Silence hung over the obsidian arena. Twenty candidates stood in absolute stillness.
Ten from Solaria on the left straight-backed, refined, bearing the names of old bloodlines and rigorous training.
Ten from Umbra on the right — less polished, but with a raw edge sharpened by something older than privilege: hunger.
Light and shadow of the Empire finally facing each other.
On a bronze-plated podium, Magister Halvran Rusk stood tall.
His iron staff struck the floor once, the echo ringing through every tier of the watching stands.
"The first duel will begin.
A candidate from Solaria step forward."
Silence. Then, a single step.
Klyven Albrecht, second son of House Albrecht of Brauchwald, raised his hand.
"I volunteer, Magister."
A small gesture of acknowledgment from the iron staff gave permission.
Klyven walked forward, his gait firm, measured.
When he reached the center of the arena, he turned to face Umbra.
"I choose Eryn Kaestell."
Eryn Kaestell, son of a city gatekeeper from Outer Tirnaath, stepped forward in silence.
He bowed to no one. He smiled at nothing. His steps were quiet, but unwavering.
He said nothing. He didn't need to.
In the commoners' stands, whispers began to rise:
"That's Kaestell's boy, right?"
"The one who bends the wind?"
"Still, Albrecht's no joke. They're born for this."
In the noble stands, words were softer, but sharper.
"A respectful choice," Count Riven Destrois murmured.
"Or psychological warfare?" replied Marchioness Selene Arceval, her smile as delicate as her suspicion.
Magister Rusk stepped back, lifting his staff once more.
"Candidates, ready."
The crack of iron against stone echoed.
The first duel had begun.