“He lives!” Solnoz exclaimed.
Keldras nodded.
“Been a while,” Filas observed.
“Training.”
“Rianna was brutal.”
Kronin barely seemed to hear them.
Sword and shield in hand, he moved through the same sequence again and again, his movements growing sharper—and more frustrated—with every repetition.
It was necessary.
You were an idiot, next time you might not risk your life so foolishly.
It was worth it.
Kronin is still alive, Keldras replied.
He would’ve still been alive if you’d thought before charging in.
You might even have killed the crab.
“My dad was pretty mad too; he took away my lab privileges for a week,” Filas admitted.
“My mom was pretty chill. My uncles wouldn’t stop asking about it, though,” Solnoz admitted.
His shield arm is too high.
He’s shifting his weight wrong.
His strikes are too aggressive.
They aren’t flowing well, Keldras observed.
“Damn it!” Kronin exclaimed, throwing his shield down in frustration.
Saphira sighed, He’s too eager.
Keldras shrugged.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Ugh.. I’m getting nowhere, this tournament is going to suck…” Kronin muttered.
Solnoz leaned toward Filas.
“Tournament?”
“Seems so.”
This is going nowhere, Saphira said.
Agreed.
“What tournament?” Keldras asked.
Kronin finally noticed the others watching.
He stooped to retrieve his shield, looking slightly embarrassed.
“A martial tournament for knight families,” he admitted.
“I’m expected to participate as the Claddett heir.”
“Then practice.”
“I’ll help.”
The Claddett manor was more training ground than estate, Keldras observed.
The manor climbed a steep ridge, while nearly all the flat ground behind it had been devoted to martial practice.
Among the training fields, massive bipedal reptiles carried apprentice knights through mounted drills.
Built for the Underrealm, the beasts moved over stone with effortless confidence, the black ridge of scales along their backs giving them their name—Razorbacks.
The group climbed a series of narrow stone steps carved into the ridge before emerging onto a private training ground overlooking the Claddett estate.
“You climb this everyday!?” Filas exclaimed panting.
“Wasn’t that bad,” Solnoz claimed.
Saphira laughed
Your friend is out of shape.
Academic, Keldras replied.
Rows of weathered wooden dummies lined the training yard, each carved to resemble a Khazak warrior.
Heavy helmets, broad shields, and oversized hammers gave the targets the silhouette of the enemies Mountain Elf knights had trained against for generations.
Khazak, Saphira spat the word.
Khazak?
They strip a land bare.
Ore.
Forests.
Water.
When they’re finished, only poisoned stone remains.
I see.
Kronin strapped on his shield and picked up a training sword before squaring off against one of the wooden dummies.
“Foot spacing is wrong.”
“Don’t look down.”
Kronin adjusted his stance before flowing into a flashy sword flourish.
Keldras frowned.
“Fancy.”
“That’s not you.”
Saphira suppressed a laugh.
Drill sergeant.
Keldras ignored her.
He had never fought with a shield himself, but he’d seen Kronin play enough soccer to recognize where his strengths lay.
Strong legs.
Good balance.
Explosive.
Not graceful.
Behind him, Solnoz stood with his hands clasped behind his back in a comically rigid military stance, silently mouthing imagined drill-sergeant commands to Filas’ amusement.
“Shield first.”
“Sword follows.”
He’s trying to fight like a swordsman, Saphira observed.
Keldras watched Kronin drive his sword into the dummy again.
Strong.
Direct.
Never subtle.
“Use the shield.”
“Make openings.”
“Then strike.”
Kronin frowned thoughtfully.
He adjusted his footing.
Shield first.
He charged.
The shield crashed into the dummy, driving it backward.
Opening.
His sword struck a heartbeat later.
“Better.”
Tiered stone platforms rose one above another, each crowned by a building devoted to a different discipline.
The group climbed the central staircase toward the highest terrace.
Before them stretched the academy’s training grounds.
Archery ranges occupied the uppermost terrace, where stray arrows posed no danger to those below.
Nearby, an obstacle course wound between stone pillars with several Razorbacks waiting in neatly kept stables.
Dominating the center was the largest field, reserved for martial instruction.
It felt different from Blackspire.
There, every training yard had been built for efficiency.
Here, function and craftsmanship existed side by side.
Every wall, staircase, and field had been carefully planned, giving the academy a quiet elegance without sacrificing its purpose.
