Tyrant of the Ruined Sun-Chapter 195: Joust of Jewels 2

Though all nations controlled the same sized allotted land, with barely an inch of difference between them, the wise and attentive would very quickly be able to see past the obscuring mist of apparent justice; for this world’s axis, upon which everything from a peasant’s back breaking toil to a king’s opulent command all revolve, was still firmly woven and spun by that same ethereal word that all who lived and drew breathe for even a day chased after with a haunting rapacity, power.

Since despite the event’s seeming fairness, it was all nothing more than mere surface level, a shallow veneer of unprejudiced planning, for the lands controlled by the four cardinal empires, despite being the same size, occupied by far the most strategically significant areas of the entire event; being in the heart of the Joust of Jewels while the other exhibitions crawled towards them in the order of the least eye catching displays to the most, with those of lesser quality and prestige being thrown out to the outer ring of the gardens, making them appear as though they were nothing more that strikingly insnaring hooks, whose only purpose was to bait and pull the crowds ever deeper into the central maw of the multinational labyrinth.

Where our eyes, naturally, first travelled to the southern edge of the Joust’s eye, where an enormous combat ring of white sand and black stone, along with two massive black tents, one of whom adorned with a massive circular hole near it’s pinnacle, stood proudly, radiating a sense of oppressive dignity and harrowing majesty, bringing a strange stillness to the area around it, as though all who passed near the southern side unconsciously held their breathe as they walked past.

The Boreas Empire, in stark opposition to us on the northern bank, with it’s snow white tents, unveiled two displays that stood in great juxtaposition with each other, as in one tent they showcased their people’s skills in tracking and hunting, while in the other they flaunted the influence of their theatrical arts, which was all but unexpected, since their illustrious opera house was the preeminent theatre in the entire world, where in thousands upon thousands of enthusiasts and students world wide visit the northern-most realm every year in what could only be described as a holy pilgrimage to partake in this world’s sacred site for the finer arts.

The Luminous Empire to the west meanwhile, held displays for gold working, armour smithing and shockingly enough, Rune Writing.

This was so stunning, that the crowds either all flocked to that tent alone, abandoning the other two, or adversely stayed as clear as possible from the golden tents, for fear of experiencing a terrible accident at the hand of those infamous Rune Writers.

Finally the Yue Dynasty with it’s jade green and emerald tents, held the greatest amount of exhibitions yet displayed upon a single stretch of land, boasting a total of four displays, the first of whom being archery, where in anyone could either challenge or request teaching from one of the present masters provided by the Dynasty.

The second was wind magic, it’s activities greatly mimicking the first, while the third was reserved for the delicate art of painting, in which a plethora of freshly coloured canvases hung elegantly on the tent supports, while a dozen scattered areas allowed others to try their hand in the art.

All the while the final tent, for the moment, remained a mystery for us.

Despite all this though, my focus was more aggressively directed towards those who stood by those events than the activities themselves.

Because after ten full days of absence the mighty hegemon of the west, the great emperor Octavian and his beloved wife Roxanna, have finally re-emerged onto the world stage, standing proudly next to their son and trusted prime minister, radiating an air blinding power and augustness in the midst of their horde of snivelling slaves and loyal dogs.

But what interested me now more than anything was the enigma I had previously sensed in Octavian’s aura, so without pause or hesitation I extended my senses to catch a whiff of that skin prickling uncertainty shrouding the master of the west, and without a doubt I had again sensed that oddity in him again.

His aura was more vigorous than previously, yes; but there was something else within, eerily masking it’s presence within his radiant power. Like a hawk cunningly hiding within the sun’s brilliance, while patiently awaiting the arrival of it’s unwitting prey before it then descended upon them with it’s talons.

And just then, as that thought crossed my mind, Octavian’s piercing golden globes snapped to mine, having felt them lingering on him for a second too much, but I neither cared nor did I bother hiding my blatantly inquisitive gaze from him, as I continued trying to delve deeper into his mystery by trying to pry the answer from his confident, almost mocking eyes.

As though he knew I had sensed his irregularity, but didn’t care, either because he knew I couldn’t pinpoint it true origin, or because he was assured that it wouldn’t matter even if I did, both of which spelled a newfound, blaring danger from him in my mind.

The second face of those I took particular interest in as well, was of course that of the northern crown prince Nicholas, who had manged to expectedly, yet annoyingly, reassimilate himself into the Banquet’s participants with the ease of that of a fish released back into the water, as he perfectly played the dance of politics with half a dozen dignitaries and princes from a wide range of lands and loyalties.

