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Dexter

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I want to say I woke up peachy keen and right as rain. But the truth is I wished I was still passed out. My entire body seemed to ache and throb with every heartbeat. I grunted as a wave of nausea washed over me. I felt my hand tremble as I cleared my dry throat. “Good, You’re up.” I heard a voice say. I opened my eyes as gently I could, just moving was painful. I took deep and slow breaths. The world was a hazy and blurry mess, but I could tell Amelia was leaning over me. “That means I can do this.” She flicked my forehead and I suddenly became acutely aware of my massive headache.

I grunted again as I clenched my eyes shut. “Could you not?” I groaned. “My body already hates me. Please don’t antagonize it.”

I heard footsteps as Amelia slowly sauntered around the table. “As well it should.” She replied. “A broken hand, three lacerations, a few fractured ribs, splinters all over your arms, and I can only assume a concussion judging from the lump on the back of your head.” She finally stopped walking. “Not to mention the fact that you show up covered in blood, sweat, and god knows what else. Then you hand me a bottle of beer and tell me to patch you up?” I heard her pause then gently place something down next to my head. I turned slowly to identify it, opening my eyes as I did. I became aware of a wad of cloth that was under my head, supporting it like a pillow. A plain silver chalice sat a few inches from my nose. I cleared my throat again as I realized just how thirsty I was. I looked up at Amelia, she was staring at me with her arms crossed. Her hair was disheveled and sweat graced her forehead. She let out a sigh as he saw my pained expression and stepped forward. “Drink up, you need to replace the fluid that you lost.” She said, reaching over and lifting the cup to my lips. I drank deeply, the water quenching my thirst slightly. My world became a bit clearer. I let out a sigh as I quickly drained the chalice and rested my head on the towels beneath me. Amelia moved over to another table. I glanced over and watched as she used a silver pitcher to fill the chalice again.

I cleared my throat as I cried out for water.”It’s going to take a lot more than a few cups to quench my thirst.” I pulled myself up slowly as I gestured for Amelia to come. “You might as well bring the whole pitcher.” I turned to let my legs dangle over the side. I still wore my bloodstained jeans, but it looked like Amelia had tried her best to clean them up. I looked down at my arm as I became aware of a splint binding my right forearm and immobilizing my hand. I used my other hand to pat at my torso as I inspected my current state. My shirt had been removed. The blood and grime I’d gathered had been scrubbed off, leaving my skin bare and clean. Various parts of my body were wrapped in makeshift bandages. Judging by the patterns and colors, I can only assume using strips of cloth from numerous T-shirts and spare blankets. The few parts of my torso that weren’t bandaged were left bare and exposed. My body still throbbed and ached, but it was better than trying to drink an entire pitcher while laying down. Amelia nodded as she lifted the pitcher from the table and walked back. She tried to hand me the cup again but I shook my head and held my unbound hand out for the pitcher itself. Amelia looked at me skeptically then slowly handed it to me. “Thanks,” I said, bringing the rim to my lips.

I drank deeply as Amelia set the cup down on the table beside me. “Do you want some painkillers?” She asked as I drank half the pitcher.

I took a few more gulps before I answered. I let out a satisfied sigh as I finally lowered the container. “Even if I did I don’t think I have any, and I doubt the painkillers the orcs have is little more than alcohol labeled as medicine.” Amelia nodded thoughtfully, looking around. I followed her gaze. There were torn clothes and tools scattered about the barn, mostly around the table I was passed out on. I bent to look beneath the table A bucket of red water sat below me. The spool of fishing line I had sat in a neighboring bucket swimming with a golden-brown liquid. I gently brought my hand bandaged underneath one of the bandages and felt the string holding the gash together. “Nice stitches,” I remarked, bringing the pitcher back to my lips to drink.

Amelia nodded as she went back to cleaning up the scattered tools. “So, what happened out there?” Amelia asked as I finally set the pitcher down. “I know the army attacked, but how did you let yourself get like . . . .that?” She gestured at me. I sighed as I let the events of that battle play out in my mind. I was drawn to the event they brought out my rage and caused me to abandon my own self-preservation. I was tempted to tell her a comforting lie, but I knew she would have to learn about it eventually. I sighed as I resigned to telling her everything.

I looked at the floor as I chose my words. “They killed Shel,” I sighed defeatedly. I heard a clatter as Amelia dropped a tool. I kept my eyes on the floor. I couldn’t look her in the face. Tears welled up in my eyes as I despaired at my own failings. If only I had been faster.

Amelia began stammering out questions. “H-How?” Amelia asked. “A-Are you sure? O-or did you only hear about it?”

I shook my head solemnly, silencing her queries. “No, I saw it with my own eyes. A knife right through her chest. I was trying to help but . . . I couldn’t save her.” I looked down at my hands. My vision was slowly becoming blurrier. I was starting to cry. “She Didn’t Deserve It. We Could Have Done Something. There’s nothing we can do about what’s past, nothing can bring her back. The best we can do is prepare for the future and make sure no child. .no one. . has to go through what she went through. How Are We Going To Do That? We’re Just One Person.” I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. Amelia was standing over me, hand over her mouth, trying not to cry. She was failing as she wrapped her arms around me and held me close. She trembled slightly as she rested her head on my shoulder. I sat there for a second, then slowly wrapped my arms around her.

