The first light of dawn crested over the Emerald Estate, casting long shadows across the sprawling courtyard.
Today was no ordinary day. The semiannual Training Assembly had turned into a Northern assembly, a convergence of the greatest heirs, warriors, and masters in the North.
All other northern families were invited to witness this assembly.
None dare to reject.
The Assembly was being held in the Emerald Arena. A sacred ground for all warriors.
The families slowly started arriving one by one.
From the west, the Chambers family appeared first. A crest of a shield with a fist inside it.
Behind them, their patriarch emerged—Gregor Chambers, The Annihilation Fist, an old man with a body still honed by decades of brutal training.
His presence alone made the young masters stiffen, the echoes of his past victories palpable in the crisp morning air.
At his side, his son George Chambers and daughter Laura Chambers moved with disciplined precision, muscles rippling, weapons ready.
Next came the Ochilis family, moving with the fluid confidence of speed-focused swordsmen with a clan crest of chains around a sword.
The twins, Nash and Don, walked slightly ahead, their eyes already scanning for weakness.
Behind them strode their patriarch—Norman Ochilis, the Severing Snake.
Even from afar, the coiled menace of his aura was evident, a reputation of precision and lethality preceding him.
His two sons - Nash and Don carried themselves with arrogance and grace, ready to prove themselves.
The Ista family arrived soon after.
Spears glinting in the morning light, their movements sharp and disciplined.
Their patriarch, Haiyen Ista, the Spear of War, carried the authority of a lifetime spent mastering the spear. Every step he took radiated command, and his young heirs - Kendrick and Sieg mirrored his lethal precision.
Finally, the Ozark family made their entrance. Lionel Ozark, the Unmoving Mountain, led the way, his massive form radiating calm authority. Flanking him were three of the family's most feared Blade Guardians:
Sir Ragnar Ozark, the North's Protector
The Leader of the Blade Guardians
—an imposing swordmaster, aged yet lethal, wielding a massive longsword.
His aura exuded authority and lethal mastery, and even seasoned knights instinctively tensed at his presence.
Shea Ozark and Mira Ozark, the Twin Sisters of Doom, moved with unmatched precision, scars tracing across their bodies like the history of countless battles. Short swords at their sides, they exuded a silent, deadly confidence.
Following them were the Guardian Knights wielding the clans flag and the young masters of the clan - Lance , Kainel, Derrick and Michael.
Each displaying dignity of an Ozark.
Various Nobles , Masters and Warriors had also assembled today all in awe of this display.
The courtyard fell into a tense, reverent silence.
Every young master and trainee straightened instinctively.
Whispers ran through the crowd—this assembly would not be ordinary.
This was the Northern Assembly, a gathering meant to measure skill, instill respect, and test the heirs of the greatest families.
Lionel and his Blade Guardians moved towards the iron throne on the top.
Beneath them sat the family heads of the three allied clans.
Lionel's voice cut through the murmur, calm but carrying the weight of the entire estate.
"Today, we measure more than your strength. We measure discipline, awareness, and the wisdom to wield it. Remember—your families' honor is in your hands. Every move, every decision matters."
The young masters exchanged glances, some filled with excitement, some with tension.
Nash Ochilis already smirked, eyes fixed on Michael with calculated malice. His twin, Don, mirrored him, eyes sharp and restless.
Michael, steady and silent, felt the anticipation ripple through the courtyard.
The weight of two cores under his ribs, the lessons of Terence, the months of training with his brothers—all had led to this. He remained poised, a calm in the storm of excitement and tension around him.
This assembly would be remembered. The families had arrived, the guardians had taken their positions, and the stage was set for trials, challenges, and tests of strength unlike any before. Every step forward, every glance, every heartbeat carried meaning.
The murmurs of the crowd quieted as
Sir Ragnar Ozark stepped forward,
his massive longsword resting casually at his side.
Even the youngest trainees stiffened, instinctively sensing the weight of his presence.
The North's Protector moved with the calm, precise authority of a seasoned swordmaster. Every eye in the courtyard turned to him as he approached Lionel Ozark's throne, standing firmly beside it.
"Attention," Ragnar's voice boomed, low and controlled, cutting through the whispers.
The sound carried over the courtyard like the crack of a war horn.
"The Northern Assembly begins now. All present shall observe the following rules, for they are binding."
He raised a hand, and silence fell heavier, sharper than the cold morning air.
"The Assembly consists of three parts:"
"First: The Knights' Selection. Every trainee who has applied for knighthood shall face their designated instructor in combat.
Skill, discipline, and resolve will be measured. Only those who prove themselves have chance for admission in the Silver Knights."
He stepped closer, amber eyes sweeping over the gathering of young masters. "Second: The Main Event—duels in the arena. All participants will fight according to the established rules.
A new provision applies this year: Honor Duels are permitted. Should both parties consent, killing is allowed.
Let it be known: consent must be mutual, and breaking an agreement will result in the harshest punishment."
The air thickened as the young masters and trainees digested the words.
The mention of lethal duels sent shivers down many spines, but it also sparked excitement in the more ambitious.
"Lastly: A special announcement by the Patriarch will conclude the Assembly. All present shall remain, for it concerns the future of our families and the security of the North. Nothing shall proceed without full attention and respect."
Ragnar lowered his hand, his gaze lingering on each family's heirs, pausing briefly on Michael.
Though he said nothing aloud, the silent calculation in his amber eyes hinted at a quiet warning: those who fail to respect the rules, will be swiftly removed from this path.
Lionel's voice followed, calm but heavy with authority:
"Let this Assembly test your skill, your honor, and your resolve. Remember, the North watches, and every action here carries weight beyond yourself."
The courtyard fell into a tense, electric silence.
The families' young masters straightened, knights and trainees assumed their positions, and the first flicker of excitement for the coming trials stirred.
Michael's hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, awareness sharpening, instincts ready.
The Northern Assembly had begun—and nothing would remain the same after it.