Chapter 46: The Duel of Fates

The rays of morning light broke over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the open training ground of the Kingdom of Carlan. A tense anticipation hung in the air as word of Queen Adery's challenge to Julian spread like wildfire throughout the castle. From the highest noble to the lowliest servant, they all knew of the duel that would decide the fate of the kingdom's throne—and perhaps much more.

Julian Edelman stood at the center of the training ground, surveying the crowd that had begun to gather. The usual tranquility of the place was disrupted by the growing murmurs and the shuffling of feet as spectators positioned themselves to witness the clash. The wooden stands were filled with soldiers, courtiers, and onlookers, all eager to see the outcome of this unprecedented challenge.

Julian couldn't help but smirk inwardly. The duel was an opportunity handed to him on a silver platter, far sooner than he'd anticipated. Whether he won or lost, the outcome would be the same: he would become king. The only difference was whether he would share the throne with one queen or two. He glanced toward the rack of swords lined up nearby, their steel glinting under the morning sun, and felt the weight of the inevitable victory that awaited him.

Queen Adery Carlan strode onto the training ground, clad in her gleaming armor, her blonde hair tied back in a tight braid. The armor did little to conceal the tension in her expression, a mixture of determination and something far less resolute—guilt. Julian saw it in her eyes as she approached him, a flicker of doubt behind her usual cold, commanding demeanor.

With a respectful bow, Julian extended his hand toward the weapon rack. "After you, Your Majesty," he said, his tone light, almost teasing. "It wouldn't do for a future king to forget his manners."

Adery hesitated, her gaze lingering on the swords before her. "Julian… I—" Her voice faltered, but she quickly steeled herself. "I apologize for forcing you into this situation."

Julian's eyes gleamed with a calculated kindness as he handed her a sword, a simple yet well-balanced blade. "Nonsense," he replied smoothly. "I am honored that you've chosen me. But I can't help but be concerned for you, Adery. Marrying a man you don't love… is this truly what you desire?"

The crowd grew silent as Adery took the sword, gripping it tightly. She looked at him with an expression that was both resolute and conflicted. "Desire has nothing to do with it. This is about the kingdom. My duty is clear."

Julian inclined his head in acknowledgment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Then let us proceed with duty in mind."

He turned to the rack and picked up one of the swords—a heavier blade than the one he'd offered Adery, a weapon that felt solid and unyielding in his hand. The weight of it felt natural, almost comforting, as he tested its balance with a few practiced swings. His eyes never left Adery, who stood a few paces away, preparing herself.

Without warning, Adery launched herself at him, her sword slicing through the air with a ferocity that took the breath of many onlookers. There was no hesitation in her strike, no holding back. She attacked with the full force of a warrior who had dedicated her life to mastering the art of combat.

Julian met her blade with his own, the clash of steel ringing out like a thunderclap. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the ground, causing the earth beneath them to tremble. Adery's eyes blazed with a fiery intensity as she pressed the attack, her movements a blur of lethal precision. Each swing, each thrust, was calculated to overwhelm, to break through his defenses.

But Julian was not so easily overcome. He moved with a fluid grace that belied the power behind his strikes, parrying each of Adery's blows with practiced ease. His expression remained calm, almost amused, as if he were toying with her, gauging her strength and resolve. The ground beneath them cracked and crumbled with every clash of their swords, the very air around them vibrating with the force of their battle.

Adery's screams echoed across the training ground as she gave everything she had, her attacks relentless, her fury unyielding. But no matter how fierce her onslaught, Julian matched her blow for blow, his power equal to hers, if not greater. He could see the determination in her eyes, the desperation to fulfill her duty to the kingdom—even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness.

In the crowd, Princess Amira Carlan appeared, guided by Froi Crownbane. Her blue eyes, usually so full of warmth and light, were now glistening with tears. She watched, torn between loyalty to her sister and the love she felt for Julian. The sight of them clashing—her sister and the man she loved—was too much to bear. She covered her mouth with trembling hands, trying to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape.

Froi stood by her side, his expression solemn as he observed the duel. He understood the weight of what was happening, the significance of this moment for the kingdom. But even he could not deny the pang of sympathy he felt for Amira, who was caught in the middle of this conflict.

"Amira…" Froi began, his voice low and steady. "You know why they're doing this."

"I know," Amira whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But it doesn't make it any easier to watch."

Froi's gaze remained on the combatants. "Then cheer for them both. It's all we can do."

Amira's breath hitched as she looked at the battlefield. She knew Froi was right. She couldn't take sides—not now. With a deep, trembling breath, she raised her voice. "Julian! Adery! For the kingdom, fight with everything you have!"

Julian heard her voice above the clamor, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He glanced at Adery, who also caught the sound of Amira's plea. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and an understanding passed between them. They both knew what this was about, what was at stake.

Then, with a shared nod, they launched into the final phase of their duel.

The air crackled with energy as their swords collided once more, the force of their strikes sending shockwaves that rippled through the ground. The intensity of their clash reached a crescendo, the power they unleashed enough to make the onlookers stagger back in awe. Each strike, each parry, was accompanied by thunderous roars and blinding flashes of light, as if the heavens themselves were bearing witness to the battle.

With one final, earth-shattering clash, the ground beneath them erupted in an explosion of dust and debris. The shockwave tore through the training ground, collapsing the very foundation they fought upon. The crowd gasped, shielding their eyes from the blinding light and the deafening sound that followed.

When the dust finally settled, the training ground lay in ruins, the once-solid earth now a crumbled wasteland of shattered stone and scorched earth. And there, amidst the wreckage, stood Julian, his sword lowered, his breath steady.

Before him, Adery lay on the ground, her sword fallen from her grasp. She was bruised, exhausted, but alive. For a moment, she stared up at Julian, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe, her eyes searching his for something—perhaps a glimmer of mercy, perhaps something more.

Julian regarded her with a calm, inscrutable expression. He could see the mix of emotions in her gaze—relief, resignation, perhaps even a trace of admiration. Without a word, he extended his hand toward her, his voice soft, almost tender.

"My queen."

Adery's lips parted in a small, weary smile as she reached up to take his hand. Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, she managed to pull herself up with his help. "My king," she replied, her voice tinged with a warmth that had not been there before.

The crowd erupted into cheers, a deafening roar of approval and relief. The duel was over. The decision was made. And as Julian stood there, holding Adery's hand, he knew that the next phase of his plan had just begun.

'One queen… or two,' he thought, his gaze shifting toward Amira, who watched from the sidelines, her tears still glistening in the morning sun. 'It doesn't matter. I've already won.'