Kaelarys found himself in a dimly lit, gloomy corridor. The air was cool and damp, a constant echo of his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls. As he paced up and down the narrow corridor, he twisted and turned his short swords in his hands, the valyrian blades sliding easily in his practiced fingers.
Occasional rays of sunlight from a side corridor that led diagonally upward illuminated his impatient face for a moment before disappearing back into the darkness. The irregular rays of light cast shadows on the walls, making the outline of his body dance in restless shadows.
He had been back for a few weeks now, spending time with his family, and it just so happened that it was time for the 790th Tournament of the Dragons, something he would have missed if he hadn't been in the capital or if his family hadn't reminded him.
And now he stood here, waiting for the moment when he would be allowed to enter the arena for his first match, and the first match of the competition.
His thoughts revolved around the upcoming battle. The adrenaline rush he was about to experience mixed with the inner suspense as he prepared himself for what was to come.
"Your mind wanders, a habit that can quickly cost you your life."
It was Feyd who had spoken. He accompanied him as a bodyguard and mental support, if you like.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," he replied.
"Do you?" Feyd replied, moving closer until Kaelarys could feel his breath on his face, "It seems to me that you have more important things on your mind than the upcoming battle. I know many people who take everything in life with similar ease. Do you know where they are?"
He had a hunch where this was going. "Let me guess, they're dead."
Feyd only replied with a devilish, sadistic grin, "It would be a shame if their recklessness rubbed off on you, wouldn't it?"
"What a shame that would be, wouldn't it, Feyd? But until that day comes, I'd be very grateful if you'd keep away from me. The way you seek my proximity makes one wonder how much in touch you are with your feminine side," and watched as Feyd did as he said.
He walked up the corridor that led to the entrance of the Bōjurlion as he turned to look at Feyd once more, "One more thing, if this happens again we will meet once more, but you with your head on the end of a spike, do we understand each other?"
A face devoid of emotion looked back at him like a predator about to tear its prey into a thousand pieces before Feyd broke into a grin that almost reached his ears.
"That! That's what it takes to win. No mercy, no restraint, just a stone-cold instinct to kill."
In his eyes, Feyd looked like a child too excited about a new gift, a look that didn't fit the person.
He waited a moment before Feyd reigned himself in and bowed to him: "As you wish, my lord."
Kaelarys nodded briefly before turning back to the entrance.
The sons and daughters of House Harkonnen have always been wild and unpredictable, but that is what makes them so dangerous. They only follow those who are both strong and driven. Their absolute loyalty must be earned and is not given easily.
He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with the cool, stale air of the corridor, and exhaled slowly.
At the end of the narrow corridor stood two guards. They flanked a massive metal gate that served as the only barrier between him and the arena. As he strode along the corridor, his swords spun in his hands in constant, fluid movements.
He waited there for a short while, concentrating entirely on the door. After a few minutes that felt like hours, he noticed movement.
The two guards, their faces hidden under their helmets, began to open the mighty gates in synchronization. The hinges creaked as the heavy metal was pulled apart and a blinding beam of light burst into the dark corridor.
The first rays of sunlight hit Kaelarys' face with unaccustomed intensity, and he had to hold his hand over his eyes for a moment to adjust to the sudden light.
The deafening roar of the crowd, which had previously only been muffled, now swelled into a thunderous hurricane that echoed off the walls of the arena and rang through his bones.
When he finally took his first step into the arena, he realized the true size of the place. From the upper tiers, the arena had always seemed monumental, but now that he was standing in the middle of this huge arena himself, it almost took his breath away. The stands rose steeply around him, a stone sea of cheering people whose voices joined together to form a single, overwhelming sound.
"Ka-el-ar-ys" "Ka-el-ar-ys" "Ka-el-ar-ys" "Ka-el-ar-ys"
His name echoed through the air, shouted in unison by 200,000 throats, and Kaelarys felt an addictive sense of power and importance rise within him. He raised his two swords high into the air, a sign to the crowd, who roared even louder in response, their enthusiasm knowing no bounds.
Many of those present did not know him personally. Some knew him only through his thriving whisky trade, through stories of his mighty dragon, or because he was the heir to the ancient and noble House of Baelaeron. But not everyone had ever had the pleasure of meeting him in person.
The real reason everyone in the arena was chanting his name today was not because he was their favorite. Rather, it was the speaker who had carried his name to the crowd in a booming voice.
He was like a stadium announcer, informing the masses which opponents would be facing each other in this fight.
The medium he used was a miracle of magic, a unique relic that carried the words clearly and powerfully to every corner of the vast arena.
"And his opponent is Maegar of House Belaerys!" the speaker shouted in a thunderous voice.
A roar of applause erupted as Maegar walked toward Kaelarys from the opposite corner of the arena. The crowd cheered him on just as enthusiastically.
Maegar was no stranger. He was the second son of Lord Freeholder Belaerys, a house of the same rank as House Baelaeron, and he had the pleasure of meeting him on many occasions.
Kaelarys nodded curtly to Maegar, a gesture of respect that Maegar also returned.
They turned towards the platform where the 40 Families of the Blood were seated, bowed respectfully, and then took up their positions a few meters apart.
"Let the 790th Tournament of the Dragon begin"
Kaelarys and Maegar circled each other as the eyes of the audience watched them intently. A wide grin crossed Kaelarys' face as he tossed one of his swords aside to make the fight fairer.
Maegar, irritated by his gesture, made the first move, lunging forward with a frontal thrust aimed at Kaelarys' chest. Kaelarys easily parried the attack with a quick upward sweep, spun his body, and swung his sword at Maegar, causing it to bounce off his shield.
Maegar didn't hesitate and tried to surprise Kaelarys by pushing his shield into Kaelarys to throw him off balance. But that didn't happen as Kaelarys grabbed the shield and pulled it violently towards him, and with his strength it wasn't Kaelarys who fell, but Maegar.
As Maegar lay on the ground, Kaelarys did not attack, but simply waited until he was on his feet again, his shield firmly in his hands. Kaelarys sprinted slightly towards him, jumping slightly to add power to the impact, and as he thrust his short sword head-on into the center of the shield, Maegar immediately stumbled back, losing his shield in the process.
He charged at Maegar and struck with lightning speed. Maegar wasn't a bad fighter, but he was just faster and stronger.
What he didn't expect was when Maegar pulled out a hidden knife and tried to ram it into his stomach.
Kaelarys spun around in a flash, grabbed Maegar's wrist and twisted it so that the knife fell to the ground. He followed up with a smooth transition, pulling the ground from under him and pointing his sword at his neck when he lay on his back once again.
"You and the ground have a very intimate relationship, it appears," he said with a smirk.
Maegar, still catching his breath, looked at him and said, "Maybe, but it looks like you enjoy getting men flat on their backs."
"Touche."
"And the first duel of this tournament goes to Kaelarys of House Baelaeron," the speaker announced as the crowd roared and Kaelarys extended his hand to Maegar, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
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So, the Chapter came either way now, because I realized that this is the way to go.
Yours,
Jasonenrick!