Two days later

Sweat dripped down into his eyes. His arms were sore, his back ached, and his legs were killing him, but still he fought. Dalvo locked his opponent’s arm into a clumsy hold- something Old Bear was teaching him in the off hours- and bent the man forward. Then, he hooked one ankle around the man’s own and pushed out, throwing his adversary’s balance off. It wasn’t clean at all, in fact Dalvo found himself atop the man on the ground struggling to reattain his arm trap, but he maintained his leverage.

They scrabbled on the black stone like a pair of feral animals, each trying to find a way to either escape or maintain the holds. Dalvo got his opponent’s arms pinned, but in his moment of relief at his imminent victory, he forgot the man’s legs. Those found enough space to kick him off and seconds later Dalvo felt one arm pinned behind his back.

Then, he panicked.

No, don’t! Davlo struggled, black stone of the training yard disappearing until his vision went yellow. He heard those horrible fluttering wheezes in his ear, felt warm blood on his hands. He thrashed, flinging his head back to a satisfying crunch as its mouth tank shattered. He didn’t have much in height, but he had a hard head to use when needed.

The gildgrown threw itself away from him, but he didn’t let it get far. Dalvo rose to a crouch and leaped on the figure, tackling him to the ground, then placed one knee on its chest and raised a fist…

It wasn’t a gildgrown at all. It was just Rilo holding his bleeding nose and looking far too frightened.

What the… Dalvo startled back to reality, then lowered his raised hand. “Uh…”

“Whadda fugg Dalfo!” Rilo shouted, clutching his face. He pushed Dalvo off and staggered to a standing position, then tilted his head back. “Yuh broge ma fuggin nothe!”

“Sorry, Rilo,” Dalvo said with an awkward, apologetic grin. The adrenaline of his momentary panic drained away, and he sagged to prop his arms onto his knees so as not to fall to the ground. “Still not at full harvest up here.” He tapped his head.

“Luug, mahn,” Rilo huffed, almost bending backwards to keep the blood from dripping down his miner’s outfit. “Ah know you thaw some methed uhp shidd, but thith ahn’t oggay.” He pointed one gangly finger to his face with a sharp jerking motion. His childhood friend was all meat and bone; he barely had any hair on his head to his name, but he made up for it with some reputable endurance that his fellows in the mines were proud. He was also lanky enough to fit into some fissures that others wouldn’t dare to dive into.

“I’m sorry, bud.” Dalvo held his hands up defensively. “What happened was… terrifying. It’s hard to talk about.”

“Well figgur id oud,” Rilot said. “You hann’t bin raght fer dayth.”

“I know, I know,” Dalvo said, standing back up. “I’ll get it together, I swear. Anyways, let’s you get cleaned up, then we can go again?”

“Fugg dat!” Rilot actually bent his head down to stare at him like a spoiled ashbud, then shook his head in a way he probably he shouldn’t have. “Ahm goihn ohm.” He started walking off, leaving Dalvo to stare off at him dejectedly.

“You’re still gonna enlist tomorrow, right?” Dalvo called after him.

Rilot waved his question off like a swarm of disturbed fleshflies, then disappeared around a corner, all the while mumbling to himself about his poor, broken nose and how he’d explain it to his father.

“Damn it,” Dalvo whispered, popping open his water canteen and taking a big swig. “Get it together, dumbass.”

Walking away with a bloodied face was his last willing training partner. He’d practiced in every off hour he could spare for the last couple days, tiring out all those who’d initially agreed to spar with him, and now… Dalvo sighed again, then tossed his canteen into his rucksack and turned to leave.

And saw the Great Flame walking towards him, Halari at his shoulder.

Uh oh, here come the King and Que— He caught that thought before it really set in; Halari might actually kill him if he let that little rumor slip. By all accounts, they weren’t actually any kind of item, but they sure looked comfortable in each other’s presence as they approached him. However, Dalvo knew that Halari had a bit of reputation of being elusive towards attention, even downright evasive. Rilo’s own brother Abevo had tried his luck at her attentions, only to later see his basket of affection in the hands of Halari’s sister.

In any case, the two of them strode over to where he stood and Dalvo immediately saluted when they got close enough, bringing his right hand’s outstretched fingers together and slashing them towards his left shoulder while keeping his clenched left hand behind his back.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The Great Flame nodded at him appreciatively. “At ease, soldier.”

Dalvo relaxed on the outside, but on the inside his heart was pounding. Sure, he’d already fought for and with this man, this demigod, but still to stand before him like this was surreal. He didn’t sweat this time at least. That first time at training when he made a total fool of himself, he’d had to change his shirt afterwards from the nervous sweat.

“Good evening, Great Flame,” Dalvo said, praying that his voice wasn’t betraying his jittering nerves. “Lady Halari.” He respectfully nodded a greeting to her.

“Pffft!” Halari tossed her head back and groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

The Great Flame chuckled, then winked at Dalvo. “I told you that would catch on, Halari.”

