Cold stone beneath me. Iron shackles biting into my wrists. The faint hum of enchanted chains suppressing any attempt at magic. I had been locked in a cell for less than an hour before the reality of my situation truly sank in.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
This wasn't something I could talk my way out of.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think.
Velmora was one of the many cities governed by great noble families. Old, ancient, even, descendants of the first mages who had helped establish the kingdom.
The restricted estate I had landed in?
Based on the guards' armor, the deep crimson embroidery, the sigil of a black sun surrounded by silver flames, I had landed in the territory of House Aurellian. A house known for strict tradition, magical prowess, and a particularly vicious sense of justice.
I swallowed hard.
That was not good.
That was very, very not good.
I leaned against the cold bars, forcing my mind to work past the panic.
What would they do to me?
At best? A harsh beating and exile.
At worst?
…I didn't want to finish that thought.
I heard the guards before I saw them.
Heavy boots on stone. A sharp command. The sound of a key turning in the lock.
The door swung open, and two armored figures strode in.
"Prisoner, stand," one of them barked.
I hesitated. "Uh, actually, I think I'd rather si.."
They grabbed me by the arms and hauled me to my feet.
"Alright! Alright! No need to be so enthusiastic about it."
They dragged me out of the cell. Up the stairs. The sunlight that streamed through the high-arched windows was blinding after the dimness of the cell, but I had no time to adjust. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I caught glimpses of my surroundings, rich banners hung from the walls, emblazoned with the same ominous sigil of House Aurellian. Servants scurried away at our approach, their eyes averted. If I had to pick the worst possible place to land, this would be in the top three.
At the end of the corridor, a grand chamber opened up.
The room was massive. A domed ceiling arched high above, carved with constellations and inlaid with veins of glowing silver. The walls were lined with deep crimson banners, their fabric heavy with enchantments that seemed to ripple like a living thing. A chandelier, crafted entirely of suspended light crystals, hovered midair, casting an ethereal glow over everything.
A semi-circle of nobles stood in eerie silence, watching me.
Each one draped in finery that made even the wealthiest merchants look like beggars. Silken robes embroidered with sigils, gemstones that pulsed with captured magic, collars lined with enchanted embroidery that shimmered faintly with protective spells. These were not ordinary aristocrats. These were the ruling elite of the Kingdom. Their gazes felt like weights pressing against my ribs. Some were unreadable, others quietly amused, but most wore the expression of someone who had just been presented with a particularly annoying insect.
At the center of them were the duelists.
The silver-eyed nobleman stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a portrait of rigid control. His dueling attire was midnight black, lined with silver embroidery that curled into sharp geometric patterns, warding sigils and battle enchantments woven directly into the fabric. His sword, sheathed now, still pulsed with residual energy from the duel. Up close, his face was all angles, sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and an expression so cold it could freeze fire. Beside him, the woman with the dark braid was just as striking. Her dueling uniform was deep violet, embroidered with sigils of House Aurellian's secondary bloodline. Unlike the nobleman, whose rage had been immediate, she was composed, studying me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. There was intelligence in her eyes, sharp and calculating, as if she were dissecting everything about me with a single glance.
A servant stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Asher Ardent," he announced.
I blinked.
They must have searched me.
I swallowed as the servant continued.
"By order of House Aurellian, you stand accused of interrupting a sanctioned noble duel and unlawfully trespassing upon private estate grounds."
He took a breath.
And then, without hesitation.
"Your sentence is immediate execution."
A ripple of approval moved through the assembled nobles. Some nodded in quiet satisfaction. Others barely reacted at all, as if this was no more significant than a dull court proceeding.
The guards were already moving.
A blade was drawn.
The steel caught the sunlight filtering in through the high arched windows, gleaming like liquid fire. An executioner's sword, its edge honed to a cruel perfection, designed for a single stroke. A clean cut through flesh, muscle, and bone.
I panicked, stepping back.
My breath hitched in my throat. My mind scrambled for something, anything but all it found was raw, numbing terror.
That was when my satchel strap snapped. The entire bag hit the marble floor with a heavy thud. Its contents jostled free, but only one thing mattered. A single parchment fluttered through the air, drifting lazily downward as if mocking the gravity of the moment. It landed right at the feet of the assembled nobles
A noblewoman gasped.
Another muttered, "That seal…"
I swallowed.
I didn't need to look.
I knew what it was.
My Arcanis summons letter.
The executioner's blade wavered. The guards hesitated. The entire chamber seemed to hold its breath.
Then, after several long, painful seconds, a voice cut through the tension like a dagger.
"Wait."
The single word carried weight. Authority. Enough that even the executioner stepped back.
A figure moved forward from the assembled nobles.
Young, perhaps my age, or slightly older.
His presence was different from the others. Where they stood like statues, draped in cold arrogance, he moved with controlled grace. He wore the unmistakable formal attire of an heir, black and gold, every stitch immaculate, every thread woven with purpose. His dark hair was neatly combed, a contrast to the sharpness of his gaze. He had the kind of face that was unreadable by design, carefully measured, giving nothing away.
He bent down, picking up the parchment.
Then, he turned to the gathered nobles.
"This boy," he said, holding up the letter, "is an Arcanis candidate."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
The silver-eyed nobleman frowned. "And?"
The young noble turned, leveling him with a calm but firm gaze.
"And," he said, "executing him would be direct interference with an Arcanis summons."
The Academy did not tolerate interference with their selections. A single wrong move, and House Aurellian could be dealing with a much bigger problem.
The silver-eyed nobleman's jaw tightened.
But he knew.
He knew he couldn't just ignore this.
For the first time, I felt hope.
I was safe.
I was…
"We can't execute him," the noble admitted grudgingly.
Then his sharp gaze turned to me.
"However, he interfered in a duel," he continued. "He disrupted the honor of this court."
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"If he wants to live… he should pay for it in kind."
The young noble beside him, the one who had just saved me from execution, let out a quiet sigh.
"…You're suggesting a duel."
The silver-eyed noble nodded. "Of course. Let him fight for his freedom."
I choked. "WHAT?"
The young noble rubbed his temple. "You realize this is a terrible idea, yes?"
"It's the fairest solution," the silver-eyed noble said smoothly. "An honorable duel. If he wins, he walks free."
My panic only grew.
I had barely started training. I had one week of getting beaten half to death by my father and losing every single spar.
What part of that made me duel-ready?
I wasn't even given time to process the sheer stupidity of this arrangement before the noble continued. "Of course, to ensure the duel is truly fair, no magic will be used. A battle of steel and skill, as tradition dictates."
The murmurs in the crowd shifted, some approving, others less sure.
The young noble exhaled, his expression unreadable. "You're really insisting on that?"
The silver-eyed noble lifted his chin. "Magic taints a true contest of strength. This is how warriors have proven themselves for centuries."
I swallowed hard. So not only was I expected to fight, but I had to do so without the one thing that might have given me a sliver of a chance. Fantastic.
The young noble sighed again. Then, turning to me, he asked flatly.
"Asher Ardent, do you accept the terms of the duel?"
I stared at him.
I stared at the nobles, watching expectantly.
I stared at the silver-eyed nobleman, smirking like he had already won.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I exhaled slowly.
And forced out the only answer that wouldn't get me killed immediately.
"…I accept."
The duel was set.