Clash of Champions

Chapter I °•

The commotion from the stadium above could be felt through the walls as he sat in the middle of the room on a short stool with his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the floor.

He was shivering despite the room not being cold.

"Listen closely, Nicolas," Sir Atonal began once again to get the young prince's attention. "As his sword is six inches longer than yours, it's imperative that you enter right away."

"I hear you, Emilio," Nicolas said, eyes still fixated on the floor, hardly looking up at the man who stood tall before him, "It's not necessary to mention it repeatedly."

With his big, sluggish hands, Emilio grabbed Nicolas' face, immediately catching the prince off guard. "Well, I need to say it once more because if I don't, then very little of what I've already told you, will make a difference."

The elderly swordsman's anxiety was evident, which he had good cause to be. Emilio, who trained Nicolas when he was younger, knew the young prince wasn't fully physically ready for his opponent.

A champion who had won many fights, Fredrick Croy was among the most dangerous contenders on the continent.

With his early triumphs being easily dominant and over in a flash, his older brother, Marcos, was the family's champion, and a brilliant one at that. So, the presence of Nicolas was never intended.

Yet, when a conflict over recently found oil in the icy north led to a fight between the Calderon and Cyprian family champions, the result was seen as inevitable against the unproven Ballas Cyprian.

The recollection of that evening was still vivid in his mind three years later.

Despite not being present to see his brother's defeat, Nicolas was tormented by his mother's scream when she learned of their loss.

Since this was Nicolas' first experience with champion combat, the buzz before the match was that the majority didn't have much hope in him, and half expected he wouldn't survive for more than a minute.

A belief that was also unmistakably shared by many in his immediate vicinity, despite their attempts to hide it by offering him tight-lipped smiles.

The little dressing room was packed with no more than a dozen Calderon family guests that evening, but if one closed their eyes, they might mistake it for being empty.

Only through Leander's, Nicolas' cousin, sporadic efforts to randomly spark the room's energy was the stillness occasionally shattered.

"Yeah! Nicolas for the win! Go get him!" Leander roared as he loudly clapped his hands.

Although Nicolas was aware of his cousin's good intentions, he wished Leander would refrain from speaking so much.

Luckily, Eleanor, Leander's older sister, took care of the matter for Nicolas as she turned towards her brother who was sitting next to her, and tightly gripped his left shoulder causing him to stop clapping.

"Now Leander--" Eleanor began but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response back, the door was opened, and the contest herald entered the room. 

"You have five minutes left, Prince Nicolas. Once you are ready, please make your way to the stadium," he said, and then with a nod and a bow, he immediately left thereafter.

With the door closed, Emilio lowered his head and looked at Nicolas once again. "We're short on time, so look up and pay close attention."

"There is nothing you can say to me within the next five minutes that will change anything, Emilio. So, please, allow me to sit in peace," Nicolas muttered.

In order to face his prince, the elderly swordsman knelt down. "If you fail this evening, young master, it won't be because something was left unsaid."

With a sigh, Nicolas conceded and nodded to his teacher to proceed. Should the worst occur, he didn't want the elderly man's remaining days to be marred by regret.

Throughout those five minutes, Emilio crammed a lot of words, however, the majority merely served as background noise while Nicolas' thoughts drifted to the future.

{×}

"Water?" Leander questioned Nicolas while passing him a bottle as they started they walked towards the stadium.

"No, thank you," Nicolas replied, shaking his head. With his nerves all over the place, He didn't think he'd be able to hold it down.

"Okay, see you out there then," Leander said, giving him a firm pat on the back before walking on ahead to catch up with Emilio.

"Nico, everything will be okay... You're going to be fine," Eleanor assured him.

If only she hadn't let her voice break at the end and her eyes hadn't been gleaming with suppressed tears, Nicolas would have believed what she had to say.

"I appreciate your assurance," Nicolas responded, turning his head away from her, and as the other guests arrived in line behind him, he completely turned to look at his feet. No more fake expressions were necessary in his eyes.

Like before, when they arrived, the party was immediately greeted by the broadcast cameras' dazzling light, once they reached the junction point.

So, without hesitation, they all picked up their paces and hurried for the platform that would take them to the stadium floor as Emilio shoved the cameras aside.

At the point of depletion, Emilio had instructed Nicolas to focus solely on his opponent; yet, Nicolas found this to be a difficult task to accomplish.

A lot of thoughts passed through his head, as he got off the platform and began walking down the dimly lit hallway, but his mother was the one that occupied his thoughts the most.

As with none of Marcos' bouts, she wasn't in attendance that particular evening.

She claimed that some things are too much for a mother's heart to handle, and so, Nicolas' thoughts were troubled by how her heart might handle losing another son.

The deafening chants of "Fredrick, Fredrick, Fredrick" filled the cramped tunnel as he rounded the last turn and saw the entrance to the arena.

A boisterous mob filled the stadium and the surrounding streets after Eiben was chosen to host the event.

Specifically those among the sovereign houses, the commoners took greater pleasure in these competitions than the nobles.

It would be nearly impossible to find a sovereign present who hadn't felt anxiety upon witnessing a loved one battle in the ring.

The chanting became raucous laughter once Nicolas entered the stadium's clay surface.

Vernon Croy, King of Eiben, and his son Frederick had already entered the room and were standing side by side. With trunks in his house's colours of yellow and black, Fredrick stood bare-chested.

With a scar above his brow and one that stretched across his chest, his physique bore witness to his ordeal.

As Nicolas moved nearer, Fredrick's gaze followed him and his mouth curved slightly.

The King of Terras and Nicolas' father, Ambrose Calderon, also awaited him in the middle of the stadium, ready to submit the family's demands.

{×}

•° Thank you for reading.