Blades Of The Dwarf King

Chapter Three: The Choice

It didn't take fifteen minutes for word to get around Dun Thorum that a test was about to take place. Every nook and cranny with a view of the training grounds was full of dwarves.

Kilven stood in a full suit of battle armor in the weapons room trying to decide which to choose for the test. He was baffled at his situation and his stomach started to knot. As dread began to fill his heart, the door creaked open. Kilven turned to find Prisma standing there with her hands behind her back.

"Are you hear to watch me take a beating?" Kilven asked quietly.

Prisma took a step towards him without responding. She was at a loss for words but wanted to be here for support.

Kilven continued, "I don't know why we have to train so hard. It is not like we are going to war. We have not even been outside of the gates!"

"It was never about the fighting, Kilven. Dwarves are creatures of habit. We train because our ancestors trained. Our grandchildren will train because we did."

"Why the test? Why now?" Kilven turned to look at the weapons lined up on the wall. "I thought Gearth was a friend. I don't understand why he would do this to me."

"Gearth is a wise Shield Captain. He has seen many battles, including the end of the Thousand Year War." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "You must trust him. And more importantly, you must trust yourself."

"Trust is not the problem. Have you seen the way Gearth fights? He is a master of every weapon!"

At that moment, Kilven was struck with an idea. There it was. Something so simple that most people would not think of it.

"Pris, I think that I have a way to win. Can you help me get this armor off?"

"Are you crazy? He will kill you without armor!" Prisma was thoroughly confused and started to worry for Kilven's life, not just his pride.

"Just help me. Quick! It is almost time."

They scrambled to remove his armor, unbuckling the straps and letting pieces fall to the floor with a loud clang. Shoulder and leg guards, bracers, and breastplate were removed just as the bell rang.

"Time to go." Kilven's voice had a strange sense of calm. "Try to get a good seat. I have a feeling you will not want to miss this."

Before she could respond he turned her towards the door and nudged her forward. She looked back on last time and muttered, "Good luck."

Kilven grabbed the biggest and heaviest weapon on the wrack. The two-handed battle mace. He only trained with it for a short while. The weight and length made it awkward for him to swing. But that was not his concern right now. He had other plans in mind.