Cassius Aurelius:


    —Silence in the hall! Hans has the floor.


    Hans:


    —Honorable judges, though I may disagree in some ways, I respect any law that is just. If fate dictates that the spoils must be shared in exceptional cases, I will not oppose it, for I believe that fairness is the foundation of our honor. Now, I ask you, Ignacio, what is your opinion on the distribution?


    Ignacio "The Fierce":


    —Hans, my youthful days taught me never to yield victory easily. But I have seen in you a courage and boldness I had not witnessed in ages. Though I will not allow triumph to fall without a fight, I acknowledge that your spirit shines like a beacon in the dark. Therefore, if we reach a mutual agreement, I will be willing to yield all my spoils. But let it be known: I will not surrender my share unless you maintain that combative spirit, for I trust that, with time, you will hone your skills and forge yourself into a knight of great lineage.


    Hans:


    —Ignacio, your words have left me breathless. I appreciate your gesture, for only great men speak with such honor. I accept this noble pact, committing myself to keeping the flame of valor alive every day and to forging my destiny with the determination I have demonstrated today.


    Ignacio "The Fierce":


    —So be it, Hans. Let this agreement stand as proof that, in adversity, true greatness is measured by the nobility of the spirit. May fate always find us worthy!


    Cassius Aurelius (with an implacable tone):


    —So let it be decreed, in the name of honor and justice that rule these lands. May the word of this tribunal and this sacred pact be eternal!


    The night had not yet died completely, but the contest had already left a trail of chaos. Though the judges had delivered their verdict with the unyielding severity of the law, the true shock came when the chest containing the gold was opened.


    The crowd gathered around the heavy oak chest, adorned with forgotten heraldry and seals of ancient deeds, eagerly awaiting the glimmer of coins that would seal the fate of the contest. However, when the escort lifted the lid, the chest revealed its treacherous truth: it was empty.


    A deafening silence took hold of the place. Every eye widened in disbelief, and every breath became an echo of disappointment.


    —This cannot be! —some exclaimed, while others murmured in astonishment and distrust.


    Hans, his face serious and his gaze fixed on the chest’s emptiness, muttered to himself:


    —Fate grows darker than I ever imagined...


    Ignacio "The Fierce" stepped forward with a firm stride and exclaimed fiercely:


    —No one move! The thief is still among us!


    The judges, barely able to process what was happening, were left stunned by the revelation. Before they could give any explanations, the crowd descended upon them in fury.


    Cassius Aurelius tried to raise his voice, but his authority was drowned out by the roar of the mob.


    —I order you to maintain composure! We must clarify this before—!


    A cup flew straight at his face, silencing him instantly.


    Viktor, caught in a heated argument with a man insisting this was not the judges’ fault, could barely make himself heard. His injured leg prevented him from moving quickly, and before he knew it, the brawl had begun.


    Hans looked at Ignacio, but his companion wasted no time trying to calm things down. He did not mediate with words—he mediated with fists.


    —If you want answers, hit those who stole it, not me! —roared Ignacio, knocking a man down with a punch.


    Hans, seeing everything spiraling out of control, tried to step back, but he wasn’t fast enough. A pair of men grabbed him roughly.


    —You were in the race, bastard! This is your doing! —one of the aggressors growled.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    —Get your damn hands off my cape! —Hans roared, headbutting the first and shoving the second into the crowd.


    He felt his blood boil in his chest. He had no idea who had stolen the gold, but if he stayed there, they would make him pay for it anyway.


    He tried to force his way through with elbows and shoves, but a burly man with a weathered face and dark eyes intercepted him.


    —Did you think you could walk away from this without consequences? —spat the stranger, drawing a dagger.


    Hans barely had time to react before the thug lunged at him. Instinctively, he dodged and kicked the attacker in the shin. The man grunted, but before he could recover, Hans leaped over an overturned table and ran into the shadows.


    —Catch that bastard! —someone shouted.


    He needed no further warnings. Hans fled through the alleys, the sound of pursuers close behind.


    He had no fixed destination, only one clear decision: if he wanted to survive in this world, he had to stop relying on luck and start forging his own legend.