“I really don’t want it to,” she said, slapping the demigod lightly on the shoulder. Dalvo was amazed at how casual she was with such a powerful being. “Order him to just call me by name.”

Maybe they really are…? Dalvo wondered, watching them interact. Her sister sort of thought so; he’d overheard Viria a few days before the battle talking about how they spent so much time together, even during looting missions in to the city.

“Or I could ordain the title formally,” the Great Flame said with a grin, “if only for my own amusement. What do you think, Dalvo? Shall I give Halari a title?”

“Uhhh…” Dalvo’s mind raced. Was this a serious question he was actually supposed to answer? Halari definitely deserved something for fighting so hard during the battle. “I’d… say so, my lord.”

“Oh Callan, don’t joke with him, he’s actually thinking about it,” Halari said, shaking her head. “Anyways, Dalvo, it’s just Halari like always, alright?”

“Yes, Lady Halari,” Dalvo said.

The Great Flame laughed, a deep sound which somehow even held power. Or maybe he was just imagining that…

“Dalvo, we heard a disturbance over here,” he said after a moment. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh! Yes, my lord, uh…” Dalvo shifted on the balls of his feet, somewhat embarrassed that his little moment of panic had drawn his king’s precious time and attention. “There was a bit of an accident with my sparring partner.”

“Sparring?” Halari asked. “But training’s been over for hours.”

“I like to get some more time in than the others,” Dalvo explained. “Especially since…” He spaced out for a second, picturing that gildgrown’s gasping mask mere inches from his face as it bled from the wound where his pick was buried in its chest. “I just feel the need to get better, faster, I guess. So I can protect the people like you did.”

“Protect, right…,” Halari said softly, her own eyes going distant. Dalvo saw the ghost of the battle etched into her own face along with the blood she’d been covered in. The Great Flame placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she snapped out of her bad memory. “I’m definitely still working that out.”

“And how are you, Dalvo?” the Great Flame asked, turning to him.

“Well, that’s what caused the accident, I think,” Dalvo said. “I… lost where I was for a second. Lashed out in a panic and hurt my friend by mistake.”

The Great Flame nodded heavily. “You thought you were fighting a gildgrown didn’t you?”

Can he really read minds! “How’d you kn—?”

“You’re suffering the aftereffects of a traumatic situation,” the king explained. “A couple thousand years ago, there was an entire school of medicine dedicated to studying that affliction.”

“Did they… cure it?” Dalvo asked.

“No,” the Great Flame said with a small frown, “but they created methods in which the afflicted could live through it until it ran its course. One is doing what you’re doing: working to be better.”

The Great Flame locked his eyes to Dalvo’s. “But you can’t allow whatever guilt that drives to consume you at the same time. I can’t have my most valuable soldiers collapsing from fatigue.”

“I’m not… anything special, my lord,” Dalvo said, doing his best to not shrink away from the compliment. “I’m just lucky to be alive.”

“I saw you during the battle,” the demigod said. “I saw you rally the men into a better position. And Halari said you later saved her life.”

“Those were just…” Dalvo failed to find the words.

“Instincts,” the Great Flame finished for him. “Impressive instincts. I need men like that leading our army. That’s why, tomorrow before the rest of the militia, you will be promoted to captain and given the first rifle of those we got from the trade.”

That's a terrible idea! Dalvo’s heart rate skyrocketed with terror and any composure he had tossed itself off a cliff. “My lord, I don’t think I’m worthy.”

“You are what I say you are,” the Great Flame declared. He had a small, almost knowing smile on his face that Dalvo felt even more terrified of. He was serious about this. “So, when I say you’re captain material, that means you get to be a captain. It’s an order, soldier, not an offer."

“T-Thank you, my l-lord,” Dalvo stammered. Every bad possible scenario ran through his head at once. What if the men didn’t respect him? What if they didn’t listen to his orders? What if he made a bad call and got everybody killed? “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” the Great Flame said. “You have potential, Captain Dalvo, try to find it for yourself.”

“Congratulations,” Halari said. “I’ll teach you and any others how to shoot. It’s pretty fun.”

“And dangerous,” the Great Flame said. “Halari, make sure they know that, please.”

“It’s only dangerous if you’re an idiot,” Halari said. “I’ve had my rifle for almost my whole life and I’ve never even so much as—”

“You shot me in the leg,” the king said.

“We were fighting a cragbeast!” Halari threw her hands up in the air. “You’re invincible anyways!”

Dalvo watched their exchange numbly, wondering if maybe he could pass his promotion to the first person who wanted it. The Great Flame bade him a good night, then he and Halari walked off back the way they came, still bickering about the dangers of firearm safety. Suddenly, he felt exhausted, but… relieved. The Great Flame, a walking divine being on earth, thought he had capabilities beyond what he currently imagined. And that was comforting enough.

No, he wouldn’t pass on his promotion. Or abandon ship. Somebody, a somebody beyond human, had faith in him, so that had to mean something.

I’ll need to look extra sharp tomorrow, Dalvo planned, looping his satchel over his shoulder. Better get some rest. Maybe now I can order the men to train more with me.