The bandits circled me now, their ons poised like predators closing in on their prey.

  The roar of the crowd became a dull hum in the background as adrenaline sharpened my senses. Every g of their steel against mine reverberated, every bead of sweat that slipped down my spine reminding me how real this performance felt.

  “Fainst one,” I quipped, shifting my stao face them all. “What happeo chivalry?”

  The leader barked a ugh from the sidelines. “This isn’t chivalry, ss—it’s survival!”

  Their first move came from my left—a mace swung in a deadly arc.

  I ducked just in time. The rush of air brushed my cheek as it narrowly missed. My dagger flicked out instinctively, rattling against the mad f the bandit back.

  Before I could recover, the swordsman on my right lunged, his bde aiming for my ribs.

  I twisted, the skirts of my dress fring as I blocked him with my rapier, the steel screeg as it slid against his.

  But the others weren’t waiting their turn. A dagger-wielding bandit came at me from behind, his bde slig downward. I spun, raising my dagger in a frantic block just as the edge met mih a teeth-rattling g.

  My arms trembled uhe strain, and my footing slipped slightly.

  The croed.

  The fourth one—a spear-wielding brute—used the distra to thrust at my exposed side. My body reacted before my brain could catch up, leaping backward and out e.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I reset my stance, my breath ing faster now. “Still breathing!” I called out, grinnie the pressure. My voice was tight, but I couldn’t help the tremor that betrayed how much effort I utting in.

  They weren’t pying anymore, aher could I.

  The bandits came at me in unison this time, a whirlwind of bdes and blunt force. My rapier darted left to bloe strike, my dagger sweeping right to parry another.

  My heels slid against the stage floor as I spun, narrowly avoiding the spear aimed for my midse. Every move recise, deliberate—but frantiy arms burned, and my breath came in quick gasps, but I couldn’t let it show.

  This is for show, Charlie, I reminded myself, f my lips into a sly smile.

  Theatrics are key.

  Then I saw it—a strike I couldn’t avoid. The swordsman came in high while the mace-wielder swung low. My rapier was already locked with another bde, my dagger busy defleg a spear.

  I was ered.

  Perfect.

  My lips curved into a smirk as I g the ining attacks. “Alright, boys,” I drawled, “time for the prht.”

  I flicked my wrists, and the meisms hidden in my sleeves hissed softly.

  Frost shot out in twin arcs, shimmering uhe lights like crystalline magic. The streams hit three bandits square on—sword, mace, and spear alike freezing mid-swing.

  The bandits froze too, gasping in mock horror as they staggered backward, their movements exaggerated and theatrical.

  One colpsed to his knees, clutg his on as if it had truly been iced over. Another spun, arms filing, before dramatically falling to the ground.

  The crowd erupted, their cheers a tidal wave of excitement.

  The leader, however, was less amused. “Enough of this nonsense!” he roared, drawing his sword with a flourish. He stepped forward, his boots striking the stage like thunder. “Let’s see how your frost fares against me, ss!”

  “Gdly,” I said, raising both hands again. My movements were slower now, deliberate, as if I was summoning every st ounce of power. The frost hissed and surged, ing around his bde and creeping up to pommel. The metal shimmered with frostbite, and the leader staggered back, shaking his arm as if trying to shake off the cold.

  I feigned a gasp, l my hands aing them fall to my sides, firembling.

  The leader stepped forward, his boots thudding against the stage, the sound amplified by the tense hush that had fallehe crowd. With deliberate precision, he smashed his massive two-handed sword to the poor stage. The bde rang, its sheer size a f all the ice away.

  I love this!

  Judging by the way he twirled it with ease before settling into a poised stahis man was no amateur. He gave a flourishing bow, the exaggerated motion sending the edges of his tattered bandit cape fluttering. “Sword Queen,” he said, his voice full of respect. “Let’s see if you truly deserve that title.”

  He waheatrics?

  Yay! Let’s give the people a show.

  I curtsied in response, sweeping my rapier down in a arc. My skirt picked wind from stage fans and fred dramatically, the faint shimmer of the frost-dusted diamonds catg the stage holo-lights. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

  He lunged, his sword a blur of silver as it came down in a wide arc.

