Confidence walks upon a thin line between strength and weakness. To know your limits is to wield measured power—calculated power, but strength born of the unknown strikes with greater fury, because it dares where certainty will not.
—Galath Areias, The First
Cadyr Areias
I turned and took in the coliseum—massive, built long before my father was born. Two levels of marble pillars held it up, divided by a thick stone section between the floors. Overhead, a red cloth canopy stretched partway across the arena's open top, stopping just short of the center. Sunlight poured through the gap, lighting the sand-covered battleground ahead of me.
The seats of the coliseum extended several hundred feet in every direction, broken up only by the imperial box where my Father would sit to watch the fighting. I imagined waves of spectators lining the rows, cheering in excitement.
Cheering for me, of course.
"Are you still sure about this?" I questioned Ren, who was sitting anxiously beside me. In the last few days that we had been preparing for the tournament, he seemed more on edge than was typical. I chalked it up to nerves. Even I was nervous the very first time I raced in a royal showcase.
"Yeah, there's a lot more people here than I expected though."
"Really? This is less than usual to be honest." I scanned the crowd, the participants had gathered in a section of seating, waiting for the arrival of the Primarch, Stravos of house Caelbor. He would be overseeing the tournament elimination process this time around.
"Why do they call it the Veilguard tournament anyways?"
"Cause it's about picking people for the Veilguard thing at the academy. Y'know, the Walkers who get special training and stuff."
"Special training for what?"
"I'm not sure. I only just turned thirteen, so I haven't even attended the academy yet. Plus, it's all a big secret anyways." I responded, crossing my arms. I had begged my Father in the past to tell me what it was about, but he had vehemently refused, saying only that I would find out someday.
Perhaps it has something to do with what he and Mornstag were talking about…
I wiped the thoughts from my head. I had not even spoken a word to my Father since that day, not that we would normally speak much to begin with. I wasn't even sure if he had begun his plan yet, but I felt that there was nothing I could do about it anyways.
"If it's for the academy, then why are some of these people so…old?" Ren asked, confusion spreading across his face.
I laughed before responding, "You can't enter into the academy until you're thirteen, but there's no age limit, especially for the Veilguard. You just have to finish your four years at some point."
He paused for a moment, thinking about something, then pointed towards the bottom of the arena.
"Look! He's here! The Caelbor guy!"
"Oh, did I not tell you? He will oversee the elimination process this year."
"What!" Ren yelled, a little too loud. Some of the neighboring nobles turned to face us, and he withdrew sheepishly.
"That would've been nice to know." He muttered.
"Sorry, sorry." I apologized, focusing down at the Primarch.
"Welcome, my name is Stravos, from house Caelbor, although I'm sure plenty of you know that already." He paused, allowing the coliseum to fill with the laughter of the boot licking nobles around us. "Nonetheless, introductions are always important. I am the Primarch of the royal army, and it has fallen upon me to oversee this year's elimination process."
The man gestured grandly, and six Walkers, each wearing distinctly different outfits stepped into view. One from each royal house, not including house Caelbor, as he was already present.
"Drefyr is here?" Ren questioned, pointing down at my half uncle.
"Perhaps they weren't able to get ahold of Cornelius." My fathers weasley advisor was typically the representative from my family, being apart of the vassal bloodline, house Falgrin.
The audience gasped at the sight of the war hero, his name and stature well known to all in attendance, or perhaps, all who hadn't been living under a rock for the last thirty or so years. His presence demanded respect, and it seemed almost as if he stood alone among the other royals, even the Primarch himself.
"Seems like our mentor is a bit famous, eh?" I whispered to Ren.
"I knew of him even before meeting you, I would say famous is an understatement."
"As you may know, my own son and daughter have come to participate in this year's Veilguard tournament. Now, despite being my kin, I vow to not let such a bond interfere with my decision making." He paused gesturing at the people behind him. "And I hope that those of you behind me can agree with such a promise?"
"Yes, Primarch Stravos." They said in unison, although I noticed Drefyr only half heartedly chanting the name.
"Now then, shall we begin?"
The cheers from the royals gathered was deafening, as if the coliseum was already full of spectators.
"Iskar, would you please do the honors?"