I heard Amelia’s muffled voice from my shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” Amelia said, trying to comfort me. “You did everything you could. From the sound of it, you helped drive the elves from the city.”

I shook my head, trying to stifle the lump in my throat. “I could've done more. I could've known how to close the wound.” I was starting to clench my fingers. They ached with every twitch. “I could've run faster, gotten to her before the elf did. I could’ve helped clear the buildings before the elves attacked.” I clenched my fist as my mind wandered back to the vow I'd made that morning. “ End That Fucking Kingdom.” I gritted my teeth as the name of that commander echoed in my mind. “Almar” “I'm not going to let that happen to anyone ever again. Even if I have to topple an empire to do it.”

Amelia slowly let go and looked at me. She gave me a teary-eyed and comforting smile as she wiped her face. “I’m sure you will, but for right now you need to rest and recover. You can’t do anything if you’re not at one hundred percent.” Amelia started moving around the table, reaching to undo the bandages binding my torso. “Now hold still so I can finish your back.” She began to undo the bandages.

I wiped my own face as I allowed her to work. “You didn't stitch up my back?” I asked as she pulled the cloths away. My back suddenly tingled as it was exposed to the cool air.

Amelia let out a hum of disagreement as she set the material on the table behind me. “I was lucky I was able to even dress the wound with you laying down,” Amelia replied, pulling one of the buckets out from under the table. The contents sloshed around as she set it on the table. “I couldn't exactly turn you over, not with the stitches in your side.” I suddenly felt some liquid drip onto my back. It stung slightly and I took in a sharp breath as I realized Amelia was disinfecting the wound again. “The only way I could put bandages on you was by shimmying it under your back. The beer didn’t help, there’s not nearly enough alcohol in here to properly disinfect these cuts.” She began wiping the area with a cloth.

I shrugged as best I could as Amelia kept a hand pressed to my back. “It was the best I could muster. I’m not exactly liquid in a country of orcs.”

Amelia let out a dismissive him as she set the cloth down and pulled something from the bucket. I had half a second before Amelia started driving the fish hook through my skin and began stitching the wound closed. I grunted loudly as Amelia pulled the fishing line through my skin, sending jolts of pain up my back. “I know it hurts just bear with me.” I sat there, gripping the edge of the table, as Amelia continued stitching the wound. The pain slowly leveled out and I found the continuous piercing more bearable. Half-way through the process, my stomach growled loudly. “You need to eat,” Amelia said, dropping the hook and moving back over to the other table.

I sighed, unenthusiastic for more oat paste. “As appetizing as gray paste sounds I think I’ll pass,”

Amelia gave me a wide smile as she walked back over. “Good thing this isn’t,” Amelia said as she set a plate down beside me. I looked over, expecting to see a bowl of the same gray paste. Instead, the platter held a rack of ribs that took up half the surface with five rolls of bread taking up the other half. Their proximity made me acutely aware of the aroma they were giving off. The ribs were covered in a dark sauce that glinted in the light. The rolls seemed light and flakey, topped with their own translucent liquid. A lot of effort was put into making this plate as appetizing as possible.

My mouth watered as my body anticipated eating the entire plate. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. I turned to Amelia, she was beaming. “When did this happen?”

Amelia continued to smile as she gently directed my shoulders so that she could return to stitching my back. “They dropped that off in place of your usual rations,” Amelia replied as she went back to stabbing my skin. “You really made an impression on them this morning. A meal fit for a warrior, they called it.”

I nodded. “I’d Imagine. That’s got to be about two thousand calories.” I picked up one of the rolls of bread. It was still warm, fluffy, and soft. My stomach let out another low growl. “It looks delicious.” I took a big bite of the roll of bread. After two weeks of bland paste, the roll tasted like sweet flakey heaven. I took another bite as I let the sweet flavor wash over my mouth. It was so soothing to taste something this warm. I finished off the roll and picked up another one as Amelia finally finished stitching the wound on my back. I hardly noticed her work as I consumed the food. When she was done she began wrapping my torso back up. “How’d you like this change of pace? I’m sure this was a relief after so long on bland food.” I took another bite. I paused when Amelia didn’t answer. I turned my head to look at her. She refused to meet my gaze. “Don’t tell me they gave you more gray paste,” I asked, mouth half full of bread.

Amelia shook her head. “They gave me a bowl of soup.” She finally said, tying the bandage tight. “It was better than the oatmeal, but they were adamant that the entire plate was meant for you.” There was a soft growl and this time it wasn't my stomach.

I let out a sigh as looked back at the plate. “Don’t be like that. I don’t care what the orcs insisted on,” I lifted a roll and presented it to her. “You need to eat too.” Amelia looked at it hesitantly before taking the roll from my fingers. I smiled at her encouragingly as she looked up at me. Amelia returned the smile as she took a bite and let out a satisfied moan. I smiled as she moved back around the table and joined me next to the plate. I let out a sigh as I considered my next course of action. “Now might be a good idea to start plotting.” I thought as we began dividing up the plate. My body still ached with each movement “Amelia was right about needing rest. We can’t topple a kingdom if we can’t even lift a plate.” I glanced at the door as I considered the recover time for my injuries, a month at least. “I’ll need to head down to the forge. Shurkul should know that I’ll be out of commission for a while.” I turned back to the plate and tore off one of the ribs, taking a bite as I considered the time it would take. It was incredibly juicy and savory.