  I sidestepped, my movements quick, the edge of his bde slig the air inches from my shoulder. My rapier flicked up to parry his follow-up strike, the etal oal ringing out like a bell.

  For all his showboating, his skill was undeniable.

  His strikes were powerful, his movements fluid, eaixed with a deliberate precision that spoke of years of practice. He swung his sword in wide arcs, each motion desigo not only attack but to look good at doing it.

  He wasn’t just fighting—he erf.

  And so was I.

  My rapier darted out, a gleamiension of my arm, intercepting his bde and redireg it with the same flourish he used. The croed as I spun, my skirts fring out like the petals of a flower in full bloom.

  Every step, every strike, was calcuted to not just fight but to eain.

  “You’re not half bad,” I said, grinning as I sidestepped another sweeping attack, the wind of his bde ruffling the fabriy sleeves. “For a bandit.”

  He barked a ugh, stepping back to reassess. “And you’re not half bad—for royalty.”

  The tension crackled between us as the battle tinued, her of us gaining the upper hand. His strikes were relentless, eae pushing me closer to the edge of the stage. My rapier moved like lightning, blog and defleg, eag of our bdes eg through the air.

  He even forced me to use imperial arts, at least, which I could mah a mortal body and a dagger.

  But he wasn’t just strong—he was smart. His attacks became more calcuted, his footwork a blend of precision and fir.

  I met him move for move, matg his over-the-top style with my own.

  I leapt, twirled, and spun, my dress adding drama to every motion. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline keeping my movements sharp and my focus ser-precise.

  We circled each other, breathing hard, our bdes locked in a shimmering cross as we faced off. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine respect breaking through the performance. “You’re better than I expected,” he admitted.

  I smirked, pushing against his sword and f him back a step. “You’re not the first to uimate me.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement feeding the fire of our duel. I took a deep breath, steadying my his wasn’t just a fight anymore—it was a csh of skill and showmanship.

  And I was loving every sed.

  Our bdes sang through the air, a relentless chorus of g steel and reverberating tension.

  But for all his fir, I could see the cracks.

  The slight overextension of his swings, the way his weight shifted too quickly in his eagero nd a blow—it was there, the opening I needed.

  “Careful now,” I said with mock as I stepped smoothly out of the path of his sword. “You’ll throw your back out swinging like that.” His ugh was breathless, tinged with frustration as he adjusted, aiming a precise overhead strike that I sidestepped with ease.

  My imperial footwork kept me just beyond his reach, my movements a dance of trolled precision. Every step was deliberate, eagle calcuted to keep him chasing shadows.

  The crowd’s cheers swelled, their excitement fueling my energy. The leader’s sword arced wide, his strength driving it forward in an over-itted swing.

  Too fast, too much.

  And just like that, he was mine.

  I sidestepped again, slipping inside his reach with a spin that sent my dress fring dramatically. My rapier flicked out, not to strike, but to guide his bde further off course, leaving him wide open.

  His eyes widened.

  I moved to his side, close enough that I could see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

  “Pardon me,” I quipped, grinning as I raised both hands.

  The frost erupted from my hidden meisms, a dazzling stream of icy mist that bathed him in shimmering white. The crowd roared as the bandit leader staggered, his ughter boomie the frosty facade enveloping him.

  “Well danced!” he shouted, his voice eg across the stage as he dropped to one knee. Frost g to his faux-bandit armor, sparkling iage holo-lights, as he nodded in genuine admiration. “You’re better than I expected, Sword Queen.”

  I twirled my rapier with a flourish, pointing its tip to the ground as I struck a dramatic pose. “Better? I’m just getting started.”

  He let out one final hearty ugh, clutg his chest as if mortally wounded. “Ah… the end… has e!” With an exaggerated groaoppled backward, his sword cttering to the stage as he “died” with fir.

  The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, their appuse thunderous as the leader’s rades rushed forward t his “fallen” form back through the shimmering portal.

  I stood there, catg my breath, my heart pounding from the effort and exhiration. Eahale felt like fire in my lungs, but I wouldn’t let that show.

  Not here.

