The host resumed the countdown. My attention was razor-sharp. Fifth place went to a candidate whose name didn’t even ring a bell. A wave of relief washed over me. My apologies, fifth-place girl. I need this more than you do.
“Next, in a breakaway fourth with seventy-nine towels cleansed, we have the Kingdom of Celestia’s own Saintly candidate: Lady Flora Sanchez! Well done!” The announcement triggered a surge of applause.
Flora, ever the epitome of grace, flashed a radiant smile at the host and then turned to acknowledge the audience, her gesture eliciting even louder applause. She worked the crowd effortlessly, her charm amplifying the applause as she absorbed their accolades.
Well, that’s Flora for you. I could never manipulate a crowd in such an effortless manner, managing to sway a whole assembly of nobility and royalty to my command. Before I could dwell on our differences any further, the host announced third place. That candidate had edged out Flora by a slim margin, prompting a fresh wave of murmurs from the audience as they lamented Flora’s near miss at third place.
Now, this is it! Only second and first place were left, and my name had yet to be called.
The host transitioned smoothly. “Ladies and gentlemen, as we cannot announce second place without it being immediately apparent who obtained first, they shall be announced together.” Drawing in a deep breath to draw out the suspense of the moment, he continued, “Claiming second place in our first trial, having successfully cleansed an impressive 101 towels, is Princess Noelle Nero Noir of the Kingdom of Noir!” A pause allowed the applause to swell before he added, “And thus, our resplendent victor of this first trial, standing solidly in first place with an exemplary count of 378 towels, is...Princess Carolina Ruby Martinez of Malcosias!”
My heart leaped. I had done it! Stealing a quick glance towards Ed and my friends in the audience, I saw their smiles beaming with unwavering confidence, their faces alight with pride and their unshakable belief in me. The joy of their faith was overwhelming; it filled me with elation.
The host’s voice, filled with admiration, cut through my reverie. “With not a single towel disqualified for incomplete cleansing, Princess Carolina has indeed delivered a flawless victory, if I may say so myself!”
Flawless. Exemplary. The words ignited a warm glow in my chest and a blush on my cheeks. The proceedings, however, waited not for my emotions to settle. The host cleared his throat, and the commotion of the crowd faded. When silence reigned in the venue, he carried on. “That concludes the announcement of results of the first trial. We will now proceed to the second trial. Please stand by as we make the necessary preparations.”
The hush that had momentarily blanketed the audience lifted at once, and the chatter returned. All of the candidates took this as another opportunity to relax their postures and enjoy a brief reprieve—all except for me. As the victor of the first trial, I felt the weight of every gaze upon me, compelling me to stand taller and straighter than ever before to meet the lofty expectations I had now set. It seemed any respite would have to wait until the trials concluded...
After fifteen agonizing minutes of maintaining the poised demeanor befitting a future Saint, the doors to the grand hall swung open dramatically. A procession of knights clad in armor marched in, their breastplates emblazoned with the symbols of church paladins, though each wore a brightly colored bracelet which clashed markedly with their ceremonial splendor. They numbered a few dozen, and as they positioned themselves before us, I could see that each soldier was scarred with wounds and other signs of battle.
I had an inkling of what this particular trial might entail. For the benefit of everyone else, however, the host explained, “The second trial is now set to commence. Your challenge, candidates, is to perform a ritual of healing. Extend your powers to these holy warriors before you, all of whom have borne great suffering in service to our Lord.”
Indeed. As I thought, this trial seems to be nothing but a repeat of the preliminaries.
“Distinguished candidates, each brave knight before you sports a bracelet of either white, blue, or red. These bracelets signify the severity of their wounds—white for minor grazes, blue for more serious injuries from crushing blows or incised wounds, and red for fractured bones or even graver injuries. Naturally, the points awarded for healing a wound correspond to its severity: one point for white, three for blue, and a substantial ten for red.”
So that’s what those bracelets are for, I mused. The church had given this quite a bit of thought. With the clear demarcation of the different colors, we could wisely choose our challenges and avoid the risk of complications caused by attempting to heal a wound that was beyond our skill to manage.
The host continued, “To earn points, you must approach and aid the knight of your choice. Upon their recovery—and only when they declare themselves healed—they will present you with their bracelet as a token of their mended state.” His tone hinted at the trust placed in the knights’ self-assessment. It was a curious but seemingly prudent choice that would considerably streamline the process.
“You may not ‘keep’ a wounded paladin to prevent them from being healed by another candidate. You may tend multiple knights simultaneously, but this will be capped at three for the safety of our volunteers. Interfering with another candidate’s efforts or attempting to ‘steal’ a knight is strictly prohibited. Should disputes arise, the high pontiff himself will arbitrate,” he added, ensuring every rule was crystal clear.
The host’s gaze swept across us, and we nodded firmly as if to say, As if anyone would do something so disgraceful in front of His Holiness.
“Please be aware, this trial will be conducted in two halves due to the spatial constraints of our stage with the additional presence of our valiant paladins. Those of you who are positioned in the front row, I kindly ask you to exit the stage for the first half of this trial. We beg your cooperation and understanding in this matter.”
I supposed accommodating all twenty-three candidates and the numerous paladins on the stage simultaneously would probably have been a logistical nightmare. We in the front row exchanged puzzled glances at the sudden command to exit, but we agreeably complied. As we made our way backstage, the paladins advanced, their bulky figures occupying the entirety of the part of the stage on which we had been standing. Now it was clear that removing us had been a wise decision indeed; the stage was too crowded as it was, and the risk of someone falling off it would have been all too real had all of us remained.
From my vantage point backstage, I caught sight of Flora. She had been positioned just behind me, and thus she was a part of the first cohort. Given the length of the interlude between the first trial and the second, she looked slightly better than before, but her complexion was still far from healthy, and she appeared even more fatigued than some of the knights she was about to heal. Could one use magic in such a state? In my opinion, standing upright was the most she should be managing at the moment.
I knew this wasn’t the time to be concerned about a rival’s well-being, but I just couldn’t shake off the ominous feeling that something was very wrong. I found myself wishing for someone to intervene, to force her to step down before it was too late, but I knew it wasn’t my place to say or do anything. Frustrated by my powerlessness and distracted by my worry, I barely registered the host’s voice as he declared the resumption of the proceedings.
“You have thirty minutes. Let the second trial...begin!”