Amelia shook her head. “Not with those stitches you’re not. You might pop them.” Amelia said firmly. I waved her off as I set the rib down and lowered myself to the floor, bare feet flexing on the hardwood. My feet were the only body part that didn’t hurt to move. Amelia placed a hand on my chest to stop me from moving forward. “It’s a bad idea for you to try and move so soon.”

I let out a sigh as I looked at Amelia. “I feeling fine. It can’t be that bad, can it?” I asked. Amelia stared at me. “Are you confident in the way you did the stitches?” I asked her reluctantly as I stretched my legs.

Amelia shook her head insistently. “I’d be more confident in them if they were glued,” Amelia replied, pressing her hand on my chest. “If you stretch too far in one direction you could end up making things worse.”

I let out a hum as I thought about her words for a minute. “Would super glue work?” I asked, pointing at the table with my tools on it. “I’ve got a bottle of it in the box of tools.”

Amelia stared at me for a moment, then sighed reluctantly. “Yes.” She said begrudgingly. I grinned as she started walking over to the box to look for the bottle. “I need to change your other bandages anyway, so this works out.”

Amelia began rifling through the box as I beamed in her direction. “You’re the best, Amelia,” I said as she walked back, bottle in hand. Amelia began undoing my bandages again while I continued to munch on the ribs, the pressure on my legs slowly helping me keep alert. “I wonder how late it is?” I thought as I glanced at my wrist. Only now did I realize I was without my watch as well. “How long was I out?” I asked as Amelia began undoing the second layer of cloth.

Amelia placed the bandages on the table. “About eight hours,” Amelia replied. “It’s about three o'clock right now.” Amelia set the bandages next to the plate and began moving back to the other table. “I’ve got your watch over here.” I glanced over. Her blurry figure held up a small object.

My hand drifted to my head out of instinct. “Did Jolagh drop by with my glasses?” I asked, realizing just how blind I was without them.

Amelia’s blur seemed to glance back at the table. “Umm. . . Yes, he did.” Amelia said. Her blur reached for something on the table and then began walking back. I put the rib down as she reached me. Amelia helped wrap the watch around my wrist and lock it in place. She then handed me my glasses and I lifted them to my face.

I suddenly noticed a spider crack in the corner of the rectangular lens, slightly blurring the vision in my left eye. “Fuck me sideways,” I exclaimed, bringing the glasses down and examining them. “When did this happen?” I asked curiously.

I looked up at Amelia. She seemed surprised at my choice of explicative. “Jolagh said it happened while on his way here,” Amelia replied. “An elf jumped him from an alley. It happened during the scuffle.” I looked down at the glasses again. “We can still use them, but that crack is going to bug us to hell and back.”

I let out a calming sigh. “Is he okay?” I asked, looking back up.

Amelia nodded. “He seemed fine when he handed then to me.” She replied. She began moving to undo the last bandage.

I glanced at the glasses one more time before positioning them on my face. “Can't do anything about what’s past,” I said, adjusting them to minimize the resulting blur from the crack. “I just wish this didn't happen so soon.” The crack obscured the very edge of my vision. I moved my head around as my eyes got used to their new perception. I shivered as my torso was fully exposed to the air. I looked down at the two wounds on my front. The gash on my left side sat vertically at the edge of my torso. The wound on my right side ran horizontally just under my rib cage. Both injuries were held together with a length of fishing line. “Hopefully nothing vital was hit.” I thought as I gingerly touched the wound on my left side. I winced as Amelia began applying the superglue and pressed the flesh together. It stung slightly as it bound the cuts.

When she was done she pressed a clean cloth over the wounds and began to wind the bandages back around. “If you insist on going down to the forge please take it easy,” Amelia said as she tied the cloth tight. “They're cleaning up and I don't want you to strain yourself trying to help out.”

I nodded at her words. “Just down to the forge to talk to Shurkul then straight back for some rest,” I said as I finished off my half of the plate. I let Amelia finish bandaging my wounds before I slowly limped over to an open box. From the look of it, Amelia had definitely rifled through the box to find the cloth she’d used for my bandages. I pulled out one of the few T-shirts remaining and slowly slipped it on. I stretched what body parts I'd dare stretch before moving to slip my shoes on. “I’ll be back in an hour,” I said as I opened the main door.

I stopped as I stepped out in front of the barn. I saw two swords and a battle axe, blades impaled into the dirt, just to the left of the door. A small locket dangled from each of their handles. I slowly approached them and examined the locket hanging from the battle axe. There was a small glass cover on the front that allowed me to look into the locket. A bloody thumbprint stained the inside of the locket. I turned it over to examine the other side. A similar glass cover protected that side. There was a clay inscription inside. It read “This amulet acknowledges the life debt of Brugo towards Dexter the Impaler.” I moved to examine the two amulets hanging from the swords. They held similar inscriptions and contained similar bloody thumbprints. They were from Uggug and Xegug addressing Dexter the Destroyer and Dexter the Door Smasher respectively. I turned to carry the amulets inside when I saw a cylindrical container hanging from a hook in the door frame. I grabbed it as I walked back inside. Amelia looked up from what she was doing as I closed the door. “Back so soon?” She asked, walking over.

