Shora waited nervously for Javad's return. His latest fight would determine his chance at the championship. His opponent would be dangerous, with much riding on the match. Javad walked up to camp, and Shora was immediately concerned. He had several barely healed wounds. The stab wound through his shoulder was the worst of them. Despite her pushing him hard in training, she hadn't wanted him to get hurt in his arena matches.

"You're going to need to rest that injury, Javad. We can't be training with your arm like that."

He rotated the arm, wincing as he completed the painful motion. "I've only got three weeks. It's just my shield arm. I'll avoid using it. I heal quickly anyway."

Shora examined the two-day-old wound. He wasn't wrong. It had scabbed closed very well. "Almost too quickly. How did you manage that?"

"I'll have to better explain a human's relationship to the gods sometime. But right now, we have work to do. I wasn't able to break my opponent's guard without taking too many risks."

"The next fight is the championship. You're better with the sword."

"I can't go back to that simple style. There is potential in the flail and buckler. And the audience loves it. They cheer after every heavy smash. It needs to become more second-hand to me. The champion is another conservative fighter who uses the greatsword to good effect. I even brought one. Maybe you can practice with it? I know you prefer the spear."

"Is it sharp?"

Javad examined the weapon. "Yeah. Didn't want to take the time to dull it. I have to be ready for this fight. I don't want to leave it to chance again."

"I know one way to sharpen your reflexes in a few weeks. You're going to a fight a dangerous opponent. Wielding a quick, damaging weapon. One blow could end the fight. We aren't going to dull the sword."

Javad's eyes opened wider at the thought. "You don't exactly go easy on me. I've got plenty of scars from a 'dull' bar. You'll probably do more damage than the champion."

"That's fear you're feeling. The same fear will propel you faster. Your panic needs to be wielded as a weapon."

"Geez Shora. Easy for you to say."

"Stupid Javad. I feel all the fear you do. More than you. I don't want you hurt. I'm fond of you."

"Why didn't you pick someone more durable as your student? Someone big and tough could take blows better."

Shora shrugged. "I had no choice. A little ruffian came up the mountain. Wanting a fight with me. So that is who I got. I will always remember your first blow. For a tired boy, it hurt."

*

After a week of hard practice, both were exhausted. Shora tried to hold back, but Javad still had more scars in a week than he'd ever received from all his opponents combined. But each was a deadly lesson, one not as easily forgotten as a dull blow.

Both took a day to rest up, halfway through their training for the championship. They took separate baths in the creek. Javad glanced around furiously to make sure she wasn't spying on him. While she washed, Shora talked loudly to the elephant. Javad guessed this was some ploy to make him come over and accidentally see her naked.

Once both were clean, Shora wrapped his fresh scratches, and they took a walk across Shora's little hideout. By now, she'd built herself a permanent little hut. Surrounding it was her firepit, drying racks, and butchering table.

"It's a nice little home you've got," he said.

"I'm going to be a little sad to have to leave it," she said.

"Why is that? Why would you leave it?"

"You're going to join the arena in your capital. Aren't you? Several days south. You won't have time to travel for days to see me. It's the same reason I had to leave my brother.

Javad laughed. "I suppose the courier would get lost trying to find me. To tell me about upcoming fights."

"Do you need to join that imperial arena?" she asked, concern in her voice. "You're well known now. You could become a man-at-arms for a local lord. Based on your current success."

"A man-at-arms doesn't have much influence or fame. I wouldn't have any way to let you walk the streets of Qismat, as I promised."

"You could get killed trying to attempt it. I'm willing for you to let that vow go."

"I'm not going to stop. And maybe I'm beginning to like the battles and the life. People stop me on the street and wish me well. I've never felt important like that before."

Shora winked at him. "The girls are taking notice of you too, aren't they?"

"Jealous?" He asked.

"We dark orcs don't keep the same sexual partner for life. You could sleep with a hundred girls. They're nothing compared to me."

"Hmm. And here I thought you were getting better at restraining yourself," he said.

"Never," she said. "I'm still on the hunt."

"Still willing to wait for a poor little man from the outskirts of the empire?"

"You're all little. But I've tempered you into a quality one. You're in fighting shape, with reflexes like an orc warrior. And you're a handsome one. Isn't that what a girl is supposed to say?"

He nodded. "I wish things weren't so complicated between us."

She locked him in the gaze of her big eyes. Her vertical pupils narrowed. "It's only complicated because of you. I said I want you, and I do."

He shook his head. "You're trouble."

"And so are you. And a pain to my heart."

"There's that poetry again."