Chapter 6: “The Bite”

Prince Damon stared at her, caught off guard by her sudden cooperative demeanor. He thought she would perhaps hide behind her father’s outrage or try to find a way out.

The Emperor was also a bit surprised by how readily Celestia agreed. “Very well,” he said. He looked around at the assembled nobility, “The challenge has been made and accepted. Thus, a duel of honor shall take place.”

Servants and guards sprang into motion at once. The audience were quickly led to the side, and the dance area was quickly cleaned to clear a broad space on the marble floor.

The atmosphere buzzed with a mix of excitement and dread, none present had expected the night to turn into such a spectacle.

Celestia stepped to one side of the open area, and Prince Damon moved to the other. Duke Armond and Duchess Evelyn retreated to stand near the Emperor and Empress, where they watched with pale faces. The Duchess’s hand found her husband’s, and she gripped it tightly.

A court secretary, flustered, rushed forward. “This duel of honor between Crown Prince Damon and Lady Celestia von Reingarde is hereby sanctioned by His Majesty!” the court secretary announced. “His Imperial Majesty will act as arbiter. Terms of victory shall be declared by each party, and combatants may name champions if they so choose.”

The Emperor nodded in approval at the court secretary’s summary. He then turned to his son first. “Prince Damon,” he said, voice echoing, “do you intend to fight for yourself, or will you appoint a proxy champion to stand in your stead?”

Prince Damon was prideful but not foolish. He had top-notch knights at his disposal. Better to let one of them take on this duty and ensure a swift, clean victory.

“I will name a champion,” Prince Damon declared loudly. “I choose Sir Arnold Gaius as my sword.”

At that, a tall, armored figure detached from the cluster of knights in attendance and strode into the circle. Sir Arnold Gaius was a seasoned knight, a man built like an oak with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. His plate armor gleamed under the chandelier light, polished steel engraved with the imperial dragon sigil. Sir Arnold was well-known to the court: a decorated knight who had led forces at the northern border skirmishes.

Sir Arnold was one of the elite who could channel life energy into their blade, an Aura Knight.

Murmurs of disapproval also rippled through the onlookers. It struck many as unsporting that the Crown Prince would sic one of the empire’s elite knights on a young lady. Some shook their heads in distaste.

Others rationalized that Damon was within his rights, a duel was a duel after all.

Celestia looked at Sir Arnold calmly.

The Emperor’s gaze then fell on Celestia. “Lady Celestia,” he said solemnly, “you may also appoint a champion to fight on your behalf, if you wish.”

All eyes turned to Celestia. It would be no shame if she chose a proxy; in fact, everyone expected for her to choose a reputable House Reingarde knight, especially faced against an Aura Knight.

But Celestia had no intention of stepping aside. She inclined her head politely to the Emperor. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but I will stand for myself in this duel.”

A collective wave of murmurs followed after her words.

“She’s fighting herself?” one lord whispered incredulously.

“Has she gone mad?” A noble lady couldn’t believe and gasped.

Duke Armond closed his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath to keep his composure. Evelyn bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Prince Damon couldn’t restrain a mocking laugh. “Truly, Celestia, you surprise me,” he called across the open floor. “I knew you were stubborn, but for you to think you could take on one of the kingdom’s knights? This is folly. Even now, you could ask your dear father to save you the embarrassment.” He smirked. “Or is this some new ploy for attention?”

Celestia’s eyes flashed, but she kept her composure. “I have no need of rescue,” she replied coolly. “Not from my father, and certainly not to pander to you, Your Highness.” Her use of his title was almost sarcastic this time.

Prince Damon’s smirk twisted into a scowl.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Duchess Evelyn grasped her husband’s arm tightly. “Armond,” she whispered urgently, “we cannot allow this. Our Celestia… going up against that brute in armor… Please, do something!”

Duke Armond’s heart clenched. He wanted nothing more than to throw off this charade and shield his daughter. But under the Emperor’s watchful eye and Celestia’s own insistence, his hands were tied, unless he was prepared to break imperial decree and cause a true incident.

Out on the floor, Celestia offered her parents a small, reassuring smile from afar.

The Emperor, seeing that both parties were oddly resolute in their positions, decided to proceed. He raised his hand for silence once more.

The crowd, now thrumming with anticipation, quieted.

“Since both parties have identified their combatants—Prince Damon’s proxy, Sir Arnold Gaius, and Lady Celestia herself—we shall now hear the terms each side seeks from the duel,” The Emperor proclaimed.

Prince Damon stepped forward first. “Once my champion wins,” he announced loudly, “Lady Celestia will kneel and offer a public apology. She will admit before everyone here that she was wrong to strike me and wrong to insult me, and she will beg for my forgiveness and that of the Imperial family.”

A low rumble of interest passed through the crowd. It was a humiliating demand, but not unexpected. If Celestia lost, Damon wanted to restore his pride by having her publicly humiliated in turn.

The Emperor gave a slight nod, then looked to Celestia. “And you, Lady Celestia? What is your desired outcome should you win this duel?”

This was the moment she had been waiting for. Her voice rang clear and unwavering: “If I win, I ask that my engagement to Crown Prince Damon be annulled, immediately and irrevocably.”

This time, the silence was thunderous. It was as if the entire hall forgot to breathe. Dozens of eyes blinked in unison, wondering if they had heard correctly.

Then the whispers came, an explosion of them:

“Annul the engagement? She wants that?”

“By the saints… she’s giving him up?”

“After all these years chasing him? Unbelievable!”

Everyone knew of Celestia’s longstanding devotion to Prince Damon. For years, she had been the picture of the besotted fiancée, tolerating his every whim. That she would be the one to demand the engagement’s end was a shock no one saw coming.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Prince Damon certainly hadn’t.

He looked as if she had slapped him again, straight across the face. “You… you want to cancel our engagement?” he burst out incredulously. He could not hide the mix of surprise and insult in his tone.

Celestia met his eyes with a steady, cold stare. “Yes. I have no desire to continue in a betrothal devoid of respect,” she said, each word firm. In the stunned crowd, a few quietly cheered her boldness while others joyfully celebrated the prospect of a bachelor prince, though they quickly silenced themselves.

At the Emperor’s side, the Empress let out a soft, startled breath.

Duke Armond and Duchess Evelyn exchanged astonished looks; above all others, even they had not anticipated Celestia would stake something so monumental on this duel.

Prince Damon’s shock morphed rapidly into outrage. Perhaps some small part of him was stung that Celestia no longer wanted him, a blow to his ego he hadn’t expected. “So be it,” he snapped, trying to sound nonchalant.

The Emperor raised a hand to quell the renewed murmuring. “The terms are set,” he declared solemnly. “On Prince Damon’s side: a public apology from Lady Celestia. On Lady Celestia’s side: an annulment of the engagement.” He looked at both of them. “Both parties understand these terms and agree to abide by the outcome?”

“Yes,” Prince Damon answered, grimly confident that his victory was assured.

Celestia nodded once. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

The Emperor nodded. “This duel will continue until one side yields or can no longer fight. Begin!”

At that signal, the court secretary raised a small golden trumpet and blew a single, clear note to mark the start of combat.

Sir Arnold stepped forward into the circle and brandished his longsword in a fluid motion. The blade was still in its scabbard. He took up a ready stance, feet apart, sword held diagonally before him.