I shook my head as I held up the pendants. “Just bringing some things inside before I head out,” I replied. I handed her the amulets and opened the container. A scroll slid out. It was sealed with wax using a swirling S. I broke the seal and unrolled it as Amelia examined the amulets. The scroll was a letter.

Dexter,

Chief Dubak requests your presence in the Great Hall at your earliest convenience. There is an urgent matter which he wishes to discuss with you. Your contribution to the Second Defense of Snakhagr has also been cataloged and awaits further verification. Snakhagr and its people thank you for your service and wish you good tidings.

Best Regards,

Narod Malthu

╲╲╱╱╱rd Council Seat, Northern District.

His signature swirled just underneath his title. I looked up Amelia as she began to walk over. “It seems I’ll be gone for a few hours instead of just one,” I said as Amelia stood next to me and began to read the letter. I handed her the letter and took the amulets from to reexamine them. The outside was engraved in a swirling pattern similar to the one I saw on the bracelets.

Amelia finally looked up from the letter. “What exactly did you do?” She asked. “From this, it sounds like you drove the elves from the city yourself.” I thought back to that morning. Some of my memory was fuzzy, but I did remember the elves running from me. “We likely do have a concussion if we can’t even remember this morning.”

I shrugged. “I might have. . . either way, I’ll head over there when I’m done with Shurkul.” I said, handing the amulets back to Amelia. “I can probably ask Dubak about these while I’m up there.” Amelia looked at the amulets again.

“Fine, just take it easy.” She said. “This doesn’t change the fact that you need a lot of rest.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs up.”Just down to the forge, then up to the Great Hall and then straight back,” I affirmed, slowly moving back out the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” I said, closing the door. I turned and looked out over the city. The usual bustle was back, but everyone seemed to be helping to clear any debris leftover from the battle. I let out a low sigh and slowly started to make my way down to the forge.

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It took me half an hour to walk down to the forge with my injuries. I walked by blackened buildings and carts being loaded with burnt timber and rubble. Every now and then a cart of bodies would rush by, heading towards the gate. The orcs seemed to nod my way as I trudged by. I waved back at them as I passed. The aching in my body slowly localized to the side of my torso, each breath agitating it slightly. “That's definitely a fractured rib. Amelia really knew what she was talking about.” I finally made it to Shurkul’s forge. His forge seemed untouched by the assault, beyond a gash in the side of the building. Blood splatters littered the cobblestone in front of the door. The sound of hammering could be heard inside. I pushed the door open and entered the forge. I looked around as I entered. Shurkul and Urog were hammering at a strangely familiar door. Three of the apprentices were there as well, working on various armor and weapons.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Shurkul and Urog looked up and grinned as I approached. “I did not anticipate to see you back so soon,” Shurkul said, pausing his work. Urog placed her hammer down as she took a few breaths. “From the rumors, I thought you would be bedridden for a week.”

I nodded, placing a hand on my side. “That's actually what I'm here about,” I replied. “Given the stress, I put my body through, I’ll be taking it easy for a week or two.” I glanced around the forge. “And given the damage to the city, you're likely going to give priority to repairing what was destroyed over creating new and unfamiliar material.” I gestured at the door they were working on. “Starting with everyone’s’ front door it would seem.”

Shurkul nodded as he glanced at the door. “My brother was quite surprised when his wedding gift turned up across the street,” Shurkul said.

I smiled as I scratched my head. “Yeah, I feel like I should apologize for that,” I said. “I may have more or less put it there. . . After tearing it from its frame.”

Shurkul smiled and nodded. “I have heard the recounts,” Shurkul said. “You must have quite a tale to tell.”

I nodded, stifling a cough. “I’ll be happy to do so once I'm recovered a bit more,” I replied. I glanced around as my thoughts wandered back to the first volley of cannonballs. “Though I’m kind of warry what Dubak wants to talk about. I can only imagine what he thinks of me after I so blatantly disobeyed him.”

Shurkul let out a laugh. “From this morning’s public council, I wager that you have earned his respects.”

I looked at him confused. “Really? I’d imagine going against a direct order is a grave insult in your culture.”

Shurkul shrugged and waved off the concern in response. “It is, but it is what you did after that that has earned you his respect.” He reached behind the table he was working on and pulled out a small chest plate. I can only assume it came from one of the elves. There was a small gash on the front, just big enough to let a blade through. Shurkul pointed at the hole. “You have also earned mine. I respect anyone that can do that to a chest plate.”

I nodded as I bent to look at the armor. “I guess I’ll hear more about it when I go up to see Dubak,” I said, straightening.

Shurkul nodded as he set the chest plate back down. “It would be best if you discussed the matter with him.” He said. “I doubt I can deliver the news as effectively as Dubak.”

I looked at him confused. “Anything I should be concerned about?” I asked. Shurkul just smiled mischievously.

