After the Duel Selection Ends
The finest students of the Empire had left the arena. The inner corridors of the academy now held them, while the main stage fell once again into silence.
But the silence lived only on the surface.
Above, in the tribunes where power sat cloaked in crowns and legacy, a far more dangerous conversation began to stir.
Duke Armand Vaelric stroked his war-hardened beard, his voice scraping against the air like cold iron.
"If this was a display of the next generation's strength… then they're being too cautious. Like hiding a blade in silk."
Marchioness Selene Arceval replied with a tone light as jest, though the corner of her smile cut like a knife.
"Precisely, Your Grace. These children are too wise for their age. They weren't fighting to win they were fighting to be judged."
Count Riven Destrois crossed his legs, one hand idly playing with a ring on his finger.
"Or… they fought to show nothing at all. And that, to me, is far more dangerous."
Baroness Elira Vaunt stared blankly at the now-empty arena.
"Darian Duval. The child with no origin, and yet everyone knows whose will stands behind his name. A child of intent."
Selene responded flatly:
"And the Emperor's child didn't bare his fangs either. Do you really believe that last duel showed their limits?"
Armand exhaled a quiet scoff.
"Not their limits. Their introduction. As if they were saying: 'We exist. But not yet.'"
Destrois let out a bitter, amused breath.
"Twenty children… and we still don't know which one will seize the sword of the future. Or drive it into our backs."
Selene narrowed her eyes.
"They are not mere heirs. They are direction. And that direction… may lead to glory. Or to ruin."
Beside the Imperial Seat
Emperor Gaius remained silent for a moment. He watched the sparks of conversation with eyes as sharp as history itself.
Beside him stood Soren, upright like a sheathed weapon in the shadow.
At last, the Emperor spoke:
"The intrigue of this game… is not who wins. But who chooses not to play in earnest."
Soren answered calmly:
"A silent hound often bites the deepest."
The Emperor turned slightly, observing the face of the man who rebuilt the Empire atop the ruins of rot.
"And you, Archon? Do you believe they're ready?"
Soren did not reply immediately. Then, cold as stone:
"They are not ready. But the world does not wait for readiness."
The Emperor nodded slowly.
"One of them will become a pillar… or the beginning of a fracture."
Suddenly, Soren turned his gaze toward the audience tribune.