  Not now.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening, a tidal wave of cheers and appuse that made the floor beh me tremble. The energy in the air was electric, crag with an iy that I couldn’t ignore. I gnced sideways at the stage mirror, catg my refle—and almost hiccuped.

  The stage holo-lights hit my tiara just right, scattering tiny rainbows like starlight against the rich velvet backdrop. The faux diamonds sparkled brilliantly, framing my flushed face like some kind of ic . My hair, still perfectly coiffed despite the chaos, framed my fa a way that made me do a double take.

  And the dress—oh, the dress—g to my form like it had been poured on, the swirling frost pattern imprinted into the fabric, catg the light with every breath.

  Was that me?

  I looked… unreal.

  Like something out of a dream.

  It’s incredible what a dress, a tiara, and a gallon of stage makeup do. I could’ve quered kingdoms looking like this. I could’ve—

  My lips quirked upward, my fidence swelling as the reality of the moment hit me. With a theatrical flourish, I raised my rapier high, its bde gleaming as it caught the holo-light again. The crowd’s cheers surged, their voices blending into a symphony of adoration.

  For this moment, for this fleeting sed, I was the Sword Queen.

  And damn, it felt good.

  Sorry, my old body, but you are only a distant dream.

  I’m Charlie.

  “And so it has started, dear people!” I called out, my voice carrying effortlessly over the cheers. “e and challenge me in the Sword Queen Challenge!” I grihe grin that dared anyone bold enough to step forward. “ you dethrone me?” I winked food measure, the cheeky gesture earning a fresh wave of appuse.

  The holographic portal shimmered behiill crag with its ethereal glow, as if daring the teo emerge.

  But I wasn’t do.

  No, the performance had only just begun.

  “And for those who ’t—don’t despair!” I gestured with a dramatic sweep of my rapier. “There is a crisis in Rimelion! At the edge of the human empire, rebellion brews! The elven Queen Irwen has risen in arms, and the first epic Rimelion battle is on the horizon!”

  My voice rose, the weight of the words amplified by the subtle hum of the stage effects behind me.

  I pivoted, my dress fring once more, the silky fabric catg the breeze from uage fans. The holographic dispys around the arena flickered to life, showg ses of verdant elven forests, t fortresses, and the ominous shadow of war.

  Woah, Riker… How did you…

  I was gring at it, not expeg it to e up at all. “e to my East Fortification to take part and save the empire!” I finally managed, pointing dramatically toward the dispy. “Don’t fet your respawn tokens, so you travel even while offlihe empire needs heroes, and the battlefield awaits!”

  The audience’s excitement surged again, their cheers blending into a noise of anticipation and eagerness.

  Then I felt it—the faint ge of colors.

  I didn’t o turn to know what it was.

  The glow intensified slightly, casting a faint golden light that mingled with the cool blues of the portal.

  I sensed Riker’s presence even before his booming voice joihe fray; the man arriving like an over-enthusiastibeam breaking through a cloud. “Ah, what a moment, dear people!” he excimed, his voice gilded with his usual fir.

  “Thank you, oh illustrious Sword Queen, for your impeccably timed rescue!” Riker’s voied, his arms spread wide as he basked in the crowd’s adoration. “But, might I suggest for ime—please don’t mistake me for a light mage. It’s not magic, you see; it’s simply my radiant personality shining through!”

  The crowd erupted in ughter, their amusement mingling with his absurd fmboyance. I couldn’t help it—a giggle escaped me, light and unguarded.

  With a slight bow to the audience, I pivoted again and made haste to the backstage, my steps light with satisfa.

  Behind the curtains, the retive quiet ed around me like a calm night at Patrick’s. I exhaled, finally letting my shoulders rex, a small, tent smile tugging at my lips.

  AnnouCharlie’s Call to Arms!

  Hey, you! Yes, you! Want to join the fight and stand alongside Charlie? Here’s your ce for a cameo or a mention of your Rimelion niame in future chapters!

  I ’t promise it’ll happen during the battle with Irwen (that one’s already packed, but still few pces are ready!), but trust me—there are plenty more epic cshes ahead!

  If you’re ied, drop your niame in the ents or PM me. Feel free to include extra details like your character’s gender, css, preferred on, magic style, or anything else that makes them unique!

  Together, let’s defend the Empire! ^^