Chapter Ten: The Battles of Valor, Part Two

From the royal box, Inísel watched with a mix of anxiety and sadness as the contestants approached the presenter of the games one by one. Each participant placed their hand into the carved vessel, drawing out a paper that would reveal their fate. The movements were slow and solemn, filled with the gravity of what was about to begin. As each contestant drew their paper, the emotions could be seen reflected on their faces: nervousness, determination, fear, and in some cases, a cold and calculated resolve.

The amphitheater was enveloped in an expectant silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of the crowd and the rustling of the papers being unrolled. The spectators, who filled the stands to the brim, watched with bright eyes, eager for the spectacle that was about to unfold. Inísel, seated next to her husband, the Shántruk Theodric Elektita Unu, felt the weight of every gaze, of every fate sealed by those papers.

When the last contestant, a slim young man with a fierce look, drew the final paper from the vessel, the presenter raised his hands to draw everyone's attention.

In kune: “La dioj alportu fortunon al la venkinto de la bravaj bataloj! (May the gods bring fortune to the victor of the battles of valor!)" he proclaimed in a strong, clear voice. The trumpets sounded, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their enthusiastic shouts echoing through the vast amphitheater.

Each participant looked at their paper and quietly read the game they had drawn. In the arena, near the royal box, five tall posts stood, each with a flag waving at the top, representing the five games: water, fire, air, earth, and light. The contestants, one by one, moved towards the corresponding post, grouping under the flag that signified their fate.

Inísel watched with a heavy heart as the seventy participants lined up in their respective positions. Fourteen gathered under the water flag, ready to face the sea trial. Another fourteen stood under the air flag, prepared to showcase their skill with bows and spears. Fourteen more positioned themselves under the earth flag, armed and ready for the brutal gladiator combat. The next fourteen gathered under the fire flag, ready to walk on burning coals and fight with flaming swords. Finally, the last fourteen stood under the light flag, prepared to face the most humiliating and desperate trial.

Once selected and positioned, the contestants turned towards the royal box. Their movements were disciplined, almost ceremonial. With a single gesture, they bowed in a deep salute of respect towards the Shántruk Theodric Elektita Unu. The voices of the participants rose in a reverent unison.

From the royal box, Inísel watched with a mix of anxiety and sadness as the contestants approached the presenter of the games one by one. Each participant placed their hand into the carved vessel, drawing out a paper that would reveal their fate. The movements were slow and solemn, filled with the gravity of what was about to begin. As each contestant drew their paper, the emotions could be seen reflected on their faces: nervousness, determination, fear, and in some cases, a cold and calculated resolve.

The amphitheater was enveloped in an expectant silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of the crowd and the rustling of the papers being unrolled. The spectators, who filled the stands to the brim, watched with bright eyes, eager for the spectacle that was about to unfold. Inísel, seated next to her husband, the Shántruk Theodric Elektita Unu, felt the weight of every gaze, of every fate sealed by those papers.

When the last contestant, a slim young man with a fierce look, drew the final paper from the vessel, the presenter raised his hands to draw everyone's attention.

In kune: "La dioj alportu fortunon al la venkinto de la bravaj bataloj! (May the gods bring fortune to the victor of the battles of valor!)" he proclaimed in a strong, clear voice. The trumpets sounded, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their enthusiastic shouts echoing through the vast amphitheater.

Each participant looked at their paper and quietly read the game they had drawn. In the arena, near the royal box, five tall posts stood, each with a flag waving at the top, representing the five games: water, fire, air, earth, and light. The contestants, one by one, moved towards the corresponding post, grouping under the flag that signified their fate.

Inísel watched with a heavy heart as the seventy participants lined up in their respective positions. Fourteen gathered under the water flag, ready to face the sea trial. Another fourteen stood under the air flag, prepared to showcase their skill with bows and spears. Fourteen more positioned themselves under the earth flag, armed and ready for the brutal gladiator combat. The next fourteen gathered under the fire flag, ready to walk on burning coals and fight with flaming swords. Finally, the last fourteen stood under the light flag, prepared to face the most humiliating and desperate trial.

