Silent Storm

Chapter Three: Hailing Bloodshed

When morning came, Esen still hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he followed the procession of heirs as they traversed down through the floors of the wing they resided in towards the central hall of the palace. Anticipation bled into the air from their every pore. Even Zaire, usually so talkative, was silent.

Esen's eyes darted this way and that and he toyed with his fingers. It wasn't anticipation that was bleeding out of him, he thought. It was more like fear.

"Her Imperial Majesty will greet you in the arena for the first event," the attendant said, voice dull and monotonous, as though they were announcing the morning menu. Esen's mouth ran dry. Arena. That meant that, in one way or another, fighting could be involved.

He supposed it made sense, but he didn't know if it was better than strutting around in different kinds of beauty competitions. As the heir to his House, he had been trained in combat, certainly. However, he had been taught first and foremost how to rule — his House, and then, potentially, the kingdom. His Socius had been the best fighter of his House, and had been the one to compete in the arena at the Battle of Wills the year prior. If he had won the crown for him, his Socius would have become his General, the one who led armies into the fray while he ruled the people.

Esen had never been particularly interested in the crown and all the stress it undoubtedly brought forth, but he had been born the eldest son of his House, and he had certain responsibilities that came along with that position, even if it hadn't been one he'd chosen. His Socius, Lyle, had died before reaching the final five contestants. Death awaited twenty-four out of twenty-five Socii during the Battle of Wills. Last year, though, all of them had perished until the only contestant competing for her own honour and title had won.

As he glanced around him, taking in the different men, some far older than him and some roughly his age, some much larger and not many much smaller, he couldn't help but realize that he was at a sharp disadvantage if the trials that awaited them all really were based around strength. As much as he didn't want to win, he still couldn't disgrace his family — and himself — by being eliminated first. He had to make it at least halfway, until most of the secondary Houses had been defeated. Otherwise, it would be the greatest shame of his entire generation, especially considering that his Socius hadn't even made it to the final five.

He swallowed thickly. He drifted closer to Zaire, chewing on his bottom lip so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if it bled.

Two large, ornate doors plated in gold — as most was within the Gilded Palace — appeared at the end of the corridor they were being led down. Esen recognized where he was, now, as the doors swung open and blinding light flooded inside. They were heading towards the same arena that the Socii had battled in the year prior. Whatever flicker of hope he might have harboured that by "arena" they had meant something that did not involve violence, died.

His breath stuttered in his chest as they started filing out of the corridor. He squinted against the brightness, the sun bearing down unforgivingly from above. He startled when the world around him errupted into a landscape of sound. It took him a moment to realize that the grating cacophany of noise was a crowd cheering and screaming. He glanced up, noticing that the stands were packed full of spectators.

He swallowed back the anxiety that started to hike its way from his chest to his throat. He had expected this. It made sense that there would be a crowd — nobody wanted to miss this. But despite this, he couldn't help the tremor that drifted into his hands and the way breathing seemed much harder.

The group were led towards the center of the arena, and once they halted, the cheering trickled to a stop. Esen tried to focus on the heat on his skin and the feeling of the warm sand under his feet, but his mind was pulled in a multitude of directions, snapping his focus and mounting his anxiety.

In the jarring silence that had overcome the previously cheering arena, his thoughts sought to mend the difference. His blood pumped through his ears, his fists clenching at his sides. He was torn back into focus at the sound of a woman's voice, crisp, loud, and clear, that shattered the silence that had fallen around them.

"Welcome." It took Esen's eyes a moment to follow everyone else and glance towards the source. The Empress stood atop a shaded balcony off to one side of the arena with the other Heads of Houses and their wives. She was clad in a red dress, marking her as a member of the Fire Clan, her long, pin-straight black hair tied into an elaborate updo beneath the golden spires of her crown. He had briefly seen her up-close at her coronation, and he could still make out most of her features from memory. He could't see her expression from so far away, but a chill still racked down his spine.

Her arms, adorned in golden bracelets were raised at her sides as she gestured to the crowd. "This is a Twin Crown Tournament the likes of which you have never seen before." Esen thought she might have been smiling. He had certainly thought her beautiful when he'd seen her up close, though that was nothing compared to the dazed amasement he noticed on Zaire's face. Her warm, ochre skin seemed to absorb the sunlight streaming down from above, the light glinting off her bracelets, as though the world itself sought to portray her in ethereal, god-like glory.

"Today will mark a new turn in history," she said. Esen's breath felt like it was stuck in his throat. "The one who emerges the victor will become my husband." She lowered her arms. Although he knew it was impossible, Esen was sure he felt a cold wind rush by him. "I have decided that I must only have the strongest at my side. Do you not agree?" The crowd roared their approvals. "My suitors will fight for their right to rule by my side, as I did. Unrepresented." Esen inhaled sharply. The anticipation in the air was so palpable he felt he could reach out and grasp it between his hands. "This tournament will continue until there is only one man left standing. The rest will lay dead at his feet." Esen froze.

The clamor of the crowd halted abruptly. Somehow, it was even more silent than it had been before the Empress had begun speaking. He thought he heard one of the Heads of Houses begin to speak, when the Empress spoke again. This time, Esen could feel her cold smile.

"Let the games begin."

A/N: I definitely want to create art for this scene, but I'm too impatient to wait to finish it before posting this chapter, so if this chapter updates AGAIN it's probably because I stuck a picture in BAHAHAHAHHAHAHA