Chapter 4 : The stage is set.
March 21st, Year 853. 1 hour before the duel.
'Perhaps I shouldn't have accepted the Duel,' Luke ruminated, standing in his dorm at the academy, a space that had witnessed countless hours of focused studies and contemplation. Now, it bore witness to the weight of impending decisions, and the air was thick with uncertainty. The room, adorned with shelves of noble literature and artifacts, held a somber atmosphere that mirrored Luke's inner turmoil.
The scent of aged books lingered in the air, an earthy perfume that usually brought comfort to the noble scion during his moments of introspection. Today, however, it added a layer of solemnity to the room. The shelves, lined with leather-bound tomes and manuscripts, seemed to whisper tales of generations past, each volume a repository of knowledge and legacy.
His gaze lingered on the array of armor and weaponry, each piece meticulously arranged. The gleam of polished metal hinted at battles past and those yet to come. The armor, a fusion of function and symbolism, was more than a protective layer; it was a statement of his noble lineage and a shield against the intricacies of the political battlefield.
As his eyes shifted to a portrait on the wall, a poignant moment frozen in time stared back at him. Two children, himself and Vivienne, played in carefree abandon, a stark contrast to the complexities of their present lives. The image, drawn almost a decade ago, whispered of innocence lost and a bond that time had weathered but not broken.
The logical part of Luke's mind, honed through years of noble education, presented a stark assessment. Strategically, the duel was perilous, a risky maneuver that could jeopardize not only his personal life but his entire political career. Failure could lead to political suicide, yet success might bring a semblance of victory, albeit a precarious one.
As he contemplated the duel, the personal stakes intertwined with the political, creating a labyrinth of decisions with no clear path. The emotional pull, fueled by twelve years of shared history with Vivienne, tugged at the threads of his heart. It was more than a strategic alliance; it was a tapestry woven with laughter, camaraderie, and shared dreams.
Their paths had first crossed twelve years ago when he barely knew how to speak, a fateful meeting that birthed a connection deeper than the political machinations that now threatened to tear them apart. The memories of shared smiles and whispered confidences played like a melancholic melody in his mind, echoing the unspoken promises of a shared future.
Luke found himself at a crossroads, torn between pragmatic wisdom and emotional allegiance. The armor, clinking softly as he donned it, became a metaphorical barrier, shielding him not only from physical harm but also from the complexities of the world outside. Each piece carried the weight of legacy, a lineage to protect, and a symbol of his commitment to the path he had chosen.
As the final hour approached, Luke couldn't escape the palpable feeling that the decisions made in the coming duel would reverberate through his life, changing its course forever. The room, once a sanctuary of scholarly pursuits, now stood witness to a noble scion preparing for a duel that would define not just his personal fate but the intricate dance of politics that bound him to his noble lineage.
At around the same time, on the other side of the Academy, inside the dormitory reserved for the elite ladies, Seraphina Nocturna, the second princess, spoke in an elegant voice to Vivienne. The room, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting ancient tales, boasted gilded furniture and large windows that allowed the soft glow of morning sunlight to cascade into the space.
Seraphina, with her golden blonde hair cascading like a radiant waterfall down her shoulders, was the epitome of elegance. Her attire, a gown adorned with delicate lace and embroidered patterns, complemented her regal bearing. The air in the room carried a subtle fragrance of lavender, creating an ambiance of sophistication.
Vivienne, with her distinctive light blue hair and piercing purple eyes, stood as a stark contrast to the golden tones around her. The regality of the room couldn't overshadow the quiet strength that emanated from her. As she listened to Seraphina's words, she appreciated the support.
In her elegant voice, Seraphina addressed Vivienne, "Don't worry, Serge won't lose. Luke has no right to stop you from meeting with Serge." She was visibly upset over Luke's attempt to unilaterally limit Vivienne's freedom. As the second princess, Seraphina had long since convinced herself that it was her duty to champion the cause of women's status in the country.
The soft glow of the morning sunlight highlighted Vivienne's light blue hair and cast a subtle sheen on her purple eyes. She thanked Seraphina in response, her gaze reflecting a mixture of determination and gratitude. However, in the recesses of her thoughts, she contemplated, 'I'm sorry, Luke, but I don't think I can forget Serge. Apart from this, I can think of no other way to let the world accept my relationship with Serge. Mother and Father will never approve of Serge but if he wins this duel, his prestige will go up and will give him a good chance of getting accepted. Thanks for everything so far and for listening to my request to accept this duel. I know that you are risking your political career over this, but it would be better if you just lose this duel. I made sure to swap the energy cores in your armor so that it runs out halfway through the duel. Just lose this duel, and it will be the last thing I ask of you.'