Golden Zero- You are correct that there is a connection of sorts to the Nabataeans of Fódlan and the Votaries of Nabataea in Almyra! It's not a blood relation, but rather that the Votaries have their own mythology rooted in the Nemesis story. Some facts are represented more accurately by the Votaries compared to the Church of Seiros, while others are a bit twisted (such as "Nabataea" being the name of Sothis herself instead of her people). It has a functional purpose of helping fleshing out my version of Almyra, but it's also me having a bit of fun filling in missing lore on a certain crest owner that doesn't get any attention in the game. I won't give away who that is, but the facts are all there if you read in between the lines :)

Anyways, thanks for reviewing again!

Chapter 13

Day 13 of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180

"You know, you've got a bad attitude about this whole thing," Hilda chided as she and Claude rearranged the tables in the Golden Deer classroom. Naturally, Claude was doing most of the work. Everyone else was at dinner, so they were free to use the space as a mock ballroom. It was too cold to practice outside.

"I wouldn't say it's a bad attitude, really," Claude countered. "On the contrary, I'm demonstrating due compunction for our class's inevitable downfall on Tuesday."

Claude was referring to the White Heron Cup, the annual dance competition at Garreg Mach Monastery. Each class would have one representative, and in Manuela's infinite wisdom, she had somehow concluded that Claude was the right person for the job.

"Are you really so certain you can't win?" Hilda asked.

"Believe it or not, I'm not trained at this at all despite being a noble."

"You will be after tonight! And you don't know that the people from the other classes will be any better!"

"Maybe if Teach picked Bernadetta and she got disqualified for not showing up, or if Hanneman went with Annette and she tripped face-first over her feet. I've already done my research, though. Flayn is going to represent the Black Eagles, and Sylvain is the choice for the Blue Lions."

Hilda interrupted, "Wait, Sylvain?"

"It's not like Faerghus has a whole lot of promising candidates. I think Sylvain joked about it being an opportunity to show off to the ladies, and Professor Hanneman didn't care enough to extend the debate. The point is, it doesn't really matter if I go for sweet or sultry. They're both already covered."

"You can be charming, too, Claude, when you want to be."

"With words, maybe. But dancing? I'm not against a bit of fun… especially if it's at someone else's expense… but when it comes to a formal competition, they'll see right through my façade."

"Are you implying that Sylvain is genuine?" Hilda groaned. "Ugh. Come on, no more complaining. If I can put in the effort to help you, the least you can do is try. I would love to be in your place right now. And no, we're not going to Professor Manuela to change her mind. Now I'm a little curious to see you out there. You have to admit, it's a little funny."

Claude groaned, "Yes, yes, very funny for anyone not concerned with winning. It must be the same for Manuela. Picking me must be some kind of sick joke to her. Probably payback for something."

"Probably deserved," Hilda decided.

"Yeah, can't argue with that," Claude conceded with a smile. "So… you think I'm charming, do you?"

"Oh, hush!" Hilda said as her cheeks reddened some. "But maybe it's best that you're smiling again. If you can't make it, you've just got to fake it! Tell yourself that you're looking forward to it, and maybe you'll start to believe it!"

Claude held a fist up in the air in faux excitement. "Of course! I've been preparing for this moment all year! While Lorenz sobs in the corner at the spectacle of my superior elegance, Rhea will retire the White Heron Cup in admittance that no other performance could ever top mine!"

"Now that's the spirit! But, umm… it might still be a good idea for some practice, wouldn't you say?" Hilda suggested as she held up her hand. Claude took it, and the lesson began.

The Mirza's Script - Day 29 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1186 (Fódlan Calendar)

"You're looking into it too much," Dimitri told Khalid.

"No, you've just decided to ignore the evidence for some reason."

The two men were sitting in front of their tents pitched outside of the Mirza's Citadel. The camp was set up upon their arrival the night before, joining the many others who had already arrived. The king's entourage had actually departed from the Dunya three weeks earlier, stopping at several of the cities along the way as a part of a goodwill tour. Most people were more interested in seeing the king with their own eyes than interpreting the visit as a celebration of Khalid's return.

Khalid was trapped playing on the defensive ever since Ghalib's letter arrived at the Dunya months earlier. Due to the mention of sports being involved, he set about honing his skills at a variety of activities, archery especially. Khalid would presumably be unable to wield Failnaught in any competition, so he had to retrain himself to command other bows. The Almyran composite bows were quite different from those he commonly trained with in Fódlan.

Another priority for Khalid was keeping an ear open for speculation or rumors of what his uncle might have planned. An ambush to kill the royal family? Taking someone hostage until the king named him the successor? There were serious risks associated with any such strategy, but Ghalib had to be after something. Khalid also assigned Ariella to stay informed on any recent gossip. Unfortunately, they were unable to turn up anything useful.

Dimitri was not included in any investigation, but that is not to say that he was useless. He was a remarkable deterrent that kept Abbas or anyone else from causing Khalid much trouble during his preparations. Dimitri was also in better physical condition than ever. In his first weeks at the Dunya, the former prince of Faerghus alternated between two states while training. Usually, his swings were powerful but careless, as if he had no regard for his own safety. He terrorized weaker training partners, but he would have been doomed against a smarter enemy. At other times, though, Dimitri seemed almost timid, so worried of causing harm that he held himself back.

As the months rolled by, however, Dimitri gradually found the balance between these two tempers. Along with that, he continued to excel in his role as a retainer, even turning out to be a decent cook under Ariella's tutelage. He could even hold long conversations with Khalid without any hint of genuine hostility. Not to say that they always agreed- far from it- but Khalid was no longer worried about Dimitri flying off the handle.

