Chapter 33 - 32
The feast carried on deep into the night, until morning.
The next day, Lumberling declared a rest day for all. The goblins and kobolds scattered, tending to personal matters or enjoying the rare reprieve.
When the crowd dispersed, only Skitz remained at Lumberling’s side.
"Up for a spar?" Lumberling asked with a grin. Skitz blinked, surprised, before returning the smile.
"Of course, my Lord."
They moved to the training grounds. Lumberling took up his spear with practiced ease, his stance sharp and deliberate—a clear reflection of formal training and relentless discipline.
Opposite him, Skitz drew his sword with a calm fluidity, his grip firm and confident. Gone was the wild goblin from a year ago. His gaze was steady, his movements economical, his posture radiating the quiet strength of someone who had seen real battle. Scars peeked through his armor—not many, but enough to tell the story. He was no longer just clever—he was hardened.
Their eyes met.
Then they moved.
Lumberling’s spear danced in rapid arcs, jabbing and sweeping with practiced precision. To an outside observer, it might have seemed like Skitz was on the defensive, barely managing to block. But in truth, Skitz was calm, controlled, expertly parrying each strike. Lumberling’s physical strength might rival that of a mid-rank Knight Apprentice, but his actual skills were still at the Knight Page level. Skitz, however, had evolved. Both his strength and technique had surpassed what Lumberling remembered.
Suddenly, Skitz vanished.