22 — Joezand's Antecipation

Joezand walks through the hallways. He swallows dryly.

He had a rough night.

And his day will be even rougher.

He rubs his hands on his shirt, cleaning the sweat from his palms. He also wipes his forehead with his sleeve, wincing as he feels pain of his forearm at the contact from the scratches that Cecilia left there.

He takes a deep breath, but it doesn't do much to calm him down. He can basically hear his frantic heartbeat, feeling even the wild pulse of his jugular vein.

Arriving at the back door of the palace, the deafening sound of the crowd outside reaches his ears. This is it. Beyond here... it's the training ground. Full of people, ready to watch his duel.

It's been a full month. He trained his hardest, analyzed all of the known and documented tactics, and he has the ring. It's still glowing, as bright as possible.

Hell, he beat Lorelai. She was using the same sword that Pult used.

And still...

He's nervous.

Terrified, even.

He did all that he could, everything that was possible... And it could be not enough.

Technically, it shouldn't bother him that much. Even if he loses, Agatha definitely sees how much hard work he's put in, so he'll probably not get exiled. And even if Thaddius says that a deal's a deal, and he should get exiled anyways... That shouldn't matter, too. He could be able to escape. And even if he doesn't, he could just wait out his exile and go to Kivul to beat the demon afterwards. So this duel doesn't really impact his mission. Losing would not hinder him in the slightest.

So why is the thought of that so terrifying?

He can't really answer, but he feels it. Deep inside of his soul, he hungers to win. This is the most important moment in his life. He gave his best for the very first time. If he doesn't win here, if even his best isn't enough... Then he really was right when he was Akira. It's better not to try.

The sound of footsteps on the empty hallway make him jump slightly. He looks at the source, and walking calmly and confidently, it's him.

Pult.

He's wearing actual clothes instead of his iron armor. A cape also rests on his broad shoulders, while the fine silk of his long shirt and pants fit perfectly over his muscular body. Unlike Joezand's own garments, they lack any sort of gold, and are a lot more humble by comparison. But they're still way fancier than anything a peasant would wear.

"You are early." Pult says, standing side by side with him. His eyes drift to a nearby grandfather clock, which is unnecessarily studded with expensive gemstones like everything in this palace. "We still have about five minutes to enter."

"I was restless." Joezand admits. "I couldn't just wait in my room."

"I see." Pult replies, looking at Joezand with an unreadable expression. "You'll be showing yourself to the public soon, so it's best if you can calm your nerves. Going there this anxious is sure to make the nobles question your authority."

"How so?"

"Regardless of how high up I am in the chain, I'm still just a knight." Pult explains. "A prince should have no problem dealing with someone so inferior. At least that's what they think."

"Even though you've been a combat expert for longer than I've started training... They still expect me to somehow beat you?" Joezand sighs. "These expectations will be the death of me."

"Giving up already?" Pult asks. "And here I thought you'd be more confident."

"No." Joezand says. "This might just be an annoying obligation for you. A boring, menial task that you're forced to do. But I... I want to win. I want it so bad that it hurts. And that's what I'm going to do." He walks up to Pult, their chests almost touching, and looks up at him. "You're way taller than me. You're stronger. You've trained for way longer. You've got a bigger weapon. You have every single advantage possible in a duel. And I'm still going to win. Because that's what house von Styria does. It conquers." Joezand says, using his hand to swish one of his own bangs away. "There we go. Was that good enough of a character for the nobles to like?"

"Character, huh?" Pult smirks. "Alright, you seem less fidgety now. Just in time, too." He points to the clock. "Let's go, Prince Joezand."

The two walk side by side, opening the door and walking through the stone path until they reach the training grounds. Festival flags flow with the wind, and most of the chairs are occupied. The ones opposite to the entrance arch are way fancier, and the highest-ranking members of Styrian society are sitting there. On the middle column in the center, Thaddius and Agatha sat side by side. Cecilia sat close to them, with a deeply sad look on her face. She looked at Joezand's eyes for a moment, then averted her gaze, her frown deepening. Her eyes are swollen from crying. He feels a pang of guilt. Lorelai stood next to the Emperor, smirking at both contestants as they enter. The crowd cheers, their words being jumbled up by the sheer noise.

As they arrive at the very center of the grounds, Anneliese rushes in from the side, bringing Joezand his rapier and dagger. She looks nervous. Maybe just as nervous as he was before speaking to Pult. He gives her a reassuring smile. Another maid brings Pult his montante. Both of the maids scurry away, to not take the attention from the spectacle.

One of the nobles in the center row steps forward, and the crowd immediately silences themselves. He thought it would be too early for announcers to be a thing, but he supposes this place is built for acoustics.

"Attention, attention." The man screams out, his voice echoing in the amphitheatre. "As I'm sure you're all aware, Prince Joezand ran away about a month ago. His reason for that was the curse of von Styria manifesting." The crowd murmurs something, but are silenced by a flourish made by the man. "His punishment was supposed to be a long exile. However, he asked for a chance to prove himself in a duel. And who else he would duel, but one of the strongest knights in the kingdom? Pult has been a war hero of the battlefield ever since his adolescence, and earned his post as the knight of Empress Agatha through his sheer gumption and hard work. Could princely talent beat this man full of drive? This is for us to find out! Then, get on your posts and let us begin!"

The crowds start to cheer. The nobles are quieter, but the people start to chant Joezand's name. He almost forgot how popular he was with the common folk because of the actions of his previous self.

"Princely talent?" Joezand sighs. "Like I haven't worked hard at all. Whatever. Good luck, Pult."

"Good luck, Prince Joezand." He says as he readies his montante. Joezand does the same with his rapier and his dagger, keeping one on each hand.

And so, they both rush towards the other.

The duel begins.