Chapter 44: Silence in the Arena

Marquis Ed Olivia had to be supported by two servants as he staggered back to his tent.

His face was flushed red, reeking of alcohol, and he walked with a wobble. He plopped into a chair and nearly tipped it over with him.

Aurora steadied the chair back, watching her normally dignified father slump there like a mess of mud, mumbling incoherently.

“Balian!”

Ed jabbed a finger at him, his accuracy remarkable, considering he probably couldn’t count his own fingers right now.

“You, boy… not bad.”

Ed let out a loud burp.

“Tomorrow, give that Adenauer boy a good beating, you hear?”

Balian straightened his back. “Yes, my lord Marquis.”

“Good!” Ed fumbled inside his clothes for a long moment and pulled out a palm-sized ceramic bottle engraved with crude giant patterns. He shoved it into Balian’s arms.

“Hill Giant Elixir. Drink it before you step in the ring tomorrow. Don’t waste it. This stuff is expensive.”

With that, the marquis’s head rolled to one side, and he began to snore like thunder.

Aurora sighed, ordered the servants to carry her father to bed, and left the tent to look for Keen and Juliet.

She searched around but couldn’t find Keen. Instead, she ran into Juliet by the campfire.

The blue-haired, fox-eared girl was hugging a lute, plucking the strings listlessly. When she saw Aurora approach, her upright ears swiveled.

“Where’s Keen?” Aurora asked.

“Gone,” Juliet tilted her head. “She took a Sending scroll and said she needed to find someone. Didn’t say who.”

Aurora frowned, but she couldn’t worry about Keen now. She sat down next to Juliet and gave her instructions.

“Balian is dueling someone tomorrow. Follow my lead and cast buffs on him when the time comes.”

“Sure,” Juliet agreed readily, playing a random chord. “Leave it to me.”

Early the next morning, the whole camp was bustling.

Servants worked overtime to erect a temporary arena on the open ground. Wooden stakes were driven into the dirt, ropes marked the boundaries, and a simple spectator stand took shape under a storm of hammering.

King Louis’s platform was built at the best central spot, with two chairs side by side. One for the king, one for the queen. There was a bit of room at the edge where the chancellor and ministers would stand.

News spread quickly. Almost everyone in the hunting camp knew there was a good show to watch today. By mid-morning, the arena was packed.

King Louis rose and raised his hand, pressing the air down. The noise gradually subsided.

“Today is only a friendly spar. Stop when the point is made,” the king announced in a booming voice. “Both sides will use treated wooden swords. No sharp weapons are allowed.”

The treated wooden swords were brought out. They were training weapons made from specially processed hardwood. They hurt like hell when they hit, but at least they wouldn’t cut anyone open.

Aurora stood in the Olivia family’s viewing spot, but her eyes were not on the center of the arena.

She noticed Queen Margaret leading her ladies-in-waiting toward the side of the arena. Four or five bards were gathered there, probably drawn by the hunting event, carrying instrument cases and wearing flashy clothes.

The queen’s ladies took elegant little pouches from a basket and handed one to each bard.

The bards were flattered and bowed repeatedly.

Aurora narrowed her eyes.

A bard’s song was no ordinary song. The melody itself was a spell carrier, capable of bestowing various buffs on listeners. The queen’s gifts to win over these bards had a clear purpose.

When the duel reached its critical moment, they would all sing a battle song praising Lancelot, stacking buffs on the captain.

“Juliet.” Aurora turned around.

The fox-eared girl was crouched on the ground, teasing a stray cat that had appeared from who knows where. She looked up at Aurora.

“You know Silence, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Be ready,” Aurora glanced at the bards near the queen. “We may need it in a moment.”

Juliet followed her gaze, blinked her golden eyes, and smiled knowingly.

“Crash their show, huh? Leave it to me!”

The match was about to begin.

At the edge of the arena, a bard in ornate robes walked to the center to serve as master of ceremonies. He cleared his throat and announced the contestants in a strong voice.

“The captain of the royal guard, Lancelot de Adenauer!”