I recognized the man instantly—draped in an ornate coat of icy blues and dark grays, with a cloak as white as falling snow. He was the ruler of the city of Ice, in the frozen tundras of the far south. Only the highest-ranking figures from each house seemed to be attending this year's elimination.
"Hello, my name is Iskar, of house Glacien. I will be introducing the rules of this year's elimination." He stepped forward. Stravos moved back towards the other royal house representatives standing in a neat, orderly semi circle.
"First, each of you will perform a basic skills test, and we proctors will assess your mastery over the four primal elements. Then, we will determine seeding of competitors with this," he paused, procuring a small, glass globe. It glowed with a soft orange light. "A Veilorb. If you are unfamiliar with this new technology, it is capable of measuring a Walkers raw connection to the Veil itself. Forgemaster Caldrith, if you will."
Another representative stepped forward. This one being from the family of lava magic. He took the Veilorb from Iskar, gently handling it, as if it were a toddler.
"Forgemaster? What's that?" Renric whispered.
"He's responsible for the forges of Cindravar, Doran Caldrith. They make all sorts of tools and weapons and stuff."
Doran wore a coat of red, accented by golden embroidery. He had no cloak, instead wearing a dark blacksmith's apron full of tools and pockets.
"Welcome all! Allow me to introduce my newest invention! This device," he thrusted the Veilorb forth. "Is my proudest creation. Upon touching it and calling upon the Veils powers, it will begin to grow brighter. The higher the intensity, the stronger your connection!"
The Caldrith Forgemaster closed his eyes, his hands glowing with a crimson red. The Orb in his hands began to illuminate, a powerful, dark amber.
"Now, in order to properly measure each of your powers against each other, I have also created this!"
From the ground, a long pillar, crafted entirely of marble, began to rise. Along its front were ten notches, each with a number inscribed next to them. The bottom opened up into a small circle, perfectly shaped to fit the Veilorb in Dorans hand.
He inserted the sphere—a line of red energy flew upwards, stopping at the sixth notch.
"As you can see, my connection to the Veil has garnered seven Caldrith points!"
"A horrible name, but an incredible invention nonetheless Forgemaster!" Iskar applauded. the crowd joined in, marveling at the invention.
"Incredible," Ren said in awe.
"Isn't it cool? I'll get ten for sure."
"Whatever you say."
The house Caldrith representative bowed, falling back into line.
"We will now conduct the test! First row, please come down to the battle ground!" Stravos called out.
It had begun.
I watched as the first row of participants formed a straight line in front of the seven proctors. They called out an element, and each of the royals had to complete four specific tasks.
"Fire!"
I watched as Vireth, the black sheep of house Caldrith completed the task almost instantly. Five torches were lit ablaze.
A second row of participants went up, completing the same tasks as the first.
"Water!"
Basins of water were set out, and each participant was instructed to form a sphere of water, holding the shape for at least thirty seconds. A handful of nobles dropped their spheres, or failed to create one at all, and were subsequently shuffled out of the coliseum by a small group of royal guards.
"What were their names again?" Ren gestured, referring to the twin sisters from the city of mist.
"Caliope and Nyssira Myrrwin." They deftly maneuvered the liquid, like two mirrors facing towards each other.
A third row of royals.
"Earth!"
This time, I watched Finnlen of house Verdanta, as he raised a pillar of earth. Furthermore, with only a thirty second time limit, each participant was to inscribe their main houses sigil into the rock. The intricate rose of house Verdanta was cut beautifully against the pillar, and I noticed Atea had completed her coiled serpent just as, if not faster than the Verdanta boy at her side. Yet still, even more nobles failed to complete this task, crying out in frustration as they did.
"Remember Ren, don't get too close to Finnlen, he's a nice guy, but he might be confused if he hears your 'surname.'" I warned, placing air quotes around the final word.
Finally, it was our turn.
"Wind!"
Three, tiny candles were placed before us. Around them were piles of sand formed through the Drossar representatives' magic.
"Blow out all three candles before you—without disturbing the dunes, and you pass the final trial!"
It was a simple task, nothing difficult for a wind-attuned Walker like me. I finished quickly, then turned to watch Ren complete it too, just a bit slower than I had.
Beside me was Zevar, and I could tell instantly that his lack of finesse would do him no good in this test.
"Watch out big guy, wouldn't wanna see you get disqualified like last year!" I taunted, the memory of the hulking boy screaming in frustration replaying in my mind.