    As the brawl in the contest raged on, Hans vanished into the night, with the echoes of battle fading behind him.


    Hans ran, his breath ragged, the metallic taste of blood still in his mouth from the blows received during the contest. Two thugs chased him, hot on his heels like hungry wolves.


    —Run, kid, run! —one of them jeered—. When I catch you, I’ll rip out each of your teeth one by one!


    The narrow, cobbled streets seemed to close in on him. Hans zigzagged through dark alleys, but he knew he couldn’t run forever.


    When his house appeared in the distance, he forced himself to muster every ounce of strength to reach it before they caught him.


    He pushed the door open and slammed it shut, barricading it with a barrel and an old chair. His mind raced.


    I can’t stay here. I have no time. I need to grab what I can and get out.


    But before he could move, the pounding on the door began.


    —We know you’re in there, scum! —one of the thugs growled—. Come out and give us what you owe!


    Hans scowled.


    —I don’t owe you idiots anything!


    —You were in the race! You must know where the gold is!


    Hans let out a dry laugh.


    —Well, I’ve got bad news for you... I’m looking for it too!


    The silence that followed only meant one thing. They didn’t care what he had to say.


    —Break the door.


    Hans grabbed a thick wooden stick from a corner. It wasn’t a sword, but it would do the job. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.


    With a loud crash, the door gave way.


    The first thug, a tall man with a scar on his cheek, stepped in confidently.


    Hans didn’t wait. He swung at the man’s leg with all his might.


    The thug grunted in pain and dropped to one knee.


    —You little bastard!


    Hans swung again, striking his face. The thug staggered, but the second, bulkier and fiercer, grabbed Hans from behind and threw him to the ground.


    The impact knocked the air from his lungs.


    Before he could get up, a kick landed on his side.


    —You put up a good fight... —the scarred thug growled, wiping blood from his mouth—. But this is the end for you.


    Hans, aching, forced a grin.


    —What are you waiting for? You gonna beat me till dawn?


    The bulkier one drew a knife.


    —No. We’re ending this right here.


    Hans closed his eyes for a moment.


    —Shit...


    Then, a sound.


    A dull thud.


    A crack.


    And then, a scream of pain.


    When Hans opened his eyes, the burly thug was collapsing to the ground like a sack of flour.


    Behind him, a figure emerged from the shadows, holding a sharp dagger still dripping with blood.


    —Always getting yourself into trouble, big guy...


    Hans blinked.


    It was her.


    The same girl he had seen at the tavern the night before. The thief of the gold.


    Though Hans didn’t know it yet.


    The scarred thug tried to react, drawing his own dagger and lunging at the mysterious woman.


    But she was faster.


    A sidestep.


    A swift, precise movement.


    A silver flash in the darkness.


    The girl’s dagger sliced through the air with surgical precision, piercing the thug’s wrist before he could strike.


    The man howled in pain, dropping his weapon.


    With a fluid turn, the thief moved behind him and struck him on the nape with the hilt of her dagger.


    The thug fell to his knees, trembling.


    Hans, still on the ground, stared at her in disbelief.


    —Who the hell are you?


    The girl smirked playfully, wiping her blade on the unconscious thug’s clothes.


    —Someone who just saved your hide.


    Hans frowned, trying to make sense of what had just happened.


    The mysterious woman stepped closer and held out her hand.


    —Get up. It’s not safe to stay here.


    Hans hesitated for a second, but before taking her hand, his instinct forced a question he couldn’t ignore.


    —Why are you helping me?


    She looked at him with a half-smile, her eyes reflecting the spark of someone who knew far more than she was willing to say.


    —I heard you say you needed to stay alive to find the gold.


    Hans felt a chill run down his spine.


    —So what?


    The girl leaned in slightly, her voice barely a whisper.


    —Let’s just say… I want to know who has it, too.


    Hans didn’t know if he could trust her, but at that moment, he had two choices:


    <ul>


    <li>Try to trick her into revealing what she knew.</li>


    <li>Tell her the truth and risk sharing the fate of the thugs.</li>


    </ul>


    And for the first time in a long while, fate offered him a choice.