Royal Academy Diaries I

Steel & Gold ⚜ Ch. 7

The wind blew at the white fabric of a massive tent erected in the shadow of an impressive school, and carried the anxious sounds of nearly fifty competitors and their teams.

Darius stood with the other three from Royal Academy - Gustav, the redhead first year Raelynn, and a second year called Agreste. The team assistants were busily preparing the fencing swords while Darius and Gustav sharpened their classic blades.

The Prince ground his teeth as his aggressively sharpened his sword. Mariem had barely talked to him in two weeks, and he feared he'd lost her forever. And if he was eliminated in this event, all of his friends would be sent home.

Gustav shot him a look. "Darius, snap out of it. You have to focus."

He bit back a huff of annoyance. "I'm well aware of that, thanks." Suddenly his hand slipped, and the sharp saber cut his hand. Muttering under his breath, he used the polishing cloth to wrap the cut.

"You're an idiot, Dare," Gustav sighed.

"So I've been told," the prince replied sarcastically.

"Come on now everyone," Admiral Khesar announced, "it's showtime."

Darius walked to the place he'd been instructed to line up, a short distance behind another school's team. He tried to clear his mind and slow his heart, to no avail. As their flag bearer ran up beside him, his nerves became even more frayed.

From inside the tent, they heard an announcer come onto a microphone. "Welcome all to the fourth round of the seventeenth Annual Swordsmanship Elimination Tournaments!" The crowd cheered, and the tension outside the tent became palpable. "We welcome four of the best fighters from each of the twelve nobility schools, beginning with The London Academies!"

"Here we go," Agreste said, trying to mask his nervousness by spinning his sword.

Darius followed the train of competitors around the tent until they reached the entrance.

"Please welcome The Kings' Alliance Royal Academies! For only the second time, we have representatives from both the Knight Academy, as well as the Royal."

The four of them raised their swords as they walked in, as per their school's tradition. The crowd cheered with electric energy, and Agreste and Gustav chuckled at the decidedly female admiring shouts.

Darius couldn't help but search the stands as they circled the arena, but knew he wouldn't see who he was looking for. The thought was painful; Mariem had been to every match since second year. But he knew he didn't deserve her.

Their team finished their lap and continued on to their designated station. As they passed the centre section however, two voices called out, and the prince looked up in surprise.

"Darius!"

"Over here!"

Sitting on the front row was Mariem and her friend Lovisa. Darius noted that the princess looked subdued, that she still hadn't forgiven him. But she was here. He waved, and his heart beat faster as she stood to approach the railing. Thrilled and nervous, he walked over to see her before the match officially began.

"Princess Meena," he bowed.

"Darius." She met his eye and let him take her hand, taking a shaky breath as he kissed it. "Good luck," she whispered.

He nodded, hiding his bandaged hand behind his back. "Thank you."

She offered him a small smile before returning to her seat, and he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He rejoined his team and exchanged a glance with Gustav.

A moment later, Agreste returned to the station, blushing as well. "This is for you, milady," he whispered under his breath.

Darius heard him and bit back a grin. He silently dedicated the match to his own princess.

"And finally, The United Kingdom School of Global Leadership!" The announcer waited for the team to reach their station. "Competitors, please remember that all school match ups are arranged in an official meeting to ensure they are completely random. Also, as I'm sure you are acutely aware, this is the first tournament of the year where each individual match up can result in an elimination. Only two competitors from each school will advance, so do your best."

"No pressure," Raelynn muttered.

The announcer continued. "And now your majesties, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, please rise."

The crowd stood, and all of the competitors raised their swords. The school flags were raised as the Headmaster of the Amsterdam school took the mic.

"Welcome to The Nobility Training Centre of Amsterdam! We are honoured to be hosting this event, and look forward to the display of chivalry, bravery, and skill. May today's tournament proceed with honour and integrity. Champions- represent your kingdoms and your academies well. Now, without further ado, may the tournament commence!"

"Huzzah!" the competitors shouted in unison. Anxious to begin, everyone jumped into action.

A referee read off a clipboard. "In arena one: first fencing match between Montenegro Academy and Royal Prep of the Highlands. Arena two: classic match between Girls Academy of London and Paris Girls Academy. Arena three: classic match between The United Kingdom School of Global Leadership and O'Connelly Prep. Arena four: fencing match between Academy of Mahoutokoro and Kings' Alliance Royal Academy."

Lieutenant Andris nodded. "Alright, let's see who they have."

Darius looked over to the Mahoutokoro station with the others to size up their competitors.

"Is that... Kagami?" Agreste asked, surprised.

"You know them?" Khesar inquired.

The nobleman nodded. "Yeah, we've met."

The Lieutenant put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to challenge her?"

Agreste smirked. "We're due for a rematch."

Darius watched them go towards the fourth arena, then continued his analyzation of the competitors. He had a long time to do so, as there were still a lot of schools and matches to go through. He paced, holding his injured hand and trying not to stress out.

After half an hour, another match for their school was announced. Andris gave it to Raelynn. An hour after that, the third match came.

"Paris Academy second win!" a referee shouted. "Next match in arena two, classic match between Kings' Alliance Royal Academy and the Prussian School of Military Training."

Darius and Gustav exchanged an anxious glance. Across the way, the three victorious Prussians sat on their bench, laughing and talking. The last contestant stood beside their coach, cooly surveying the tournament.

