Chapter 66: Royal selection (2)
The next day, Laura woke earlier than usual and drifted to her verandah, her gaze falling on the ever-bright galaxy above.
She stood there blankly, stars twinkling in her tired eyes, until a cheerful voice rang out from below.
"Lady Yamira!"
Laura blinked, leaning over the railing. "Tilv?" she croaked, her voice still heavy with sleep. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"Goodness, Lady Yamira, are you’re still half-asleep? The tournament announcement is about to begin!"?" Tilv stood with her hands on her hips, exasperated. "Didn’t your fellow contestants tell you?"
Laura groaned, waving dismissively. "Go on ahead, Tilv."
Shuffling back inside, she tousled her hair with both hands, her reflection staring back from the tall mirror above her white desk. Her face was drawn with fatigue.
"Urgh, I’m so tired~" She flopped onto her bed dramatically. "If Clark was here, he’d probably drag me out by the ankles, muttering, ’You’re supposed to be a goddess, yet you sleep like a bear.’" A faint giggle escaped her lips.
Her gaze wandered to the chandelier above, the golden lights scattering like fragments of dawn. "He said he was rich in his past life, too... I wonder what he’d think if I brought him here someday."
Her smile faltered. "Will that even be possible?"
With a long sigh, she sat upright. "Haa... whatever. I’d better get to the grand hall before my power-hungry sisters start plotting to bite my head off."
She stripped and stepped into the bath, the rhythm of splashing water mixing with her quiet hums. Minutes later, dressed in a sleek white battle outfit with gold trim, Laura opened her door to find two guards waiting. With a curt nod, she strode forward, their steps falling into rhythm behind her.
The streets outside the castle stirred with life. Citizens called greetings as she passed; women helped their husbands with carts and stalls, while children scampered through the golden streets. Laura returned as many greetings as she could, her pace measured, her smile calm but faintly weary.
By the time she entered the grand hall, the announcement was already beginning.
"I see all of you are here—though some later than others," the Valeian intoned.
The figure was imposing: a tall man cloaked in deep crimson robes, small black horns curving from his temples, a face lined with the dignity of age yet marred with faint cracks of exhaustion. His slitted pupils swept across the contestants—lingering a heartbeat longer on Laura—before continuing.
"Without delay, I will announce the dates for each stage of the royal tournament. It is important to note that they are subject to change, should... unforeseen events arise."
He cleared his throat lightly, his voice echoing with authority in the silent hall.
"The first round shall commence in three days’ time. It will be held here in the capital and will test your theoretical knowledge of governance, strategy, and diplomacy. Each of you will be given scenarios rooted in the kingdom’s history—scenarios rulers of the past failed or succeeded at. Your answers will not only be judged for accuracy but also for wisdom."
A ripple of whispers spread across the audience—excitement, dread, and curiosity.
"The second round will take place a week later and will test your ability to act under pressure, recreating real crises faced by Aetheria. Failures will carry heavy consequences—elimination."
Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of the words gnawing at her fatigue.
"The third round," the Valeian continued, "will measure your ability in negotiations—contending with seasoned strategists who will act as both allies and enemies." His tone darkened. "And the final round..." He let the pause stretch, letting the tension rise. "...will be battle. A queen must defend her people—not only with mind, but with blade."
Silence fell, charged with anticipation.
"Prepare yourselves well. The eyes of Aetheria and beyond will be upon you."
Momentary silence hung in the hall before the murmurs arose.
One of Laura’s sisters, Seraphine, smirked from her seat, her jeweled fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. "Theoretical knowledge? This hardly seems fair. Some of us are warriors, not dusty librarians." Her voice carried just enough to be overheard.
Another, Elira, shot her a glare. "If you can’t handle something as basic as ruling a kingdom on paper, how do you expect to handle it in reality? Or do you plan to solve diplomacy with a sword, sister?"
A few soft chuckles rippled through the audience, and Seraphine’s smirk faltered.
Yamira—Laura—kept her expression neutral, though her thoughts were far elsewhere. ’Theoretical knowledge, crises, negotiations, battle... each stage is a hassle on its own. And mother wouldn’t design it unless there was a purpose behind every trial.’
On her other side, another sister, Celis, leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "The negotiation stage is mine," she whispered—not to Laura in particular, but to anyone within earshot. "I’ll have the strategists eating from the palm of my hand."
"Arrogance won’t win you anything," Elira shot back, though her jaw clenched ever so slightly.
