Chapter 197: Four Shields Beneath One Roof
Victor Ravenshade lasted exactly twelve minutes before asking where the Hall of Champions was.
Sir Darius Valen ignored him.
Victor waited.
Then tried again.
Sir.
Darius continued walking through the Imperial Coliseum’s eastern interior corridor.
The Blackwood candidates followed behind him while Registry officials led them toward the section reserved for registered competitors.
Victor looked toward Leon Ashford.
He heard me.
Leon nodded.
Definitely.
Marcus Wintermere glanced ahead.
Ask again.
Victor looked suspicious.
Why?
Because I want to see what happens.
Victor stared at him.
You are becoming a worse person.
Mira Solenne laughed from behind them.
Kael walked beside Sir Corren Valehart several paces back, enjoying the exchange.
They had been granted their first escorted tour of the Coliseum before the formal opening ceremony the following morning.
The place looked enormous from outside.
Inside, it felt like a city built specifically for people to injure each other while thousands watched.
Wide stone corridors ran beneath tiered seating.
Candidate preparation halls occupied the eastern section.
Healer chambers stood near every major arena entrance.
Weapon inspection rooms.
Armor storage.
Registry offices.
Holding areas for mounts.
Private entrances for nobles.
Military corridors wide enough to move entire companies without sending them through spectator crowds.
And beneath everything, Kael had noticed drainage channels.
Good ones.
He had been staring at them when Lily caught him.
You traveled to the greatest Coliseum in the Empire and you’re studying drainage.
Kael looked toward her.
Bad drainage ruins civilizations.
Lily stared.
Tavian has changed you.
Don’t say that.
Edwin Ashcombe smiled quietly.
Darius looked back.
Move.
Victor took his chance.
Sir Darius.
Darius stopped.
The entire group stopped with him.
Victor immediately regretted his courage.
Yes?
The Hall of Champions.
What about it?
Where is it?
Darius stared.
Victor continued carefully.
For historical education.
Marcus nodded solemnly.
Educational.
Leon added.
Very.
Elias Thorn looked toward the wall because his face had betrayed him.
Even Damien Ravenmoor appeared interested.
Darius looked at Kael.
Kael raised both hands.
This is entirely them.
Liar.
Completely.
Darius turned.
Follow.
Victor’s face lit up.
Kael smiled.
So did Marcus.
Darius’s shoulders became more rigid.
That somehow made the victory sweeter.
The Hall of Champions occupied the western interior ring of the Coliseum.
Kael had expected plaques.
Perhaps statues.
He had underestimated Aurelia.
The corridor rose into a vaulted gallery nearly three stories tall.
Golden lamps burned beneath carved stone arches.
Hundreds of names covered the walls.
Not merely tournament champions.
Imperial military champions.
Historic dueling winners.
Grand Knight Examination champions.
Tournament victors from generations before the current dynasty’s records had become standardized.
Each examination year occupied its own section.
The combat divisions changed over the centuries.
Swordsman.
Shield.
Lance.
Mounted.
Heavy Blade.
Aura.
Later Magic Swordsman.
Other divisions had vanished entirely.
Victor’s humor disappeared.
He walked slowly.
These are all real people.
Sir Corren looked at him.
Most were.
Most?
Some very old records are incomplete.
A few names were reconstructed from military archives.
Victor nodded.
Kael understood the reaction.
A wall did something a story could not.
Thousands had stood in this Coliseum believing their year mattered more than any other.
Some became generals.
Some noble knights.
Some mercenaries.
Some probably died quietly.
Yet their names remained here because on one particular day, they had been the last fighter standing.
Remembrance.
Kael looked toward Darius.
That word kept following him.
Sir Maelin Ors noticed.
Different kind of remembrance.
Kael nodded.
Still remembrance.
She seemed to approve.
They continued deeper.
Then Marcus stopped.
Found it.
Darius did not turn.
Victor nearly ran.
Kael followed.
A polished black stone panel carried gold lettering.
The year was decades earlier.
Below it stood several tournament divisions.
Victor found the Swordsman bracket first.
Thirty-two names.
Each pair connected by carved lines.
Win.
Advance.
Win again.
Sixteen.
Eight.
Four.
Two.
One.
Kael stepped closer.
There it was.
