The noise was even louder here, as the chatter and murmurings of the villagers kept echoing in the air.
Everyone wanted to see who would awaken what kind of class today, who would be blessed by fate, and who would fall into despair.
Up ahead, beyond the crowd, stood a short wooden fence that separated the villagers from the ceremonial field.
The fence wasn't tall—only about half the height of the men guarding it—but it was more than enough to mark a clear boundary.
Three men stood in front of it, spaced evenly apart.
They were clad in light armor that gleamed faintly under sun, a sword hanging from the waists of each of them.
Their expressions were firm and stoic, not a trace of emotion showing on their faces as they silently observed the restless crowd before them.
Even though the fence itself was nothing impressive, no one dared to move closer to it.
The guards' presence alone was enough to remind everyone where the line was drawn.
