The academy grounds were alive with excitement as the gates opened for the upcoming tournament season. Merchants, blacksmiths, and traders filled the pathways, their stalls bursting with weapons, enchanted gear, and exotic items. The scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries filled the air, mingling with the clatter of steel as warriors tested their new weapons. Students and visitors alike weaved through the bustling streets within the academy walls, each absorbed in their own preparations.
Dorian stretched his arms behind his head, taking in the vibrant scene. "Man, this is what I like to see! Commerce, chaos, and a whole lot of idiots spending money they don't have."
Reynald smirked, watching a younger student eagerly haggling over a dagger that was clearly overpriced. "You mean, people like you?"
"Hey, my investments are strategic," Dorian shot back, patting the new belt strapped around his waist. "This right here? Grade-A quality. Stylish, durable, and—"
Reynald leaned in. "It's literally just a belt."
Dorian scoffed. "You wouldn't understand fashion if it hit you in the face."
Before Reynald could retort, a wave of excited chatter rippled through the crowd. A group of older students passed by, drawing attention. Whispers spread quickly—Michael lkner, a well-known fourth-year swordsman, had arrived, along with a few of the academy's elite senior students. People gawked at them, eager to see the warriors rumored to be the ones to beat in the tournament.
"Michael's been undefeated in duels this year. They say he's got some insane sword technique that lets him cut through mana defenses like butter."
"Forget Michael, I heard Byron's going to compete this time too. The guy took down a magic knight last tournament without even using magic. Just pure skill!"
Reynald exhaled, unimpressed. "Figures the older years are the main attraction."
Dorian shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, let them have their moment. Meanwhile, let's focus on what's important." He gestured at a nearby stall selling snacks. "Like food."
Reynald rolled his eyes. "You have the attention span of a squirrel."
Just as they were about to move, a sudden commotion broke out near a weapon stall. Two students were locked in an aggressive argument over a single longsword. The shopkeeper looked on helplessly as both refused to back down.
"I saw it first!"
"Yeah? Well, I touched it first! Finders keepers, loser!"
Before things could escalate, a third student casually stepped between them, picked up the longsword, examined it for a second, and turned to the merchant. "I'll take this one."
The two arguing students froze, mouths hanging open.
"Wait, what?!"
"You can't just—!"
The merchant, clearly not wanting to deal with the chaos, accepted the payment in an instant. The victorious buyer walked off, leaving the two bickering fools in stunned silence.
Dorian nudged Reynald. "You know, that should have been you."
Reynald scoffed. "Me? I wasn't even looking at that sword."
Dorian smirked. "Let's get out of here before someone tries to drag us into their stupidity."
As the two wandered deeper into the market, the lively energy of the festival atmosphere only grew. There was no shortage of characters—overenthusiastic first-years buying weapons way beyond their skill level, noble heirs flaunting their latest magical artifacts, and seasoned warriors critiquing the younger generation's technique. The entire academy was buzzing with anticipation, the air thick with excitement and the promise of the battles to come.