DARIUS VALEN
First round.
Advanced.
Second round.
Advanced.
Quarterfinal.
Advanced.
Semifinal.
Advanced.
Final.
Champion.
Victor stared.
They actually kept the whole bracket.
Sir Corren smiled.
Of course.
Marcus followed the lines backward.
Who was your final opponent?
His finger stopped.
CAEL ROTHMERE
Kael immediately checked the name against memory.
Not familiar.
Darius finally stepped closer.
Sir Cael Rothmere.
Victor looked at him.
Sir?
He passed.
Yes.
What happened to him?
Darius’s expression changed slightly.
Became a military knight.
Served the southern frontier.
Later commanded a cavalry regiment.
Still alive?
No.
The answer shortened the excitement.
How did he die?
Darius looked at the name.
A border campaign twenty-one years ago.
Marcus studied the bracket.
You said he was younger and faster.
Yes.
Stronger raw Aura.
Yes.
Victor leaned closer.
And you beat him.
Yes.
How?
Darius looked at all of them.
You have asked this already.
Not with the bracket in front of us.
Darius’s eyes narrowed.
Kael smiled.
He’s right.
Darius gave him a flat look.
Kael stopped smiling.
For approximately two seconds.
Then Sir Garran Holtane’s voice came from behind them.
Rothmere should have won.
Everyone turned.
The Emperor’s Shield approached without escort.
Up close, he looked even larger.
Broad enough that the dark red cloak across his shoulders seemed almost too small for him.
Several pale scars crossed the left side of his face.
His heavy sword remained across his back.
Victor immediately straightened.
Marcus did too.
Darius looked unimpressed.
Garran.
Darius.
Sir Garran stopped beside the bracket.
His eyes moved toward Kael.
Lord Kael.
Kael inclined his head.
Sir Garran.
Then the older Shield pointed toward Cael Rothmere’s name.
He was faster.
Better reach.
Stronger reserve.
Darius said nothing.
Sir Garran continued.
And too proud to believe Darius would allow himself to lose ground intentionally.
Marcus looked toward Darius.
You gave ground?
Darius sighed.
Kael became interested.
Sir Garran smiled faintly.
First two minutes, Darius tried to control center.
Failed.
Rothmere pushed him toward the outer ring.
Victor stared.
You were losing?
Darius looked at him.
Yes.
Victor appeared deeply satisfied by the discovery that Darius had once experienced difficulty.
Garran continued.
Then Darius noticed Cael always committed his rear heel when accelerating after a retreating opponent.
Marcus understood first.
Recovery.
Exactly.
Sir Garran pointed at the bracket.
Darius kept retreating.
Cael thought he was breaking him.
Crowd thought so too.
Kael looked toward Darius.
You baited him.
Darius nodded.
Eventually.
Garran continued.
Final exchange, Cael lunged farther than usual.
Darius shifted outside the sword line, cut the ankle guard, shoulder-checked him before his stance recovered, and took his weapon.
Victor looked almost offended.
That’s it?
Darius stared.
What were you expecting?
Lightning?
A dragon?
Victor considered.
Something larger.
The Coliseum was louder than the technique.
Garran answered.
That is usually true of good swordsmanship.
Kael liked that.
Marcus looked back toward the bracket.
How long was the fight?
Eleven minutes.
Darius answered.
Kael blinked.
That long?
Cael was difficult.
Sir Garran smiled.
That is Darius-language for excellent.
Darius looked toward him.
Why are you here?
Because I heard children asking about your championship.
Victor frowned.
We are not children.
Sir Garran looked at him.
Name?
Victor Ravenshade.
Black Dragon?
Yes, Sir.
Garran’s eyes sharpened.
The failed preliminary.
Victor’s face changed.
Does everyone know that?
Darius answered.
No.
Garran does.
Why?
Garran folded his arms.
Because the Four Shields receive candidate summaries before the examination.
Victor looked horrified.
Every mistake?
Important ones.
Victor turned toward Kael.
I am definitely going home.
Kael smiled.
No.
Another voice entered the gallery.
An eleven-minute final.
That was considered slow even then.
Lady Seris Vaelor approached from the upper archway.
Cassian’s Imperial Shield did not walk like a court mage.
No floating robes.