Mirelda, seated a little farther from the throne, stifled a laugh behind her hand. ’It’s like watching cubs fight over scraps,’ she murmured telepathically to Castilla.
’They need the fire,’ Castilla replied, her face impassive, eyes locked on the stage.
Laura glanced between her sisters. Some of them radiated smug confidence; others barely concealed unease. And then there was herself—sitting still, golden-trimmed gown catching the light, her mind a thousand miles away with Clark.
’What if he’s struggling even now? What if he needs me? He’s always been prone to getting beat up extremely badly. What if he’s dead right about now? No. His Ecridian core would return here if that was the case. Haa...maybe I could convince mother to—’
"Lady Yamira," the Valeian’s voice cut through her thoughts once more, directed pointedly at her. "You seem... distracted."
Snickers traveled among her sisters.
Laura straightened, forcing composure onto her features. "Not distracted," she said evenly, though her heart raced. "Simply... ready."
Her words surprised even her sisters; the laughter died quickly, leaving only curious glances and narrowed eyes.
The Valeian studied her a moment longer before nodding. "We shall see."
The horn of dismissal rang, and the hall erupted into chatter once more.
The hall was far too quiet for six women who were anything but.
Seraphine stood with her arms crossed, her violet wings folding in like a cloak. Her beauty was razor-sharp, matched only by the frost in her voice. "Leaving already, Yamira? Or is running away your strategy for the tournament as well?"
Before Laura could answer, another voice chimed in. Aria—the second eldest—leaned lazily against a pillar, her long golden braid nearly brushing the floor. "Tsk. Don’t waste your breath, Sera. Yamira’s always been good at one thing: looking pretty while being useless."
"Careful," Nyelle murmured from her corner, her fingers toying idly with a silver dagger she wasn’t supposed to have. Unlike Aria, her tone wasn’t mocking—just dangerous. "Even useless things can get... sharp when pushed too far."
At this, the youngest, Elyra, giggled nervously, her delicate hands clasped in front of her. "I—I think you’re all being too mean. Sister Yamira probably just... overslept again." Her words were soft, but her wide eyes darted to Laura’s face, betraying curiosity rather than sympathy.
From the shadows near the far end of the hall, Selendra finally spoke, her words smooth and cold. "Does it matter? When the first round begins, the truth will be laid bare. Talk is cheap. Results, however, are not."
Five sets of eyes bore into Laura, each with their own weight. Frost, mockery, malice, innocence, calculation.
Laura turned back slowly, her golden gown catching the faint glow of the chandelier. Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Oh, don’t worry, sisters," she said sweetly, her tone honey over venom. "When I’m crowned, I’ll make sure you each have a very important role in the kingdom. Someone needs to polish my shoes, after all."
The silence cracked instantly. Seraphine’s face froze in barely contained fury. Aria’s eyes flared, Nyelle’s dagger stopped spinning, Elyra’s jaw dropped, and even Selendra’s calm mask trembled just slightly.
"It seems you’ve lost respect for your elders," Seraphine hissed, her violet eyes flashing with fury. "Then I’ll take it upon myself to teach you a lesson!"
In an instant, her wings flared open, gleaming like shards of amethyst. A golden blade materialized in her hand, radiant and deadly, and she dashed forward, the polished marble floor cracking beneath her steps.
Laura didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. She only tilted her head slightly, as though Seraphine were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum.
The golden sword arced down only to stop mid air
A crushing wave of aura slammed into the hall, its weight like an ocean pressing down from above. Seraphine’s eyes widened in shock as her knees buckled, the blade clattering uselessly to the ground. With a heavy thud, she was driven face-first into the marble, her wings pinned by invisible force.
"Have you become so foolish and so hot-headed, that you would dare attack in the Grand Hall?" The voice boomed, calm yet merciless. Every word was a blade in the silence. "I see we have our first elimination."
Gasps erupted from the sisters still standing, their expressions a mix of disbelief and delight.
The decree followed, cold and final:
"Seraphine Ynirven, you are hereby eliminated from the Royal Tournament. You are not allowed re-entry."
The weight of those words fell heavier than the aura pressing Seraphine down. Her face burned with humiliation, violet eyes brimming with rage and disbelief as the invisible pressure finally released her. She lay on the cold marble floor, trembling—not from weakness, but from the searing humiliation of being cast aside before the tournament even began.
Laura finally spoke, her tone laced with quiet mockery as she stepped past her fallen sister.
"Looks like polishing shoes might’ve been too high a responsibility for you after all."