"Alright," Khesar sighed, "it's time to face the inevitable."

"Yeah, who wants to take on the viking goddess?" Gustav muttered, looking over the competitor.

The girl's gaze flicked towards them once she heard who she would be facing. Her eye met Darius' and after a moment, he grinned. "I'll take her."

"If you want." Andris approached the Prussian coach and held out a hand.

While they greeted and gave the referee the names, Darius spun his sword and sauntered forward. The intimidating blonde met him halfway wearing a smirk.

The ref recited his little speech. "Alright Parvati, Sifdottir, we want a fair and safe match. Disarming only. Any injury inflicted will result in expulsion from the tournament and a hefty fine. If you go over twenty minutes, the judges will award the win to the superior swordsman according to their criteria and expertise. Now, bow to each other and nod when you are both ready to begin."

Darius gave her a classic sweeping bow before finally moving his sword to his injured hand. His heart began to pound as he remembered how much rode on this. He knew Gustav wouldn't stand a chance against the Prussian school, so it was up to him.

Sifdottir returned the bow and took a stance. The prince analyzed her every move to try to guess her fighting style. She looked strong from her physique, and so he prepared himself for a hard and vicious attack.

She stared him down, waiting for his nod. At last, they both offered a quick nod and bolted into action like they'd been shocked by electricity.

Darius' analysis had been right - the first time their blades crossed, the metallic clang reverberated through the tent. Fortunately it masked his cry of pain as the hilt pressed into his cut palm.

He parried with her quickly, matching her speed and strength. Barely.

"You're good," he huffed.

She smirked, knowing exactly what he said despite the language barrier. With a spin, she slashed at his feet, and he jumped to avoid the attack, trying to land on top of it with his left foot, but was too late.

Sifdottir jumped back up to continue crossing blades with him. Minute after minute passed, and both tried to get the upper hand and seize any opportunity of weakness. But both were well trained and skilled enough to not give the other a window.

The crowd quickly became engrossed in the match, turning their attention away from the less dangerous fencing fights. Their anxious and energetic shouts filled the tent as they picked sides.

Every fierce parry made him grimace until his hand burned with pain. Her attacks were just as strong, but the sting was becoming too much to bear. She crossed blades with him again, and he took a desperate risk. He locked the blades for a moment and switched the sword to his other hand, letting go suddenly and spinning around her. She recovered quickly and swung at him again. Her eyes widened a little at the strength his left hold offered.

Darius smirked, wanting to make her think she had already lost.

A few parries later his phycology trick seemed to work. She made a fatal mistake, making herself vulnerable to an upwards swing.

Moving quickly to seize the opportunity, he took the risk, watching in slow motion as his hilt caught on hers, pulling her sword cleanly from her hands. Following through with his motion, he finished with the tip of his blade at her neck.

The crowd gasped and burst into cheers, and Sifdottir grinned, breathing hard. She coquettishly tipped the sword away and complimented him in her native language.

Darius lowered his sword and nodded. "That was quite a fight. And you're quite the fighter." He bent to pick up her sword and returned it to her moments before both their teams attacked them in excitement.

"That was incredible!" Gustav shouted, grabbing the prince's shoulders.

"How did you maintain that kind of strength the whole time?" Agreste asked in awe.

"Let him breathe," Khesar said, pushing the others aside and pulling Darius into a hug. "You're safe now, Pahlavi. You and your friends can stay at the academy!"

Through the din of the crowd, one voice became clear to him.

"Darius! Darius!"

Khesar knew to let him go, and helped usher away the others to let Mariem get to him.

"Princess-"

She didn't give him time to say anything before throwing her arms around his neck. "You did it."

Surprised, he dropped his sword and wrapped his arms around her, loving the chance to hold her close once more.

The referee waited a minute before coming forward. "Come on now lovebirds, clear the arena for the next match," he grinned.

Mariem pulled away, trying to wipe her tears before Darius could see. Having noticed, he caught her hands and gently wiped the rest away. "Come on Princess. Everything's alright now."

She took his injured hand and winced at the bloodstained cloth wrapped around it. "That's why you switched hands."

"What, you don't think I'm trained to fight well with both?" he grinned. When she didn't reply, he gently tipped up her chin. "Thank you for coming."

She nodded, offering him a small smile.

As they left the arena, the crowd's excited cheers turned to shouts on the other end of the tent.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gustav asked as they arrived back to the King's Academy station.

"I don't know," Darius replied, keeping an arm around Mariem in habit. So used to his affection herself, she didn't fully notice in her own distraction.

The commotion continued, and they noticed someone shouting as they were pulled away from the arena.

"His fencing sword was tipped! He was cheating!"

"It wasn't me!" the competitor insisted.

A ref held up a hand. "It's the fighter's responsibility to check the sword before the match begins. You are disqualified!"

One of the Prussian coaches ran over to the refs, and a few minutes later came back. Sifdottir gasped and shouted in excitement.

Darius smiled, and when she happened to look over, offered her a nod.

"Oh no," Gustav groaned, "She's still in."

The prince raised a brow. "What's it to you? You don't have to fight her."

"Not today, but she'll be at the fifth round!"

Darius smirked. "You'll still have to be better than little Red today if you want to get there."

Gustav glared half heartedly at the first year until he noticed Darius and Mariem's position. His lips twisted into a grin, which softened into a smile when he saw his friend's contentment. "Yeah. At least we've had a few wins today already."