"Tristan." I looked over to my friend, who was scowling at the scene. "Let's watch."

"What? Why?"

"I wanna see the fight. It's not like we have anything else going on."

"Someone's gonna die here. I don't want to."

"Then go wander off. I'll catch up to you in a bit."

Tristan huffed and marched off. Big baby. It was just some light casual murder in broad daylight. No big deal, really.

I turned back to watch the fight. The men were still circling one another. One would test the other every couple of seconds, but they hadn't found any openings yet. The anticipation was killing me. It felt like they were moving in slow motion.

Finally, the dwarf lunged, but the human dodged and slashed with his sword. This evidently was what the dwarf wanted because he ducked under the blade and shoved his pickaxe into the man's knee, nearly buckling it. However, the man was able to get his sword in a defensive position, so the dwarf backed away. The man got his balance and followed up with a series of light cuts.

With all the training Renard gave me, I knew he was testing the dwarf's reactions.

The dwarf, an old-timer with grey hair and a white eye, didn't take the bait. He parried each strike with ease. Each block was measured and controlled, and he didn't fall for any of the false openings the human gave him.

"Come on, coward. Show me what you got, Grenden!" The human's muscles bulged in his neck.

"Coward? That's rich coming from you, Jorgan. Running around like a fool, picking fights with everyone who looks at you funny, then getting your ass beat. At this point, I'm doing community service."

"I wouldn't have to pick fights if someone didn't keep taking all my bounties! I've had it with you and your guild, you old bastard!" The man slashed at the dwarf's arm, but he overcommitted. Grenden parried the sword to the side and darted in. He slammed the head of his pickaxe into Jorgen's belly, causing the man to double over.

The human slashed weakly, trying to keep his enemy at a distance, but the dwarf jumped to his side, pulled back, and uppercutted the man in the jaw, throwing him to his back. Jorgan scrambled to his feet as blood and a tooth fell out of his mouth.

The dwarf was by far the superior fighter. His movements were efficient and tested, and he still was strong, if a bit stiff and slow. It just looked like age had caught up to him.

"Get up, man. You're embarrassing yourself. Or give up already."

Jorgen scrambled to his feet and swung his blade in a wild arc. Grenden blocked, then grabbed his wrist and twisted the blade out of his grip. It clattered to the ground, and a loud pop told me the man's wrist had broken. He screamed, but the dwarf didn't let up.

"Yield."

Jorgen reached for his belt and pulled out a dagger in a reverse grip. He swung at the dwarf's face, but Grenden managed to drop his pickaxe and grab the man's wrist just in time to stop the cheap shot. An instant later, the dagger clattered to the ground, and the man's other wrist popped.

"Cease this duel!" A man's voice shouted from up the street. Looking up the gentle slope, I could see a portly dwarf running down the road, his short legs a blur as he rushed toward the fight. When he reached the crowd, he shoved his way between the onlookers until he found himself in the center of the ring. His cheeks were beet red. He placed his hands on his knees and wheezed for a time.

The crowd groaned as the man slowly collected himself. After a minute or two, he stood up, adjusted his collar, and held his arms up at both men. "Hold! Hold! You cannot duel here without a permit. It is not lawful."

Jorgan growled at the man. "I will have my satisfaction!" He was nursing his broken wrists, but the fire in his eyes hadn't died.

"You'll have a pick lodged into your eye if we go any longer, you idiot."

"Who are you calling an idiot, you bastard?" He pointed to the dwarf with his crooked wrist. His hand flopped as he pointed. "This man has ruined me! I'll have his head."

"You'll have the headsman's axe if you're not careful," the newcomer replied, "but at least then you wouldn't have to worry about your debts anymore."

"I don't have—"

"Everyone in Galden knows about your debt, you fool. Don't try lying to me. I have eyes and ears everywhere. If you want to fight, go elsewhere."

"Fine. But I'll have satisfaction, mark my words." Jorgan reached down to pick up his sword and dagger, dropped both, then tried again. After an awkward minute of fumbling, he sheathed both and stormed off. When he did, the crowd began to dissipate.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"And what about you? Will you give me trouble, master Grenden?"

"Not today, Ferdol. Not today."

"Good. Keep it that way. And don't get baited into these things. You'll end up dead 'fore too long."

"Yeah, yeah."

Ferdol gave Grenden a pat on his shoulder before walking away.

Grenden bent down and picked up his pickaxe. This was my moment.

"That was awesome." I sounded like a fanboy. I toned it down a little. "You kicked his ass."

"Not much else to do with a youngster like that one. No sense in that one. I remember him running around here when he was in diapers. Cute kid. The little shit decided to grow up and become a cunt."

I laughed. Only English people used the C-word back on Earth. I liked this guy.

"Who are you?" He eyed me up and down.

"Alex, an adventurer." I reached out my hand.

"Adventurer?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look like much." He didn't take my hand.

"That's because I'm not." It was fine. Renard had beaten the ego out of me ten months ago. Teach me everything, badass grumpy dwarf number two.

