Chương 20: Instinct of a father

"Well, well. Look what we have here." Narbok loomed over them, a smirk curling his lips. His cronies, Finn and Durk, fanned out behind him.

"Still feeling philosophical, dull-ear?" Narbok's eyes glittered.

"Going to offer me a mushroom?" Finn snickered.

"Maybe he'll tell us about the fascination with his mind again." Leo went rigid beside Caleb, letting out a thin whine. Narbok stopped smirking and suddenly lunged forward, shoving Leo hard in the sternum.

"Get out of the way, baker-boy. The adults are talking." The smaller boy stumbled backward, feet tangling, and fell onto the packed dirt. His spear clattered away.

"You disgrace your father's name." Narbok growled.

"A sergeant's son, crawling in the dirt like a worm. Pathetic." Leo crumpled. He started to push himself up but his resolve failed, and he sank back to his hands and knees, head bowed as if expecting another blow.

"I want to spar with the Hearthsong's charity case." Narbok turned his glittering eyes on Caleb.

"Unless you're too scared, that is. Going to run away again?" The yard had gone quiet around them. Other trainees pretended to continue their drills, but Caleb felt their attention like a sixth sense. Even Hatch watched from across the yard with arms crossed, making no move to intervene. Caleb looked down at Leo. His sandy hair had fallen forward, hiding his face, but Caleb could see the tremor in his hands as they pressed against the earth. The sight brought one of his own memories to mind.

Jack, eight years old, crying at the kitchen table with tears rolling down his cheeks and dirt on his school clothes. A scrape on his knee was still covered in dried blood, and the surrounding skin had turned purple.

"What happened, buddy?"

"The b-big kids pushed me off the swings. They said it was their turn and I had to get off because... because—" His son faltered.

"Because I wasn't worth the spaaaaace." The last word tailed off as Jack descended back into sobbing.

"Oh, buddy. Come here." Caleb pulled his son into a hug. Felt that small body shake with the effort of holding back his pain. The fierce, all-consuming rage that filled Caleb then… the desire to march to that playground and show those bullies exactly what happened when they hurt his boy, consequences be damned.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Why are people mean?"

"I don't know, Jack. I really don't. But here's what I do know: you're worth a thousand of them. Anyone who can't see that is an idiot and undeserving of your time." Jack pulled him tighter, and Caleb gave his son a big squeeze in return. As the memory faded, Caleb studied the boy on the ground before him and Leo's features were overlaid with those of his son. He saw Jack, hurt and scared and waiting for someone, anyone, to help. Any remaining hesitation vanished in that moment.

The careful performance he'd been maintaining gave way to something harder, more severe. The protective instinct of a father.

"Leave him alone." Narbok blinked.

"Wh-what did you say, dull-ear?"

"You heard me." Caleb stepped between Leo and the bigger boy.

"Leave. Him. Alone." Narbok scowled.

"You're defending this weakling? This pathetic excuse of—""Yes." The single word sounded in the air, and around them, the last pretense of continued drills stopped. Everyone watched now. Narbok flushed a darker shade of green.

"Then you can join him in the dirt!" The Mycari's thrust came fast, a vicious jab aimed at Caleb's solar plexus. In sparring, you pulled your strikes. They were no longer sparring. The spear jabbed toward his chest, a blur of speed too fast to counter properly. [Savant of the Body] showed him how to perform a perfect parry, but his arms, still new to this, were slow and lacked the necessary responsiveness. He managed a desperate block, twisting his spear shaft up to meet the attack. The impact shook him.

Pain shot from his wrists to his shoulders, and the force drove him back one step, then two. His feet tangled and he almost fell.

"You're weak!" Narbok snarled, pressing his advantage with a series of wild, powerful swings. There was no time to think. Caleb staggered backward, raising his spear in a frantic, ugly defense. Each block was a jarring collision. Every successful deflection felt like luck. To the onlookers, he likely appeared as a boy about to be pounded flat. But his fatherly fury was a roiling flame that burned in his chest. After the initial surprise onslaught failed, Caleb started to take the bully's measure.

He's sloppy, a part of his mind noted. Pure anger given motion. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Even as his body struggled, he was learning. Every intercepted strike fed his innate talent more data. He began to see the tells. The dip of a shoulder before a thrust. A slight widening of the eyes before a heavy swing. The pattern of Narbok's rage was a predictable beat. Caleb's movements shifted. A clumsy [Phalanx Guard] became a slightly better-angled [Turning the Point].

His technique evolved from merely stopping the blows to actively guiding them. The jolting impacts lessened. His footing became sure and he held his ground. [Your proficiency with Phalanx Guard (F) has increased to Practiced] Okay. I can win this. Step inside his guard. Thrust to the knee. It's over. But Captain Hatch was watching. Everyone was. A boy with no training couldn't suddenly turn into a paragon of the spear. He needed to look like he was still hanging on by a thread.

He needed it to look like an accident. Let's wait for a mistake. Make it seem like I needed it to turn the tide. He didn't have to wait long. Narbok over-committed on a massive overhead swing, trying to literally beat Caleb into the ground. As the bigger boy's weight shifted forward, Caleb saw his chance. There. He executed the simplest move from The Legion's First Form. [Linebreaker Sweep] The haft of his spear hooked behind Narbok's forward ankle. A twist and a pull later, physics did the rest.

Narbok's eyes widened as his load bearing leg vanished. Spear forgotten, he windmilled his arms in panic to ultimately pitch face-first into the hard earth. [Your proficiency with Linebreaker Sweep (F) has increased to Practiced] Caleb hopped back and lowered his spear, signaling that the fight was over. Narbok scrambled back to his feet and retrieved his spear, spitting mud and fury. His look promised murder, and he began to advance on Caleb with his practice weapon raised.