I let out a sigh as I glanced at my watch. 3:45 “I’ll leave you two to it then,” I said. Urog nodded and Shurkul waved me off as I turned to leave. “Maybe we won't have to face Adympia alone. Even if we have the support of the entire country, didn’t Dubak say Gashur wouldn't stand a chance against Adympia? Gashur isn't the only ‘Tribe-State’ as they called it. Besides, once I find out the tech disparity, I can plan out something to minimize the gap and propel the orcs ahead of them.” I contemplated the implications as I limped my way to the Great Hall.

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It took another hour to reach the top of the hill. I was breathing heavy and sweating profusely despite the cold air. I slowly approached one of the open doors when I noticed Garahk leaning on a nearby post. She smiled as I approached. “So, this is the Champion of Battle that everyone’s been talking about.” She said. I stopped in front of her and continued to breathe heavily. “It definitely won't look good if you meet Dubak while you're coughing up a lung.” “I’d say I'm surprised one so respected would have such trouble climbing a hill. . .But then again, you must have delved into some pretty deep reserves if you were able to turn the minds of four hundred elves.” I breathed heavy, side hurting, as I took in her words. “The hell is she talking about? Champion? When did that happen? Forget that, there’s no way I did anything to four hundred elves. I didn’t even see that many during the battle.”

I continued to heave as I responded, at little annoyedly. “What sort. . of mystical. . mumbo-jumbo bullshit. . are you. . talking about?” I asked.

She smiled softly as I bent before her, still panting. “Surely, you do not think that magic is not real, not after what you did this morning.”

I let out a bigger sigh. “Look . . .I don’t. . know what. . I did. . this morning. .” I panted. “But I. . know for sure. . that magic. . was not involved. . . Because if. . there’s one. . constant in. . this world. . it's that. . magic doesn't exist.” I took some more deep breaths and placed my hands on my knees. My right hand immediately stung and I had to pull it away. I clutched the limb to my chest as I continued to heave.

Garahk tilted her head as she watched me. “You may not call it magic, but I assure you that is what transpired,” Garahk said. I straightened and groaned as my side flared up in pain. Garahk tilted her head the other way as she saw my grasp the offending body part “I noticed you didn't go to any of our mages for healing,” I looked up at her, confused. “Even when one was healing an orc right in front of you.”

I let out a sigh and shook my head. “Because I. . didn't want. . you to. . amputate my hand.” I replied, still panting. “If you. . could fix me. . I'd let you. . but you can't. . so, I won’t.” I let out a series of coughs as the pain in my side flared up again.

It was Garahk’s turn to shake her head. “We have not even attempted to heal you yet.” She said, reaching out her hand to take my arm. I took a step back, wary of her intentions. Garahk gave me a reassuring smile. “What could I possibly do to make it worse?” She asked. I looked at her hand, considering the outcomes. “There's not much she can do when we’re not passed out. Nothing negative seems likely with compliance.” Reluctantly, I gave her my hand. She took it gingerly and examined it. She muttered something incoherent under her breath. After a moment, she looked up at me, her hazel eyes giving me a reassuring expression. “Three breaks and a dozen splinters. Simple enough.” I closed my eyes and tilted my head up as I prepared for whatever pain she was about to put me through. Garahk began muttering again, gripping my hand to apply pressure to my forearm. I felt a tingling sensation and the pain slowly subsided.

I opened my eyes and looked down at my hand. “That's it?” I asked. “That’s your grand technique? Nerve points? That only masks the problem, not solves it.”

Garahk smiled softly as she looked up. “Really?” She asked sarcastically. She suddenly brought the top of her staff slamming into my hand.

I pulled it away as pain shot through it again. “What the Fuck?” I exclaimed. “What are you doing you old Bitch?” I clutched the hand to my chest. “Are you trying to break my hand again?”

Garahk merely laughed as she watched me squirm. “On the contrary.” She said, chuckling. “I believe I just fixed it.”

I looked at her confused. “Wha-” I began. I stopped when I realized the pain was different. It wasn't sharp, more of a dull throb. . and fading fast. I brought the hand down and examined it. I tentatively flexed my fingers. They were difficult to move, but I could manipulate them without causing myself pain. The pain in my forearm was also gone. I began unwrapping my hand, letting the splint fall to the ground as my hand was exposed to the cool air. I clenched and unclenched my fist, bringing my other hand up and used my thumb to check the bones in my hand. I could feel a small knot in two of the bones, but they didn't hurt. It felt as if I'd broken them years ago. “How the Fuck?” I looked up at Garahk as my mind wrapped around what just happened. “How the hell did you do that?” I asked. “There's no physical way that's possible.”

Garahk smiled as I looked at her in stunned shock. “Unless you use magic.” She said slyly. I looked back down at my hand, trying to rationalize the events. “What if Amelia was wrong? It's pretty hard to fake someone else's pain. There's still a chance she was wrong. What about the knife wounds?”

I looked up at Garahk. “Can you do that with cuts?” I asked curiously. Garahk nodded and waved me over. I stepped closer and allowed her to examine my right side. She began muttering again and gently placed her hand on my torso. This time I tried to listen to what she said, but I couldn't make any sense of it. It sounded random and disjointed.

