(KBTCM) Ch 30: Worried Footsteps, Challenge Between Brother And Sister!

Kerren walked down the narrow dirt road that wound its way from the heart of Eldermere back toward the outskirts where his home sat perched on its hill. Evening was falling, the sky stained with streaks of gold and violet, and the air had that sharp edge of coolness that always came before night settled. His hammer hung heavy at his side, swinging with each step, but it wasn't the weight of the iron that pressed on him—it was the thought of his father.

How was he supposed to tell him?

The words tangled in his throat even as he rehearsed them in his head. I've been offered a position in the royal forges. But he knew how his father would hear it: I've given away our family's work to the giants.

His father's voice came to him easily, the way it always did when Kerren thought of defying him. We don't owe them anything. Not the king. Not his giantess bride. They'll take what they want and leave the rest in ruin. That's all they've ever done.

Kerren's steps slowed. His father's bitterness had been carved into him since boyhood, hammered in deeper than any nail he'd ever driven. He knew the man would never agree—not even to listen.

"But..." Kerren muttered aloud, his voice low, breaking against the twilight air.

His eyes closed as he walked, and another image rose before him, softening the knot in his chest. He saw Rowena again—the way her crimson hair had caught the torchlight as she bent down, the way her massive hand curved protectively around him, and most of all the brightness in her blue eyes when she told him the news. She had looked at him with such unguarded excitement, as though she truly believed she had done something that mattered for him.

And she had.

Because the truth was, he wasn't a noble. He wasn't even middle class. Just a blacksmith's son from a stone hut on the edge of the city. Boys like him didn't get a place in the royal forges. They didn't even get through the door. But somehow, she had pulled it off, and for the first time in his life, the possibility of being more than just his father's shadow was right there, within reach.

"Be here early tomorrow, and I will show you to the forge myself."

Rowena's voice echoed in his head, steady and sure, as if she had carved the words into him herself.

His eyes opened again. The hill lay ahead, his home a dark outline against the fading sky. The hut looked small—smaller than ever now, almost as though it was shrinking while the world beyond it grew wider.

Kerren tightened his grip on the hammer at his side. He would do it.

Even if he had to keep it a secret from his father, even if the truth never left his own chest—he would take this chance.

***

Theron stood tall in the training yard, his polished armor catching the light of the setting sun. The clang of steel on steel had just fallen silent as the soldiers of Vaeloria stood assembled before him, a sea of helms and grim faces, all eyes fixed on their commander. His voice carried across the courtyard with the kind of authority that needed no echo.

"You men are the shield of this kingdom," Theron declared, his tone sharp and unwavering. "Soon we march to battle, and you will train as if your very lives depend upon it—because they do. And not only your lives, but the lives of the people who look to us for protection."

No one shifted. No one dared. The air was thick with discipline, their backs rigid, their weapons held firm at their sides.

"As knights of Vaeloria," Theron pressed on, raising his gauntleted hand, "we do not fight for glory, nor for ourselves. We fight for honor—for this kingdom, for its king and queen, and for every soul who cannot stand on these walls beside us. Remember this when the enemy is upon you. Remember this when your strength begins to fade. For Vaeloria does not falter. Vaeloria does not break."

A cheer roared from the soldiers then, loud enough to shake the courtyard walls. Steel rang against shields as they pounded in unison, their voices rising together in pride.

Theron allowed himself the smallest smile—until something unseen tugged him skyward.

"What in the—?!" He yelped as his boots lifted from the ground, his arms flailing instinctively. He twisted his head and found himself dangling high above the ranks, pinched delicately between two enormous fingers.

"Sylara!" he shouted, his voice cracking with outrage. Below, the soldiers scrambled in confusion, unsure whether to laugh or remain rigid at attention. "Put me down this instant!"

Far above him, blue eyes like twin sapphires glittered with mischief. Sylara, towering and radiant in her youth, peered down at him with a smirk that curled one side of her crimson mouth. "Oh, little brother," she cooed, ignoring his furious kicking. "Why should I? It's not fair, you know—Father and Mother march off to war, and Rowena and I are told to stay behind like children."

Theron's face burned as he kicked against her grip. "The battlefield is no place for a woman!" he barked, the words spilling before he could think.

Sylara's smirk widened into a laugh, deep and booming. "Oh, really? I could crush you flat with a finger, Theron. Don't tempt me." She lowered him a little, close enough that her playful glare locked with his. "Do you truly think I need protecting?"

His jaw clenched, but before he could speak, she went on, her voice honeyed with mockery. "And besides—Mother is going. You and your soldiers won't even have to lift a blade. Not even Father will be needed, honestly. Mother will handle everything."

Her words cut sharper than steel, and Theron felt the anger boiling in his chest. Always the same—Sylara and Rowena, born giants, born with the strength of mountains in their very veins, mocking what he lacked. Mocking him for being born small. He couldn't help it—the curse slipped silently through his thoughts. Why couldn't I have been one of them? Why must I be bound to this half-blood frame?

"So how about it, little brother?" Sylara purred, her smirk turning wicked.

"Huh?" Theron snapped, still thrashing in her grip.

"Want to have a little spar with me?" she asked, her giggle rumbling like thunder.

Theron's eyes narrowed. He knew she meant to embarrass him further. But pride—his own cursed pride—kept him from answering immediately.