Once selected and positioned, the contestants turned towards the royal box. Their movements were disciplined, almost ceremonial. With a single gesture, they bowed in a deep salute of respect towards the Shántruk Theodric Elektita Unu. The voices of the participants rose in a reverent unison.

In kune: "Mi batalos por mia Shántruk, por Sabla Urbo, kaj por la tuta Dezertejo. Gloro benu mian glavon kaj mian koron (I will fight for my Shántruk, for Sabla Urbo, and for all of Erial. May glory bless my sword and my heart)," the first began.

In kune: "Mi batalos por mia Shántruk, por Sabla Urbo, kaj por la tuta Dezertejo. Gloro benu mian glavon kaj mian koron (I will fight for my Shántruk, for Sabla Urbo, and for all of Erial. May glory bless my sword and my heart)," and thus, successively, the participants announced their words in clear and defined voices.

Inísel observed each face, each determined or terrified gaze, and felt a pang of sadness. Many of these young men were forced to be there, compelled to participate in a spectacle that glorified violence and suffering. Others, like the mercenaries, had voluntarily signed up, drawn by the promise of money and fame. However, all shared a common fate: to face deadly trials under the gaze of a crowd hungry for blood and excitement. Inísel knew with certainty that very few would survive.

The Shántruk Theodric, seated beside her, observed the scene with an expression of cold resolve. Inísel knew that her husband believed he was doing what was best for the kingdom, but she couldn't help but feel he was wrong, that this was not the way to improve the situation; sacrificing lives, some of them innocent. The Valkúr clenched her fists, suppressing her emotions as the presenter continued with the opening ceremony.

In kune: "Ke la dioj estu kun vi (May the gods be with you...)," he proclaimed solemnly. In kune: "Kaj la venko estu por la plej fortaj kaj kuraĝaj (And may victory be for the strongest and the bravest)." With those words, he withdrew to the side of the arena, allowing the first trial to begin.

The Shántruk, with a satisfied smile, watched from his royal box as the fourteen contestants prepared for the first trial.

In kune: "Ke la dioj protektu vin kaj benu vian sorton. Faru La Kvin Urboj fiera (May the gods protect you and bless your fate. Make La Kvin Urboj proud)," he wished them, his voice resonating throughout the amphitheater. Inísel, beside him, remained silent, her fists clenched and her jaw tight. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the barbarity about to unfold, but she knew that her discontent at that moment would not stop the atrocity about to be committed. Isra, sensing her distress, placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, a gesture of support that Inísel silently appreciated.

In kune: "Ne rigardu, vi ne devas vidi ĝin (Don't look, you don't have to see it)," her maid whispered to her, her voice intended only for Inísel. The Valkúr nodded, grateful for Isra's suggestion, but uncertainty and sorrow still flooded her heart.

The atmosphere in the amphitheater was electric. The crowd, eager for a show, murmured and shifted in their seats, anxiously awaiting the start of the games. The fourteen contestants, determination on their faces, approached the edge of the sea, stripping off their shirts and remaining only in shorts, ready to face the turbulent waters. The buoy marking the return point appeared small and distant, a monumental challenge two kilometers from the shore.

The trumpets sounded, clear and piercing, signaling the start of the sea trial. The contestants plunged into the water without hesitation, running and diving when the depth allowed. The first strokes were quick and coordinated, each one striving to get ahead of the others. But soon, the true nature of the challenge became evident.

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The water turned into a battlefield. Some swimmers, seeking any advantage, didn't hesitate to push down their competitors, trying to keep them submerged long enough to gain the lead. Cries of effort and desperation mixed with the splashing of water. From the stands, although distance and walls made it difficult to see the details, the frenzy of the competition was palpable. The spectators roared with enthusiasm, their voices growing in intensity as the elimination drums began to sound, indicating that some contestants had drowned in the trial.

Inísel listened with a heavy heart. Each drumbeat was a sign that another participant had been eliminated, possibly forever. The waters of the sea, so vast and deep, swallowed the hopes and lives of those who couldn't stay afloat. The weaker contestants, or those less skilled in swimming, were the first to fall. Some simply disappeared beneath the waves, their exhausted bodies unable to fight any longer.

