just about ambition; it's a battleground to firm your future legacy.