"I reject this marriage, Your Majesty, and ask that you take back your blessing!"
Kneeling on one knee before King Jarvan III, Fiora's voice was low, yet carried the weight of unshakable resolve.
Her words dropped like a thunderclap, and the entire hall erupted. Gasps, murmurs, and incredulous stares turned toward the young duelist.
"Has she lost her mind?"
"To repudiate her marriage on a day like this, what is she thinking?"
"Is she trying to provoke open conflict between the Crownguard and Laurent families?"
"Reckless, far too reckless!"
"She's disgracing the Crownguard before the whole of Demacia!"
"Utterly irrational!"
…
At the king's side, Tianna Crownguard's expression hardened. Her voice was sharp as steel:
"Girl, you had better reconsider. All these people gathered here today are witnesses, and this is the choice you present to them?"
To break the betrothal so publicly was nothing less than a slap across the Crownguard family's face. And for one of Demacia's highest houses, Tianna would never let such humiliation pass unchallenged.
"Fiora, you… you, !"
Sebastian Laurent's face flushed crimson as he pointed a trembling finger at his daughter, his eyes blazing with fury and dread.
The Laurents had clawed their way through generations of hardship, building their name as warriors and duelists. To have finally secured a match with the Crownguards, only for his daughter to turn it into a spectacle like this, was unbearable.
But Fiora did not flinch. She met her father's furious gaze with clear, unwavering eyes.
"Father, this is my choice. I beg you, do not interfere."
King Jarvan III, seeking to keep the two houses from tearing each other apart, spoke gently:
"Child, will you not reconsider? Think carefully, "
In Demacia, honor, whether personal or familial, was paramount. To stain either was unforgivable. And Fiora's actions were not merely defiance, but a brazen blow to the Crownguard's dignity, the sort of insult that could never be forgotten.
Even though her intended fiancé was from a collateral branch, not a direct heir like Garen or Luxana, it was still an honor far beyond what most noble houses could ever hope to attain. Yet Fiora refused to be a pawn of politics, determined instead to carve her own fate with the blade in her hand.
Her gaze did not waver as she looked up at the king:
"My heart is set. Please, withdraw your blessing.
My life's path is mine alone to walk. If others would seek to decide it for me, then I shall defend my will with my blood and my sword.
Once more, I ask you, take back your blessing."
Her voice rang with clarity, every word cutting like steel.
Jarvan III frowned, reluctant to answer at once. Though he respected her conviction, both families stood before him, he had to consider their will as well.
"Lord Sebastian, what is your judgment?"
The king turned toward Fiora's father. Sebastian knew his daughter's nature well, never one to accept chains, always grasping with her own hands what she desired. Dolls she had been given as a child were gifted away to servants. Silken gowns crafted by master tailors she shredded in practice with her rapier. Armor and blades had always been her truest companions.
Sebastian sighed deeply, casting a weary glance at his daughter. "Your Majesty… forgive this shame."
"So you have made your choice," Tianna said icily. Her frosted expression betrayed her mounting fury. "If the Laurents stand by her decision, then so be it, this marriage is annulled."
But her voice hardened, sharp as drawn steel:
"Yet the shame you have cast upon House Crownguard must be cleansed in blood."
Fiora stood tall, unrepentant. "And what do you intend, Lady Tianna?"
"You claimed your life's path should belong to you alone. Then let blood decide the truth of it."
Her voice snapped like a whip: "Cicero!"
A young man stepped forth from the crowd, his face marked with grief and fury. He bowed his head to Tianna. "Aunt."
"This woman has stained your honor. Do you have the courage to cleanse it with your own hands?"
"I do!" Cicero's fists clenched, his voice hoarse but resolute. "I will stake my life on defending the honor of House Crownguard. I will erase this shame with my own blade."
"Good," Tianna nodded coldly. She turned to the king.
"Your Majesty, I petition for a Duel of Death, that our houses' hatred and disgrace may be settled by blood."
Jarvan III's face darkened. "Must it come to this?"
"My will is firm!"
Tianna dropped to one knee before him, her fury plain to all. The hall fell into a tense silence. Everyone knew, tonight's scandal would echo through all of Demacia.
"And you?" the king asked, turning to Sebastian and Fiora.
Sebastian's eyes lingered on his daughter, then shifted to Tianna's merciless gaze. He closed his eyes, drew a long breath, and answered:
"I will fight in her stead. As her father, it is my right, and my duty. Let me bear the weight of this feud."
Demacia's ancient tradition was clear: when hatred grew too deep to be resolved, a Death Duel could be invoked. Two champions would fight until one fell. The loser paid with their life, and the victor's house would demand no further vengeance.
Jarvan III finally inclined his head. "Very well. In one day's time, House Laurent and House Crownguard shall meet in a Duel of Death. Lord Sebastian will take his daughter's place, and the Crownguards may name their own champion."
Tianna's gaze flicked toward Sebastian, her voice laced with scorn. "Then I hope you are prepared, Lord Laurent."
"I am," Sebastian answered, his voice steady though his back seemed to bow under invisible weight. He gave a stiff bow to the king. "If Your Majesty will excuse us, I shall take my leave to prepare."
"Go, then," Jarvan III said heavily. Though his words carried encouragement, everyone present could see the truth: Sebastian prepared not only for battle, but for death.
For against the might of Tianna's handpicked champion, one of the Dauntless Vanguard's finest, what hope had an aging swordmaster left?
…
As the Laurents withdrew in grim silence, Tianna rose to address the hall:
"My apologies that you have all been witness to such disgrace. But rest assured, within a day's time, there will be a reckoning.
House Crownguard will not suffer shame. We will restore our honor in blood."
She signaled the butlers sharply. "See our guests out."
The nobles filed out in murmuring groups, the evening's spectacle already stirring rumors that would spread like wildfire.
Among them, Duke leaned close to Vayne with a faint smile. "So, after all that, do you still regret coming?"
"You knew this was going to happen," Vayne shot him a sidelong glance.
He only shrugged. "Who can say?"
"Let's go home."
"You complain about formal wear, I complain about it too. Let's take these damn suits off and be done with it."
"…Fine."
Arm in arm, the two slipped out, only to be intercepted at the front hall.
"Well met again, Master Duke."
Xin Zhao stood before them with impeccable courtesy. Duke's brow arched slightly, so, the king wanted to see him. Without betraying anything, he replied:
"And what does His Majesty require, Chamberlain Zhao?"
"His Majesty invites you to a private audience."
Duke glanced at Vayne. She gave a little shrug. "The king himself asks. You go. I'll head back with Angh."
"Fair enough."
The two parted, and Duke followed Xin Zhao away. Meanwhile, Vayne found Angh, and together they departed in their wolf-drawn carriage.
Sebastian Laurent, seated in his own carriage, happened to glance out the window as Vayne's unusual vehicle sped past. Curious, he asked his second son, "Whose carriage is that?"
Amda Laurent looked once, then answered casually: "That's the ride of some craftsman from Piltover. Supposedly the inventor of exoskeleton armor."
Sebastian's brows lifted. "The inventor?"
"That's the word. Though people say the version being sold publicly is just the most basic model, he might have more advanced designs hidden away."
Amda waved a hand dismissively. "But father, now's hardly the time to worry about Piltover trinkets. What matters is tomorrow's duel. Can your body still endure it?"
Sebastian's gaze lingered on the wolf-drawn carriage shrinking into the distance. Slowly, his eyes narrowed.
"…As it happens, I may have just thought of something."
End of chapter....
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