There were no grandstands.
Only a few rows of stone benches overlooked the combat field, enough for the families of competing students.
From the highest terrace, the academy overlooked nearly all of Kumora.
Behind him lay the Noble District, beyond it the rest of the city, and farther still the endless darkness of the Under-Realm.
Ahead, the immaculate gardens of the High Houses led toward the palace gates at the heart of the Royal District.
Perhaps the finest view in Kumora, Keldras decided.
I’ve seen grander academies, Saphira remarked.
Not underground?
Keldras asked.
…No.
“Ready.”
Kronin hesitated.
“Not really,” he admitted.
“You’ll be great!” Solnoz said enthusiastically.
“Don’t lose your head,” Filas added.
The first match proved less difficult than Kronin had feared.
His opponent, a younger apprentice knight, opened with an elegant flourish before settling into a textbook stance.
Fancy.
Kronin remembered Keldras’ words.
Shield first.
Instead of meeting the blade, he drove forward.
His shield slammed into the boy’s, knocking him completely off balance.
Make openings.
Kronin’s training sword stopped against his opponent’s chest.
The match was over almost as soon as it had begun.
Kronin looked back.
Solnoz cheered.
Filas raised his fist.
Keldras nodded.
Saphira snorted.
Kronin grinned.
Keldras studied Kronin’s second opponent.
Older.
More experienced.
A few pale scars crossed the apprentice knight’s forearms.
He’d seen real fights.
The match was immediately more difficult.
Kronin drove forward behind his shield, but this time his opponent refused to be bullied.
Each strike was met with practiced footwork, each opening closed before Kronin could exploit it.
Their training swords clashed again.
And again.
Keldras watched carefully.
His footwork.
The knight’s stance was steady, but every retreat crossed his feet for the briefest instant.
“Kronin.”
“Push.”
The next time their shields met, he didn’t pull away.
He drove forward with all his weight.
His opponent stumbled.
Opening.
Kronin’s sword stopped against the apprentice knight’s throat.
Kronin withdrew his sword.
The instructor raised a hand.
“Winner. Kronin Claddett.”
He’s regaining his confidence, Saphira observed.
He is, Keldras agreed.
Keldras froze when he saw Kronin’s next opponent.
The young knight met his gaze with a familiar sneer.
Ugh.
Not this scoundrel again, Saphira complained.
Palace appointment.
Skilled.
Alyssa wouldn’t tolerate incompetence.
“Careful,” Keldras said.
“Hard fight.”
“You know him?” Solnoz asked.
Unfortunately, Saphira snorted.
Keldras nodded.
“Somewhat.”
Filas blinked.
“Isn’t he that Barriret kid?”
Keldras shrugged.
The knight kept the pressure on early, backing Kronin around the arena and leaving him with nothing but his shield.
“He can’t even attack,” Solnoz muttered.
“He doesn’t need to,” Filas replied, though he sounded far less certain than usual.
The knight worked his sword high before lunging with a sharp thrust.
Kronin met it with his shield.
“Is this the best the Claddetts have?” the knight sneered.
He kept the pressure on, but his style gradually drifted toward more advanced techniques.
An unnecessary flourish.
Decorative footwork.
A confident smile.
What a show-off.
He’s getting impatient, Keldras observed.
Every clash was met by Kronin’s disciplined defense.
“I… think he’s waiting,” Filas said slowly.
The knight suddenly shifted his attacks lower, trying to catch Kronin’s footing.
His frustration showed in an overly aggressive thrust.
One leg extended too far.
Kronin was silently thankful they’d spent so much time drilling his footwork.
The thrust came harder than any before.
Too far.
Kronin stepped aside, driving his shield into the knight’s extended arm.
His opponent stumbled.
One foot caught the other.
He fell.
Kronin’s training sword settled against his shoulder before he could rise.
Silence.
Then—
Solnoz and Filas cheered.
Keldras gave a small nod.
“Good.”
Kronin lowered his sword and let out a long breath before dropping onto the edge of the arena, exhausted.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
Saphira was beaming.
Serves that clown right!
The knight climbed to his feet and brushed the dust from his uniform.
His eyes found Keldras.
“Helvindar.”
He spoke the name quietly before turning and walking from the field.
Kronin looked down at the training sword still in his hand.
“…I won.”