Chapter 273: Chapter 272: The Seed of Resentment
The next day, the manor courtyard buzzed with life. Steel clashed in steady rhythms as soldiers sparred, their shouts mingling with the ring of practice blades.
Goblins crouched by the armory steps, polishing gear until the bronze gleamed, while kobolds moved in lines, hauling crates of arrows and bundles of spears toward the supply sheds.
Kairo cut through it all with a confident stride. He greeted men and monster alike as he passed, a nod here, a casual word there, even a grin that won a chuckle or two.
His youth carried a raw energy, and for a moment it was easy to forget the edge in his voice from days prior. Some of the men answered in kind, joking with him, clapping him on the shoulder.
But laughter has a way of fading quickly. One soldier’s chuckle died first, then another’s. Soon the courtyard had gone quiet enough that the hiss of whetstones over blades carried clear. Their gazes shifted, following Kairo’s own line of sight.
Across the yard, Lumberling stood, speaking low with Krivex. Nothing in his stance was hostile, no word was aimed at Kairo. Yet Kairo’s stare cut like a knife, his jaw clenched tight with something colder than rivalry. Hatred burned in his eyes.
The shift was immediate. Smiles bled away. Men who had just moments ago traded jokes stiffened, their hands unconsciously brushing the hilts of their weapons. Whispers slithered through the ranks.
"That boy..." Trask muttered, voice low.
"He looks at our Lord like he wants to kill him," another hissed.
"He’s no ally," Aren growled.
The distance grew that day, and it never closed again. Whatever goodwill Kairo had scraped together melted into suspicion, then hardened into something worse.
The days that followed stretched long. Training came with the dawn, and every dawn Kairo was already there, drenched in sweat before the others even stepped into the yard.
He drove himself through drills until his palms blistered and his breath came ragged. Sword strikes chopped the air again and again, so fierce that even the goblins polishing gear paused to watch.
Yet no one praised him. The men who once shared small talk now avoided his eyes. A joke thrown his way never reached his ears, a sparring partner kept the bouts short and ended them quickly.
Kairo trained obsessively, throwing himself into drills as though sheer effort could bridge the gap between him and Lumberling. But no matter how hard he tried, no one gave him the respect he craved.
At night, while soldiers gathered in groups to share food and laughter, Kairo trained alone. The clang of his blade echoed through the dark courtyard like a bitter rhythm.
For a heartbeat, Kairo’s gaze drifted past Lumberling to the clusters of soldiers sharing food and laughter, the kind of warmth he’d never been part of. His jaw clenched, pride choking the ache, and then his glare hardened.
More than once, soldiers walking by caught him staring across the yard again, always at Lumberling, gaze burning, fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.
Resentment festered.
One afternoon, after Aren finished sparring with another captain, Kairo stepped forward. His chest rose and fell fast, sweat streaking his brow, and his voice rang out.
"I challenge you for duel!"
The yard went quiet. Aren raised an eyebrow, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"Challenge me? For what reason?"
"To prove I belong here. To show all of you I’m not weaker than any of you!" Kairo snapped, his glare flicking briefly toward Lumberling.
Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. Aren sighed, setting his spear aside.
"You’re too green, boy. Go cool your head."
"Don’t look down on me!" Kairo barked, drawing his blade. His stance was shaky, but his determination burned hot.
Aren’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like humiliating the young, but the boy’s defiance left no choice.
"Fine," he muttered, stepping forward.
They circled at first. Kairo’s grip on his blade was tight, knuckles pale, his stance wide but stiff with nerves. Aren, by contrast, stood relaxed, weapon held with practiced ease.
Kairo struck first, a furious downward slash that split the air with raw strength but little control. Aren shifted smoothly aside, letting the blade whistle past before flicking his own weapon up in a sharp parry. Steel rang, and the impact jolted through Kairo’s arms.
Another swing, faster and wilder. Aren blocked it with a twist of his wrist. A third strike followed, then a fourth, Kairo pouring everything into sheer force, but each was brushed aside like a child swatting at a wall.
The crowd murmured. Some winced, others folded their arms, watching the gulf between the two men widen with every exchange.
Frustration mounted in Kairo’s eyes. With a roar he lunged, blade aimed at Aren’s chest. This time Aren didn’t simply parry, he stepped in. His elbow snapped forward, knocking Kairo’s strike off-line, and his knee came up with brutal efficiency, driving into the boy’s gut. Air exploded from Kairo’s lungs as he staggered.
Before he could recover, a swift kick struck his shin, sending him sprawling backward into the dirt. His blade slipped from his fingers, clattering across the yard.
He scrambled to rise, shame burning hotter than the pain, but Aren was already there. A single step closed the distance, and then, crack!
Aren’s open palm met his cheek with a sharp smack that echoed through the silent yard. Kairo’s head snapped sideways, blood beading at the corner of his lip. Gasps rippled through the soldiers.
Aren stood over him, weapon lowered, voice echoing.
"You’re not strong enough to challenge me. Learn respect before you challenge others, you’re not proving anything."
Kairo’s chest heaved, his eyes blazing with fury and humiliation as he glared up from the dirt. But no words came. Only the bitter taste of defeat, and the weight of every watching gaze pressing down on him.
From the edge of the yard, Lumberling and Lireath had been watching in silence. Lireath frowned, shaking her head as if watching a boy making a tantrum, while Lumberling’s expression remained calm.
Agathis stepped forward, fingers idly twisting a thread on her sleeve. Her voice dropped to a low note that could have been warning or prophecy. "It would be wiser not to make an enemy of him."
Then she bowed a fraction, eyes briefly flicking to Lumberling.
Lumberling turned his head slightly toward her.
"So, I’m the one making an enemy of him?"
Agathis didn’t answer at once.
Her gaze lingered on Lumberling, studying him. A faint curve touched her lips.
Lumberling gave a small shrug, as he turned back to watch Kairo struggling to his feet.
"Doesn’t matter if he’s my enemy or not."