No dramatic sweep.
Her steps were quiet.
Measured.
The white-blue crystals around the head of her staff rotated slowly.
Kael sensed mana around them.
Contained.
Perfectly controlled.
Marcus’s attention moved immediately to the crystals.
Seris noticed without looking at him.
Wintermere.
Marcus froze.
Sir—
Lady.
Marcus corrected.
Lady Seris.
Do not stare directly at active focus crystals unless you know their function.
Marcus looked away immediately.
Why?
One day, one may be carrying an illusion designed to punish exactly that habit.
Marcus’s expression changed.
Victor whispered.
I like Blackwood.
Darius heard him.
Good.
Stay alive long enough to return.
Seris stopped near Kael.
Lord Kael.
Lady Seris.
Her eyes moved over him.
Not his face.
His stance.
Hands.
Sword.
Then back.
Magic Swordsman.
Kael’s eyebrow rose.
Word travels quickly.
I do not rely on rumors for mana signatures.
He felt suddenly examined.
That was probably the point.
Seris looked toward Darius’s bracket.
Still discussing ancient history?
Sir Garran answered.
Your respect for age remains inspiring.
Seris’s expression did not change.
You are older than Darius.
Garran looked offended.
Kael almost laughed.
Seris turned toward the Blackwood candidates.
Five under House Kael.
Damien Ravenmoor.
Leon Ashford.
Victor Ravenshade.
Marcus Wintermere.
Elias Thorn.
She knew every name.
Kael noticed.
So did they.
Her attention settled on Marcus again.
Strong reserve.
Moderate regulation.
Marcus stiffened.
Yes, Lady.
She looked toward Damien.
Lower reserve.
Better distribution.
Damien’s eyes sharpened.
She could sense that without seeing them use Aura.
Kael realized the same thing.
Seris looked toward Kael.
Do not confuse reserve with capability.
I don’t.
Good.
Her attention shifted toward the Hall entrance.
Someone else was coming.
Kael knew who before she appeared.
The temperature of the room did not change.
The people did.
Sir Calista Veyne entered carrying no spear this time.
White plate.
Crimson cloak.
Silver-blond hair tied behind her head.
Seraphine’s colors at the clasp.
Her eyes went first to Darius.
Then Seris.
Then Garran.
Finally Kael.
Four Shields.
One gallery.
Kael suddenly understood why ordinary candidates had begun quietly leaving the area.
Calista stopped.
You brought your candidates sightseeing.
Darius answered.
They asked.
Her eyebrow rose.
And you agreed?
Eventually.
Calista looked toward Victor.
You must be persistent.
Victor thought very carefully.
Yes, Sir—
He stopped.
Lady.
Calista stared.
Victor closed his mouth.
Kael turned away before his face betrayed him.
Calista looked toward Darius’s old bracket.
Still intact.
Disappointed?
Sir Garran asked.
I assumed the wall would reject arrogance eventually.
Darius’s expression remained flat.
And yet your name remains elsewhere.
Sir Corren coughed.
Kael looked at him.
Is this normal?
Corren answered quietly.
Unfortunately.
The Four Imperial Shields did not behave like legendary statues around one another.
They behaved like people who had known one another too long.
That made them more interesting.
Calista’s eyes returned to Kael.
I heard about your proposed household knight title.
There it was.
Kael straightened slightly.
Black Dragon Knight.
Yes.
Ambitious for a House with no household knights.
Kael nodded.
Everyone starts at zero.
Sir Garran’s mouth twitched.
Seris remained unreadable.
Calista continued.
And your oath allows refusal of unlawful or dishonorable commands.
Lawful commands that require deliberate dishonor, cruelty toward innocents, or betrayal of sworn protection.
Kael corrected.
Important distinction.
Calista’s eyes narrowed.
You wrote it?
With help.
Darius?
Some.
Sir Maelin?
Later revision.
Calista looked toward Darius.
You support it.
Yes.
Her expression became sharper.
Interesting.
Kael asked.
Why?
Calista looked back toward him.
Because Darius once failed his first Knight Examination on an oath question.
Victor’s head snapped toward Darius.
You failed?
Kael already knew.
The others did not all know.
Darius looked toward Calista.
Unnecessary.
She smiled.
Very necessary.
