The rhythmic sound of my sword slicing through the air echoed through the courtyard. Sweat clung to my skin, my breathing heavy, but I didn't stop. My grip tightened around the hilt as I slashed at the training dummy, each cut landing harder than the last. My gaze was fixed on the impact point — as if the repetition could drown out the image of Tarin collapsing, his stomach torn open by the Wendigo's claws.
The fight ended too quickly.
I hadn't learned enough.
At least I got a glimpse of its strength.
But one thing was clear—I needed to be faster.
A familiar presence pulled me out of my thoughts.
I didn't turn right away—just let the noise of the courtyard seep back in, reminding me I wasn't alone. When I finally glanced over, Neval stood a few paces away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She was just watching me with that calculating gaze of hers.
"You know, swinging a sword like that won't help much if you're not paying attention to your form. Are you really planning to face that thing like this?"
I froze for a second.
My form was off? Maybe I hadn't noticed because I was too distracted... or too tired.
I clenched my jaw.
"Didn't know you were my instructor now. What do you want?"
She stepped forward, the same casual confidence in her movements—like she owned the space between us.
"Nothing in particular. Just seems like you're trying to punch your way through frustration, not training."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Is that what you think?"
Neval shrugged.
"Well, after seeing Tarin almost get his guts spilled, I'd want to feel more prepared too."
I exhaled through my nose, forcing my fists to unclench.
"What's your point?"
Neval's eyes glinted, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
"People are talking. Some say volunteering to fight that thing would be suicide. You sure you want that kind of reputation?"
I glanced away, jaw tight.
"I don't care what they say."
A soft chuckle.
"Maybe you should. Being reckless can make you look strong... or just desperate. People remember both."
My mind kept replaying the fight. The way Tarin moved—fast, unpredictable, but sloppy. He wasn't prepared. I wouldn't make that mistake. If I faced it, I'd be faster, more controlled. I couldn't afford to be reckless.
"Is that all you came to say?" I asked, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
Neval tilted her head, almost thoughtful.
"If you're going to do it, make sure it's not just to prove something. Pride's a stupid reason to die."
I shot her a glare.
"Since when do you care about my pride?"
Neval hesitated, her voice dropping lower.
"I don't. But I've seen what happens when strength gets mistaken for recklessness."
She paused, as if weighing whether to continue.
"When I was a child, my mother and I lived outside Uruk. She trained day and night. I never understood why she pushed herself so hard... until one day, some outlaws appeared in the village. They said they were coming for her; their leader had taken an interest."
I frowned.
"What happened?"
Her gaze hardened, almost like she was forcing herself to say it.
"Even though she was the best warrior there, being noticed by the wrong person made her disappear."
She looked at me directly, her voice firm.
"Strength isn't enough if others decide you're worthless. You could be the most skilled warrior in Uruk, but if the council thinks you're just seeking attention, they could crush you—even if you win."
"So, what? I'm supposed to sit back and do nothing?"
Neval shook her head, lips curling into a faint, bitter smile.
"No. Just don't mistake recklessness for strength. If you fight that thing, do it because it's necessary—not because you're trying to prove something to them."
I forced my hands to relax, exhaling through my nose.
"You think I care what they think of me?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe not. But if your pride gets you killed, it won't matter."
She left before I could respond, her footsteps fading into the noise of the courtyard. I didn't start hitting the dummy again.
Was it pride?
I dropped my hands, breathing hard.
No—I wasn't Tarin. I wouldn't let fear push me into something reckless.
If I fought, it would be because it mattered.
I needed to clear my head.
The tension in my muscles felt like it was winding tighter with every second. I walked out of the courtyard, weaving through the corridors without a real destination in mind. I ended up in the garden, where the sound of running water from the fountain softened the knot in my chest.
Ennari was there, kneeling by a patch of wildflowers. When she saw me, she brightened, holding up a handful of tiny blossoms. "Eresh! Look! They're blooming early this year."
I managed a smile. "They're pretty... What are you doing with them?"
She hesitated, then shrugged, as if embarrassed.
"I thought I'd put them in your room. You've been so serious lately. Maybe they'll make you smile."
I crouched down, plucking one of the flowers and tucking it behind her ear.
"You always know how to make things brighter."
Her laugh was like a ripple through my thoughts, breaking the tension. I picked her up, hoisting her onto my shoulders.
"Let's take a walk. I could use a break."
She leaned forward, her small hands gripping my hair. I adjusted her weight, realizing she felt a bit heavier than before.
"You know, pretty soon I won't be able to carry you like this. You're getting a little heavy."
She tugged at my hair, her voice full of mock indignation.
"Never call a lady heavy! That's just rude."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright, alright. I meant strong. You're getting stronger."
She giggled, leaning forward again.
"That's better."
We started to walk.
At one point, I took a breath.
"Ennari... if there was something dangerous and I couldn't stop it..."
She cut me off without hesitation, her voice steady.
"Of course you would."
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"You really think so?"
She nodded, her tiny fists making a show of punching the air.
"Of course! You're the strongest."
I didn't correct her. As we wandered back toward the courtyard, I felt the weight on my shoulders lighten. If I fought, it would be to protect the people I cared about—to prove to the gods that they should have chosen me.
Not to the council. They don't matter.
To be more than a king.
To be the one they couldn't deny.
To make sure Ennari could keep gathering flowers without fear.
And if that meant facing monsters—then I'd face them all.