Such a conversation was being held outside of the Mirza's Citadel. The castle was backdropped by the imposing peaks of Fódlan's Throat. It was the nearest they had come to their old stomping grounds since they sallied forth from Leicester. Naturally, that prompted them to discuss old memories.

Hopeful that he could show Dimitri the light, Khalid asked him, "Tell me- what were your missions while at the academy?"

"Well…" Dimitri muttered as he thought. "We handled some bandits from Miklan's gang in Gautier territory after his death. Likewise, we fought bandits in Fraldarius territory. Oh, we also convinced the archbishop to let us help curb a hopeless rebellion in Duscur before it could get too bloody for anyone."

"The last of those is about the only interesting one of the lot. As for the Golden Deer, we fought some monsters that were harassing merchants leaving Riegan territory. We assisted envoys to the Eastern Church following the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth where we saw exactly zero fighting. We peaked when handling some pirates in Derdriu masquerading as Almyrans."

Khalid cleared his throat. "Now, let's go over Teach's resume. Helping put down Lonato's rebellion. Getting to fight Miklan himself, Hero's Relic and all… not just the leftovers. Handling the incident in Remire Village. Taking vengeance against the people that killed Captain Jeralt. Any one of those is more interesting than what we got."

"There are logical reasons for many of them. Byleth had ties to Remire Village, and she had the responsibility to avenge her own father. They weren't even supposed to do much during Lonato's Rebellion."

"Yeah, you're not entirely wrong. But when you look at the full picture, the string of 'coincidences' becomes a pattern. Face it- Rhea gave Teach all of the good missions and left our classes in the dust. It's like the archbishop had some unholy fixation on her. I would have loved getting payback on Kostas and his bunch, but nope! The mission goes to the Black Eagles!"

Dimitri crossed his arms. "Perhaps they earned the right to the best considering they won both mock battles. Our classes couldn't even win the White Heron Cup… Also, why do you call Professor Byleth 'Teach', anyways? It's rather intimate for someone who wasn't even your professor."

"Intimate? That might be an overstatement. Byleth was just so emotionless that I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of her by being a bit too cavalier. It didn't work, but I guess the nickname stuck for some reason. Getting a reaction from Manuela was so easy that I didn't need to bother her with nicknames."

Dimitri was winding up to find some other complaint, but Ariella arrived before he could finish.

"Are you two still rambling about your school days?" Ariella sighed. "Both of you are already sounding dangerously like old men that just sit around and reminisce about their younger selves."

"Hey, I've got years' worth of feelings to get off my chest, and Dimitri here is the only one who understands what I'm talking about," Khalid justified. "That said, is there any news for us?"

"Yes, there is. I've confirmed that Ghalib has a room available for you to use for the next two nights, so you won't be stuck out here in a tent the whole time. The rest of your family will have their own rooms as well. Dimitri and I will be fine out here on our own."

Khalid shook his head. "If the room is big enough to fit two more people, then you're coming with me."

"There's no need to trouble yourself ove-."

"I'm not suggesting it as a favor. I want you two there for protection. As nice as closed walls sound, I'm not too keen on sleeping in the lion's den alone. That's the final decision of your prince, so there's no need to talk any more about it."

All three knew that Ariella would not be much help if any attempt was made on Khalid's life, but they allowed the prince's reasoning to stand. Khalid was about to revive his conversation with Dimitri when someone else arrived.

"Prince Khalid," a mild voice said, regretful to interrupt. "The gates are being opened… If you're ready to go."

The man providing this information was Anthony al-Amin, Elam's new Commander of the Mobile Guard. He was not a talkative person, but he seemed pleasant enough in his brief interactions with Khalid. Anthony was of average weight and had nondescript facial features. He was a bit taller than average, but he hid this fact by walking with a slight hunch. All in all, he appeared unremarkable in almost every way- the kind of person you'd pass on the street without a second glance. And yet, he held one of the most prized positions in all of Elam.

Khalid had not seen Anthony in practice, but everyone who had agreed that he was very talented on horseback or on wyvern. Even so, he was too unambitious to ever achieve such a position without a bit of nepotism. He was the heir of the most prominent family of Votary converts in Elam, and their influence had been extended as part of the alliance with Meteora. Anthony had been groomed for his role since he was a child.

Khalid jumped up and wiped off any crumbs from lunch. "Ready as I'll ever be. We'll follow you," he told Anthony. He feigned excitement for a moment to calm any anxiety, but it was immediately obvious it was just as hopeless of an idea as it was back at the White Heron Cup.

Anthony led them to where other leaders of Elam were waiting for the mirza to announce himself. Khalid's family and their attendants were all assembled, but there were also others such as Demetrius and Nousha. The king was currently speaking with his sister Maysun and brother-in-law Emir Dizhwar. The emir and his wife had made the journey from Saba to the Dunya for a visit once since Khalid's return, but they apparently still had much to converse about.

Standing nearby was the familiar unfriendly face of Qadir al-Hakimi, who had finally inherited the position of Custodian of Istakhr- the "most important title in Elam after the king", or however he liked to say it. He had joined the king's entourage on the way to the Tabarzin when it passed through Istakhr, but he and Khalid had hardly interacted.

Khalid walked up next to Qadir, which prompted him to slide a few steps away. Not to be deterred, the prince beamed and told him, "It means a lot to me that you would come celebrate my return, Qadir. As a child, I didn't realize you were so fond of me."

Qadir smiled contemptuously. "Rest assured, I am not participating out of affection. I am here because the King Faruq and Mirza Ghalib summoned me. I am bound by duty."