"Quiet, Cadyr." Drefyr called out.
"Yeah, listen to your babysitter." Tyvara teased, standing two spots to my left.
"You as well, daughter." Stravos cautioned.
Some nobles failed, spitting up sand dunes into the air, while others succeeded, just barely. Eventually however, the last one to go was Zevar.
"Oh c'mon man! Just do it already! We practiced this like a hundred times!"
"I'm going!" The boy responded, sweat dripping from his forehead. He reached out a hand…
The candles swayed, soft at first, then one… then two…
All three extinguished, delicately, much unlike the broad shouldered boy responsible.
"I did it!" The huge boy celebrated, running over to his sister.
"Yeah yeah this' the easiest part you knucklehead." She laughed, smiling with her brother.
However, I noticed something, a movement. Stravos' hand quickly flicked towards his back, and I noticed Drefyr eyeing the Primarch suspiciously.
Had he done something? I thought to myself.
"Congratulations everyone, you have completed the first test. Now, each of you will use the Veilorb, one by one. Your names will appear here," Doran waved an arm, allowing a stone wall to rise from the ground. "In order of connection to the Veil. Now, who wants to start?"
A hand raised, and I recognized it as the house Glacien girl, Iseldrynn. Her long, bright white hair flowed behind her, a couple shades lighter than my own. She wore an elegant robe, shimmering as if forged from ice.
The heir to the Glacien throne grabbed at the sphere, imbuing her magic into it. It glowed, this time a hue of light blue, before it was placed in the bottom of the machine Doran had created.
The blue energy flowed, stopping at the fifth notch.
She sighed in disappointment, walking back towards her seat in the stands. Doran carved her name into the stone wall, the top left position, the first and only person to be ranked.
"Next?"
I looked around, the once nearly full section of seats had diminished drastically, now only twenty participants remaining.
A handful of nobles went up next, each scoring between one and three points. Finally, another royal house member went up, this time, Caliope, of house Myrrwin. Her Veilorb glowed a dark gray, similar to the mist that Drefyr had surrounded me and Ren in.
She scored a four, her twin sister, Nyssira, scored the same.
Next, the Verdanta boy went, lighting the pillar with a beam of green energy. It rose, reaching the sixth notch, the highest so far. His name carved into the stone where Iseldrynn's once was, the rest of the names shifting to make room.
A noble went up, holding the orb gently as he imbued his magic. It lit with a dark red, probably from a branch family of the Caldrith blood.
He placed it, and the energy surged, higher than expected. The boy tied Iseldrynn, rising to the third spot on the growing list of names. Scattered whispers spread across the crowd.
"Higher than than the Myrrwin twins, and matching Iseldrynn? Who exactly is this guy?" I quietly wondered.
"Next?"
I raised a hand, tired of waiting.
I felt the orb, letting my hands rub against its smooth surface. The sphere was cooler than expected, considering it was forged in the heat of Cindravar.
I closed my eyes, and the Veil's whispers rushed in like a tsunami—the orb was strengthening its call.
You will fail.
You will fail.
YOU. WILL. FAIL.
I opened my eyes, gasping for breath as if I had been fighting for hours. The Veilorb hummed with energy in my hands, but not the color I had expected.
It simply glowed, no discernible hue to be had. I had expected perhaps a striking blue, like the lightning magic I favored, but no, it reminded me of something else…
Drefyr's light magic.
It couldn't be. I wiped the thought from my head, placing the orb into the pillar.
The bright light shined, partially blinding me. I watched it slowly pass each notch, five… than six… seven…
It settled on the eighth notch.
The crowd of royals around me gasped in surprise, I had scored even higher than the forgemaster himself. I turned, meeting Stravos' eyes. He looked taken aback, but quickly killed the emotion, letting his face return to a hard stare.
"Well that was something," Ren said as I walked back towards him.
You will fail? What the hell does that mean?
"…Cadyr…Cadyr!" I snapped out of my thoughts, not realizing Ren was still talking to me.
"Sorry, sorry, I just… have a lot on my mind."
"You and me both."
Zevar and Tyvara went next, both lighting their orbs with the same blue that I had expected mine to be. Zevar tied the Myrrwin twins with a four, while Tyvara scored much higher, a seven, tying Dorans score. The ranking now listed myself first, Tyvara, then Finnlen, Iseldrynn, the mysterious noble boy, both twins, and Zevar.
