Chapter 69: Ch69 – Let the Tournament, Begin!

The colosseum was enormous.

Ryan had only seen it from a distance, rising above the festival like a monument to stone and power. But standing at its entrance and staring up at the towering walls made Ryan nauseous.

The structure was circular, built entirely from grey stone that had been shaped and smoothed.

The group entered the colleseum along with the massive crowd. Inside lay hundreds of thousands of seats rose in tiers, each level slightly higher than the last, creating a bowl that could hold an unimaginable number of people. And it was filling fast.

Crowds poured through the wide archways, streaming into the colosseum in a constant flow. Families, students, merchants, soldiers. Everyone seemed drawn to the spectacle.

As they approached the entrance, Ryan noticed the seating was divided. The lower tiers, closest to the arena floor, were cordoned off with velvet ropes. Guards stood at the barriers, checking credentials, collecting coins from those who wanted premium seats.

The upper and middle tiers, however, were open to everyone.

“Come on,” James said, leading them toward the free section. “We need to hurry to get good seats in the middle.”

They climbed the stone steps, weaving between groups already seated. The seats were simple, carved from the same grey stone like the walls.

They found an open section about a third way up, extremely good seats considering they were free.

They had a clear view of the arena floor below.

Ryan sat down, his eyes drawn immediately to the center.

The arena floor was massive, flat stone stretching from one end to the other. On opposite sides stood two enormous gates, each one large enough for twenty people to walk through side by side.

Above each one of the gates were outstreched platforms lavish and ornate. Stone columns framed them, draped with banners bearing the sigil Prince Arlan had on his chest, the royal sigil. Cushioned seats lined the area, far more elaborate than anything else in the arena. Both were devoid of people.

“This place is astounding,” Eleanor said, looking around.

The crowd was still growing, filling the higher levels, the noise building into a low roar of conversation and excitement.

Jared leaned back, arms crossed. “I forgot how big this place is.”

“This is most definitely my favourite place in the entire Rupes Kingdom!” James said.

“Likewise,” Ryan said, as he glanced down at the lower tiers. The seats there were fuller, occupied by well-dressed nobles and wealthy merchants. Their clothing was finer, their posture more relaxed, as if they owned the space.

Then James straightened suddenly, squinting at something below.

“Isn’t that the guy from our knight class?”

Ryan followed his gaze.

Several rows below them, in the expensive lower tier, sat a familiar figure.

Red hair, amber eyes and tanned skin: It was impossible to miss a man with hair like his when nearly everyone had black or brown hair here.

Navius.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him sat an older man who looked remarkably similar. Same red hair, though streaked with grey. Same sharp features. Same build. The resemblance was unmistakable.

His father, most likely.

The older man was turned to his right, deep in conversation with another well-dressed noble. His posture was confident, his gestures animated.

And to Navius’s left, sitting separately, was an elf.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “That’s Navius.”

James frowned. “Who’s the older guy?”

“His father, maybe?” Eleanor said quietly.

Ryan nodded. “Looks like it.”

The elf looked uncomfortable. His posture was stiff, his hands clenched in his lap. He was sweating again, despite the cool air.

Navius turned toward the elf, leaning in close. His expression was hard, his jaw tight.

He said something Ryan couldn’t hear. The elf responded, his voice too quiet to carry when surrounded by a thousand voices. Navius spoke again, his gestures aggressive.

The elf glanced around.

“What’s he doing?” James muttered.

“Probably bothering that shifty looking elf,” Ryan said.

Navius said something else, leaning in closer. The elf flinched slightly, then nodded quickly.

Then the elf stood abruptly.

He didn’t look back. Just squeezed past the nobles in his row and hurried down the steps, disappearing into the crowd.

Navius watched him go.

Then he leaned back in his seat and smiled.

Ryan barely caught sight of it, his smile, it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was one of satisfaction.

His father didn’t notice. Still deep in conversation with the noble beside him.

Eleanor leaned closer. “Odd.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said quietly.

James had already turned his attention back to the arena floor. Most people had already sat down.

The crowd’s noise swelled as more people filled the seats. The colosseum was nearly full now, hundreds of thousands, packed into the stone tiers.

Then, suddenly, the entire rim of the arena erupted into flame.

Ryan jerked back instinctively.

A ring of fire ran along the edge of the arena floor right below the lowest tier of seating. Massive and bright, roaring upward in a controlled inferno. The flames danced and twisted, casting flickering light across the stone.

The volume of the crowd fell.

Every eye turned to the arena floor.

A figure stepped out from one of the gates.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing fine black clothing that looked almost like formal robes but more refined, tailored perfectly to his form. On his chest was embroidered a sigil, a brown mountain with a white peak against a deep green field. The craftsmanship was above that of even the richest nobles, the thread gleamed faintly in the firelight.

Several mages accompanied him, their robes fluttering as they walked.

Then, in the lower tiers, the nobles began to kneel.

Like a wave spreading outward, those behind them followed. Row after row, tier after tier, hundreds of thousands of people dropped to one knee.

James and Jared knelt like everyone else, but Ryan and Eleanor were too focused on what was happening around them to realise they should do the same.

Jared hissed urgently. “Ryan! Eleanor! Kneel! That’s Prince Arlan Erinkal, the heir to the throne!”

Ryan and Eleanor dropped to their knees.

For a moment, every man, woman, and child in the colosseum—fell silent.

The prince nodded to the wind mages beside him and in turn, they began to chant in unison, gentle gusts of wind swirled beneath each of them.

Prince Arlan Erinkal stood in the center of the arena, looking up at the crowds of people kneeling and opened his mouth.

When he spoke, his voice filled the arena.

It was soft. Warm. But it carried effortlessly, reaching every corner of the massive structure with perfect clarity. Not loud. Not harsh. But commanding.

Ryan had never heard anything like it.

“Good citizens of Lithara! Visitors from across the Kingdoms! Disciples of Ceres!”

The voice washed over Ryan, gentle but impossible to ignore. The Prince’s voice sounded like it was right beside him.

“Please be seated! Welcome to the Festival of Ceres!” Prince Arlan continued, his tone warm but resonant. “Today, you will witness the finest mages and knights our kingdom has to offer! May Ceres bless our Kingdom for another year!”

The crowd erupted in response, the sound deafening, but Ryan barely registered it.

He was still staring at the prince.

This was the most powerful person he had ever been in the presence of. Not because of pure strength or fear, but because of the man’s presence. He had authority that felt inevitable.

Prince Arlan raised his voice higher. “Let the tournament, begin!”

The gates on either side of the arena groaned open.

From the left gate, a group of knights emerged in formation. Their armour was crimson red, polished and gleaming. Their armour looked extremely similar to European medieval armour back on Earth. Emblazoned on their chestplates was a sigil—a black lizard breathing fire. Six of them, walking with military precision, each carrying a longsword.

From the right gate, another group appeared. These knights wore light green armour, equally impressive. Their sigil was a tree under the sun, displayed proudly across their chests. Six knights as well, moving in tight formation. Each holding maces and shields, with longswords sheathed.

Ryan leaned forward.

The crowd’s noise swelled again as the two groups moved toward the center of the arena.

The prince and his mages walked past the six light green knights to the gate that the knights entered from, the prince gave them a nod. The six knights each bowed back in respect.

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