Ersia: Raven Dawn

The audience’s reaction to the opening ceremony of the Ludus Magnorum was mixed—curious, uncertain, but still within the bounds of civility. Thankfully, no outrage or disorder stirred among the crowd. Yet the event’s herald, ever the vigilant master of ceremonies, would not take any chances. Rather than allow space for murmurs to fester or incidents to arise, he chose to move swiftly. With practiced ease, he stepped forward and invited the delegation from Aramia to present their prepared performance—just as the other nations had.

From among the Aramian twin siblings, it was the sister who stepped forth, graceful and composed. She bowed elegantly to the audience, then gestured for the dancers of Aramia to take the stage.

What followed was a breathtaking mosaic of movement and music—a tribute to the immense cultural breadth of Aramia. The performers unveiled a masterful suite of traditional dances, each representing the distinct regions of their empire: the rhythmic precision of the Savirsky dance, the regal flow of the Apolonaise, the spirited footwork of the Opak, the ethereal sways of the Wetlander—and many more, each evoking the soul of its homeland.

The performance was both a show of national pride and a delicate gesture of reconciliation—an unspoken message that Aramia, too, could offer beauty, unity, and art.

They were followed by delegations from the Far South-East, culminating in the awe-inspiring spectacle of the Runawijaya Empire, rulers of the distant Bandau Archipelago. With their dazzling use of ritual magic, haunting melodies, and otherworldly elegance, their dancers seemed to bend the air and light around them. For a moment, the audience sat spellbound—as though watching beings from another world entirely. Only the seasoned merchant-nobles, whose trade routes reached across seas and strange kingdoms, remained unshaken, having glimpsed such wonders before.

But for the rest, it was as if the edge of the known world had unfolded right before their eyes.

The grand showcase concluded with a final performance from the Yeon Confederation—an enchanting display featuring their spiritual beasts. Though some of the creatures appeared languid and weary at first, they soon roused themselves and delivered a dazzling performance that held the audience spellbound. Cheers erupted from the stands, a thunderous wave of applause sweeping through the coliseum. By that point, all trace of earlier unease had vanished. Joy filled the air. Even some of the guards—tasked with keeping vigilant watch—had let their discipline slip, momentarily swept up in the revelry like children at a festival.

---

Four hours had passed since the ceremony began, and yet hardly anyone had left their seat. People willingly ignored the call of their bladders just to witness every precious moment. Among them sat Viena, her face glowing with childlike wonder. She had never felt such sheer, overwhelming happiness in her life.

And when it was finally over, she was crying—sobbing, in fact—without even realizing it.

“Hey, why are you tearing up a river?” Lisabelle teased, gently wiping Viena’s tear-streaked face with a handkerchief, dabbing at her runny nose like a doting older sister. “This was supposed to be a happy occasion. Or should you have stayed home after all?”

“No way! I would’ve come even if it killed me!” Viena replied between hiccupped sobs.

When she had calmed down a little, she leaned against Randia and wrapped her arms around his muscular arm. Her tiny hands sought his palm—broad and weathered, larger than her head—and began peppering it with kisses. Then, tenderly, she pressed it against her cheek and closed her eyes.

“Papa… thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered. “I love you so, so much.”

Randia said nothing. He simply watched her, quiet and still, his expression unreadable as her warmth filled his hand.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” he said at last. “The worst part is still to come. In a moment, the crowd’s going to surge toward the exit like a pack of startled animals. Everyone’s going to be bumping into each other. It’ll be stuffy, and... well, let’s just say getting to the toilet will be absolutely impossible.”

Viena giggled softly, then reached out and took Lisabelle’s hand, catching her by surprise.

“But that’s okay,” she said, beaming. “My big sister will think of something, right?”

Her teeth sparkled in the light as she grinned from ear to ear.

Lisabelle froze.

Big sister.

Viena had called her that. Of her own accord. No coaxing, no teasing, no prompting. Just like that.

In an instant, Lisabelle flushed bright red—redder than any of the banners fluttering in the arena. Her heart pounded so violently it threatened to burst out of her chest. Not even the breathtaking performances of the entire opening ceremony could compete with that single, spontaneous moment.

She turned away quickly, trying to hide her burning face.

"H-Hah! That's piece of cake!" she said, her voice wavering just a little. “Honestly, what would you do without me?”

As Viena and Lisabelle chatted excitedly, trading thoughts about the various performances they had just witnessed from the different nations, someone suddenly tapped Randia on the shoulder.

It was a small boy—likely around Viena’s age—with a face so innocent it seemed untouched by worry. In his hand was a neatly sealed letter, which he silently extended toward Randia.

Randia said nothing at first. He simply stared at the boy, his eyes narrowing slightly. Shifting his weight, he leaned in to study the child more carefully—his clothes, his posture, his expression… and more importantly, to sense whether any residual traces of magic lingered around him. A creeping unease had stirred in Randia’s gut, sharp and sudden, and he trusted those instincts.

“Ah! Don’t worry, sir!” the boy chirped, hands raised in honest protest. “I swear I don’t know what’s inside! You can see for yourself—it’s still sealed!”

Only half reassured, Randia reached out and cautiously accepted the letter.

The moment the letter passed into his hand, the boy broke into a grin and darted off, skipping cheerfully back to his seat. He fished out a candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, visibly delighted.

As it turned out, the boy attended this event with his older sister who just came by from somewhere, and they weren’t sitting far from where he sat. Randia kept his eyes on them, watching closely for a long while. He then swept his gaze across the crowd, scanning every face, every movement, but found nothing suspicious—at least, nothing he could name.

In the end, Randia had no choice.

Whatever apprehension lingered in his chest, he knew it would not be silenced until he saw the contents of the letter for himself. Slowly, deliberately, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment within.

It took only a second.

His eyes widened. A cold sweat began to bead along his brow and temples, and a sudden chill slid down his spine like a blade of ice.

At the top of the letter, written in an unmistakable, deliberate hand, were the words:

To the Great Hero,

Randia of Aderia.