"Bound by duty! Of course, how could I forget? Just like how it was your duty to protect me from any harm whenever I was in Istakhr, whether that be from a rogue or my own siblings. I must not have appreciated your support back then. Someone as devoted as you surely never turned your back for even a second, right?"

"I see your sense of humor hasn't changed a bit," Qadir scoffed.

Just then, two lines of soldiers began to march out of the gate. They parted to each side to allow the mirza and his son to pass through. The two men surveyed the crowd before spotting the king and his party. They then approached, and Ghalib embraced his brother.

"It's been too long, Faruq," Ghalib said warmly. "We should have found a reason to meet sooner. You probably don't even recognize Darius now!"

"You've earned the right to call on me whenever you please, no reason needed," Faruq replied.

Watching this farcical display of affection from his uncle was sickening, especially since the king seemed to believe it. Khalid faced his mother, who returned a sideways glance. Tiana knew what her son was thinking but had no answers for him.

Ghalib was not a terrible actor, but from Khalid's experiences with him in the past, he sometimes let the façade slip. Every rumor Khalid had gathered from the Tabarzin suggested that Ghalib bitterly stewed in the belief that he was not given proper consideration by their father to be named heir. The blame was primarily aimed at the fates for denying him the opportunity to participate in the more enthralling battles in the war against Shomal and Saba; even so, it was difficult to believe that some hate was not also directed at his elder brother.

The mirza was blatantly determined to get his hands on the crown, but it was less clear what he actually planned to do once he had it. This was a man who simultaneously defended Shomal's trade routes while also preventing progress on the Throat, subsidized both Votary churches and the Expunged Children, and named his offspring after ancient Almyran heroes while also embracing the reforms of the day. The overall impression was that of a man more interested in pandering to all social circles than taking a moral stand. Each decision he made, all the way down to hugging his brother, consequently came across as hollow.

Mirza Ghalib was a bit younger and stronger than Faruq, but they were clearly brothers. For his part, Darius bore some resemblance to Abbas but… cleaner. He wasn't balding, his beard was better kept, and while he was well-built, he did not seem to carry bulk for the sake of bulk. Khalid had only met him once or twice as a child, so he lacked firsthand knowledge of his cousin. Secondhand knowledge, though, implied that Darius was fully devoted to Ghalib's principles.

Darius had two older siblings, but both abdicated their royal heritage in favor of joining monasteries in Meteora and disappeared from public eye as abruptly as Edelgard's siblings had. The circumstances behind that seemed suspicious to Khalid, but he could not gather enough information to initiate any kind of investigation.

The mirza's son bowed gravely. "Peace be upon you, Your Majesty. And I look forward spending more time with you, Prince Khalid." Khalid nodded in acknowledge. He had no doubt that Darius was indeed looking forward to whatever they had concocted.

Ghalib and Darius offered Queen Tiana a brief welcome. James and Abbas did not even receive a mention, but it was better than being directly called bastards. Ghalib accepted Khalid as a genuine obstacle but had always just ignored the validity of the other two princes as a part of his strategy.

"Conversation can be kept for later," Ghalib said with formalities out of the way. "We shouldn't keep everyone waiting. Faruq, Khalid… would you join me?"

Khalid looked to his father with a fool's hope that he would be allowed to stay in place for some reason. When the king joined Ghalib, however, the prince obediently shadowed to where they stood before the crowd.

"Greetings, everyone, greetings!" Ghalib began. "Thank you all for coming, whether your home be as near as these mountains behind me or in the far reaches of Saba. Though I suppose it is not truly me you came to see."

The mirza first put a hand on Faruq's shoulder, being one of the only men in Almyra who could get away with such a casual act. "It has been years since my brother, King Faruq, last visited us in the Tabarzin. No previous king in Almyra's history has presided over such a prolific reign. I am honored to be his brother, and I am grateful that he deemed this event worthy of his presence."

The people readily offered their king applause. Ghalib then placed his other hand on Khalid's shoulder. "This event is of course dedicated to Prince Khalid, who has returned to Almyra after a seven years' mission. Regardless of whether or not his efforts were successful, the safe return of my nephew is an event to celebrate."

Khalid faked a smile at this underhanded slight. The crowd's reception to him was much less welcoming than that for his father.

Mirza Ghalib then released his grip on both men and pointed behind him. "These gates will remain open for the duration of the next two days. Those of you offered accommodation in the citadel should have been notified already on behalf of Youtab. Please direct any questions towards her. As for everyone else, please gather in the stadium on the citadel grounds in two hours. Tonight's events will be formally announced at that time."

Ghalib provided a final thanks before he retired to the citadel with his attending soldiers. Afterwards, Khalid briefly spoke with Youtab for more details on which room he was to occupy. Youtab was a somewhat stocky woman in her late thirties that served as one of Ghalib's generals and as his chief administrator. She was not the friendliest person, but she provided straightforward answers to Khalid's queries. After clearing up his questions, Khalid and his attendants briefly revisited their camp to collect their belongings. They then proceeded through the open gate.

The Mirza's Citadel actually consisted of two main complexes housed within the outer walls. One was the fortress, which acted as the headquarters for military excursions on the Throat. It was built only two hundred years prior. Its exterior was similar in design to that of the Palace of Astane, mixed in with some stylistic choices from Elam, though the inner workings of this structure were still devoted to their original martial purposes.

The other structure was the palace. It was much smaller than the Dunya, which was to be expected since it did not have the benefit of continuous expansions. It outdated Elam's palace by several centuries and had not been built upon since the unification of Almyra. In fact, the palace had been in a state of decay until recent years.