"ENOUGH!" Captain Hatch roared across the yard and both combatants froze. He strode between them, Narbok actually taking a step back.

"Blackbriar, twenty laps. Now."

"But Captain, he—""Twenty-five. Want to try for thirty?" Narbok clenched his jaw until Caleb heard teeth grinding, but he dropped his spear and began running, shooting one last venomous glare at Caleb.

"The rest of you, back to drills. Show's over." The yard slowly returned to motion, though Caleb felt the pressure of dozens of glances. His heart hammered against his ribs in a rapid, staccato beat. A hot, almost giddy energy flooded his limbs, replacing the post-adrenaline crash his older body had always produced: the shakes, the sudden wave of nausea.

This was the potent surge of a teenager's victory, a chemical cocktail of triumph and aggression that his adult mind found both intoxicating and a little disturbing. He forced himself to look up at Hatch with carefully constructed deference. Just a lucky shot, captain. Nothin' to see here... Finally, Hatch moved on. Caleb turned to find Leo back on his feet, the boy gaping at Caleb like he'd just witnessed a miracle.

"Th-thank you." He stammered.

"No one's ever... I mean, nobody ever..." He swallowed hard.

"Thank you." Caleb reached out to pat Leo on the shoulder, noting how the boy flinched even from that light touch.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Used to it, really." Leo's attempt at a smile was heartbreaking.

"But thank you. You didn't have to do that." Yes, I did. Caleb looked at this boy, this child forced into a role he clearly hated, mocked for his gentleness and abandoned to the wolves by a society that only valued strength of arm. He saw Jack in those worried blue eyes. Saw every kid who'd ever been told they were too slow, too weak, or too gentle.

"Partners stick together," Caleb said simply. Leo's real smile, when it came, transformed his entire face. For just a moment the fear lifted, replaced by what might have been hope.

"BACK TO DRILLS!" Hatch shouted. They retrieved their spears and resumed the exercises. Leo's form was still terrible, his strikes still weak. But he stood a little straighter now. Moved with a little more confidence. As if someone believing in him, even briefly, had changed something fundamental. And Caleb, watching this boy who reminded him so painfully of his son, felt the first stirrings of genuine purpose. He'd defended a boy who needed a shield and confronted a bully who deserved a challenge.

It was purely about doing what was right, and that felt good. For an instant, the feeling was clean and bright and pure, and he basked in the righteous satisfaction of a father protecting a child. But that glow soured. He'd protected the ghost of his own son wearing Leo's features. The boy across from him wasn't Jack, and the swell of paternal instinct also felt like a betrayal of the family he'd lost. He was a father with no children, a protector with no one left to truly call his own.

A hollow ache rose to match his satisfaction. It doesn't matter. This is the most meaningful thing I've done for anyone since coming here, and I'm going to stand on this hill until someone knocks me off it. He had a new responsibility now, whether he wanted it or not. The rest of the training session passed in a blur of repetition and sweat. Caleb noticed some things had shifted. A few trainees nodded at him with fresh respect. Others, Narbok's friends chief among them, marked him with hostile stares.

He'd picked a side without meaning to, drawing lines in the sand. As they prepared to leave Leo hovered nearby, wanting to say more but unable to find the words. Corinne approached with a mischievous smile.

"That was good, Thal! Way to stand up for the downtrodden. You're like a hero from the stories!" Before Caleb could respond, Hatch bellowed one final time.

"Caldorn! Stay behind." The warmth in Caleb's heart turned to ice. Around him, the other trainees filtered out, Leo casting anxious glances over his shoulder. Soon, only Caleb and the Captain remained in the empty yard. Hatch circled him deliberately, like a craftsman searching for hidden flaws.

"Interesting," the Captain said finally, continuing his circuit.

"Very interesting." Caleb kept his expression carefully neutral, even as his mind sped through possibilities and his heart wanted to pound out of his chest. Had he shown too much skill? Not enough? Had standing up to Narbok marked him as trouble?

"You have no training. No background. By all rights, you should have been unconscious in the dirt earlier against Narbok. Or worse."

"I got lucky, Captain." Hatch ignored the excuse and stopped directly in front of him. His closeness pressed against Caleb.

"One moment, you're flailing like a drowning pup. The next, you crack out a textbook [Linebreaker Sweep] with perfect timing. Explain." Cruuuumb. He saw through it. Of course he did!

"I... I just saw an opening, sir."

"An opening." The captain's brown eyes bored into him. With the close proximity, Caleb's fledgling [Spiritual Perception] urged a warning. A heavy crimson pressure that tasted of hot iron radiated against him in scorching waves. This was a danger way beyond Narbok's petty cruelty. This man was a master warrior with a towering tier advantage, weighing him like a tool to be used or discarded.

"Plenty of recruits see openings, Caldorn. Most aren't calm or skilled enough to take them. Especially not after the beating you were receiving." Caleb's mouth went dry. He was afraid to speak without potentially damning himself further.

"Report here tomorrow at dawn," Hatch said at last.

"Don't be late." Walking away from the garrison, Caleb's thoughts spiraled around the consequences. He'd tried to stay under the radar and failed spectacularly. Managed to draw attention from exactly the wrong people, and made a worse enemy of someone who would only grow more vicious. And somehow gained a friend who looked at him like he'd hung the moon. The first sun had fully risen, painting Deadfall Village in gold and shadow.

Somewhere behind those walls Narbok was still running laps, his fury likely fermenting into something darker. Ahead, Leo was probably reliving the moment someone finally stood up for him. Caleb moved between them, a grown man inhabiting a young body, burdened by decisions that would resonate long past the day's drills. The grind had just become far more complicated. And even more dangerous.