Suddenly, Garahk stopped muttering. “Three knife wounds and two broken ribs,” Garahk said, looking up. “This should not take long.” She leaned back down and began muttering once again, pointing the tip of her staff at my side. This time I watched her technique. My eyes grew wide as the amethyst atop her staff began to glow and small beads of light trailed out of the gem. The beads gently entered my torso and caused a warm sensation to permeate my torso. My breaths slowly became less painful and my side stopped hurting. I let out increasingly deep breaths to test the limits of the effect but found that they were genuine. When Garahk was done I lifted my shirt and brought my hand underneath the bandages to feel the wound. Where there was once a stitch holding the flesh together was now a smooth plane of flesh. I felt around for the fishing line and found what was left of it below the original cuts. “Holy Shit. It even repaired over the stitches.”

I looked up at Garahk in shock, she was beaming at me. “How the fuck did you do that?” I asked in amazement. Garahk smiled softly as she leaned back on the post. I removed my shirt and began undoing the bandages, still in disbelief at her display. I let the bandages fall to the ground as I continued to unwind the cloth. Eventually, I stood, bare-chested, in the cool air. There wasn’t so much as a scar left on my torso. I flexed my torso every which way, enjoying my regained flexibility. I suddenly became aware of how sore my muscles were. “Guess we didn't have time to notice that with the gaping hole in our side.” I gestured at my forearm as I looked at Garahk questioningly. “Can you do anything about the soreness?” I asked Garahk.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Unfortunately, there's only so much I can do,” Garahk replied. “We do not comprehend muscles enough to fix such a complex issue.”

I thought about the implications of magic for a moment then nodded. “I guess that makes sense,” I said, bringing my hand to my mouth. “If magic is based on knowledge, it would be imperative to understand the world in order to fully utilize it. Any lack of knowledge means an inability to manipulate the phenomenon.” A gentle breeze suddenly blew past. I shivered as I realized how cold I was. I quickly scooped up my shirt and donned it as I asked again. “But how did you do all that?”

Garahk smiled as she tapped her nose. “The same way you caused the elves to flee the city,” Garahk replied slyly. “Using magic to bend the world to my will.”

I stood there in shock, still disbelieving of her words. “Magic is REAL?” I exclaimed. Garahk nodded and laughed at my amazement. “So, you can make fireballs and shit?” Garahk nodded, held out her hand, and spoke a single word. At her utterance, a small flame appeared above her palm, winking gently in the wind. I stared in wide-eyed shock at the flame. “No fucking way.” I held out my own palm and repeated the word, expecting a similar result. Unfortunately, nothing happened.

Garahk began laughing again. “If magic were that simple, everyone could do it,” Garahk said. That didn’t deter me.

I looked back at the fire in her hand. “But I learn how to do that?” I asked, pointing at her hand.

Garahk nodded as she smothered the flame in her fist and pointed at me. “That is precisely the matter I wish to discuss with you.” She said. “What you accomplished this morning would have taken a standard wizard a lifetime to learn the spell and a mage months to create. Yet, you cast a pulse of mana without even knowing magic existed, using only an incredible amount of willpower.”

I took in her words for a moment then shrugged sheepishly. “To be fair is was pretty pissed off,” I said defensively. “Whatever I did definitely wouldn’t have happened had I not been that mad.”

Garahk nodded thoughtfully. “In any regard, you accomplish something spectacular and I believe you could benefit greatly from learning more about magic.” She said. “I would be willing to teach you at my Institution if you are willing to learn.” I thought about her words for a moment. “Holy shit. Magic is real. That throws a massive monkey wrench in terms of tech disparity. If magic is possible then that’s another factor to account for when it comes to the elves and orcs. Hell, Amelia must have been right about the elves. They’re not much more advanced than the orcs. Magic explains how that bracelet could zap Amelia. It would definitely be beneficial to learn about the practice. If I learn what she used to heal me, that’ll be a big step in the right direction. No more relying on others for support. The defense would definitely be necessary too if I’m to fight against an army of elves again. I’ll definitely want to make it harder for them to pierce my flesh.”

I finally nodded as I looked up at Garahk. “I'm willing, but I want a priority on defensive and healing techniques. I don’t want to have to rely on other people when I fight.”

Garahk took in what I'd said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. She finally nodded as she used her staff to gesture at the door beside her. “I shall send over a mage tomorrow. He shall begin your basic lessons then. For now, go in and speak with Dubak. He has news for you.” I gazed through the door, into the Great Hall. The blackness beyond the bright outdoors seemed strangely daunting.”Oh, right. That's why we're here.”

I nodded solemnly towards Garahk. “Thank you,” I said, beginning to move towards the door. “I’ll work hard” Garahk smiled softly as I turned and rushed in before anything else could distract me.

When I walked into the Great Hall I became aware of a dozen pairs of eyes on me. It seemed to grow quiet as I walked through the building towards the thrones. I quickly scanned the room, trying to not let the gazes overwhelm my thoughts. I stopped as I noticed a large pile of weapons sitting in the open area in front of the thrones. A few smaller piles sat around it, only a dozen blades, as opposed to the hundred or so weapons I estimated were in the big pile. I spotted Dubak sitting at one of the tables closest to the thrones, munching on a cooked bird leg. He was facing the pile of weapons, seemingly lost in thought. His crown sat idly next to his plate, exposing his short cut greying hair. I approached slowly, muscles aching with each step. Dubak didn't look up as I stopped beside him. “I got your message,” I said calmly. Dubak turned to me. “I've been told it's important?” Dubak nodded as he set the leg down and picked up his crown.

