TW: Gore, violence, blood
Giedi Prime, 10185
"Lady Leonara," a voice muttered. Leonara's eyes fluttered open, and she looked around to find the source of the voice. A servant Leonara recognized stood there, her eyes filled with fear.
"What is it?"
"The Baron requests you wear this," she said, thrusting a folded black leathers onto Leonara's bed, "I will be waiting for you outside when you are done."
As Leonara stood in her room, the weight of confusion settled upon her like a heavy shroud. The unexpected appearance of the servant and the abrupt demand to don the fighting leathers left her mind swirling with unanswered questions.
Was I to fight? Fight where? Fight what?
With trembling hands, she unfolded the dark leather garment, its surface smooth and cold against her fingertips. It was a stark contrast to the soft fabrics she was accustomed to wearing within the confines of the palace walls. The very sight of the fighting leathers sent a chill down her spine, igniting a flicker of fear within her heart.
Leonara wasn't a stranger to blood or to killing, but the looming danger of the unknown lay ahead of her, of why.
Despite her inner turmoil, Leonara resigned herself to the task at hand. The Baron's orders were not to be questioned, and she dared not risk his displeasure. Slipping into the unfamiliar attire, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that lingered in the back of her mind.
As she emerged from her chambers, the servant awaited her with a solemn expression, mirroring the apprehension that twisted within Leonara's own chest. With each step they took towards the unknown, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon her, suffocating her with its oppressive presence.
"Where are you taking me," Leonara asked as they left the safety of the palace. The leathers provided mobility and comfort, yet she still didn't know what it was for.
When the servant finally disclosed the purpose of their journey, Leonara felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. Fight? In the arena? The words echoed in her mind, disbelief mingling with a rising tide of terror.
Why would she, a Bene Gesserit, be subjected to such a trial? Questions tumbled through her thoughts like leaves caught in a tempest, each one more bewildering than the last. Had she unknowingly transgressed some unspoken rule of court etiquette? Was this punishment for her kindness towards Feyd-Rautha? Had he discovered her intrusion on his computer?
With each passing moment, the impending confrontation loomed ever closer, casting a shadow over her fragile composure. The anticipation of the unknown gnawed at her insides, leaving her paralyzed by a potent mixture of fear and confusion.
As they reached the preparation room adjacent to the arena, Leonara's heart hammered against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Half an hour remained until she would be thrust into the spotlight, forced to confront a mystery without a clue why.
"Here is your preparation room, we will call you out in half an hour."
The door snapped shut behind her, plunging the dimly lit chamber into shadow. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she spotted a man seated before her, his bare torso revealing a protruding stomach, his bald head bowed in deference.
"Who are you?" Her voice sliced through the silence, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I'm here to show you your selection of knives," he replied, still maintaining a deep bow. Her heart quickened its pace within her chest.
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