When Keldras got up that morning, someone had laid out an outfit on the nearby dresser: the typical training attire of the Blackrend Clan.
His father had once spent many years in a fallen island nation with strange customs and unfamiliar races.
He had developed a deep affinity for their beliefs and traditions, incorporating many of them into the Blackrend Clan after marrying Ziri.
Keldras dressed in a robe, the upper portion wrapped tightly around his torso with long, voluminous sleeves.
Over it he tied a long, loose black skirt that concealed the movement of his legs.
On his feet he wore split-toed socks and woven sandals.
Finally, he picked up a strip of blue cloth from his drawer and tied back his hair so it wouldn’t fall into his face.
His gaze drifted to the other item resting atop the dresser.
There’s no way I’m wearing that.
What purpose does it even serve during training?
“He’s going to ask about it,” a voice said inside his mind.
In the main hall of the Blackrend residence, Valdax looked Keldras over and nodded in approval.
“Where’s the mask?” he asked.
Keldras tried to ignore the giggling echoing through his thoughts.
“No.”
Valdax frowned slightly but knew he wasn’t going to win this argument.
None of his children wanted to wear the mask.
He simply couldn’t understand why—it was the coolest part.
Garrok, Gorra, and Keldras made their way toward the coliseum dressed in similar attire.
Garrok wore mostly black, Gorra wore a white robe with a red skirt, while Keldras wore a blue robe beneath a black skirt.
Blackspire had changed dramatically within two generations.
Once little more than an orc settlement built around crude fighting pits, it had grown into a thriving city after Valdax married into the Blackrend Clan.
Inspired by ideas he had gathered during his travels, stone buildings, workshops, and farmland gradually replaced rough timber and packed earth.
At the city’s heart stood Azaug’s greatest achievement—the new Coliseum..
As they approached the structure, a mocking voice called out.
“Hey, toothpick! Shouldn’t your nose be stuffed in a book?”
Laughter erupted from the group surrounding the speaker.
Keldras turned cold eyes toward the orc.
“Nice dress. Going on a date?” the orc sneered.
“Who’s this meathead?” Saphira asked.
Keldras shrugged mentally and continued walking.
Irritated at being ignored, the orc grabbed Keldras’s shoulder and tried to spin him around.
Keldras felt a surge of indignation.
The orc yelped and jerked his hand away as though he had touched a hot stove.
Before he could react further, a massive green fist slammed into his face.
The orc crashed to the ground, stunned.
Garrok stood over him.
“What are you doing?!” he shouted.
Several of the gathered spectators hurried forward, placing themselves between Garrok and their injured companion before the confrontation could escalate.
“He didn’t mean anything by it! Things just got out of hand,” one stammered.
“He took it too far. We’ll make sure he apologizes later,” another added, bowing her head.
Garrok had a short temper, but he was generally easygoing.
With that assurance, he let the matter drop.
The orc on the ground shot Keldras a murderous glare.
Keldras merely looked back at him as though he were something beneath notice.
“Dumbass,” Saphira muttered.
Keldras couldn’t help picturing her sticking out her tongue at the humiliated orc.
Once inside the coliseum, the siblings split up.
Their skill levels differed considerably.
Keldras was little more than a beginner, Garrok had been training since childhood, and Gorra specialized in magic and a more unconventional fighting style.
The weapons master looked Keldras up and down.
“You’re scrawny,” he said with open disdain.
“You should’ve started training years ago. I doubt I can do anything with you… but I’ll try.”
Keldras could feel Saphira’s annoyance, though she remained silent.
The lesson followed a standard routine, and Keldras quickly realized the instructor’s methods relied almost entirely on the natural physical strength of orcs.
While Keldras was by no means weak, he simply couldn’t compete with the inborn power of his classmates.
As the lesson dragged on, he felt Saphira’s frustration steadily mounting.
Finally, she snapped.
“How dare this insect call himself a weapons master! He has no idea what he’s doing! Stupid, stupid orcs! You can’t brute-force your way through everything!”
Having had enough, she began offering Keldras advice instead, teaching him how to make his lighter build an advantage.
Rather than meeting strength with strength, she showed him how to redirect an opponent’s momentum and use it against them.
After being battered in every exchange, Keldras was bruised and exhausted.
A slow smile spread across the weapons master’s face.
He paired the weary young elf against the strongest student in the class.
Keldras tightened his grip on the dragon-headed halberd he’d pulled from the forgotten storeroom the night before.
“He’s going to charge. Step aside and hook his feet with the back of your weapon,” Saphira instructed.
Sure enough, the orc charged exactly as she predicted.
The result was immediate.
The orc sprawled face-first into the dirt like an ostrich burying its head.
His face flushed crimson with rage and embarrassment.
He scrambled to his feet and charged again.
Keldras repeated the maneuver.
The class burst into laughter as dust exploded around the orc’s face.
Saphira burst into hysterical laughter as the scene repeated itself several more times.
The instructor’s face darkened with anger.
Finally, he called the student over and whispered to him for several moments.
“When he comes back, that won’t work anymore,” Saphira warned.
“This time, when he swings, bring your blade upside down. Step around the blow, catch his weapon with yours, guide it into the ground, then strike him in the head with the back of your halberd.”
I don’t know if I can do that, Keldras thought.
“You can. He’s just a student—clumsy enough that this should work. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.”
The orc returned, pretending he intended to repeat the same reckless charge.
Keldras immediately noticed the subtle change in his posture.
When the orc swung, Keldras stepped aside, caught the axe with the back of his halberd, guided the weapon harmlessly into the dirt, and cracked the haft against the side of the orc’s head.
The maneuver was awkward and far from graceful, but it caught his opponent completely off guard.
The orc stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and crashed into the dirt once again.
The weapons master was livid.
“You don’t learn!” he roared.
“You’re not following my instruction at all! What are you doing fighting like some pathetic human or sneaky, two-faced halfling?”
He jabbed an accusing finger toward Keldras.
“You have no honor! You resort to cowardly tricks because your strength is lacking! Your strength will never grow if you don’t test it!”
What an unsightly man.
His attempt to bully me into quitting failed, so now he’s throwing a tantrum.
Saphira remained silent, but he could feel her simmering fury beneath the surface.
Keldras met the instructor’s glare without the slightest trace of emotion.
“A battle is about defeating your opponent. Mastering one’s weapon is how a warrior grows. It’s not about flaunting your strength or humiliating someone weaker. That’s just bullying.”
The weapons master’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, turning an even deeper shade of red.
Saphira snickered quietly.
“He’s like a ripening tomato. Don’t make him any angrier—he might pop.”
The instructor couldn’t refute Keldras’s words.
He knew the elf was right.
But he refused to let the matter end there.
Wasn’t that trainee who just got humiliated the son of the Bonebreaker Clan?
Slowly, a wicked grin spread across his face.
He walked over to the student, who was still dragging himself out of the dirt, and whispered something into his ear.
The orc immediately brightened.
He dusted himself off, pointed angrily at Keldras, and shouted,
“I challenge you to a duel one week from today! I’ll wipe that arrogant look off your face!”
Keldras considered the challenge.
Father is probably going to make me continue this training anyway.
If enough instructors decided they wanted nothing to do with him, perhaps Father would finally abandon the idea.
“Fine,” he replied evenly.
“I accept.”
If I crush whatever scheme this moron is cooking up, there’s a good chance he’ll refuse to let me attend his class ever again.
Keldras guided by Saphira defeats orc Chapter Art https://i.postimg.cc/nLGYx6pX/VOL-1-CH-3.png