After that first meeting with the Compact Emissaries, things returned to normal for another month. And by normal I mean trying to solve every problem in the City with what little resources we have. Sadly not much progress to report on that front.

The three-moon period since the Sacred Tournament’s announcement finally passed, and everything was ready for the grand event. I must confess that, after three months taking care of Ysle’s governance and witnessing the rather sorry state of its finances, I can’t justify the gold spent on this violent spectacle. I did tell this to the Four Heads, but they all shrugged, saying things like “tradition must be preserved”, and “this is not just entertainment for the masses, but a religious ceremony as well”.

Judging by the excitement that permeated the City in the days prior to the contest, however, as well as the large influx of visitors and aspirants coming to Ysle, at least this wasteful show of gore and violence will distract them from their troubles, if only temporarily.

For this occasion Amirah and Alinah, my overly talkative and gossipy handmaidens, selected a light blue dress that I quite liked. I decided to wear the circlet that Earl Lorrick had gifted to me on behalf of his King. It paired perfectly with the dress and the rest of the jewelry my servants had selected.

“A most precious gift, Your Highness.” Alinah said while adjusting the final details on my dress.

“Indeed!” I replied. “And supposedly enchanted as well, though I don’t feel any different…”

“So… the big day has arrived!” Amirah exclaimed giddily after asserting for the umpteenth time that my hair was, indeed, combed to perfection. “You need to look your best so the one destined to be your Champion becomes madly in love with you at first sight, Your Highness!”

“As if there was a man that wouldn’t go head over heels for a lovely young woman such as our Blessed Princess!” Alinah exclaimed.

“I mean, I’m not the Princess, and I’m so excited!” Amirah let out a little scream of pure eagerness.

“I’ve seen some of the fighters that have come from afar to participate. A few of them are quite the catch!”

“Hmmm, Hmmm!”

“Girls, I’m sure there are a lot of… fetching... participants.” I started to blush; never before had I referred to a man in such terms, as that was considered unbecoming of a Priestess. “But remember that the winner will be the last man standing in the arena, not the most attractive one. So the Gods might well choose a Champion that is not… well… easy on the eyes.”

“Impossible!” Amirah remarked with quite a lot of conviction. “The Gods will never do such a cruel thing to their Servant! Her Highness will get a strong, brave, tall and very handsome Champion!”

“You’ll be the envy of every girl in town for sure!” Alinah seconded. “The loveliest couple ever!”

“Are you implying that my Champion and I are going to become…” my blushing got a deeper shade of red. “Intimate?”

“But of course, Your Highness!” Alinah nodded vigorously. “I mean, picture this: two incredibly attractive young people, going together everywhere, every day. It’s only natural a flame of pure passion is kindled sooner or later!”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a Princess and a Champion that haven’t been a legit couple! Ever!” Amirah affirmed.

“Well, there have been such cases.” I corrected them. “For example, Princess Noor and her Champion never became a… legit couple, as you say…”

“But that was because her Champion died shortly after winning the Tournament!” Alinah remarked. “Had he lived longer, they would’ve been all lovey-dovey for sure!”

I mentioned a few other Princesses that I knew never had anything beyond a formal master-servant relationship with their Champions, but it seemed the girls knew the facts better than me!

“In any case,” I finally said, sighing in my defeat. “If we keep talking like this, I won’t even make it to the Arena on time!”

“Oh, you’re right!” both handmaidens exclaimed worriedly, in unison. “After you, Your Highness!”

The Arena of the Gods is a richly decorated amphitheater, designed to seat nearly fifty thousand souls. Despite other similar venues across Alnor, however, this one has very little use, only serving as a stage for the Sacred Tournament, the contest through which the Gods of Ysle select the Champion for the newly elected Princess.

Beautiful banners of a myriad colors flew in the breeze from atop the arena’s walls that morning. I was led to the antechamber adjoining the main tribune, where I was greeted by the Four Heads, as well as the Compact Emissaries and other important city officials who would join me in the tribune.

“After you, Your Highness.” Mother Zafira said while bowing slightly one more time.

As soon as I appeared on the tribune a grand fanfare made the entire stadium tremble, and the people hailed me with an ovation. I approached the tribune’s railing to salute with a wave of my hand before taking my seat. The rest of the guests of honor followed suit.