The Tabarzin had once been the home of a budding civilization born among the mountains, with a culture distinguished from that of the regions to the east. Despite developing earlier than its immediate neighbors in Shomal, Elam, and Meteora, it was unable to adapt to the speed and skill of Saba's armies. Upon its defeat, the society collapsed so completely that its land was consumed by Elam and its memory almost forgotten. The region had a unique dialect and naming conventions compared to Elam, which helped establish the boundaries of the mirza's domain when the Tabarzin regained semi-autonomy, but little more remained of its ancient roots. In recent days, they were best remembered for the use of war elephants in their armies, as frequently depicted in surviving art.

Rather than focusing on ornate masonry, the older civilization of the Tabarzin prioritized imposing straight lines. Its tall roof was supported by strong, wide columns. The doorways were nearly large enough for one of their war elephants to pass through. Much of the interior was freshly painted, but Khalid was unsure if it was authentic to the builders' vision. The complex was set upon a stone platform that paraded neglected reliefs of bygone kings. This platform was larger than needed to fit the main structure, and its reach seemed to be terminated prematurely by the citadel's outer walls. Khalid strongly suspected that there were originally more buildings based on that, but there was no additional evidence of their existence.

There was ample space between the fortress and the palace for training exercises that continued for all hours of the day and night in rotating shifts. No other place existed in Almyra so dedicated to the art of war. At least, that would normally be the case. On the day of Khalid's arrival, things were quite peaceful. A wooden stadium had been erected in the middle of the field consisting of several rows of wooden stands cordoning three sides of an arena. An archery target was set up on the open end, hinting at what the day might offer.

Despite Ghalib's claim that the whole event was set up in his nephew's honor, Khalid and his retainers were granted one of the smaller rooms in the palace. It was obviously furnished by soldiers too busy making war to focus on comfort or aesthetic, but it was still superior to a tent. After unloading their effects, Khalid, Ariella, and Dimitri walked about the palace. The prince had not been inside since he was a child, but he did his best to retell its history to his retainers.

Khalid's room was one of many connected to a central hypostyle open to the air on the front side. Two men were eagerly talking with each other on the porch steps. They looked up when they saw Khalid and his friends approach.

"Prince Khalid! I am glad to see that you are well," one of them greeted brightly, who was probably around forty years old. He had curly black hair and a full beard. He was a little shorter than average, but he seemed like the kind of person with a large presence that could fill the room when he was in a good mood. He initially glanced at Dimitri distrustfully, but he kept any prejudices to himself.

"Thank you," Khalid answered. "With me here are Dimitri and Ariella. And… who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Ah! I suppose you haven't seen me since you were a little one. I believe we met briefly in Istakhr when we were having particularly rough trouble with pirates. I am Ridwan Al Mansur."

Khalid had forgotten the face, but he did know the name. Ridwan was the most famous general of Saba- or probably more accurate to say, the only famous general of Saba. The other contenders for that title had either died during the last war or had since retired.

Outside of the Tabarzin, Ridwan saw more active military action than any other commander in Almyra as he defended Saba's northern coast. Shomal was a closer and more lucrative target to pirates from Sreng, but it could also be quickly reinforced by Tabarzin warships or Elam's armies. Saba's only hopes were the walls of its city states and Ridwan's leadership.

"I apologize for not recognizing you, Ridwan," Khalid said honestly with a small bow. "Someone who has done so much on behalf of Almyra ought to be remembered." Of course, Ridwan had once fought against the royal family as a young man, but Khalid would ignore that in favor of his more recent service.

Khalid was more familiar with the other man due to his time spent in Shomal. This man made quite an impression- he was tall and sinewy, his head was completely devoid of hair, his skin was darker than night, and a scar curved by his left ear.

The prince introduced, "Ariella, Dimitri… This man here is Senusret, Protector of Shomal. If you couldn't guess, Senusret is from Mirgissa, the same city of Dagda as Khabash and Satiah's mother."

"Were you a part of Dagda's invasion of the Adrestian Empire?" Dimitri asked.

Senusret's eyes brightened, surprised to meet someone knowledgeable on the subject. He spoke with an accent, but he had enough experience with the language by this point to still be perfectly understandable. "I was. Mirgissa effectively acts as an independent city-state, which is common in western and southern Dagda, but I followed the army anyways since the pay was good. I was already a well-known mercenary by that point, but I remain greatly indebted to my commander, Cian Ó Baoighill, for teaching me many valuable lessons from that experience. I learned much about how not to manage an army. Brigid was crushed under the feet of the Adrestians when the counterattack arrived, but I helped keep the Empire from causing too much trouble for Dagda proper. Sardar Soraya offered me command of Shomal's defense shortly after that."

Dimitri was clearly impressed. "You've lived a fascinating life. I would like to hear more about it later, if you are willing."

Senusret laughed, "Perhaps tonight, after all of these today's events are concluded." As Khalid recollected, the mercenary-turned-general could happily go an entire day without speaking a word, but he was also willing to carry a conversation if someone else initiated it.

"Do either of you plan on participating?" Khalid asked of both Senusret and Ridwan. The two men looked at each other and shrugged.

"Excluding your servants, we are the only two commoners graced with rooms in the palace. It would feel rude not to participate after that," Ridwan answered.

Senusret added, "I spend more time on paperwork nowadays than physical activity. I'm no longer sharp enough to win anything, but a bit of competition can still be great fun, even in defeat."

"Speaking of competition…" Ariella segued. "We're supposed to assemble at the arena soon. I would hate for Prince Khalid to be late to his own party."

"It's always business with you, isn't it, Ariella?" Khalid sighed. "Okay, you're right. Ridwan, Senusret… Do your best out there."