Marcus stared.
You failed your first Knight Examination?
Yes.
Elias looked interested now.
Why?
Darius remained silent.
Sir Garran answered.
He was asked whether he would surrender his sword if his sworn lord became dishonorable and ordered cruelty.
Darius looked toward him too.
Apparently everyone was determined to ruin his morning.
Leon asked.
What did you answer?
No.
Darius replied.
Victor blinked.
You said no?
Yes.
Why?
Darius looked toward the names carved in stone.
Because I thought loyalty meant never abandoning the person I had sworn to.
Marcus frowned.
Isn’t that loyalty?
Darius looked at him.
Sometimes.
Then his gaze moved to Kael.
Sometimes it is cowardice disguised as loyalty because judging someone you love is harder than obeying them.
Silence.
Kael felt that one.
So did Calista.
Her smile vanished.
Darius continued.
I failed.
Returned later.
Passed.
Then eventually won the Coliseum bracket.
Victor looked at the wall again.
That story is much better than you made it sound.
I was not telling a story.
That’s your problem.
Kael smiled.
Darius looked toward Victor.
Training hall.
Victor’s expression fell.
Right now?
Right now.
Victor walked away muttering.
Leon followed.
Marcus hesitated one second longer at the bracket.
Then Darius looked at him.
Marcus left too.
Damien and Elias followed.
Mira smiled at Kael.
Your people are entertaining.
They’re becoming expensive.
Brennar laughed.
The Four Shields remained.
That was rarer than Kael initially understood.
Sir Corren explained after the candidates disappeared.
All four usually arrive for the consolidated examination.
They are not usually standing together in public before opening day.
Kael glanced around.
More spectators had begun pretending not to watch.
Noble aides.
Registry officers.
Several candidates.
Even a pair of senior military knights.
Four Imperial Shields standing within twenty feet of one another apparently counted as entertainment.
Kael looked toward each.
Sir Darius Valen.
Swordmaster.
General.
Battlefield judgment.
One of the greatest military commanders in the Empire.
Lady Seris Vaelor.
Mage.
Cassian’s Shield.
Mana control precise enough to evaluate candidates from standing distance.
Sir Garran Holtane.
The Emperor’s personal Shield.
Older veteran.
Heavy sword.
Military presence.
Sir Calista Veyne.
Spear.
Formerly tied directly to the Empress, now serving Seraphine’s household.
Elegant.
Sharp.
Potentially dangerous in ways that had little to do with the weapon she carried.
Four different people.
Four different standards.
Kael liked that.
It made the title Imperial Shield feel less like a power rank and more like an achievement reached by different roads.
Seris looked toward him.
You are thinking loudly.
Kael frowned.
That’s not possible.
Your face is readable.
Kael stared.
Lily says that.
Then Lily is observant.
Kael disliked Seris slightly more.
The Coliseum bells rang once.
Sir Garran looked toward the upper level.
Imperial party rehearsal.
Kael frowned.
Rehearsal?
Opening ceremony tomorrow.
The Emperor does not rehearse.
Everyone else does.
Sir Corren answered.
Nobles need to know where to stand.
Calista added.
Some require more instruction than others.
Kael suspected she meant specific people.
Then the upper gallery doors opened.
A group entered.
Not the full Imperial family.
Several heralds first.
Court attendants.
Military officers.
Then Prince Cassian Asterion.
Kael had not seen his eldest brother closely in some time.
Cassian walked without hurry.
Thirty-four.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Asterion crimson eyes.
Black formal military coat beneath a deep Imperial red mantle.
A sword at his side.
Not decorative.
He did not need an announcement.
People moved differently around him.
Seris stepped aside as he approached.
Not behind.
Beside.
That told Kael something about their relationship.
Cassian looked toward Darius first.
Sir Darius.
Your Highness.
Then Kael.
Little brother.
Kael smiled faintly.
Older brother.
Cassian looked toward the bracket wall.
Visiting Darius’s humiliation?
Championship.
Kael corrected.
His first failure is more interesting.
Cassian’s mouth moved slightly.
He knows.
Of course he knows.
Cassian looked at Darius.
You never told him?
No.
Cassian looked back at Kael.
He never tells anyone anything unless you ask the exact question.
Kael pointed.
