"With The Clash of the Eight Orders only three days away, where shall we stay?"
"We'll all be housed within the Lord's Keep, separated into eight different gardens. The championship will also be held there."
Myke was curious about Alavin. "What promise did you make to the Mollen family?"
"Merely forged a friendship," Alavin replied, gazing out at the bustling city and reminiscing about the imagery of Stormcast.
"Why are you so set on participating in The Clash of the Eight Orders?" Myke admitted that Alavin had strength and talent, and a fierce determination. But The Clash of the Eight Orders brings together the top scions of each Order, each more formidable than the last. Alavin had gone to the lengths of striking a deal with the Mollen family to secure his place. What was it all for? If he didn't win a single match, he’d return only to be scoffed at. If by some fluke he won one, at best, he’d be freed from servitude. Was it worth it?
Myke didn't understand, nor did the others.
Alavin let the curtain fall. "I've heard that the top five will be granted titles, and there are rich rewards within the Organization. That's what I'm after."
Myke was taken aback, Nikulas raised an eyebrow, Cedrick turned his head, and Mariela lifted her gaze. The atmosphere inside the carriage was strangely tense for a moment.
Alavin laughed. "One should have aspirations, right? What if they come true?"
The others were speechless, not knowing what to say.
Nikulas suddenly spoke, "I feel... you're planning something."
Alavin chuckled lightly. "Don't think of me as so complex. I'm a simple man."
Again, speechless, they thought. You? Simple? You're simply mad.
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