Khalid and his retainers regrouped with the rest of his family before they all walked to the arena together. Youtab directed them towards a section midfield on the upper tiers of the stands. It was one of five evenly spaced zones where the wooden benches were topped with cushions and covered with canopies. These spots were set aside for the ruling members of each region of Almyra. Khalid sat between James and Tiana, and his retainers settled in front of him just outside of the canopy.

Once the stadium filled and the chatter began to quiet, Ghalib marched out onto the field. He announced that two contests would be held- a wrestling tournament and an archery tournament. A meal would be served between the events.

Most people back at the Dunya had predicted a polo match to be included in the festivities, but Khalid never found that likely. Ghalib's dogma on life avowed that existence was a person-to-person struggle for individual glory, so it was safe to assume that team sports would not be to his liking.

Ghalib announced that both tournaments would accommodate sixteen entrants assigned random matchups. Each region of Almyra would be permitted three contenders to maintain balance. To provide an even number, Elam would be granted a fourth out of respect to King Faruq and Prince Khalid.

Youtab acted as the director for the wrestling tournament. Once she began to accept entries, many curious eyes in the audience turned in Khalid's direction. The prince sat motionless and quiet without making eye contact with anyone. He would sooner reenter the White Heron Cup than involve himself in wrestling. The other major players such as Darius and Abbas similarly made no motion to join. Their decision may have been influenced by Khalid not participating, which provided motivation to save their energy for archery if that was to be where mock politics would play out. Additionally, while its reputation was much superior to that in Fódlan, wrestling was still considered somewhat less elegant than archery. This left the competitors to primarily consist of household servants and lower nobles. Amin and Parviz, attendants to James and Abbas, entered on behalf of the Dunya. When a son of the Attali family entered, that left only one space available for Elam.

Khalid leaned forward and said, "Last chance, Dimitri. Even if you're from Fódlan, they probably won't stop you from entering if you want."

Dimitri shook his head. "I have some knowledge of grappling, but the style here is likely to be unfamiliar. More importantly, though… I fear my ineptness would risk seriously injuring someone. That would reflect poorly on you, would it not?"

He had a point. Even if Dimitri won cleanly, the result was more likely to draw ire than it would a fresh opinion on the people of Fódlan. Khalid said nothing as a general from Istakhr soon snatched the final spot.

Khalid paid just enough attention to the matches to look like a polite guest. Some experienced warrior from Saba eventually won, but Khalid forgot almost everything else that unfolded as soon as it happened. It was all just a distraction from the main event.

Dinner was soon laid out in front of the visitors on every row of the stadium by an army of Ghalib's servants. They were probably soldiers temporarily reassigned for the job, as it was unlikely the mirza actually kept so many domestic workers.

Even after Ariella confirmed that his food was safe, Khalid only ate enough to take the edge off of his hunger. It was a shame since the meal was quite good, but the last thing he needed was to be left lethargic from eating too much.

After the workers cleaned away the leftovers, a new tournament director announced that applications were open for archery. Youtab had ceded this duty so that she could participate on behalf of the Tabarzin.

Khalid looked towards his father, who nodded his desire for the youngest prince to partake. Despite expecting this outcome, Khalid had to gather his strength to paste on a smile before walking down the stairs to the field.

As expected, Khalid's participation precipitated others to follow. Abbas and Qadir immediately joined him. Khabash and Senusret followed right behind them to represent Shomal. In a move that generated some surprise for those who did not know Soraya's daughter, Lydia bounded down the steps to capture Shomal's final spot.

Ghalib strode across the field to stand just below where the king sat. He loudly asked, "Do you intend to participate, brother?"

Faruq smiled but declined. "I feel it's time for the younger generation to lead these games."

The mirza bowed gently. "As you wish. In the absence of my equal, I too will decline to participate. May Darius and Khalid represent us well."

Darius and one of Ghalib's soldiers thus acted as the final representatives of the Tabarzin, while Anthony did the same for Elam. The selection of the competitors from Saba, which would be Ridwan and two other people Khalid did not know, received little attention.

The selection of the Meteorans caused a bit more of a stir. Their best chance to win was Aurelian Maleinos, first cousin once removed to King Justinian. At the fresh age of just fifteen, Aurelian had distinguished himself as a remarkable soldier during the campaign against Saba. He would later serve in a leadership position when putting down the Dékhomai Rebellion and in fighting off pirates on the northern coast.

Everyone seemed eager for Aurelian to participate. The only issue was that Aurelian had no interest in doing so. He was a grave man, and games like this were of no interest to him. One man with messy red hair seemed to be defending Aurelian from the horde around them that continued to pester the general.

People farther away from Aurelian were instead looking towards their "king", Justinian. Justinian, who had shaggy dark hair but vivid blue eyes, was only two or three year younger than Khalid. Despite being old enough to make his own decisions, he was by every account erratic and incapable of leadership. He lived up to that reputation by visibly cowing from his people who wanted their king to enter the tournament. He sat with his twin sister Juliana and seemed to be using her as a shield from the crowd.

Eventually, the situation was settled as both Aurelian and Justinian sent others out on their behalf. For Aurelian, it was his redheaded advocate. Justinian's substitute was a young man sitting behind him. A woman dressed in full military attire finished out Meteora's representation.

Curious to know more about what was going on, Khalid waved James down closer to the field. James acted a bit uneasy to be seen giving his brother aid, but he reluctantly complied.

"You've spent time in Meteora. Do you know anything about their entrants?" Khalid asked.

