The dinner banquet, even after hours of festivities, was still going strong. The atmosphere was vibrant, laughter induced echoes, feel good music carried on the wind, and Ashtons trial the main discussion at every table. Speculation about his limits followed the placing of bets, the story of his personality in the garden retold and exaggerated. Everyone of age within the ball room had more than a single glass, their cheeks flushed from the wine and their spirits high, sobered at the sight they anticipated. As Count Shaun rose from his elevated seat, his family close behind, a hush rippled through the ballroom, the crowd bracing for what would come next.
"Ha ha, I'm glad to see and hear everybody enjoying themselves, but I must interject. The time we all have been waiting for, the time for my son's trial has arrived." Controlling the silence of the ball room, giving his servants time to exit, his guest to tighten their belts, and his knights to enter.
"Those of you who wrote ahead of time for a private viewing booth, will be escorted to it by these knights." Raising his hand and pointing to his men, who are holding signs for who they are in charge of leading. "The rest of you without a booth... well the bleachers are open. Thank you, and I will see you inside."
The counts instruction clear, the unofficial start of trial. The guest in the ball room, gather their wits and steady their minds. Even with multiple exits in the ball room, the choke in the walls becomes stagnant.
-
"Master Ashton, I think my instruction must end here. I can feel the colosseum becoming full." Chamberlain Olaf, sheathing his sword, and taking exit from the training room. Leaving Ashton in a pool of sweat and torn attire.
On the other side of the door, a mage carrying a message for Ashton to get ready, but is stopped by the chamberlain. "Give the young master a moment."
[That brute] Wheezing from and sharply trying to catch his breath, Ashton hunches his back from the exertion the chamberlain demanded from him.
Count Shaun within his families viewing booth, the largest and most comfortable booth. Fitted with the finest interior, located not on the first floor alone but also ground level. Prime location to behold the action within the colosseum.
Almost in sequence as the count stands from his seat, iron and magic imbued gates rise, releasing Ashton into the arena.
His appearance drastically different than what the crowd expected. Not dressed in a shirt, his body exposed. His dress pants tattered and ripped in multiple locations.
The crowd and even his family expected Ashton to be armored, or at least in clean attire. His spoiled clothes, or lack thereof, was not the observation all onlookers find funny. It was the sword in his hand that caught the most attention.
Rectangular in shape, hard to spot the handle of it. Unmistakably a sword, but unique.
The knights and magic swordsman within the crowd knew immediately. Knew the make of the sword, knew who the owner was. While the mages and layman spectating grow confused.
"I thought the young count was a mage, why is he sporting a sword?" Echoed in the bleachers up into the rafters.
Ashton, however, was uncaring. He was confident. Turning to his father and nodding, the count who was also unsure, "This trial is now commenced." Tossing his hand down, a signal.
The signal which released a beast. Its howl and grunt recognizable. Its claws, which resembled daggers over sharp fingers, wrap the gateway and indent the colosseum wall.
Its sight shutters the crowd as the air grows cold. Too shocked to even gasp, too stunned to react, frozen within their seats the crowd is left unable to sympathize with Count Shaun's decision.
Countess Emily is the first to speak out at the sight, "What are you doing? This is too much dear!" The concern in her voice, trapped within the booths own anti-espionage formation, flash the count back to a conversation he had with Ashton weeks prior.
"This is what he wanted my love." He responds after a moment of silence.
The beast, starved and blood lusted, now within the full view of the arena. Its image leaves little room for the imagination, it is what is feared.
An Air Striding Lion.
Its frame massive, and mane flowy. Canines the size of human fingers, a tail wrapped in a cold flame. Its roar and huff produce sweat amongst the spectators.
Air Striding Lions are known for their usage of mana on top of physicality rivaled by few other magical beasts.
Capable of breathing fire like a dragon, and enhancing its physical attributes similar to a knight, the beast earned its name through its agile and unpredictable aggression.
The roars of his opponent are drowned out from Ashtons own flashback, a recalling of his memories. Of the training with Chamberlain Olaf that led to his ragged appearance.
"Wrong," The chamberlain smacking Ashton with a wooden practice sword. "Your core is the most important aspect, just above the strength in your legs."
"Why are you doing this? I have the most important event of my life thus far coming up..." Tired from the barrage of sword technique and abuse from Olaf.
"I saw it young master."
"What are you talking about?" Finding the moment as opportunity to catch his breath, Ashton takes air in and out of his lungs systematically.
"Your dash in the garden, when you pounced on Aaron Raine. You had enhanced your body with mana, like a firstclass knight. How did you train the skill required young master? Your sword play is awful."
[Thats what this is about?]
"The skill required? Do you call breathing a skill, Chamberlain Olaf?"
Ashtons question ignited goosebumps up and over Olafs body. The young master of the house he serves, calling the ability knights long for something as trivial as drawing breath. It lit fire within his soul.
"HAHAHA. Young master, truly, you are a blessing to humanity."