Chapter 7 First Trial

CHAPTER 7

Xanthos gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on the courtyard below. His first trial was imminent, and the prospect sent his heart racing. He turned, his expression cold, and regarded his sister, Elara. She seemed oblivious to his presence, but Xanthos needed answers.

"Why?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.

Elara paused, her eyes finally meeting Xanthos'. A smirk played on her lips. "Why what, brother?"

Xanthos's snarl deepened. "Don't play dumb, Elara. You know exactly what I'm asking."

Elara sighed, her expression unreadable. "Pick your weapon. I'll explain."

Xanthos's gaze flicked to the rack of weapons against the wall. As an Imperial Blade, he was expected to master every type of weapon. He selected a sword, its weight familiar in his hand.

Elara's voice was detached, lacking the warmth Xanthos remembered. "The Emperor saved my life. That's why I'm loyal to him. Without training, my Gifts would have killed me. And the same goes for your friend. If his Gifts don't destroy him, the wild will."

Xanthos's concern deepened. Where was the caring sister he'd grown up with? The Empire had changed her, and he wasn't sure if he could reach the sister he once knew.

Xanthos sighed, uncertainty etched on his face. "I'm pretty sure Galen can do without the Emperor's help." He turned to leave, but Elara's voice halted him.

"Remember, when you face Grekh in the arena, he's fast, but he has a weakness. Catch him off guard, and the battle is yours."

Xanthos didn't break stride or acknowledge her words. He walked out of the room, leaving Elara behind. Yet, her words lingered in his mind, and he knew they would prove invaluable in the arena.

* * *

The training arena was a vast, circular space with a sandy floor, surrounded by towering stone walls that seemed to stretch up to the sky. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of mythological creatures and legendary warriors, their faces set in fierce determination.

At the center of the arena stood a large, circular platform, its surface scarred and worn from countless battles and training sessions. The platform was surrounded by a moat, its waters calm and reflective, providing a stark contrast to the intensity of the training that took place within the arena.

The arena's seating area was a semi-circular tier of stone benches, providing ample space for spectators to observe the training sessions. The benches were often filled with fellow trainees, mentors, and even the occasional noble or dignitary, all eager to witness the next generation of warriors hone their skills.

At the far end of the arena, a large wooden door led to a network of tunnels and chambers, providing access to various training facilities, armories, and barracks. The door was flanked by two imposing stone statues of legendary warriors, their eyes seeming to gaze out across the arena, watching and waiting.

The air within the arena was thick with the smell of sweat, metal, and leather, a testament to the countless hours of intense training that took place within its walls. Despite the arena's imposing atmosphere, there was an undercurrent of camaraderie and shared purpose, a sense that every trainee who stepped foot within the arena was striving towards a common goal: to become the greatest warrior they could be.

When Xanthos walked into the arena, Grekh was already waiting there, wielding a falchion. Grekh slowly turned to face Xanthos and said, a small smile on his face, "Let's see if my decision to make you an Imperial Blade is the right one." He hefted his falchion and Xanthos positioned himself in a fighting pose. He probably had no chance but he would fight with every last drop of his sweat.

Grekh charged, his falchion waving in the light. Ready and anticipating, Xanthos dodged to the side but Grekh's speed proved to be an invaluable asset as he swiftly closed the distance and struck at Xanthos with a flurry of swift, precise blows.

Xanthos parried each strike with his sword, his movements economical and precise. However, Grekh's magical speed allowed him to press the attack, pushing Xanthos onto the defensive. The two fighters clashed, their blades ringing out as they exchanged blow for blow.

Despite being on the back foot, Xanthos refused to yield. He waited for an opening, his eyes locked on Grekh's. The opportunity arrived when Grekh overextended himself, leaving an opening for Xanthos to counterattack.

With a swift, powerful strike, Xanthos knocked Grekh's falchion aside and landed a solid kick to his stomach. Grekh stumbled back, momentarily winded. Xanthos seized the chance, pinning Grekh against the arena wall with his sword pressed against his throat.

Grekh's eyes flashed with anger, but he knew he was beaten. With a nod, he conceded defeat, acknowledging Xanthos's superior skill. Xanthos stood tall, his chest heaving with exhaustion and his eyes blazing with hatred. He would have liked nothing more than to run his sword through Grekh's chest but that would probably get him into trouble.

Though Grekh's magical speed had given him an initial advantage, Xanthos's exceptional fighting prowess and tactical thinking had ultimately won out. The victory was narrow, but decisive. A single clap shattered the moment. Xanthos dropped his hands from Grekh and stepped back. Grekh bowed low, "Your Imperial Majesty." Xanthos froze, his grip on his sword tightening. Forcing himself to turn and face the Emperor himself, he bowed as well.

Emperor Alyaz approached, his hand folded behind him and his eagle eyes focused on Xanthos. "Rise." He spoke softly. He then looked at Grekh who sheathed his falchion. He smirked, "I'm impressed. Tell me, did you allow the new warrior to best you when I have failed to do so or is there something I am missing here?" His tone was skeptical.

Grekh chuckled, "Oh trust me, my liege, I wasn't expecting it as well. He is the brother of Elara."

"Ah, I see." Xanthos didn't doubt that he did but he would keep his opinion to himself. "Only the best for the Empire then. I am going to take a stab and assume he is one of the Imperial Blades." Emperor Alyaz said. Grekh smiled, "That's right, your highness."

"Get him fitted in the armor. And you, come. We have a meeting in the council chambers." The Emperor walked off, a swag in his steps. Grekh glanced at Xanthos and smiled maniacally, "Hm, you did well, Xanthos. Although I can't help but wonder, you had your chance to kill me. Why didn't you?" Xanthos regarded the first Adviser with chagrin as he responded, "I could have but I chose not to." Grekh stepped back, "You will make a good Imperial Blade, Xanthos. Of that, I have no doubt. However, if you ever think of ending the life of the Emperor, that day will be your last." Without waiting for a response, Grekh walked off.