Well then. After spending three months getting beaten up by an old goblin, I’m gonna get beat up by a buff orc.

“Larek and Garul,” Glitsnab announced, “prepare to fight.”

The other trainees snickered and laughed as I shambled around with a wooden sword. Garul… he was the strongest of us orphans. A giant of an orc, over seven feet tall and with bulging muscles. They say he’s a bastard of the Mountain King himself… and it was a fact that he had never suffered defeat. “Well, Larek,” the orc snorted, holding a sword in each hand. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“Likewise,” I replied, but I was trembling. Was Glitsnab retarded?? Or did he just want to see me suffer a bit more?

“How many bruises you want?” Garul sneered, making the others laugh. “You’re as short as always, runt.”

“All right, cut yer useless chatter and start fighting,” Glitsnab snapped.

There was no way I was gonna win… but I can’t just give up. I quickly assumed a defensive position, my sword balanced in the middle of my body so I could deflect any incoming attacks. Garul snorted and began to advance, both of his swords swinging around at his sides.

Clumsy. Garul was clumsy, I thought to myself. He wasn’t standing straight, his arms were nonchalant and relaxed… was this truly the orphan who had never lost in a fight? Suddenly, he charged, both of his swords swinging upwards.

It was as if the world had suddenly slowed down. As his left sword was brought upwards, I jumped back and slammed my own weapon into his wrist. His right sword was aimed at my head, but the swing was clumsy and shaky. I instinctively ducked, his blade swinging over my head. With a cry Garul dropped his left sword, and before he could react I slammed my blade into his head like a club.

Dazed but still conscious, Garul swung his remaining sword around in confusion. I dodged it easily, before hitting him on the forehead again. Dodge. Slam. Duck. Slam. Parry. Slam. Finally, I smashed my sword’s hilt into his stomach. He coughed and roared, before collapsing, unconscious.

...What?? Did I just… defeat Garul? The other cadets stood there, perplexed. Only Glitsnab wasn’t surprised, smiling his crooked grin. All the turmoil, all the horrible training… all the pain, the aching, the bruises and broken bones… it had all paid off. I could fight. I could win. I wasn’t a runt anymore - I was a warrior.

I roared, daring any of the trainees to challenge me - they instinctively backed away. I had won. I wasn’t the butt of everyone’s jokes again. Finally, I could begin taking over the world.

***

Sharog’s son was truly a fighter.

I had taught him everything I knew, and it seems that he had finally become a warrior. Garul, the lowborn scum that the other orphans seemed to worship, was nothing more than child’s play for the son of Sharog. I would teach him more. He wasn’t talented, but talent was nothing compared to hard work. I would teach him until he surpassed me, and finally, his own mother…

The clear blow of a horn cut through my thoughts. As I turned around, my heart skipped a beat. No. Not now. It was much too early…

The Greenskins covered in armor on giant black horses were all too familiar - soldiers from the Mountain Guard. The nearest one, a young ogre, smiled. “Well, if it isn’t Glafirpul the Magnificent.”

“I go by Glitsnab now,” I said in a soft, guarded whisper.

The ogre laughed, jumping off his horse. “A military legend names himself ‘Glitsnab’ after retiring, and begins to raise orphans. Truly the world is a clever joke.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve never met you in my life… but I am old. Forgive me if I have forgotten your face, erm…”

“The name’s Libnawg, the youngest Sergeant Major to have graced the Mountain Guard.” The ogre mockingly bowed, smiling. “And no, I’ve never met you either. You left the Guard four years before I was born, after all. You were my idols, someone I always strived to be. Now that I see you in person, however… it seems that all heroes were romanticised.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” I muttered, before spitting near Libnawg’s feet. “Now, why are you here again?”

Libnawg’s face suddenly turned grim. “The war with Fenlar ain’t going well. We’re here to recruit some soldiers.”

“You can’t have any.”

“Listen, Glitsnab,” Libnawg sneered, “whether they join or not isn’t up to you. The Mountain King himself ordered us to search these lands for any potential recruits… and it seems we’ve found a few right here.”

“I don’t give two shits who ordered you, if you try to take any of them I’ll slit your throat.” As I mouthed the threat my hand reached for my knife.

“You’re old, Glitsnab,” the ogre laughed as he signaled the four other soldiers. “Perhaps in your prime you could take us all on… but not today.”

It was true. I could probably buy the orphans some time, but there was no way I could win against give members of the Mountain Guard…

“Hey, I don’t know who the hell you are, but tell the Mountain King that I’m about to replace him!”

Why did this have to happen??!?!

The young orc, Larek, advanced on Libnawg, who was nearly twice his size. “Who the fuck are you?” The ogre grunted.

“The name’s Larek, and I’m gonna be the next king of the Mountain Kingdoms!” The orc smiled.

Damn all that teenage impulse. “Stay back, Larek!” I warned. “He’s nothing like Garul, you won’t stand a chance against him…”

“Well, if the boy wants a fight, he’s got one,” Libnawg laughed, grabbing a small tree nearby and tearing it from the ground.

“Don’t cry to your mommy once I’ve beaten your ass,” Larek spat, holding his wooden sword in a defensive position.

The ogre slammed his makeshift cudgel down, but Larek darted to the right and jumped forward, attempting to cut his leg. Libdawg only laughed and swung his club around masterfully, missing Larek’s head by a millimeter. The orc continued to dart around, barely avoiding the ogre’s attacks. “Interesting,” Libdawg growled as he slammed the tree around. “You got some fight in you, kid.”

“You’re better than I thought,” Larek gasped as he darted around. He was getting tired… there was no way he would survive much longer. I had to interfere, or he would be dead!

“Well, it would be a shame to kill someone with so much talent,” the ogre grunted. “What about this, kid: If you join the Mountain Guard, I’ll let the others go.”

NO, I thought, but Larek paused. “Really?”

“I swear on the Mountain King himself that I won’t hurt any of the other orphans… or the old goblin.” Libdawg smiled.

“...Deal.”

Libdawg laughed and slammed Larek on the back of the head with his club. The young orc’s eyes widened in surprise, before he collapsed. “We can’t have him causing any trouble,” he muttered, as he grabbed the boy.

“You can’t take him,” I said desperately. “He’s Sharog’s son.”

“Sharog, huh? The one that died ten years ago? So this is her child, hmm?”

“Yes, and if you take him I swear I will kill you.”

“Since when did you care about Sharog the Unbreakable?” Libdawg snorted. “I heard she hated you… anyway, if you lay a hand on him or me, I’ll kill you and the rest of the orphans. There’s nothing you can do, old man.”

I fell to my knees as the group began to leave. It was true. I was old and weak, a shadow of who I once was. There was nothing I could do…

I’m sorry, Sharog.