Dust swirled around the wheels of Dorothy's carriage as it trundled through the sunlit fields outside Bethel Keep. Five grim silhouettes strode beside her—Leo Nerona, his twin swords sheathed at his belt; Kenan, blade glinting; Liv, bow slung over her shoulder; Zeno, daggers tucked in his sleeves; and Lex, whose massive club bounced against his back in time with his eager steps.
Dorothy glanced at Leo, noting the hard set of his jaw. At dawn he had refused her plea to continue the search for the prophesied man but will journey with her for a while since, in these past days they have gotten closer. Now, as the grand tournament's banners flapped overhead, she could see the conflict in his eyes—duty to coin, or duty to fate?
She rode on in silence, but Liv—always attentive—caught the tremor in Leo's posture. Later, when the five gathered at an inn's shade to rest their horses, Liv would corner him.
"You're torn," she said softly, leaning close. "I've seen that look before—when you wonder if you're making the right choice."
Leo turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the tilt-yard lay glittering with polished armor. "I can't risk dragging my friends into an impossible hunt," he murmured. "Not when coin keeps roofs over our heads."
Liv's eyes warmed. "And yet," she challenged, "our roofs are built on blood and steel. If this man truly will change the world… isn't that worth more than any purse?"
Leo's grip tightened on his black sword's hilt. He said nothing.
⸻
A stone's throw away, Zeno and Lex were in the midst of another heated debate—one that would have betrayed their feral bond if not for the easy laughter beneath their jibes.
"Don't be ridiculous," Zeno was saying, voice low. "You're a legend with that club. You'd crush everyone."
Lex drummed his fingers on the pommel of his oversized weapon. "That's the point. Imagine the roar when the burly mercenary beats the knight in gleaming mail. It'll be glorious!"
Zeno rolled his eyes. "Glorious for you, maybe. I'd rather test my speed and shadows against a real swordsman."
Lex laughed, a booming sound that turned heads. "That's noble of you, half-elf. But even I have a right to glory."
Before Zeno could retort, Leo's voice cut through: "All right—both of you can sign up. But under false names. I won't have two of the Eastern sea's most wanted making a spectacle."
Lex pumped a fist. "Yes! I shall be Sir Hardwin the Hulking. You can be… Sir Nightshade!"
Zeno smirked. "Fine. Just don't trip over your own ego in the lists."
⸻
When Dorothy rejoined them, she found their squabble amusing. She clapped her hands once. "Gentlemen, let me arrange you," she said with mock severity. "Lex, you'll be 'Sir Hardwin'. Zeno, 'Sir Nightshade'. Kenan, 'Saberhand'—after the Eastern swordsman. Liv—you'll be 'Lady Arrowsong'."
Liv bowed gracefully. "As you command, my lady."
Kenan half-grinned. "And what of Leo?"
Dorothy hesitated, then smiled. "You… shall remain a mystery. 'The Black Stranger' has a nice ring to it."
Leo inclined his head and smiled. "Very well. Let's spare them my lineage."
As Dorothy watched them bustle off toward the registration tent—Lex flexing his massive arms, Zeno slipping away into the shadows—she felt a flicker of unease in the air. The tournament's cheers drifted across the meadow like taunting whispers. Something lurked beneath the bright banners—an omen she chose not to explore, for now.
⸻
At the registration tent, a cluster of knights and commoners clamored to sign their names. Lex strode up first, his barrel chest nearly brushing the rafters.
"Name?" barked the scribe.
"Sir Hardwin the Hulking," Lex intoned, straightening his back. He dropped a purse of silver onto the table with a clang.
The scribe blinked. "…Very well. Number forty-two."
Lex winked at Zeno, who was slipping in behind him under the name "Sir Nightshade." Zeno's pale eyes flicked to Lex's broad back, and he shook his head in amusement.
"Confidence," Zeno muttered. "Let's hope you don't shatter your club on the first man."
Lex draped an arm around Zeno's shoulders. "We'll see who laughs when I stand undefeated."
They elbowed each other like brothers, drawing curious glances from veteran knights and green recruits alike.
⸻
Across the yard, Leo leaned against the tent's wooden support, arms folded. He watched Lex and Zeno banter, and his chest tightened with a strange mixture of pride—and longing to be one of them, care-free in the contest.
That was when he noticed her: Princess Madison Bethel, in the royal blue of her line, her posture dignified yet relaxed. She moved between rows of knights, accompanied by her brother Mason and a retinue of ladies-in-waiting. Her blond hair was braided in an elegant crown, and when her gaze met Leo's, time seemed to stand still.
Leo met her eyes calmly, offering a slight, courteous nod. Madison's cheeks flushed a gentle rose. Mason's jaw clenched at her side; he shot Leo a glare so cold it might freeze fire.
Liv appeared at Leo's elbow and snorted softly, her bow slipping from her shoulder. "You getting cozy with royalty now?"
Leo straightened. "I was not—"
"Don't pretend," Liv teased, elbowing him. "You're like a fish in a fancy tank—fluttering for attention."
He scowled. "She nodded. That's all."
Liv laughed. "I've liked you since we were young. I still remember when you tried to teach me swordplay and ended up with a bloody thumb."
Leo closed his eyes. "You nearly killed me when you lamped me with your bow."
Her grin softened. "We make a good team."
He shrugged, turning back to watch Madison move away. In that moment, the white sword at his hip felt heavier—a reminder of choices yet undone.
⸻
Meanwhile, Lex and Zeno strolled toward the melee pen, still debating battle tactics.
"You know," Lex said, "if I cleave through three men at once, do you think they'll give me a bonus purse?"
Zeno snorted. "You won't even get past the gatekeepers. They won't let someone swinging a bludgeon three times his size in the hermetic form."
Lex grinned. "They'll find a way. I'll paint the lists red—figuratively, of course."
Zeno shook his head, amused. "You're impossible."
Lex hooked an arm under Zeno's. "That's why you love me."
The half-elf rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked upward. "We'll see if you still love me when I steal your spotlight."
They vanished into the throng, leaving Leo and Liv to their private moment.
Dorothy watched the two disappear, then caught Leo's attention with a pointed look. "You promised to escort me to the city gates," she reminded him. "After the tournament."
Leo nodded, stepping back. "Once the sparring finishes, we'll leave. I—hope you find your man."
Her eyes softened. "I hope you find your purpose." She paused. "Do you ever regret your decisions, Leo Nerona?"
He met her gaze evenly. "Every day."
With that, he turned away, leaving Liv and Dorothy to watch Zeno and Lex's silhouettes flicker in the melee's entrance.
Something in the shifting light made Dorothy frown once more, but she let it pass. The day's spectacle had only just begun—and with it, the threads of fate drew tighter around each of them.