There has to be an After for Us ~ (shadam / klance)

Chapter 51 - Other things that must've happened *BONUS CHAPTERS*

"These outfits are itchy," commented Honerva, tugging at the collar of her cape.

"They're necessary," said Coran, slapping her hand so she'd stop fidgeting. "We can't have the public know the Prince is sitting in the audience of the Grestation Battles."

"Then explain why I am in disguise," said Honerva, shifting around on the old wooden bench. She was sitting on her cape and couldn't figure out how to get off of it.

"So we match," snapped Coran, bristling.

"Relax, Nerva," said Alfor with a good humoured chuckle. "Get into the spirit of it."

"My spirit, Alfor," said Honevera, "has never been tempted by battle."

"It was your idea to come here," he countered.

"Because you tasked me with job of finding the greatest female warrior in all of Altea. According to my research, only the top ranked fighters on the planet are invited to battle inside the Tarsand Pits."

"But these battles aren't even legal," protested Coran. "Battles to the death were outlawed milliphoebs ago."

"Yet the more rural areas of Altea never gave up the tradition," said Honerva.

"If anything, Alfor," said Coran, "You should take this opportunity to reveal your true identity and shut these battles down."

Alfor chuckled. "And waste these wonderful disguises of yours Coran." Alfor patted Coran on the shoulder, smiling his million watt smile. "Besides, the task of finding myself a worthy wife is pressing."

"I don't understand why you must marry so soon," said Coran. "You're barely five hundred."

"You know my parents as well as I," said Alfor. "They've set their minds on passing the kingdom on to me within the next decaphoeb. Therefore I must find a wife."

"The law states that if the blood heir to the throne possesses the gifts of alchemy," said Honerva, "then they must form a breeding pair with Altea's greatest warrior."

"And thanks to Honerva's research," said Alfor, "We are taking that law literally."

"If it is statistically possible to take a law literally, logic dictates we should follow said path."

"I don't like any of this," said Coran, despair saturating his voice.

"Objection duly noted," said Alfor, wrapping a reassuring arm around Coran's shoulders. "Now attempt to enjoy the spectacle. If nothing else it shall be quite the show."

Alfor did not remove his arm, but kept it comfortably resting around Coran's shoulders as he often did when they sat side by side. Coran resumed his centuries old bad habit of reading far too much into the physical contact.

"Tell us about the contestants," said Alfor, looking ahead to the warriors who were currently at their leisure around the rim of the tarsand pit. Some were stretching while other's were prepping their weapons. "Who is this one here?" asked Alfor, pointing to the large burly man swinging a giant axe around in front of them.

"What does it matter?" asked Coran. "Even if he wins, you can't marry him. He has to be a woman. What will you do if a man wins?"

"I suppose marry the a runner up, which ever highest ranked one is female."

"It's a fight to the death, Alfor," said Honerva, "There won't be any runner ups."

Coran shouldn't have taken any joy from the idea of fifteen people about to die in front of him. It did however mean that if a man won, Alfor would leave here without a fiancé. "What is this one's name then?" asked Coran, his interest suddenly peaked. He wanted to know the name of the man he'd be silently routing for.