The plots and machinations of Prince Cain finally bear fruit, when Shadowvale Kingdom and Starhaven Kingdom declare war against each other, with the kings of both kingdoms not realizing they are played by Prince Cain, who works in tandem with Lord Malachi Cinderflay, and Lord Declan Silverfin. In the secret hideout of the agents sent by the Prince and the two lords, the head agent, a certain senior agent named Agent Blair Brighton convenes a meeting with her fellow spies. “All right, good work everyone. We achieved our aim of getting Shadowvale Kingdom and Starhaven Kingdom to declare war against one another. Do your best not to blow your covers, and keep an eye out on the situation, should it escalate even further. Remember, trust no one, for we are in dangerous territory. The person you're talking with in the council offices might be a spy working for the kings of Shadowvale and Starhaven, or their royal council. The next item on our agenda is to assure both kings of the contin

In the grand opening banquet before the official start-off of the tourney, and the melee, in the recently constructed banquet grounds, the fragrance of various meats and vegetables being cooked wafts into the air, with the spicy tang of spices being mixed into the food enveloping the air like a perfume. Every province cooks their own signature dishes, each of them standing out in their own way. House Solara and the sworn lords and ladies of House Solara showcases the spiced snake stews with vegetables of House Solara that burned the tongue, along with grilled wild Sunfire Serpent Eagle meat parts soaked in chilli, capsicum, and other expensive spices that grew in abundance in Solara Province, sweet and high quality wheat bread infused with date honey from hardy desert bees that pollinated date plants in the desert, and an even sweeter Solaran blood orange juice infused with cinnamon, with little ice cubes shaped in the form of a scorpion’s tail floating on juice. House Krakenfell b

“ Lords, ladies, commoners, and fellow citizens of Thaloria Kingdom, welcome to the Melee Division of the 115th Grand Tourney. Who will be eliminated, and what Province will be the grand champion of the Melee Division? An exciting game awaits us all. Without further ado, I shall announce the official start of the preliminary stage of the Melee Division. “ A crowd of thousands who watch safely on the chairs built to surround the melee arena give off a loud and rowdy cheer as the announcer announces the official start of the preliminary melee. The melee contestants charge with all the arrogance of the unblooded, the hedge knights and hedge dames, puffed up by small victories and lesser duels, convinced they can dominate the field. The first clang of steel on steel has not even faded before the chaos blooms. A flurry of banners, colors, and roaring names fills the air as the preliminary melee of Thaloria erupts into glorious, undisciplined madness. Now, the sun sits high in the sky, c

As the preliminaries conclude, a lot of hedge dames and hedge knights who fail spectacularly, and lose face in front of half of Thaloria licks the wounded pride, and mutter to each other, with disdain and dismay at what they claim is a “ broken system that favors knights, and dames with money to afford good equipment and good armor, and be at par with knights, lordlings and dames from wealthy, aristocratic Houses. “ A lot of them are at loss on where they can next get their funding, or how to replace all those lances they shattered and smashed during the preliminary jousts, cheap shields and nicked swords they dropped during the preliminary melees. Joining a tourney is very costly, and while those from aristocratic Houses, even household knights sworn to those Houses, and rich knights and dames from wealthy commoner families who are merchant guild members, doesn't even bother about the shields and weapons they smashed and shattered during the melees and jousts, as if money pours like

Sir Albert Brentwood never imagines he will one day drink hot coffee out of a real ceramic mug. Not those weak, watered down cheap coffee served lukewarm in chipped pewters, but the glossy, thick-walled kind that warms the palms like a lover’s breath. The same hands that had once clutched a battered shield now wrap around porcelain as delicate as a noble’s lie. Winterkeep Barracks feels less like a fortress and more like a hallucination. The brick walls hum with enchantment, old magic layered with new, warm to the touch and utterly invulnerable. Inside, electric lights cast gentle golden light across polished marble floors. The scent of lavender soap, roasted meats, and varnished wood replaces the usual stench of sweat, fear, and manure. “By the gods,” mutters a hedge knight beside Albert, gawping at a self-warming bath. The barracks is a luxury hotel disguised as a military institution, tricking hedge knights and dames into thinking they’ve arrived in paradise, until training begin