The rest, those with more strength and determination, continued their advance towards the buoy. Strategies varied; some swam alone, trying to avoid direct conflict, while others formed temporary alliances to eliminate closer rivals. But betrayal was always just a stroke away, and alliances broke as quickly as they formed.

The distance shortened. The buoy, once a distant point on the horizon, was now within reach. The swimmers who had survived the initial assaults of the sea and their competitors began to speed up, their bodies driven by adrenaline and the urgency to win. The return, however, promised to be equally treacherous. The same dirty tactics, the same pushing and submerging, continued, intensifying as the swimmers approached the shore.

Finally, the first contestants began to emerge from the water, crawling towards the shore with their exhausted but triumphant bodies. The victory drums resonated, and the crowd roared in a frenzy of jubilation. But for Inísel, each drum was a reminder of the price paid for that macabre entertainment. Her gaze turned to the victorious swimmers who reached the arena again, all bearing triumphant smiles and exhausted faces. The elimination drums continued to sound, indicating that many continued to perish in the sea.

However, the brutality of the sea trial was not yet over. The participants on the shore still had to fight each other, except for the winner. A sword was provided to each of them, and they fought to the death. Inísel felt in her heart each drop of blood and each scream of horror from the contestants who succumbed in combat. After a winner emerged, the drums sounded victoriously, and the crowd cheered wildly.

Inísel looked away, unable to bear the brutality unfolding just a few meters away. Silently, she recited a prayer to each of the five gods of Erial, imploring for a swift end to these cruel combats.

In kune: "Ho diino de la maro, bonvenigu la animojn de la falintaj en viajn akvojn. Ho dio de fajro, estingu la flamon de ilia sufero. Ho dio de aero, portu liajn lastajn spirojn milde. Ho, dio de la tero, akceptu iliajn korpojn kun kompato. Ho dio de lumo, lumigu vian vojon al eterna ripozo. Via doloro estingiĝu kiel flamo estingita de la larmoj de via sufero. Estu bonfara, donu al ili esperon kaj forton por pluvivi (Oh goddess of the sea, welcome the souls of the fallen into your waters. Oh god of fire, extinguish the flame of their suffering. Oh god of air, carry their last breaths gently. Oh god of earth, receive their bodies with compassion. Oh god of light, illuminate their path to eternal rest. May their pain be extinguished like a flame quenched by the tears of their suffering. Be benevolent, give them hope and strength to survive)," she prayed, a desperate attempt to find solace and peace amidst the horror she witnessed.

The sea trial ended with the exhausted victors and the defeated removed from the arena. But there was no time for relief; the next trial began almost immediately. The fire trial, as announced, consisted of a course through burning embers scattered across the central arena of the amphitheater. The embers, fueled by the scorching heat of Erial's sun, glowed with a terrifying intensity.

The fourteen contestants of the fire trial lined up at the edge of the embers, barefoot and ready to run. At the sound of the trumpets, they dashed forward. Some screamed in pain as their bare feet touched the embers, the unbearable heat burning their skin. Others, desperate to win, pushed their companions, trying to make them fall into the embers and be burned. The scene was chaotic, a miniature hell where human suffering was palpable.

In kune: "Ĉi tio estas malhumana! (This is inhumane!)" whispered Inísel, closing her eyes, unable to bear the screams of pain that filled the air. The sounds of burning flesh and the groans of the contestants were almost unbearable. Two participants managed to cross the path of embers, their bodies covered in burns but their spirits indomitable. According to the rules of the game, they took the burning swords and began to fight each other.

The combat was fierce and desperate. Neither was willing to yield, both aware that only one could leave alive. The crowd roared with each blow, thrilled by the brutality of the spectacle. Finally, one of the contestants landed a fatal stab, driving his flaming sword into the heart of his opponent. The loser's body fell to the ground, his life extinguished in an instant.

Throughout the trial, Inísel kept her eyes closed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Memories of the Games of All she attended when she was ten years old flooded her mind. In those times, the games were a celebration of skill, dexterity, and the unity of her people. Now, under her husband's rule, they had transformed into a bloody slaughter.