But despite his efforts, I still caught the subtle glances of his eyes, even as he cleverly tried to hide them by only attempting those wary glances, when turning to speak to a different person, trying to frame them as accidental glimpses, which would have indeed worked had it not been me.

And due to this oversight, I now knew that whatever the Goddess of Ice and Snow had shown her descendant, it was as anticipated, something about me.

"Brother look over there!" Cyrus’ voice then broke me out of my own thoughts, as he pointed towards the Yui Dynasty’s archery exhibit, where none other than the crown prince of the east, Weixiao, was competing against a young man with long, pin straight hair the colour of idly drifting clouds, bound tight behind him in a flowing ponytail, and eyes the shade of the summer sky, in a test of archery.

Meanwhile the usually smiling Weixiao now donned an impassive expression, one of frigid concentration and hardened discipline, as he and the boy next to him let loose to one volley after another with the skill of the truly blessed, tempered by years of finger numbing training; as their heavy war bows bent with the elasticity of unbound rope in their masterful hands.

The two continued their silent duel, allowing their bows to debate in their stead with each booming twang of their shot arrows, but I found that to be a redundant exercise, as it was clear to me who the victor would be, as it was pretty apparent that Weixiao, who was a second faster and a hair’s breadth more accurate than his opponent would not be the one to swallow the bitter taste of forcibly imposed humility today.

Instead I made use of the time trying to decipher the identity of the boy beside him, who was brave enough or foolish enough to dare call out the heir of the east to a challenge. A question whose answer swiftly came to me a moment later, as I more thoroughly examined his peculiar hair and eye colour, giving rise to a single catastrophe’s name there after, the infamous Tragedy of the Heavenly Bridge.

This boy, whose name I didn’t know, and his family’s unique, distinguishing features held a deep impression upon me, not due to some great war I waged against them, nor because a great genius was later born from their bloodline, or anything of the like, but because he himself or possibly his future descendants were at the epicentre of one of the most unique instances in my entire past life.

A harrowing instance of horror and destruction so widely known and feared, that the future generations of children came to be warned by their parents to avoid the site of the legendary Tragedy, for fear of inviting the same calamity upon them if they visited the accursed site.

The land where Weixiao the Wise showcased just how long and vicious his fangs could be.

None knew the exact details, and if any were privy to the reason, then they all swiftly succumbed to a truly unsightly end, for such was the horror of this shocking event, where the ordinarily calm master of the east, who only ever bothered with his own strength and his lands prosperity, suddenly flew into a blind rage, and solitarily marched up to Tiantang Qiao Mountains, the tallest mountains on Meathria, more commonly known as the Heaven Bridge Mountains, the ancestorial homeland of the Sky God’s children, before then proceeding to inflict, unspeakable, capricious carnage upon the unsuspecting city.

Slaughtering the Sky God’s kin, bringing their ancient bloodline that has survived millenniums to extinction in a single, bloody night.

And though this alone would be enough for the history books to eternally remember, the seemingly mad touched eyes of Weixiao that fateful night, found this not enough to quench his mysterious grievances against the people of this mighty mountain, so in a still unsatisfied blood rage, he called upon the full extent of his divine powers and to the shock of all who heard it, toppled the great mountain, burying the kingdom, it’s citizens and it’s very memory all at once.

I had forgotten this memory I had, as I had much on my plate already, besides it being buried under a few centuries of newer memories, so I thought to uncover the cause of this as well now, but before I could a cheerfully calling voice broke me out of my thoughts.

"My friends!" Weixiao’s enthusiastic voice echoed in my ears, drawing my attention to his approaching figure, clearly having won his little spat with the heir of the Sky God’s bloodline.

"Prince Weixiao... Marvellously done." I lightly said, greeting him as he returned the gesture.

"Thank you, but it was far harder than it looked, Prince Tianking is extremely talented with the bow, if I were even a slight bit worse, he might’ve stole the victory from under me during the last round." He said with a slightly relieved tone, as though it truly was a toss up between him and his opponent, yet his bearing reflected the opposite, with not a hair of uncertainty to his eyes and smile.

"You’re too humble." I chuckled in reply, but then as though suddenly remembering something of great import, Weixiao’s eyes widened for a moment, before he swiftly swivelled his eyes to my brother exclaiming.

"That’s right! Brother Nizam, come with me!" He finished as he grabbed my brother’s hand, and began dragging him behind.

"Wait, where are we going?!" Nizam quickly asked in utter perplexity, as Cyrus and I quickly followed after them.

Yet instead of a definitive answer all we were offered in return, was Weixiao’s grinning face looking back at us, saying "It’s a surprise."