Next, a male announcer with an unusually powerful voice – undoubtedly aided by an enchanted item – appeared on a similar, albeit much smaller and less ornate tribune located right on the opposite side of the venue.

“People of Ysle! in the name of the Lords of Creation and Blessed Princess Shjasta, we welcome you on this fine day! The Tournament of the Gods has been called, and warriors from all over the Crystalsand Desert and beyond have gathered here to test their might and mettle, but more importantly to prove whom among them carries the Favor of the Gods, and is worthy of taking his place at the Blessed Princess’ side as her Champion!”

The people roared and applauded with great enthusiasm, unsure if it was for the fact that my Champion would be revealed by the Gods today, or that a great, bloody battle was about to take place on the arena floor below. Probably a bit of both.

“Please… give your strongest applause and ovation… to the warriors that are going to fight and bleed today for the honor of becoming the Princess’ Champion!”

Another chorus of applause and cheering, followed by another blast from the trumpets and the echoing thundering of drums. The iron gate connecting the arena floor with the pits below was opened, and about three hundred men emerged from the darkness. However impossible it might have been, the roaring and applause got even louder.

“This is going to be a great spectacle, indeed!” Brand, the Rezan emissary, laughed. “This reminds me of the games we celebrate in honor of the Sky Steed back home!”

“Do you have something like this in the Steedplains, Master Brand?” I asked.

“Something quite similar in the sense that it’s also a sacred competition, Your Highness.” He replied. “Though we don’t have such a magnificent venue for it back home!”

As soon as all contestants were in the arena the gate closed. They formed two rows, facing directly towards my tribune. They were warriors of different sizes, builds, and skin colors. Most of them looked like true-to-word, battle-hardened fighters, but a few looked like they were about to cross blades for the very first time in their lives.

“Hail Blessed Princess Shasta of Ysle!” all of the warriors said while bowing. “For the Favor of the Gods, and Yours, we fight today in the Arena!”

Actually... not all of the warriors hailed and bowed. I noticed that one of the contestants in the front row was simply standing still, not moving a single muscle, not uttering a single word, just staring intently towards the main tribune with a stern, determined gaze. And I wasn’t the only one that noticed this man’s intransigent behavior. The reaction from the public in the stands was almost instant.

“Insolent fool! You dare disrespect the Sacred Contest and the Princess!” Someone sitting right below the tribune yelled.

“Take that Yeonbrookean brat out of the arena! He doesn’t deserve to participate!” Another one exclaimed.

“I deserve to participate as much as the rest of these sycophantic idiots!” The young man yelled back defiantly. “Let’s just cut all this ceremonial bullshit and start fighting, so I can win this 'sacred' contest of yours and claim your hot Princess!”

The other contestants turned towards the rather insolent young man and started hurling insults at him as well. And what’s this about claiming me, as if I were some piece of furniture!

And yet… for some reason, something about the Yeonbrookean got my attention, other than his uncouth demeanor and abject irreverence. It’s hard to put what I felt in words: he simply stood out from the rest of the warriors. I could only wonder what hidden virtue such a disrespectful person could possibly have.

“Shall we remove this insolent man from the Arena, Your Highness?” The Head Mentoress asked me.

“Well…” I thought for a second, then replied: “Let him participate. He did pay the entrance fee, after all…”

“As unlikely as it seems, he might still win the contest, Your Highness,” the Head Confessor warned me. “Would you risk the chance a man like that becomes your Champion?”.

“You keep saying this is the way the Gods choose the Princess’ Champion.” I reminded Mother Asli. “If that man were to win, that would be Their choice. If not, then the wounds and bruises he’ll surely get will be his rightful punishment for his defiance!”

The Four Heads looked at each other in disbelief, and after a brief silence they simply shrugged.

“So be it, then...” Mother Zafira finally said, nodding. “May the Gods judge this man in the Arena!”

The public reacted very positively to my decision, naturally hoping that the Yeonbrookean was utterly crushed by the rest of the contestants, Once this impasse was cleared, the announcer spoke again:

“May the Gods be with you, contestants! Fight bravely and honorably, and you might still win Their Favor today!”

The loud metallic thundering of a gong filled the air, and the public in attendance started cheering viciously, demanding blood from the fighters below, who had started fighting amongst themselves with incredible ferocity and determination. And, as everyone expected, the young foul-mouthed Yeonbrookean was rather busy fighting at least half a dozen other warriors, eager to pummel him into submission for his earlier arrogance.