The Combats of Valor continued, with each trial demonstrating the ruthlessness of this entertainment. The contestants fought each other, staining the sand with blood. Swords clashed and steel cut through the air, bringing chaos and death. The people in the stands roared with excitement, delighted by the violence they witnessed. The comments and congratulations of the aristocrats for the "entertaining" nature of the games filled the royal box. Inísel listened with disgust, feeling increasingly alienated from the barbarity surrounding her. The nobles and advisors around her exchanged smiles and words of approval, indifferent to the death of the contestants and the profound horror she felt.

Finally, after hours of agony, the time came for the last trial of the day: the Trial of Light. Inísel opened her eyes, hoping that the remaining challenge, at least, could end quickly and put an end to her suffering. However, she knew that the very nature of this trial would be as cruel and ruthless as the previous ones.

The presenter of the games, with a voice that resonated throughout the amphitheater, explained the rules once more:

In kune: "La lasta provo estas komenconta. La malpeza provo. En ĝi, la konkursantoj devos liberigi sin kaj batali unu la alian ĝis nur unu restas staranta (The last trial is about to begin. The Trial of Light. In it, the contestants must free themselves and fight each other until only one remains standing)."

The remaining fourteen contestants positioned themselves in front of the royal box, their bodies tense and full of determination. Without hesitation, they began to strip off their garments. The armor fell to the ground with a dull thud, followed by their tunics and clothes, leaving them completely naked, as required by the Trial of Light. The arena filled with the remnants of their clothing, a reminder of their vulnerability and the harshness of the challenge ahead.

Under the scorching midday sun, the contestants' naked bodies glistened with the sweat that beaded on their skin. Every muscle, every scar, every mark was exposed to the gaze of the crowd, which roared with excitement, anticipating the spectacle about to begin. The contestants were tied to fourteen posts planted in the arena, their hands firmly secured with thick ropes.

The crowd, in a frenzy of excitement, shouted and applauded, their voices blending into a deafening roar. The spectators were eager to see who would be the champion of this brutal trial.

The daggers, bright and sharp, were placed on the ground at a barely reachable distance from the posts. The horns sounded, echoing through the amphitheater, and the trial began. Without hesitation, the contestants began to move their bodies, trying to reach the daggers with their feet. The tension was palpable; every movement was crucial, every second counted.

Some contestants managed to grab the daggers with surprising speed, using their toes skillfully to bring them closer to their hands. Others struggled more, their bodies contorting in a desperate effort to free themselves. The crowd watched intently, cheering for their favorites and applauding each achievement.

Finally, after many attempts, the first contestants began to free themselves from the ropes that bound them to the posts. Their bodies, still sweaty and exhausted, moved quickly to take advantage. They knew there could only be one champion, and surrender was too significant a disgrace to consider, making the competition even fiercer. The first to free themselves pounced on those still tied, plunging their daggers into the bodies of the defenseless adversaries to secure victory.

The arena turned into a chaos of screams and struggle. The freed contestants attacked mercilessly those who were still defenseless, and the crowd roared with excitement at each act of violence. Bodies fell to the ground, bloodied and defeated, while the survivors continued to fight.

Inísel, from her place in the royal box, could bear no more. She looked away, her heart broken by the brutality she witnessed. Tears filled her eyes, an expression of her sorrow and despair. Each scream from the crowd, each mortal blow in the arena, was a stab to her soul.

The trial continued until only one contestant remained standing, his body trembling but victorious. The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating the champion. But for Inísel, there was nothing to celebrate. She could only feel a deep sadness and a growing determination to find a way to change this barbarity.

As the victor was acclaimed and the bodies of the fallen were removed from the arena, Inísel looked at her husband. The Shántruk, with a look of satisfaction on his face, watched the scene with pride. Inísel knew she couldn't change what had happened that day, but in her heart, she vowed to do everything possible to prevent these games from being held in this manner again. She would not allow violence and cruelty to define her kingdom.

With a tear rolling down her cheek, Inísel made a firm decision: she would fight to protect her people from the Combats of Valor, eliminating them from their culture so they would never again become a spectacle of death and destruction.