Wrestling

The commander's proposal caught the warrior off guard. Why would this stranger throw himself into their mess? Was vengeance truly his only motive, or something else lurked beneath the surface?

Meeting the warrior's gaze, the commander saw a flicker of honesty but held back trust. To assess his intentions, he laid down a condition.

"Fine, I'll help you. But first, you need to earn it."

"What do you want me to do?" the warrior asked, eyebrow raised.

"We wrestle."

The warrior stared, surprised by the abrupt demand. This man had just wrestled a bear, and now wanted another go with him? Was it a test, or just crazy talk?

Seeing the commander's resolute expression, the warrior, after a moment, accepted the challenge.

"Alright, on your terms."

A grin, not quite mirthful but acknowledging respect, cracked the commander's weathered face. "In our lands, friend," he rumbled, voice gruff yet strangely warm, "wrestling speaks louder than words. Prove your true steel on the mat, and you'll earn not just my trust, but my sword too, if need be."

The warrior, ever focused on his ultimate goal, met the offer with a curt nod. Netron remained the ghost haunting his every step, and any detour, however promising, felt like a betrayal. Yet, a begrudging respect for the commander's gruff honesty simmered beneath his stoic exterior.

As news of the impromptu challenge spread, the castle courtyard buzzed with curiosity. Villagers pressed closer, a restless undercurrent of excitement crackling in the air. When the two figures finally faced off, the silence was as sharp as a drawn blade.

Their dance began, a study in contrasts. The warrior, lean and swift, moved with the grace of a predator, every muscle corded with coiled power. The commander, a bear of a man, countered with raw strength and an unshakable balance honed from years of battle. They grappled, sweat slicking their skin, neither yielding an inch. Grunts and the thud of flesh on flesh punctuated the tense silence.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, limbs blurring as they probed for weaknesses, parried, and countered. Just when the warrior felt his breath shorten, he glimpsed a fleeting opening. With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged, sending the commander staggering back. But the grizzled leader wouldn't stay down. He roared, a primal sound that sent shivers down spines, and with a powerful move, slammed the warrior onto the hard-packed earth.

Winded but undeterred, the warrior knew this was his final shot. Drawing on every reserve of strength, he launched himself back into the fray, a blur of desperate hope. His hand, driven by the weight of his mission, connected with the commander's jaw with a sickening crunch. He grabbed and pushed him down, changing who was in control.

Seizing the advantage, the warrior grappled him close, wrapping his arms around the thick neck like a python seeking its prey. The tension crackled, a silent struggle before the commander, chest heaving, finally released a weary breath and tapped his fist against the earth.

A beat of stunned silence hung in the air before the courtyard erupted. Cheers thundered, echoing off the castle walls, as the stunned crowd surged forward. The warrior, muscles screaming in protest, released his hold. He and the commander, faces flushed, shared a long look, unspoken respect bridging the gap between them.

With a gruff nod of acknowledgment, the commander raised a calloused hand, silencing the crowd. "You fight like a whirlwind, warrior," he declared, his voice hoarse but steady. "Your honor shines brighter than any trophy. I keep my word."

A low murmur of approval rippled through the onlookers. "You will have a horse, provisioned and swift, to carry you east. May your path be swift and your vengeance just."

In that moment, under the approving gaze of the crowd and the gruff respect of the commander, a flicker of something like trust, however tentative, sparked between the warrior and the land he found himself in. And with that, he turned his back on the castle, the promise of a steed and a journey east warming the cold fire in his heart with his horse. As he rode away, the commander and soldiers watched his departure with admiration.