Chapter 59: The Tournament Approaches
Time flew by, and soon only two weeks remained until the grand tournament. The entire academy was alive with excitement as the massive gates opened to the public. The once-restricted grounds now bustled with merchants, adventurers, and eager spectators hoping to catch a glimpse of the rising talents.
Stalls lined the academy's outer courtyard, selling everything from finely crafted armor and weapons to exotic potions and enchanted artifacts. Smiths hammered away at last-minute orders, and enchanters displayed glowing tomes and shimmering trinkets, each boasting of their wares with practiced ease.
The scent of roasted meat and sweet pastries filled the air as food vendors catered to the crowds. Students, nobles, and commoners alike wandered the lively streets, some seeking to purchase last-minute gear for the tournament, others simply basking in the festival-like atmosphere.
Near a weapon stall, Reynard and Dorian browsed through a collection of swords, their usual banter never missing a beat.
"Look at this beauty," Reynard said, lifting a sleek silver sword with runes etched along the blade. "Perfect balance, enchanted edge. This could be my ticket to victory."
Dorian scoffed, crossing his arms. "You? Victory? Let's be real—if you even make it past the first few rounds, I'll personally buy you a drink."
"Bold words from someone who can barely lift a proper weapon," Reynard shot back, testing the sword's weight before setting it down. "You're entering, aren't you?"
Dorian smirked. "Oh, absolutely. The tournament wouldn't be the same without my dazzling presence. Imagine the crowd cheering my name—'Dorian the Magnificent!' Sounds fitting, don't you think?"
Reynard rolled his eyes. "More like 'Dorian the Delusional.'"
As they continued arguing, a loud commotion drew their attention. Nearby, two burly men were haggling with a merchant over the price of a reinforced chest plate. Their booming voices clashed over numbers, but before the argument could escalate, the merchant firmly held his ground, unwilling to be intimidated.
"Ten gold and not a coin less!" the merchant declared.
"Bah! You highway robbers call yourselves merchants?" one of the men grumbled before storming off, leaving his friend chuckling at his misfortune.
Reynard and Dorian exchanged glances.
"I bet you'd try to haggle and end up paying more than the asking price," Reynard teased.
Dorian scoffed. "Please, I have charm. Something you wouldn't understand. Watch and learn."
Before Reynard could stop him, Dorian strolled up to a different merchant, flashing his most confident smile. A few moments later, he walked away looking utterly defeated.
Reynard smirked. "Didn't get a discount, did you?"
Dorian sighed dramatically. "Not only did I not get a discount, I somehow ended up buying a pocket-sized spellbook for twice the price."
Reynard burst into laughter. "You absolute fool."
The liveliness of the market continued into the evening, with performers entertaining small crowds, students testing out their new equipment, and merchants boasting about the quality of their goods.
As the sun began to set, the two friends stood at the tournament registration booth, staring at the list of names already signed up.
"Well," Dorian said, crossing his arms, "no turning back now. We're in this."
Reynard smirked. "Agreed. Let's show them what we're made of."
With that, they wrote their names down, sealing their participation in the most anticipated event of the year.