“Are these fights to the death, Your Eminence?” Lady Elandra, the Nordenian diplomat, asked the Head Fire-keeper.

“Not really,” Mother Lyra answered. “But as you can imagine, sometimes things can get a bit… too heated down there!”

Not soon Mother Lyra finished speaking, one fighter was killed in a most brutal manner, his head nearly severed from the rest of his body by a sword blow. The people roared enthusiastically, and the contents of my stomach churned. I closed my eyes as the roars of the audience, the war cries of the fighters, and the sounds of metal clashing, of flesh being cut, of blood being spilled, overwhelmed me. I simply wanted this grim business to end as fast as possible!

“Your Highness… are you all right?” I heard Earl Lorrick ask me.

“Yes… I am fine…” I said as I opened my eyes once again.

I don’t know exactly how long I was oblivious to the carnage unfolding right in front of me... minutes? Just a few seconds? But by the moment I felt good enough to look at the arena floor again, I saw that only a dozen or so fighters, out of the initial three hundred, remained in the contest. And most of them were still going after the Yeonbrookean, who somehow managed to endure the onslaught this far.

“I must admit that the little Yeonbrookean brat has a fierce fighting spirit!” Brand said. “At least he’s able to put his heart, or rather his blade, where his mouth is! He might yet win this contest!”

“Indeed.” Earl Lorrick nodded. “I wonder where he learned to fight like that?”

The speed, grace and fluidity of his sword-play was a sight to behold. And while his opponents were dead-set on hurting him badly, he settled with just cutting them enough to render them unable to continue, without unnecessary violence. Just a few more minutes were enough for him to disarm his last adversary, forcing him to surrender. As soon as the Yeonbrookean was the last man standing the gong sounded again, signaling the end of the Sacred Contest, but instead of an overwhelming ovation filling the air, the arena became completely silent.

“No way… He dares to mock our Gods and insult the Princess… and yet… he wins?” I could hear comments pretty much like that coming from the arena stands.

“This foul-mouthed punk… is the Princess’ Champion?”

The announcer, as disbelieving as the rest of the audience, stood still a few seconds before reacting and finally speaking.

“The Contest of the Gods has ended! And Their Will has been made known. The young man still standing is the one They deem worthy of serving Blessed Princess Shjasta as…” He really didn’t want to say it, as much as me or anyone else in attendance didn’t want to hear it. “... As her Champion!”

No applause or hails were heard. Just confounded words of incredulity. Mother Zafira looked at me and said with a hint of resignation:

“Your Champion has been revealed, Your Highness. Now you must call him forth so you can acknowledge him.”

I swallowed hard as I raised from my seat, approaching the railing once more. All eyes in the arena were upon me, eager to see what was going to happen next. My heart started to race. And the Yeonbrookean stared at me. His face and armor were all dirty and bloody, and he had a few bruises in his arms, but he smiled with confidence. The crowd booed him earnestly, demanding me to throw him in the dungeon instead of acknowledging him. I had no choice but to carry on, though.

“Approach, warrior, and tell me your name, so I can publicly acknowledge you as my Champion!”

The man walked towards the tribune. He limped a bit due to the injuries he sustained, but despite that he managed to stand tall and proud. He stopped right in front of me. The gentle breeze played with his pitch-black hair, while his deep blue eyes stared at me intently. His roguish smile widened, and finally said:

“My name is Wraith Dasher. Pleased to meet you, sweetheart!”

“Very well… Wraith Dasher” I said, doing my best to ignore his continuing lack of respect. “I acknowledge the Will of the Gods, and proclaim you my Champion! From this day onward, until your final breath, you will....”

A knot began to form on my throat. Do I have to say those words? To him, of all people? I took a deep breath before proceeding.

“You will serve, l-love and… and comfort your Princess!” I practically yelled those words, my face turning beet-red in anger and shame. “You… will be her sword, her shield, her… her bedrock and... support!”

The irritating smirk never leaving his face, my new Champion simply replied:

“Of course I will, my dear!”

Right then I knew for sure that the Gods were, as the Creed of our Faith says, Unknowable. For I simply couldn’t even begin to fathom why a man like Wraith Dasher was chosen by Them to be my Champion!

And yet, below all that rough arrogance, I still felt something great and noble slumbering deep within him.