Finally.
Someone understands.
Darius appeared unimpressed.
Then another Imperial heir entered.
Elena.
Blue robes beneath a white formal mantle.
No excessive jewelry.
Quiet eyes.
She bowed slightly toward the Shields.
Then smiled at Kael.
You came.
Kael nodded.
Five candidates.
I heard.
Her eyes moved toward the training corridors.
Darius trained them?
Yes.
Then they are either prepared or traumatized.
Sir Garran laughed.
Darius did not.
Elena’s smile grew.
Kael liked her immediately for it.
Seraphine entered with a larger entourage.
Of course.
Gold-white formal dress beneath a crimson mantle.
Jewels.
Perfect posture.
Two female attendants.
Three household knights.
And behind her, enough servants to make it clear that subtlety had not survived the journey.
Sir Calista moved toward her.
Not bowing deeply.
But clearly returning to her place.
Seraphine’s eyes found Kael.
Then Darius.
Then the Black Dragon insignia on Kael’s clasp.
Her expression barely changed.
Kael.
Seraphine.
I heard your goblin did not come.
There it was.
Immediately.
Kael answered.
Grom has responsibilities in Blackwood.
How fortunate.
Kael’s smile disappeared.
Elena spoke before he could.
We’re here to inspect seating, Seraphine.
Not restart Council arguments.
Seraphine looked toward her sister.
I was speaking to Kael.
And now you’re speaking to me.
Cassian remained quiet.
Watching.
Kael noticed that too.
Seraphine looked back toward him.
Five candidates?
Yes.
Do you expect any to pass?
Yes.
Confident.
Prepared.
Different.
Seraphine smiled faintly.
We’ll see whether Aurelia agrees.
Kael nodded.
That’s why we came.
Calista watched the exchange carefully.
Kael wondered what she thought of Seraphine.
Not whether she served her.
That was established.
What she actually thought.
Different question.
Marcus Aurelius Asterion arrived next.
The Fifth-ranked heir carried himself like a military man who had been forced into formal clothing and resented every button.
Twenty-five.
Broad-shouldered.
Dark crimson formal coat.
Sword at his hip.
No unnecessary jewelry.
He greeted Cassian.
Elena.
Then Kael.
His attention immediately went toward the Coliseum floor below.
How many in Swordsman?
Sixty-four projected.
Sir Corren answered.
Marcus smiled.
Good year.
Kael looked at him.
You follow the tournament?
Every major examination.
Marcus looked toward Darius’s bracket.
Father made us study old championship fights.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
He did?
You were gone for most of that.
Right.
A small reminder.
Kael had left young.
There were pieces of Imperial family life he had simply missed.
Marcus continued.
Darius’s final is still used in military instruction.
Darius’s expression became more irritated.
Kael smiled.
This is becoming an excellent day.
Elara Aurelius Asterion arrived more quietly.
Greenhaven’s Sixth-ranked heir wore pale green formal robes with a dark embroidered mantle.
No visible weapon.
She greeted Elena warmly.
Cassian respectfully.
Seraphine politely.
Marcus with the expression of someone accustomed to arguing with him.
Then Kael.
Blackwood’s drainage reports reached my office.
Kael blinked.
Hello to you too.
Elara smiled.
Hello.
Then—
The drainage reports?
Yes.
She looked interested.
Your central settlement is separating waste channels from drinking water routes before full expansion.
Kael nodded.
Trying to.
Good.
Most territories build first and repair sickness later.
Kael looked toward Lily in the distance.
She is going to like you.
Elara looked toward Lily.
Administrative aide?
More than that.
Interesting.
Kael noticed Seraphine had already stopped listening.
Elara had not.
Different heirs.
Different interests.
Good.
More members of the Imperial family followed later, but the Coliseum officials eventually pushed everyone toward their assigned seating rehearsal before the gallery became another court gathering.
Kael was grateful.
He had barely survived five siblings.
Tomorrow would bring far more.
And the nobility.
That afternoon, candidate classifications were posted.
The entire Registry Annex became chaos.
Not violent chaos.
Paper chaos.
Which Kael was beginning to think might be worse.
Marcus shoved through the Blackwood lodging door with a parchment in hand.
Posted.
Victor jumped up.
Bracket?