He placed it on his head and stood up. He towered over me for a moment and I felt a strange sense of unease as he stared at me with his bright eyes. “I underestimated you.” He finally growled. I raised my eyebrows slightly at this admittance. Dubak quickly continued. “I thought you were as cowardly and underhanded as Him. But upon hearing the tales of your heroics along the northern wall, and seeing the warriors that would stand to defend you. .” He gestured at the piles of weapons. “I've come to the conclusion that perhaps my first judgment of you was wrong. According to them, you charged headlong into the fray, armed with nothing but your clothes, a metal stick, and a battle cry.” He began moving around the table towards the open space. I followed, muscles groaning with each movement. “Your actions brought about a turn in the tide of battle that very few can claim to cause. Your actions were so grand that you appear to have convinced the entire Northern District of your strength and heroism.” He stopped in front of the large pile of weapons. “So much so that they agree you are worthy of the highest honor, the title of a Champion of Battle.” He said, gesturing again at the pile. I stared at the large assortment of weapons, looking at the variety within. No two weapons seemed exactly alike. Even the swords had differing curves.

I pointed at the pile curiously. “Each of these weapons is from an orc?” I asked. Dubak nodded. I thought about the mentality I’d been shown so far. I wasn’t entirely convinced of Dubak’s sincerity. “ Am I right in guessing the sheer number of people isn't the reason why you're telling me this,” I said skeptically. “From what Bulak has told me, you could have just as easily overruled their judgment for one reason or another. So what changed your mind?”

Dubak continued to stare, stone-faced, at the pile. “The tale told by Ogrul.” Dubak finally replied. “I believe you acquainted yourself with his older sister, Shel.” I clenched my fist as I heard her name. Her death passed through my mind. Just thinking about it made my eyes well up. “Of course it was.”

I nodded as I bowed my head slightly, averting my gaze from Dubak. “I did,” I said solemnly.

Dubak turned to me. He seemed to notice the condensation on my pupils. Dubak turned to the pile as he continued his reasoning. “There is no shame in weeping. From what I was told, she was a bright soul. Her loss will be mourned.” I swallowed and wiped my eyes. Dubak laid a hand gingerly on my shoulder. I felt the strength of his fingers through my shirt. “There are many more that owe their lives to you, reluctant as they are to admit it. It would be foolish not to honor such deeds.” I cleared my throat as I wiped my face again. Dubak gently patted my shoulder as he continued. “The actions he recounted were ones of great heroism, heroism in the face of unmatchable odds. The bravery you displayed that morn was near indescribable. Your reasons for fighting were also just and in defense of the city. That is why I have decided to honor their judgment. This title is a high honor. Very few are able to claim it. It is highly unorthodox to allow someone such as yourself, let alone an outsider, to be honored with the title. Yet the warriors of Snakhagr do not waiver in their commitment. They have voted for a warrior and when the events of the battle they will be honored with a title of Champion and their subsequent markings.”

I let out a small laugh as I wiped the tears from my face. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “I'm honored. I don't even know what to say. . . Is there some sort of ceremony for something like that?”

Dubak immediately began shaking his head, removing his hand from my shoulder. “Unfortunately, I do not foresee the council bestowing such an honor on a non-warrior such as yourself.”

I stared up at him, confused. “I thought you said-” I began.

Dubak lifted a hand and silenced me. “I know what I said,” Dubak interrupted. “but the council would not give the title to someone that is not a declared warrior. There are stringent laws that prevent ne’er-do-wells from perverting the title. Normally they may be ignored, but for an unproven outsider I do not anticipate the council granting you such a luxury.” I took a deep breath as I thought about his words. Dubak began rubbing his temple. “And if a Champion is not chosen once a battle is completely cataloged, then no Champion can be declared.”

I let out an annoyed growl as I realized what he was saying. “So, for all intents and purposes, I've earned the title but because I'm not a ‘declared warrior’ the council won't give it to me?” I asked. Dubak nodded in affirmation. “And once you guys have cataloged the battle, the opportunity for my title disappears?” Dubak nodded again. I let out another sigh as I thought for a minute. “That won’t do at all. If I want the rest of the city to accept me, I'll need that title. From there, I might be able to convince the council to go after Adympia. That’ll be my end goal for the foreseeable future. I'll work on the other tribes when I have the time. . and find the opportunity.” I let out a thoughtful hum as I considered my option. If I needed to play by their rules, then their rules I shall follow. I looked up at Dubak determinedly. “How does someone become a declared warrior?” I asked.

Dubak looked at me skeptically. “There's an annual trial,” Dubak explained. “Just before the harvest, all warriors in training are sent through a rite of passage. Those that emerge victorious are granted the status of a warrior. However, the rite not for months.”

I nodded thoughtfully and began pacing, legs aching with each step. “What does the rite of passage entail?” I asked. “What would they be faced with?”

