It was full moon over Noxveil moonlight rays , catching the crystal towers of the capital in rainbow light. The streets were alive, packed with visitors from every kingdom under Elena's domain. Merchants sold colorful pom-poms, freshly popped popcorn, and delicacies from across the valley. Children ran between stalls, waving flags and shouting in excitement. The air buzzed with anticipation; today was the day of the Game of Thrones.
In the center of the plaza, a massive stage had been prepared. Screens floated above, ready to broadcast every moment across the valley. And standing on the stage, drawing every eye, was Azrael, Elena's head butler and arch-demon. Cloaked in impeccable black attire, he commanded attention effortlessly. His crimson eyes flickered with faint amusement, but the crowd paid him no mind—they only listened.
"Welcome, citizens of Noxveil, and honored guests from every kingdom!" Azrael's deep voice rolled over the plaza, amplified magically, capturing every ear in the city. "Today, the greatest fighters from all corners of the valley will compete for glory, honor, and pride! Before the games begin, allow me to show you where the rulers sit—leaders from each kingdom, watching closely as their champions take the field!"
The crystal screens projected the rulers' seats across the plaza: the saintly human ruler, the massive orc, the elegant elven queen, the old dark elf, the tiger and snake beastfolk rulers, and the merfolk prince. The crowd erupted into cheers, waving banners and flags for their favorites.
And then, all eyes turned to the main entrance. Elena walked in, her silver eyes glinting, wearing a specially designed jersey top and matching bottoms, her dark hair tied back neatly. Each step was confident, graceful, and commanding. She waved to each team, showing support, yet there was a subtle edge to her smile—as if she knew more than anyone else in the valley.
The cheering reached a fever pitch, voices echoing through streets, plazas, and every home where the broadcast flowed. People clapped, whistled, and shouted, swept up in the excitement of the queen herself joining the event.
Elena raised a hand, and immediately, the crowd fell silent, the air thick with expectation. Her silver eyes scanned the plaza, and her voice rang out, clear and commanding:
"People of Noxveil! Fighters from every kingdom! Today, we gather not just for sport, but to celebrate skill, courage, and loyalty! I am proud to see so many of you here, ready to give your best. I hope every player fights with honor, strategy, and passion. Win or lose, show the world what your kingdom is capable of!"
Her words carried far beyond the plaza. The enchanted screens broadcast her voice to every corner of the valley, and the streets, homes, and villages erupted in cheer once again. Children waved flags, merchants clapped, and even the fighters' faces gleamed with renewed determination.
Elena's silver eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Let them see the queen who supports them… and the one who watches everything.
Azrael stepped forward once more, bowing slightly. "Let the games begin," he announced, and with a wave of his hand, the portals within the arena opened, glowing with magical light, ready for the first teams to step through.
The Game of Thrones had officially begun.