James nodded. "The one that was talking with Aurelian is his younger nephew, Florian. He's popular with the commoners in Metanoiapolis for his generosity. For example, he'll go into the poorer districts and give out uneaten food from the palace. I've never heard of him being an impressive archer or anything, though. He's probably just representing the royal Meteoran family since Justinian and Aurelian both turned the opportunity down."

Regarding the second entry, James explained, "The man beside Florian is one of Justinian's useless friends. I don't remember his name, but I would bet he's only entered on so-called king's whims, not because he's talented with the bow."

They then turned their gaze to the third foe. "Of the three, she's the one I'd worry about. Her name is Xanthippe, and she's one of the most prominent masters of the Sentinels of the Empyrean. I don't know if she has a special skill for archery, but I trust she's a good soldier. She's not going to be a pushover."

Khalid thanked James for his help, who hastily returned to his seat before too many people would see him. With all contestants accounted for, Khalid lined up to receive his bow and a quiver of arrows from the tournament director. The arrows, all of which appeared identical, were drawn at random from a single barrel filled to the brim. Khalid breathed a sigh of relief. If the quivers were preloaded, Khalid would likely have tried exchanged his arrows with Khabash or anyone else willing to trade. It would have left a bad impression to anyone who saw it, but the risk of him being handed tampered arrows was too great. Thankfully, taking that chance no longer seemed necessary.

They would use three arrows per round, earning points by striking a target about one hundred feet away. The director and Mirza Ghalib collaborated to determine the matchups, which would be revealed one at a time before each bout.

Cushions were set up along the bottom of the stands for the competitors to rest on, but most chose to stand while they waited. Khalid stood by Khabash as he strung his bow.

"I hope these past few months have treated you well, Prince Khalid," Khabash greeted. "I'm sorry we never got a proper goodbye when we dropped you off at the Dunya."

"No, that's my fault. Busy days those were. But I'm surprised you didn't choose wrestling over this," Khalid told him. "Who hasn't heard the stories of your great exploits?"

"Ah, that's the very thing, Prince Khalid! Just as it would be insufficient to prove my merit as a Dagdan but not as an Almyran, it would be cowardice to limit my skills to only one field of sport. We all must expand our horizons beyond that which is comfortable, wouldn't you say?"

Khalid chuckled some at that. "For once, you actually make a bit of sense, Khabash. Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury to take that kind of risk in this case."

"I wouldn't want you to!" Khabash assured. "I want us to go head-to-head at your own game, so you can't lose before we get the chance! Farjad will be so jealous that he wasn't a part of it that we'll be able to convince him to join next time."

Khalid doubted Khabash would make it beyond the first round. The tournament was more of an opportunity for nobles and leading clans to flaunt themselves than it was to find the most talented warriors in Almyra. Even so, there were many genuinely skilled entrants, and Khabash simply couldn't hope to compete at that level.

In the first match, Lydia had the misfortune of being paired against Darius. Darius won, as expected, but Lydia's shots were not too far off the mark. If given the opportunity, she might have beaten one or two of the weaker opponents. Lydia flourished to the crowd before returning to her seat, earning some cheers and laughter.

The director announced Khalid as the next up. His opponent would be Florian of Meteora. With floppy hair and freckles, Florian actually reminded Khalid quite a bit of his old classmate Ashe.

"Looks like I got a lucky draw," Florian said while stretching his arms as they walked towards the line they were required to stand behind.

Khalid briefly pondered if "draw" was supposed to be an archery pun, but there were more important matters to address. "Were you told that I was poor with a bow? I'm sorry to say that any reports of my incompetence are probably politically-motivated exaggerations."

"Oh, that's not it at all. My main fear was going against someone my family actually expected me to defeat. But with you? There's no shame in losing. I would have been a quivering mess if I had actual expectations on my shoulders." The likelihood that Florian was making deliberate puns shot up with each new statement. He wasn't one to linger on his own jokes, however, as he continued, "There's no need to waste your energy against me. I'm not much competition. Just hit the board and you're as golden as Xanthippe's fair hair."

"You could easily be saying that in hopes that I will let my guard down," Khalid pointed out.

"Aha! You would have seen through my secret plan if I was actually talented enough for such a scheme to do any good. I'll volunteer to go first so you'll have firsthand evidence of my honesty."

Florian did in fact prove the truth of his word. Two of his attempts barely found the target, while the third ricocheted off the top. There was no applause for his failing effort, but he somehow maintained an optimistic disposition.

After near perfect first and second attempts, Khalid's third slipped somewhat off-center. The prince tried not to judge himself too harshly. He likely allowed his attention to drift slightly since victory was assured. He would correct that in the next round.

The next set was between Abbas and Khabash. Abbas went first, and while the result was not remarkable, it was a solid effort worthy of a first-round victory. As for his opponent...

Khalid instinctively closed his eyes as Khabash's arrow loosed. He knew based on the crowd's reaction that he was right to worry. His eyes opened just in time to see the arrow impact a nearby crate after a glancing blow with the target.

Khabash's composure wavered for a moment, but his resolve returned just as quickly. Despite having no chance of catching up to Abbas, he carefully drew his next arrow and aimed again. This time, the arrow found the target and stayed there. It was only an average shot, but with continued patience, he finally launched one just a hair from the center on his final attempt.

Despite losing, Khabash earned some applause from the audience as he stepped off the field. "Best of luck, Khalid," he said to the prince as he walked by to pick a pillow to relax on.

"Thanks. Sorry we won't get our match together."

Khabash grinned as he pointed to the cheering crowd. "Are you kidding? This is far better."

Khalid had to agree. Abbas was predictably annoyed to see that the loser was garnering more attention than he was, much to his brother's delight.

