The observers cheered at the outcome of the duel.
The three Keldras had been talking to earlier came over to congratulate him.
A couple of them patted him on the back, while Lokara affectionately grabbed him in a headlock.
Keldras instinctively tried to pull away.
An impish grin spread across Lokara’s face.
“I’m usually not this forward, but for you, I’ll make an exception,” she whispered in his ear before letting go and skipping back a couple of steps.
Keldras fixed Lokara with a blank stare.
Saphira was fuming.
He suddenly felt a sharp pinch in his side.
“Hmph. What do you think you’re doing?”
Keldras was at a loss.
He could hardly control that situation.
At that point, Skragg had gotten back to his feet and was angrily sneaking up behind Keldras.
Just then, Garrok and Bolg returned.
Garrok stopped, grabbed Skragg’s weapon, and fixed him with an angry glare.
“You dishonor your ancestors!” he bellowed in the boy’s face.
“You’re done for the day. Go to the baths.”
Skragg stomped off.
Bolg fixed Keldras with a withering glare.
The training continued until about midday.
“All right, everyone, hit the baths. We need to clean up for the former weapon master’s punishment,” Garrok said, shooing the trainees away.
Keldras learned that the two male orcs he’d been chatting with earlier alongside Lokara were named Urzok and Ghola.
They chatted animatedly as they made their way to the baths.
He could feel an icy glare on his back.
Skragg’s friend and a group of his cronies clearly weren’t pleased with how Keldras had embarrassed them.
He thought the friend’s name was Krug, if he recalled correctly.
He’d have to keep an eye on him.
The coliseum was packed with spectators, with representatives from each of the clans seated in the high stands.
Garrok and Bolg had the weapon master lashed to a post while Azaug strode into the center of the arena.
“Gorbag, weapon master appointed by the council, abused his authority to ridicule and harass one of our young. He forced him into a duel against an opponent five years his senior.”
“He was given the choice of publicly apologizing before the council or receiving lashes. Instead, he attempted to weasel his way out of responsibility before that same council. This is their ruling!”
His booming voice carried throughout the arena.
The gathered orcs booed and jeered at the weapon master.
Azaug walked over to Bolg and violently shoved the whip into his hand, his expression making it abundantly clear that there would be consequences if he went easy.
Bolg struck the orc again and again, each lash breaking skin.
His anger at being forced into this situation grew with every blow, each strike more savage than the last.
When the full fifteen lashes had been delivered, Garrok untied Gorbag.
He slumped unconscious into the dirt and was quickly dragged from sight.
With a look of grim satisfaction, Azaug turned and left as well.
Keldras exited the coliseum chatting with Lokara, Urzok, and Ghola.
Waiting for him outside were Bolg, Skragg, and a group of other orcs.
Bolg marched straight up to Keldras, getting right in his face, red with anger.
“Remember this—there will be consequences. If you’d just remembered your place and let it happen like a good little mutant, it would’ve been much easier,” he said menacingly.
Saphira remained silent.
Beneath her cold anger lay something far more unsettling.
She knew how cruel people could be.
Keldras felt a silent determination within her.
When he noticed Garrok approaching, he rejoined his group, giving Keldras one last threatening look over his shoulder as they walked away.
“That… doesn’t sound good,” Ghola said with a worried expression.
Urzok scoffed.
“It’s just the sad whimpering of a beaten dog. Pathetic.”
A look of mock sadness crossed his face.
Garrok placed a hand on Keldras’s shoulder.
“I need to borrow him. Hope you don’t mind.”
“By all means,” Urzok replied.
Lokara looked a little disappointed.
They had all been planning to go for a meal together.
As they walked away, Garrok nudged Keldras.
“Lady killer,” he mouthed with a smirk.
Keldras rolled his eyes, then felt another sharp pinch in his side.
Garrok led Keldras to the stable.
“They finally agreed to let me have Yorutsume,” he said happily.
Keldras remembered that Garrok considered himself a knight.
Of all the stories Father had told them, those were the ones he’d latched onto the most.
Now Garrok finally had a mount, so it was no surprise he was so excited.
“Training?” Keldras asked.
“I get to start proper training next week,” Garrok replied.
“I’ve already found a page as well!”
He practically beamed with excitement.
I wonder what poor sap got suckered into being his page.
Garrok led him inside—or rather dragged him along, forcing Keldras to quicken his pace to keep up.
“Training starts next week.”
Garrok rested a hand on Yorutsume’s neck.
“I’ve wanted this since I was little.”
The wolf gently bumped its head against his shoulder.
Garrok laughed.
It wasn’t often Keldras saw his brother smile like that.
Father had filled their childhood with tales of wandering heroes, noble knights, and distant kingdoms.
Keldras had inherited Father’s calm.
Garrok had inherited his dreams.
Decided to change the ending of this chapter and wrote Flicker out, it felt like a waste to introduce a character for a one time joke and then never have her show up again.