General Dracona once more took the stage, his powerful voice carrying through the vast arena.
"Finally everyone, the moment we've all been waiting for. The main event of today. It is now the sixteenth hour of the day."
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.
"The rules for this duel are as follows: you are not allowed to kill or cripple your opponent. Second rule: fight to your satisfaction."
He paused, letting the anticipation build before continuing.
"Now I call upon His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of Deharan — Eris Albeit Aragon, and his opponent, Her Highness, Keyla Don Aragon."
The arena exploded with cheers.
Thousands of spectators leaned forward in their seats.
Nobles whispered excitedly.
Commoners stood on benches trying to see.
Even the royal family straightened in anticipation.
The Crown Prince walked calmly onto the stage.
He wore simple red leather trousers and strap shoes that reached his knees.
His armless cotton shirt revealed well-trained shoulders.
In his right hand was a sword.
His dark brown hair flowed loosely to his temples, moving slightly in the wind.
He walked with one hand behind his back, relaxed, dignified.
Keyla was already there.
Her outfit consisted of green leather strap trousers, knee-high shoes, and a green leather top that fit perfectly to her form.
Her hair had been braided tightly over itself, the braids flowing down her back until they reached her waist.
She stood with cold, expressionless eyes.
Her sword rested across her chest as her arms were crossed.
Neither spoke.
They simply stared at one another.
At that moment they looked less like cousins…
…and more like enemies born from ancient generations.
The cheering gradually faded.
Then faded more.
Then stopped entirely.
Soon the arena of tens of thousands became so silent one could hear a pin drop.
Behind Keyla stood her two new guards — Fredda and Aldera.
The two women looked at one another with confused expressions.
But the Emperor and General Don sat relaxed.
Both men wore faint smiles.
They understood what was happening.
This was not yet a duel.
This was a battle of momentum.
A battle of willpower.
The first heart to waver would lose control of the fight.
The Crown Prince slowly unsheathed his sword.
The metallic sound rang softly across the arena.
Keyla's eyes followed his movement.
She watched carefully.
She watched how he gripped the weapon.
How his fingers wrapped the handle.
How his shoulders shifted.
How his stance formed.
Then a thought crossed her mind.
He is not a sword user.
He is a master of the spear.
She said nothing.
Instead she took a step backward.
She calmly unsheathed her sword.
Then she casually tossed her scabbard behind her.
One of the guards below caught it.
She made no special stance.
No flashy pose.
She simply stood there.
Waiting.
The prince moved first.
His sword flashed through the air.
SWISH!
The blade swept toward Keyla's head with surprising speed.
CLANG!
Keyla raised her sword with one hand and blocked the strike effortlessly.
The sound of steel echoed through the arena.
Gasps spread through the audience.
The prince followed with a thrust.
Keyla pivoted sideways.
His blade cut nothing but air.
She countered with a quick strike aimed at his ribs.
The prince twisted and parried.
CLANG! CLANG!
Their blades flashed again and again.
Each strike precise.
Each movement controlled.
They circled one another.
Step.
Strike.
Parry.
Turn.
Kick.
Block.
The rhythm of steel filled the arena.
From the stands it was clear.
Keyla's swordsmanship was refined and lethal.
But something about the Crown Prince seemed…
wrong.
His movements were stiff.
Unnatural.
As if the sword did not belong in his hand.
The nobles began murmuring.
Even the soldiers frowned.
General Don leaned toward his brother.
"Hey oldie," he whispered.
"Why is your son not using his lances and instead coming here to appear stiff with a sword?"
The Emperor frowned.
"Color me confused little bro," he replied quietly.
"Even I don't understand."
Two minutes passed.
Then suddenly—
"Stop."
Keyla's voice cut through the arena like ice.
The prince halted.
The crowd gasped.
She lowered her sword slightly and looked at him.
"I came for a duel with you," she said coldly.
"Not to play games."
The prince raised an eyebrow.
"Meaning what exactly, cousin?" he replied.
"Do I look like I am joking?"
Keyla tilted her head slightly.
"Well I have no idea," she said calmly.
"You tell me."
She pointed her sword toward him.
"From what I can see, the sword is not your weapon."
A ripple moved through the audience.
"I want to fight your best," she continued.
"Not this."
"You are a master with the spear."
"Use it."
The Crown Prince's forehead creased.
Inside his heart he sighed.
So she noticed…
He had thought this would be a friendly match.
Using a spear could easily injure her.
So he chose the sword instead.
But clearly…
She wanted something different.
Very well.
"Bring me my lances."
His voice carried across the arena.
Then he looked at her.
"My dear cousin…"
"…now be careful not to stop."
Minutes later two soldiers carried forward two massive golden spears.
They were unlike normal weapons.
Each spear had two sharpened blades, one on each end.
Deadly.
Elegant.
Balanced perfectly for a master.
The prince took them.
The moment his hands wrapped around the shafts—
His entire posture changed.
His shoulders relaxed.
His stance lowered.
His movements became fluid.
Like a predator returning to its natural form.
The crowd felt it instantly.
The pressure around the stage changed.
For the first time…
Keyla smiled.
A bright and beautiful smile.
"Now," she said happily,
"I can freely beat you at your best."
The prince spun the twin spears once.
The air whistled around them.
Then he replied calmly.
"…We will see about that, cousin." ⚔️