In the following match, Youtab easily swept away one of the competitors from Saba. The Cradle of Almyra was partially redeemed after that when Ridwan knocked out Qadir, who handled his early departure sorely. Xanthippe defeated the third participant from the Tabarzin, Anthony handled Justinian's crony (who was apparently named Artabasdos), and Senusret took down yet another weak entry from Saba.

That pitted Khalid with Darius to start the second round.

"So, did you learn any alien techniques in Fódlan that will provide you an advantage here?" Darius asked his cousin as he felt his bowstring.

"No. Archery in Fódlan requires the same skills as it does here- strong arms to draw, sharp eyes to aim, and steady hands to release. It isn't really such a strange place."

"Are you sure about that?" Darius said with a snort. "I can cite some recent examples that would suggest otherwise."

Khalid's eyebrows rose. "I'm listening."

"Just weeks after your return, several of our sentries in the mountains claimed that they spotted bright lights launch across Fódlan's sky. Shortly after the lights vanished, the ground rumbled like there had been a distant quake. The reports were laughed off at the time as being either imagined or exaggerated. That is, until the exact same happened again two months later. The tremors were even stronger this time. We could feel them all the way here at the citadel. I don't suppose you know what could have caused such a phenomenon?"

Khalid's mouth stood agape. Darius's claim was strange- one so unexpected that Khalid believed his cousin to be telling the truth. "No… that's, uh, definitely not something I'm familiar with."

"Don't worry about it, then. You have more pressing issues to deal with," Darius said as he waved towards the target.

Darius was right. Khalid volunteered to go first so he would not have his opponent's score eating away at the back of his mind. He just needed to do the best he could.

Unfortunately, Khalid's first arrow slipped off course and struck a ring three off of the center.

Murmurs rose from every corner of the crowd. Most people were rooting against him, but they were expecting, even hoping, for him to put up a better fight. An incompetent villain makes for a boring story.

Something was wrong. It wasn't just that his aim was off. It didn't feel right. He pulled out the next arrow. Nothing looked wrong, but a quick glance would not confirm if the spine was off.

Had he fallen for a trick after all? It looked like the quivers were filled at random, but there was a slight chance that the director had managed to keep track of which arrows were sabotaged and loaded them into the quiver he planned to give Khalid. Or what if a separate quiver had been set aside for the unlucky prince and stealthily slipped among the others when Khalid wasn't looking?

Frustration plunged Khalid's mind into a fog that hampered his ability to think through his options clearly. He was so flustered by the first attempt that the only obvious way to purge the stain of its memory was to supplant it with a better shot. Uneasy as he felt, he nocked his second arrow, drew his string, and released.

As the arrow loosed, Khalid immediately knew the outcome would be poor. He did not bother to watch as it struck the target nearly as off-center as the first. He knew all he needed as he turned and walked towards the tournament director.

"I request another set of arrows."

The director's lip twitched. "I assure you, the selection you have was perso-."

"Let me be clearer. I demand another set of arrows."

The man continued to vacillate, obviously not having prepared for such a request. The outcome was uncertain until Florian held out his own quiver. "You may take it, Prince Khalid. I have no use for it anymore," he offered. "I trust my misfortune was due to my own shortcomings, not the quality of my arrows."

Khalid accepted Florian's offer. As most of the crowd could not hear what was being said, it was only at this point that many people realized Khalid's complaint. Jeers began to emanate from all corners of the stadium. One man near the front row vocalized their grievance by shouting, "You would accuse the mirza of dishonor? For shame!"

Rather than worry about their opinion, Khalid focused on his next shot. When the final arrow drove into the very heart of the target with convincing fervor, Khalid glared back at the crowd as if to ask if he needed to provide any more evidence.

Apparently so. Despite his perfect final attempt, the audience continued to heckle at his decision to switch quivers. Khalid suspected that many of them were plants that his uncle had slipped into the crowd to portray the prince negatively, but the narrative they shaped was setting the mood for everyone present. King Faruq rubbed his eyes in frustration, Queen Tiana frowned in disappointment, and James was cringing at the scene. Abbas grinned smugly about the whole thing, and it took all the self-control that Khalid had to not unleash Dimitri upon him.

Khalid knew he was finished, but he still had to wait as Darius completed his set of three. The mirza's son was thoughtful enough to offer Khalid no opportunity for hope as every arrow found its target.

"Congratulations on not choking away a free victory. And for drawing a set of healthy arrows," Khalid told him afterwards.

"I've spent my whole life training for opportunities like this. Choking it away was not an option."

Khalid's eyebrows rose again. "Your whole life devoted to beating your cousin at archery? I mean, parents always tell their kids to 'Follow your dreams' or whatever, but I wish the adults had the courage to step in and set the brats right when those dreams are too trivial."

Darius smiled in a manner that said, "We both know far more is at stake than this game," without actually requiring him to vocalize a word. He then walked back towards the stands. Khalid had no choice but to follow.

Khalid took a seat on a cushion next to Khabash in shame. What should he have done? Could he have avoided defeat if he asked for new arrows earlier? Maybe, but doing so may have only elicited the crowd's scorn beforehand. Or would it have been better to just accept his fate and not imply that someone had conspired against him? Was there really any hope in people believing him without unequivocal evidence? He could request the arrows to be analyzed, but public opinion was already poisoned against him.

Abbas's moment of joy at his brother's failure did not last long. Khalid was not watching the next match until his brother angrily snapped his bow in half over his knee before throwing it aside. Needless to say, Abbas had just been eliminated by Youtab. It was yet another victory for the Tabarzin and another embarrassment for the senior line of the royal family. If not for his direct relation to the king, Abbas would have been severely chastised for having destroyed something so valuable.

