Bang!
The sharp crack of a gunshot filled the air and echoed throughout the open arena, signaling the start of the Sovereign Run.
Golden Tiger moved first out of all three contenders. He gave his horse a confident pat along the neck and rolled his shoulders as if loosening invisible tension.
“I’ll go first,” he said, his tone leaving no room for objection, almost as if it were his birth right.
Mirena didn’t object. She inclined her head in a small nod, calm and unreadable beneath her mask, and watched as he urged his horse forward, stopping at the enclosure that separated the waiting area from the field.
An attendant stepped up swiftly, handing him a shotgun. He took it, checked its weight with practiced ease, spun it once, and settled it against his arm.
As expected of