Classification.
Darius looked over from the table.
Read.
Marcus did.
Damien Ravenmoor.
Spear and Lancer Division.
Leon Ashford.
Swordsman and Knight Division.
Victor Ravenshade.
Swordsman and Knight Division.
Marcus Wintermere.
Swordsman and Knight Division.
Elias Thorn.
Swordsman and Knight Division.
Victor stared.
Four of us in one division.
Yes.
Marcus smiled.
That means we can fight each other.
Leon looked less pleased.
Eventually.
Elias asked.
If we all qualify for the bracket.
That killed the excitement slightly.
Mira entered behind Marcus.
Swordsman Division.
Victor groaned.
You too?
She smiled.
Try surviving long enough to complain.
Brennar followed.
Swordsman.
Edric?
Leon asked.
House Varrow’s lodging.
Probably Swordsman.
Darius looked at the sheet.
Four Black Dragon candidates potentially in a sixty-four-person bracket.
Kael entered.
Which means?
Darius looked at him.
If they advance far enough, some may eventually meet.
Victor smiled.
I’m beating Marcus.
Marcus laughed.
You couldn’t beat me in Blackwood.
Tournament changes people.
Darius stood.
Good.
The room went silent.
You are all thinking too far ahead.
He took the parchment from Marcus.
There is no Leon-versus-Marcus.
No Victor-versus-Mira.
No semifinal.
No championship.
Not yet.
He placed the sheet down.
Tomorrow morning begins Foundation Assessment.
Four hundred twelve candidates.
Some of you will discover the tournament bracket is irrelevant because you will never reach it.
Silence.
That brought them back.
Darius continued.
Tonight you eat.
Check equipment.
Sleep.
No late training.
Marcus looked surprised.
No candle?
No candle.
Marcus smiled.
Darius added.
Tomorrow.
Marcus’s smile vanished.
Victor laughed.
Night settled over Aurelia.
Kael could see the Coliseum from the House lodging provided near the ceremonial district.
Lights burned around its upper ring.
Workers moved through the entrances.
Banners shifted above the stone.
Tomorrow those stands would fill.
The Emperor.
The Empress.
The heirs.
Dukes.
Duchesses.
Marquises.
Counts.
Viscounts.
Barons.
Military commanders.
Families.
Citizens.
And somewhere among them, people would look down at five Blackwood candidates and decide what they thought House Kael was worth.
Kael stood at the window.
Darius entered behind him.
Nervous?
Kael smiled.
You ask that often.
You avoid answering.
I’m not fighting.
Darius approached the window.
No.
Kael looked toward the Coliseum.
But part of my House is.
Darius nodded.
Kael remembered the phrase.
Again.
Then he looked toward Darius.
When you entered your first examination—the one you failed—did anyone come to watch you?
Darius became quiet.
My brother.
Hector?
Yes.
Anyone else?
My mother.
Kael waited.
Your father?
No.
The answer was enough.
Kael did not push.
Darius looked toward the Coliseum.
When I returned later, more people watched.
Because you were already known.
Because failure makes some people curious whether you will fail twice.
Kael smiled faintly.
You didn’t.
No.
Then you won the bracket.
Eventually.
Kael looked at him.
Do you want one of them to win?
Darius understood exactly who he meant.
Yes.
Which?
Darius looked toward him.
Wrong question.
Kael sighed.
Of course.
Darius continued.
I want each of them to become the fighter he is capable of becoming.
If that leads one to the final, good.
If none reach it but all deserve knighthood, also good.
Kael looked toward the distant arena.
And if one wins?
Darius’s expression changed.
Then his life becomes more complicated the moment he steps out of the arena.
Kael thought of Duke offers.
Heirs.
Land.
Commands.
Gold.
The Imperial Ball waiting after the tournament.
Champion insignia.
An Imperial boon.
Every House wanting the newest name carved into the Hall of Champions.
Kael nodded.
Then maybe winning is the easy part.
Darius looked at him.
It never is.
Below them, Aurelia’s bells began marking the evening hour.
Tomorrow the Imperial Knight Examination would begin.
Not training.
Not preliminary questions.
Not practice scenarios in Blackwood.
The real thing.
And before the next sun set, some of the four hundred twelve candidates would already be going home.