Vireth went up next, but I noticed him staring at the common blood boy beside me the entire time.
"You know him?"
"Saw him once, in Brimholt. Didn't really say much though." Ren shrugged.
"Interesting. Ya'know, he's a weird one, when we were younger, he would always go on and on about these visions he would have. I thought he was crazy…"
"Maybe you were right." The boy beside me had suddenly taken on an icy exterior, one that I couldn't read.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, no it's nothing."
What's that all about? I decided to shelve the thought for another time.
Vireth grabbed the orb, almost trembling as he did. He closed his eyes, all was silent for a breath.
Then, a scream.
"What's wrong Vireth?!" Doran ran forward, trying to help his nephew, but he was held back—a single arm outstretched by Stravos.
"You may not favor the boy, Doran, you agreed to that when we started."
"Says you." Drefyr spat, voice laced with hostility.
"Would you care to repeat that, war hero?" The Primarchs words dripped with contempt.
"Let me help the boy! It's hurting him!"
"It's—It's fine, uncle, I can handle it." Vireth gasped, dropping the orb hurriedly into the Forgemaster's contraption, as if it were burning his hand the longer he held it.
The bursting flame of energy shot up, reaching higher and higher. It passed the seventh notch, then the eighth.
Nine. Nine notches.
The crowd suddenly exploded, completely unable to believe their eyes.
"Holy shit." I cursed in awe. "What the hell have they been feeding that guy?"
Renric simply stared blankly at the scene, unmoving.
"Settle down, settle down now!" The head of house Caelbor yelled, cutting across the sudden commotion. "Congratulations to the Caldrith boy, but we still have three more to test."
Atea went next, grabbing the Veilorb from the pillar. She channeled her energy, glowing with a deep beige. The notches rose, and the crowd let out similar gasps to when I had done mine.
Eight notches. Her name moved right below mine, tying me for second.
I caught her glance as she walked by, and she met mine, winking with a smile. I turned away, not wanting to let her see the heat rushing towards my face.
"Final two, who will go?" All that was left was Ren and another person, a random noble man, who had not volunteered just yet. I nudged the boy beside me with my shoulder, and he begrudgingly stepped forward.
Ren grasped at the Veilorb, closing his eyes as he did. The orb began to glow, no, it didn't glow, it darkened, cascades of blackened energy flowed from the orb, causing those in attendance to stir in horror. Ren hardly moved, but I could see the veins in his neck straining—some kind of battle against the voice of the Veil.
A moment passed, completely silent.
Suddenly, the energy lightened, biting back into a grayish glow.
The boy's eyes opened, and he stepped forth, allowing the Veilorb to fall heavily into the slot below. The notches rose, the odd gray energy pushing upwards, halting at the seventh notch.
It was not the highest result of the day, only ranking my friend as fourth in the seeding, but the commotion was easily the most chaotic.
"What the hell?!" Tyvara exclaimed, shocked at having her score tied.
"There's no way that little runt could be that strong!" Zevar yelled.
Even Stravos couldn't hold back his surprise, "Surely there's been some mistake…?"
"It's one thing for a member of the Areias family to score high, or a strong bloodline like house Caldrith or Drossar, but a vassal blood? Of Verdanta? Those pacifists?!" I overhead a noble shouting in shock.
"I believe we still have one more person to test!" Drefyr exclaimed, the only person besides me who wasn't shocked at all. If anything, I was confused for opposite reasons, I had expected Ren to reach ten notches with ease. If only they knew the truth.
My mentor's commanding voice cut through the noise, and while things quieted down, there was still an air of absolute confusion hanging above those gathered.
Finally, there was only one participant left.
"You sir, would you step forward please."
The final man crept forward, moving like a shadow along the sandy floor. He grabbed the orb in one hand, barely even holding it before plopping it unceremoniously into the pillar that Doran had manufactured.
The black energy surged upwards, faster than any of the previous contestants.
The pillar suddenly exploded, completely overloaded with power. No one even had the will to yelp in shock, the arena stunned into silence.
The man removed his hood, and my eyes widened.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Velamir Areias. Would you be so kind as to welcome me to this world?"