The old dwarf chuckled. He took my hand and shook it once. His hands were like stone. "Honest and humble. Good traits for a wannabe. Come, lad. Let's get some drinks. Your treat."

"Hell yeah."

Grenden led me to the nearest bar, a decent-looking stone establishment with around ten tables, and guided me to a table. I sat down as he walked up to the bar, and a minute later, he returned with two mugs of ale and two shots of what looked like whiskey, but it was twice as brown and three times as thick.

The dwarf shoved a beer and a shot glass into my hands. Without hesitation, he dropped his shot into the mug in his hands, slammed the mug on the table, then chugged the whole thing in one go. With a large sigh, he set his mug down, wiped his grey beard, and burped. Then, he eyed me. "Drink, lad."

"Yes, sir." Sir? I looked down at the liquor in my mug. It was black as night and smelled like coal. The liquor looked worse. It glooped up the sides of the shot glass like thin maple syrup.

"What, you don't like a real drink? I'll get you one of those dainty nobleman's drinks if you'd prefer, though I think you'd get chased out of town for it before too long."

"No, this is great." I dropped the shot into my mug and threw it all back.

That was the first mistake I made that day.

It tasted like beer mixed with paint thinner and half an oak tree.

However, I didn't want to lose face. I drank steadily. The mug was large enough to hide my disgust as I muscled it down.

Grenden chuckled like an old sailor. "Kragstout and blackjaw are a real dwarf's drink. Humans and elves like the watered-down piss, but kragstout is what really gets the job done. Drink up, boy." He tipped my mug back, forcing me to drink faster. I gagged.

When I finished, I threw the mug down. I'd done it. I'd drank the worst thing I'd ever tasted. My chest burned as it settled into my stomach. When it hit my gut, it turned my stomach, then my whole body went warm. I burped as the alcohol flooded through my veins.

Damn, this was some good shit.

"Not bad, laddy. Not bad. What's your name again?"

"Alex."

"Where you from, Alex?"

"The temple down south."

"What, Renard's haunt?"

"You know him?" I was surprised.

"He's my fourth cousin once removed. Of course I know him! Bastard hasn't stopped by in, oh, seven or eight years. I was thinking about going down to that little temple of his and raising hell until he saw me." He eyed me up and down. "So I take it that makes you a traveler?"

"I mean, yeah. We came from the temple."

The man's eyes narrowed. "What are you, a comedian? From Earth, you damn idiot."

"Oh, shit, yes! Yeah, I am."

"So Renard let you go after a few weeks instead of keeping you like the little pet bitches he treats his students as?"

"Well, no. I actually have been training for about a year. I was pretty beat up when I got here. Healing took longer than they thought it would, so I spent the year training with Renard and a scholar named Arden."

"A year, eh?" He thumbed his beard. "Where's your friend? I saw him before that fool drew his sword. Scrawny girl, long black hair."

"Tristan's his name. We met at the temple. He's probably wandering around somewhere."

"His, huh?" The man's eye smiled at me. "Well, no matter. That's good. You got an ally." The man stroked his beard in thought. "Let me tell you something, lad. Renard is one tough bastard. I poke fun at the little fighting force he's whipped up, but they're true warriors. If you got training from him and he gave you the go-ahead, you've got some talent. He wouldn't have trained you if you didn't." He grinned. "So what do you plan on doing with yourself now?"

"We want to be adventurers. We're looking for a job to get started, but we don't really know what we're doing. Any advice?"

He grinned and slapped my shoulder. "Good man, listening to your elders. I have advice. Listen close. The only difference between heroes and corpses is luck, preparedness, and hard work. You never go in blind, got it? And you never take a job with your ego. Be safe, be prepared, and train hard. That's how you live as long as I have."

"How old are you?"

"Two hundred and forty-three years."

My jaw fell open. "Oh shit. Are all dwarves that old?"

"Not if they aren't smart. There's plenty of us who aren't."

"Damn... So what should I be looking for in a job?"

He eyed me up and down. "You got a class yet?"

I shook my head.

"Okay, so nothing fancy. Most people try hunting monsters to get their feet wet, then they end up dead. That's stupid." He stood up. "There's lots of jobs to go around. Find one that seems easy. The easier, the better."

"Like what?"

"Guard work. In town. Nothing fancy. Do a few jobs, and get your feet wet. Maybe find a guard gig for a merchant or something. There's always work if you know where to look."

"That man said you run a guild. Would you want to take a couple of guys on?" That would be perfect.

The dwarf chuckled again. "I don't take on nobodies. Prove you got what it takes, and I'll think about it. Until then, I'll be around. My guildhall's in the mountain, down Deepdelve, on the left. You can't miss it. Clan Ironheart's the name."

I nodded. This could be the start we needed. "Okay, Grenden. You'll be seeing me soon."

"Look forward to it, boy." The man stood up and marched out of the bar.

I swirled what was left of my beer. It was happening. The legend begins. I hopped off my stool, felt my head rush, and nearly passed out. Oh, fuck, that liquor hit fast.

Shit. Okay, okay.

I took one step, a second, and managed to wobble my way out of the bar. The second I hit the street, I heard the bartender yelling for me to pay.