Cheers exploded. Lancelot entered from one side. Tall and stout, he walked with steady steps, holding the treated wooden sword, nodding briefly to the crowd.

“Balian, the vassal of Marquis Olivia!”

The cheers on this side were noticeably thinner, but the Olivia retainers still shouted a few enthusiastic cries.

Aurora paid no attention. She pulled Juliet and Vapgis to the front of the viewing area and had several retainers stand around them to block the view.

“Hurry.”

The three began casting.

Layer after layer of buffs landed on Balian.

Heroism boosted his accuracy and fighting spirit. Bull’s Strength strengthened his arms. Bear’s Endurance improved his constitution and toughness.

Protection from Evil warded off charms. Longstrider allowed him to run faster. Mage Armor formed a faint protective film over his body.

Finally, Balian uncorked the Hill Giant Elixir and drank it down.

The moment the liquid hit his throat, his muscles visibly bulged, and the veins on his sword hand stood out.

“Listen,” Aurora said, pressing a hand on Balian’s head.

“We still have a few buffs left. They last at most a minute or two, and they have side effects afterward. So you have to pick the right moment. We’ll cast them when you give the signal.”

She held up one finger.

“If you’re truly about to stake everything, shout my name twice. That’s the cue.”

Balian nodded, took a deep breath, and walked into the arena.

The two contestants saluted each other, and the match began.

From the very start, they were locked in fierce combat.

The wooden swords met with dull, rapid thuds. With six layers of buffs and the giant elixir, Balian traded blows with Lancelot on even terms.

But Aurora could tell that it was only even terms. The captain’s swordsmanship was too solidly grounded. Even if raw power was equalized, his experience and technique still edged Balian out.

The wooden swords kept landing on each other, neither side backing down. Yet Balian clearly got hit more often. Several bruises were already swelling on his shoulders and arms.

The fight went on. The clash of wood and the cheers of the crowd blended together.

Then Balian slipped. He was forced back step by step.

Aurora noticed the queen’s lady-in-waiting hurry over to the bards and whisper a few words. The bards exchanged glances and picked up their instruments.

They were about to start buffing.

Aurora tapped Juliet’s shoulder.

“Ready.”

The bards began tuning. Soft strings sounded as they built the prelude in perfect coordination.

It was a battle song praising valor, and magic began to surge through the melody.

“Now.”

Juliet plucked her lute and sang. The spell released instantly.

An invisible ripple spread outward from her and precisely enveloped the group of bards.

Silence!

All sound in the area was suppressed.

The strings still vibrated. The lips still moved. But every note and every voice vanished in that instant.

It was as if someone had turned the world’s volume knob all the way down.

The bards froze. They stared at each other in confusion, mouths moving, fingers still mechanically plucking strings, yet producing nothing. One bard, his face red with frustration, slapped his instrument hard. Still nothing.

Sound was the essential medium for a bard’s buff magic.

The buff attempt had failed!

The audience around them first blinked, then erupted into chaos.

On the high platform, Queen Margaret shot to her feet.

She stared at the silenced bards, then turned to Lancelot, who had missed his chance and was knocked back by Balian’s counterstrike. Her expression shifted from shock to disbelief, finally settling into an unreadable mix of anger and bewilderment.

They had been outplayed.

Bards had limited spell slots, after all. That one Silence had squandered the bards’ strongest buff spells. There was no way they could build up another round of equally effective buffs.

From then on, Lancelot would have to rely on pure skill.

And Aurora still had cards in hand.

Juliet stepped forward.

She took the lute from her back, her fingers brushing the strings. The first note cut through the arena’s noise, bright and clear.

All eyes turned to her. A short girl with blue hair and fox ears stood at the highest point of the Olivia stands, cradling the lute, playing as if no one else existed.

Her voice was clear and high, every word landing deep in the chest. Strings and melody wove together, and magic spread with the song, enveloping Balian precisely.

The buff took effect.

Balian’s eyes sharpened again.

He gripped the wooden sword and charged at Lancelot once more.

The collision of wood became rapid again.

Juliet’s song lifted the entire atmosphere of the arena. The audience caught the rhythm and started clapping and stomping. But Aurora saw it clearly: Balian’s situation had not fundamentally improved.

