Game Day 2
“That tattooed man was absolutely incredible!” Viena exclaimed, pouring citrus tea into each of their cups. “How in the world did he manage to claim almost half of all the relics at the bottom of the lake?”
“I-It’s also the first time I’ve seen someone stay underwater for over thirteen minutes,” Eleanor murmured, fingertips brushing her cheek in quiet astonishment, as though testing whether she’d imagined it.
Lisabelle’s eyes flickered, wide and unblinking. “What in the world are these people? They’re absolute monsters.” There was genuine awe in her voice—perhaps even a shade of unease—at the inhuman performances unfolding before them.
The next event soon began: contestants were tasked with hauling ten-kilogram weights from the lakebed at a depth of ten meters. The victor was the one who could bring up the greatest number before time ran out. This time, the winner was a competitor from Leadsea—a man called Hans Bebe the Finman. He is a man well past forty with a weathered face and graying hair. Yet the world beneath the water is his kingdom; his movements were swift, his strength almost absurd. Even against the fierce challenge from the Republic of Varnaria’s representative, he emerged triumphant, surfacing with his last haul to an uproar of cheers.
On the pier, Viena clutched the edge of her seat as the competition rolled into the sailing and rowing events. The sight of crews pulling their oars with such furious rhythm, vessels slicing cleanly through the wind-rippled water, made her lean forward with an almost childlike longing.
“They look like they’re flying,” she said, eyes bright. “I think it would be so much fun to sit on one of those boats, feel the wind in my face and the shudder of the hull as those huge, muscle-bound rowers push it forward.”
“Lily,” she added with a grin, “could you row a boat like that?”
“I’ve done some rowing before—with Uncle Liam,” Lisabelle replied, lips quirking in a knowing smile. “It depends on your technique, but if you’re not careful, you’ll end up aching all over—especially in your back and forearms.”
The three of them lingered over the spectacle, enjoying the contests as they shared their midday meal. Between bites, they traded remarks about the competitors, sometimes in awe, sometimes in playful disbelief.
But as the afternoon wore on, a subtle change crept into the scene. Far on the horizon, clouds began to mass—grey and heavy, like a slow-closing curtain. The glint of sunlight on the water dulled, and a faint, cool breeze carried the scent of distant rain.
Eleanor was the first to notice. She set down her cup and glanced upward. “It seems the weather has other plans for us.”
Lisabelle followed her gaze, lips tightening. “Hmph. Just when it was getting interesting.”
Viena let out a small sigh, eyes lingering on the boats still cutting across the lake. “Can’t we stay a little longer? I wanted to see the rest.”
“Stay, and we’ll be rowing ourselves back to the city in a storm,” Lisabelle said dryly, rising to her feet.
Eleanor gave a gentle nod toward the darkening sky. “We should go while the streets are still dry.”
Reluctantly, Viena licked her fingers clean and got to her feet. “Fine… but we better see something even more fun!”
And so, with one last glance at the bustling waterfront, they turned their steps toward the city, the wind at their backs and the scent of rain urging them on.
When they reached the eastern gate of the city, Viena and the others spotted a group of people dressed entirely in blue boarding a royal carriage. The coach’s crest gleamed faintly in the waning light, and the team of horses snorted impatiently, ready to depart—heading, as it seemed, toward the very place they had just left behind.
Before anyone could stop her, Viena had already trotted forward, curiosity leading her straight toward the driver, who was adjusting the reins.
“Sir! Where are you going?” she called up.
The driver frowned and glanced around. “Hm? Where did that voice come from?”
“Down here!” Viena huffed, planting her fists on her hips. “Honestly, are your eyes that bad?”
The man’s face split into a wide grin before he burst out laughing. “Wahahah! Forgive me, little miss! You’re so tiny, I nearly mistook you for a wayward kitten on the road!”
Viena scowled, though her lips twitched. “Very funny. So? Where are you all headed?”
“I’m taking this fine group of first-rank mages to deal with that ugly lump of clouds over yonder!” The coachman jabbed a finger toward the eastern horizon, where dark clouds were massing in a slow, rolling churn above Fleurein.
Viena’s eyes widened. “Y-you mean—you’re going to control the rain?!”
The man shrugged with a conspiratorial wink. “Something like that, maybe. I’m just the driver, lass. Truth be told, I’m just as curious as you are to see what they’ll do.”
“Whoa… that’s amazing!” Viena’s voice brimmed with excitement, her earlier annoyance forgotten.
The coachman laughed heartily. “Hah! Then wish us luck, eh? We can’t have bad weather spoiling such a splendid day’s festivities!”
With that, he snapped the reins, and the horses surged forward. Viena could only watch, mouth slightly agape, as the carriage rolled away. At the very last moment, the blue-clad mages turned in their seats to wave. Viena, grinning now, waved back enthusiastically until they vanished down the road.
Lisabelle sat with the folded map page from this morning’s newspaper spread across her lap, her eyes scanning the list of afternoon events. The clock had just struck one. She weighed their options — perhaps gymnastics, equestrian, or even the strongman contest.
“Vivi, do you think we should—” She cut herself off mid-sentence, a sudden thought crossing her mind. She remembered, with a faint smile, how much her grandmother had always adored horses.
“Hm? You were going to ask me something, Lily?” Viena tilted her head curiously.
“It’s nothing,” Lisabelle said, folding the paper with a quiet snap. “Let’s go to the racetrack instead.”
Viena’s face lit up. “Ooh, that’s a brilliant choice! We might even get to see the horses up close—”
Before she could finish, Eleanor’s entire demeanor transformed. The moment she heard the words horse and race, a bright spark flared in her eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come along, children!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a vitality they hadn’t heard all day. She straightened her back, her steps quickening, moving with the vigor of someone ten years younger.
Lisabelle smiled faintly at the sight, a mixture of amusement and affection warming her chest. Without saying a word, she slipped her hand into her grandmother’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. She had the quiet sense that this would be their last stop for the day — the sun already leaning toward the west, the time it would take to cross the city, and the inevitable wait for seats at the venue.
“Let’s make this one count,” she murmured softly, more to herself than anyone else.
And so, the three of them set off toward the northern edge of the city, the streets alive with festival banners and the distant sound of hooves waiting somewhere ahead.