Dubak stared at me warily. “They are sent through the gauntlet,” Dubak replied. “All of those that complete the task are placed into the arena with a beast of the council's choosing. Those that are left standing when the beast is vanquished become warriors.”

I nodded, mentally constructing the requirements. “And how long will it take to catalog the battle?” I asked.

Dubak looked at me with an expression of wild disbelief. “You're not actually. .” Dubak began.

“How long?” I asked firmly.

Dubak stared at me. “I anticipate the scribes to complete the task within a month.” Dubak finally replied. “Your strange stunt has complicated the process of determining the events of the battle, but you cannot actually be considering-”

I pointed deliberately at Dubak. “That's exactly what I'm thinking,” I replied. I now had a goal and a timeline to work with. I would need to fill the unknown data, but for right now it would help me make a plan.

Dubak shook his head insistently. “The techniques and formations require months to learn and the reflexes require an entire year to be honed.” Dubak protested. “What could you possibly hope to accomplish?”

I waved his concern off, staring around at the Great Hall. The first thing I would need was combat training. “I've done more with less.” I countered determinedly. An intrusive thought wandered through my head. “No, you fucking haven't. You've memorized a list of vocabulary for a quiz ten minutes before it. But this can't be learned overnight. It's not overnight, we have a month, and the first step to success is a positive attitude.” I looked up at Dubak. “I can do this. I just need someone to train me.”

Dubak began rubbing his forehead. “You outsiders are insane,” Dubak muttered.

I smiled at the remark and shrugged. “If I acted sane and logical, I wouldn't have an opportunity for that title.” I countered.

Dubak continued to stare at me for a moment, then sighed, rubbing his head thoughtfully. “I suppose that could work.” Dubak finally grumbled. “But the council will not hesitate to end your plan, even if you have earned some respect from them. They shall pick the hardiest creature they possess. And, unless you convince others to aid you, you shall be facing it alone.”

I nodded thoughtfully, amending my combat requirements. “Then I'll just have to be trained by your toughest warrior.” I countered. “Who would you say that is?” I asked.

Dubak paused as he thought for a moment. “I believe Agrob would fit your description. He is the warrior who trained my daughter, Bulak.” Dubak replied. I smiled slightly. “But he has already expressed his utter disdain for outsiders, and I doubt we can convince him to train you.”

I sighed, scratching this ‘Agrob’ off my list. “It's never simple, is it? . . unless. .” “What about Bulak herself?” I asked, looking back to Dubak.

Dubak seemed to consider for a moment. “Perhaps . . . She may be willing. I shall have to discuss the matter with her. If she agrees, I shall send her over tomorrow to begin your training. If not, then I shall have to consider another option.”

I nodded thoughtfully, realizing I had magical powers to consider. “I'll likely have one of Garahk’s mages over for lessons. If I can manage it right, I might have learned a spell or two by next month.”

Dubak raised his eyebrow at that. “So, you took Garahk up on her offer. It will not be easy to learn magic and have someone train you in the art of combat.”

I nodded. “I don't want to take the easy route,” I replied. “I don't want anyone to go through what Shel had to go through. . . . . She died because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Dubak nodded solemnly. “You swore yourself to a noble cause.” He remarked. “Though I doubt you shall have your revenge on Adympia. Gashur still does not stand a chance if we were to enter a war. We would surely fall, no matter how much magic you learn.”

I waved him off again. “I'll cross that bridge when I get there,” I replied thoughtfully. I glanced at my watch, 5:03. “But for now, I need to get back and plan things out more thoroughly.” I started to walk back towards the door.

I suddenly heard Dubak’s voice call out behind me. “Just a moment.” I paused in mid-step. I turned to see Dubak walking around the pile of weapons and reached within. He gave a sharp tug and pulled my crowbar out of the pile, causing the weapons to clatter slightly. The crowbar was still stained with blood. Dubak walked over to me with it in his hands. “I believe this is yours.” He said, holding out the crowbar.

I took it gingerly and gave it a few mock swings. “Thanks,” I said. I suddenly realized something as I stared at the blood-stained metal. “What was it doing in there?” I asked, turning to the pile.

Dubak gestured at the pile as he explained. “Brugo placed it there.” He replied. “He was the one to nominate you, driving your weapon into the floor of the Great Hall and the first to cast his blade in your favor.”

I smiled as I looked down at the makeshift weapon. “Note to self: find and thank Brugo.” “Thank you again,” I said, turning back to Dubak. “I won't let you down.” I started walking towards the door again. “How do they deal with their dead?” The thought flashed briefly through my mind and caused me to stop. I slowly turned back to Dubak. He gave me a confused expression. “Will. .Will there be a funeral for the ones killed?” I asked slowly. Dubak’s face grew solemn as he took in my question.

He nodded affirmatively. “There shall be a ceremony in one week,” Dubak replied. “Those killed in battle will be honored with a warrior's funeral. It is only right considering the circumstances of their demise.” I nodded, thinking back to Shel. She at least deserved that. I looked up as I saw Dubak gesturing in my direction. “I shall send over the details once they are decided.” He said dismissively.

I smiled softly. “Thank you again. . for everything,” I said, slowly stepping towards the door. Dubak smiled slightly and nodded. I turned towards the door and quickly walked out, heading back to the barn as quickly as my sore muscles would allow.