The arena still trembled with the echo of cheers, the fire of the last duel burning fiercely in every heart.Gray's name rolled across the stands like an unending storm:
— "Gray! Gray! The new knight!"
Some waved small banners, others surged toward the iron barriers, desperate to get closer. The royal guards had to intervene, whistles sharp and commands barked, restoring a measure of order—but the fever of excitement did not fade.
In the royal pavilion, however, where the king sat with his four sons and the council, the air was far heavier.
Leon, the second prince, watched cautiously, his expression taut. At his side, a sly smile crept across the lips of Darius, the third. Without warning, he rose from his seat.
One of the counselors leaned forward, puzzled.— "Where are you going, Your Highness?"
Darius didn't glance back. His voice carried a cold amusement:— "I'll return shortly."
His steps were steady, each one deliberate, as if he carried a secret too sharp to be revealed.
Leon raised a brow in suspicion, while Kin, the fourth prince, leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing as he followed his brother's movements with wary curiosity. Something about it was off. Yet instead of rising to follow, his gaze drifted sideways toward the seat reserved for Princess Elena, the fifth child.
Empty.
"Strange…" Kin thought, his mind momentarily adrift."Where did she go? Did she slip away without anyone noticing?"
The thought lingered for a few seconds before he forced himself back to reality. This was not the time to drift. His eyes returned to the arena floor, where the next round of knights was already preparing to clash.
Meanwhile, in the dim corridors beneath the arena, far from the roar of the crowd, Darius's boots struck the stone with unhurried rhythm until he reached a heavy door. He pushed it open, stepping into darkness.
The chamber within was cloaked in shadow, faint oil lamps casting weak circles of light that danced with smoke.
In the corner sat a hooded figure, his features swallowed by the gloom. His voice rasped like gravel as he spoke:— "I didn't expect you to come in person, Your Highness."
Darius moved forward without hesitation, lowering himself into a chair across from the man. He leaned back casually, brimming with confidence.— "There's something I want handled quickly."
— "And what would that be?"
A sly grin curved across Darius's face, the lamplight catching the sharp glint of his teeth.— "That boy… Gray. He's stirring up a storm he doesn't deserve. I want you to put pressure on him. In the knights' quarters—provoke him, corner him. Don't let him breathe easily."
The hooded man was silent for a moment before asking:— "And his upcoming duels?"
Darius's reply was icy, deliberate:— "Change the order. Have him face… Kota."
A hush fell. Then, from the shadows, came a short, incredulous laugh.— "Kota? Are you certain?"
The smile on Darius's lips widened.— "Of course. Let's see if he survives that."
For a moment, the very walls of the chamber seemed to drink in his words, as though the stone itself was keeping record of the plot now weaving in silence.
Above, the crowd still roared Gray's name, blind to the fact that behind the curtains, threads of shadow had begun to entwine, tugging the festival toward a far darker path.
End of Chapter