The bardic buffs did boost his condition, but Lancelot was Lancelot.

After a brief period of adjustment, the captain changed tactics. He stopped trading blows and instead used his footwork to circle and wear Balian down. They moved back and forth, wooden swords striking arms and legs repeatedly, dull thuds rising and falling.

Balian still got hit more.

After another intense exchange, they both pulled back at the same time. Balian dropped to one knee, planting his sword on the ground for support, his chest heaving. Lancelot also stepped back several paces, hands on his hips, breathing heavily. He was in better shape than Balian, but far from comfortable. His right leg, which had taken several heavy hits earlier, was trembling.

Aurora’s palms were sweating.

‘Why isn’t he giving the signal? There are still buffs to use!’

Aurora and the others still had a third-circle Haste spell and a handful of Bless spells.

Haste made everything twice as fast, but after a minute, when it ended, the recipient would collapse.

It was a one-time gamble for a desperate moment. It could only be used at the perfect time.

And the perfect time could only be judged by Balian.

Aurora gritted her teeth, kept her face calm, and continued to watch.

The fight went on.

Lancelot swept his wooden sword across and hit Balian hard in the side. Balian’s body bent, then he kicked Lancelot in the stomach, sending him stumbling backward to fall, rolling half a turn before stopping.

But Lancelot paid a price too. In the moment before he fell, Balian seized the opening and drove his wooden sword squarely into Lancelot’s right leg.

The captain let out a grunt and staggered backward. His right leg had absorbed several hits earlier in the fight, and this one finished it. His steps turned sluggish, and he threw all his weight onto his left leg.

Balian was on the ground, pushing himself up with his sword, his arms trembling.

Lancelot, however, stopped.

He leaned on his wooden sword, looking down at Balian from above, the corners of his mouth lifted.

“Hero candidate? All name, no substance!”

The captain raised his hand to declare victory.

“You overreached.”

He paused, looking around the arena, savoring the moment.

“Stay where you belong. Don’t…”

“Aurora!”

Lancelot’s words were cut off.

“Aurora!”

Balian shouted the second time, his voice ragged.

Aurora jolted as if struck.

She whipped her head around to Vapgis and Juliet.

“Buff him!”

Vapgis pressed her hands together, and the light of Haste fell on Balian. Juliet’s strings rang out at the same moment, layering Bless and Bardic Inspiration onto him. Aurora drained her last spell slots to cast False Life.

All three spells took effect simultaneously.

Balian’s pupils contracted sharply.

It was as if a surge of new strength had been injected into his body. Haste made his movements twice as fast. Bless and Bardic Inspiration steadied his aim. False Life brought his aching muscles back to life.

He sprang up from the ground.

Lancelot’s face changed. He raised his sword to block on instinct, but Balian’s speed was nowhere near the same level as before. The wooden sword turned into a blur, chopping down again and again.

The captain was forced back. His injured leg made it impossible to move with agility. He blocked the first strike, the second, the third, but the fourth came from below and hit the wounded leg again.

Lancelot dropped to one knee.

Balian gave him no time to breathe. He raised the wooden sword overhead and brought it down with everything he had, slamming it onto Lancelot’s shoulder.

The captain was knocked flat, his sword flying from his grasp.

He tried to push himself up, but his leg would not hold him. He struggled twice, then collapsed into the dirt, clutching his leg and howling.

The arena went silent for a beat.

Then cheers rose like a flood.

Aurora let out a long breath. Her clenched fists slowly relaxed, her palms soaked in sweat.

In the center of the arena, Balian stood leaning on his wooden sword, covered in dust, chest heaving. He lifted his head and listened to the shouts coming from every direction, and a grin spread across his face.

He raised the wooden sword, saluting the crowd.

The cheering grew louder.

Then, as everyone was still savoring the upset victory…

Balian’s body swayed.

The grin on his face froze. The wooden sword slipped from his hand and hit the ground. His eyes lost focus, his legs gave out, and he pitched forward.

A heavy thud. Dust rose.

Haste had ended. Its side effect was unconsciousness.

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