Darius advanced to the final match when Youtab offered a suspiciously mediocre effort against him. It seemed the stars had aligned for Darius by placing all of the most senior nobles of Almyra on his side of the bracket, permitting him to directly demonstrate his superiority in full view of the king. Not only were Abbas and Khalid lined up for him, but also Lydia on behalf of Soraya and Florian as the family of Justinian.

The other side of the competition did not inspire as much excitement. It didn't help that the person who kept winning was none other than Elam's Anthony al-Amin.

Anthony did not know how to work the crowd. Rather than drum up support, he would very calmly draw his bowstring, loose his arrows, and quietly walk off the field. Not only did no one seem to be cheering him on, but some sounded actively disappointed whenever he defeated more compelling competitors. Anthony did not seem to care, however. After his first-round victory, he then eliminated Senusret and Xanthippe, earning him the right to compete in the finals.

There was some activity before the final match started. Most people were watching either Darius or Anthony prepare, but Khalid noticed when his uncle approached a man that had been sitting below the stands at the corner of the stadium's open end. The man had just stood as if to go somewhere, but after a brief conversation with Ghalib, the man sat back down. Ghalib grimaced a bit uncomfortably as he also returned to his original position.

Something about this man seemed familiar. Khalid mentally filtered through each person he encountered that day. After a minute, he finally recollected where he had seen this person's face- the unknown man had been working at the stables built along the inside of the citadel's walls when Khalid first passed them on the way to the palace.

With that knowledge, Khalid was able to piece together a potential explanation for what had happened. For the final matchup, Ghalib possibly intended to add a bit of spice to the show by having the competitors take their shots by horseback. The open end of the stadium allowed enough space for a horse to enter from outside the arena, run along the line the archers had to release at, and then finish a loop by exiting on the other side of the target. The man from the stables would have left to go collect the horses had Ghalib not called it off at the last moment. Anthony was a good archer, but as Commander of the Mobile Guard, he was presumably an even better equestrian. Darius's odds of victory were far superior on solid ground.

No one else seemed to pay this any heed, however, as Darius and Anthony approached their mark. Anthony went first, and his arrows struck the target with impressive accuracy. Disappointed murmurs revealed that many assumed this would be the winning score. However, Darius solemnly nocked his arrows and pinned them on the target in a tighter circle by the slimmest of margins.

There were some suspect conveniences that enabled to Darius's triumph- Khalid's bad arrows, Youtab's sudden inability to shoot straight, and a possible late rule change- but there was no question that he was also incredibly talented with a bow. If anything, having both physical talent and the intelligence to enhance his advantage by any means necessary made him even more threatening.

Darius briefly made eye contact with Khalid before turning to a cheering crowd that was quite pleased for Anthony to finally be rid of. Even the royal family was clapping right along, though with a varying range of enthusiasm. Faruq seemed genuinely satisfied with the outcome, James shrugged at Khalid, and Tiana continued to frown. Ariella clapped slowly out of obligation, while Dimitri stared at him stilly. Discouraged as he was, Khalid almost managed to laugh at Dimitri's reaction, or lack thereof.

That fleeting moment of amusement did not sustain him. Khalid struggled to hide his resentment as he spoke with the rest of his family after the tournament was over. Once everyone dispersed, Khalid took a seat on the palace's steps alone to watch the sun slip behind the mountains while Ariella and Dimitri left to walk the citadel's grounds.

As he reviewed the day, Khalid realized just how few times he had found reason to smile or joke since passing through the citadel's gates, and his sullenness was not going to endear him to anyone. Sure, he always had more planned than his smile let on, but any sense of charm was the only thing keeping even more people from hating him. He tried faking excitement going into the tournament, but perhaps Hilda should have advised him to keep up the act even after the defeat.

It was more than just one day, though. Khalid had been flirting with ill humor for months whenever he was not with Dimitri or Ella. Was he becoming… unpleasant? Or overly serious? He shuddered at the thought. But then again, did he have the right to be cracking jokes after he left his friends lying in the dirt of Gronder? It was for his sake that they had marched into that hell.

Now he really was starting to sound like Dimitri.

Khalid was startled when someone who had silently approached the balustrade suddenly addressed him. It was Ghalib.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it? I do miss the sunsets at the Dunya, though," the mirza observed. He then sympathized, "I'm sorry you did not make it deeper in the tournament, Khalid. You were better than some of the people who advanced to the later rounds. A bad stroke of luck to get paired with Darius so early."

"Bad luck? You picked the matchups, right?"

Ghalib smiled thinly. "Those were selected randomly, of course."

"If you insist." Khalid paused, unsure how much he should say. Since they were alone, he decided there was no reason to withhold honesty. "You know, uncle… I've always been one to look for patterns… to find the logic beneath the chaos. And today? Well, how things played out did not feel like luck or the will of the gods to me. It felt more like everyone was playing the part assigned to them by an author's script. A human author."

Ghalib's grin widened. "Both the scripts of gods and man are at play in this world. It was that of the gods to make my brother and I equal in strength, wit, and tenacity. But the scripts of man demand that there can be no true draws in this world. You, the bastards, Darius… there can only be one king in the end. You're right, Khalid. You lost today because you were playing by someone else's script. For someone who scoffs at the gods, you seem to think that because they made you the favored son that they'll continue to pave the way for your crown. No. Caution and intelligence won't save you. You had better start playing by your own rules or you'll soon find that the game is already over." The mirza rapped his hands on the balustrade twice and then turned to leave. "Good night, Khalid."