Page 56 of Crownless Heirs

Eventually, Goibniu called for a break. He brought them an array of food. Roasted meats, warm bread, and thick stews. Alongside the food, cots had been laid out near the forge.

“You will need to eat and rest,” Goibniu instructed. “And in the morning, we’ll begin again.”

Goibniu sat alongside them, eating in silence as exhaustion crept its way in. One by one, they collapsed onto the cots, sleep dragging them down almost instantly. Except for Sorcha, her mind wouldn’t allow it. She slept on and off the night long before she rose, her limbs aching, But still, she moved to the forge, gripping the hammer once more. She worked with precision and speed, finally beginning to understand.

From the shadows, Goibniu watched her determination and refusal to quit despite the tremble in her hands, the sweat dripping down her back and still she pushed forward. He crossed his arms, and a grin began to form on his lips.

By the time Kyron and Maelan woke, she was still at it. Maelan groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re already going?”

Sorcha ignored him, hammering another strike.

They eventually joined her, picking up their own tools. frustration bubbled over, Maelan, muttering, threw a dirty cloth hitting Kyron’s face. Kyron, already exhausted, snapped at him. Sorcha rolled her eyes, she had seen this way too many times now. It always started the same way. One of them said something stupid, the other one reacted, and suddenly it was war. Sure enough, one moment they were bickering and the next, weapons were drawn. They raced to pick up broken swords, discarded staffs, anything within reach. They lunged at each other over the workbenches, knocking over tools, dodging between chairs and tables and smoldering coals, cursing at each other as if the other was the source of all their problems.

Sorcha slammed her hammer down on the anvil, the clang silencing them instantly.

“Would you two stop!?” she snapped, eyes burning. “We don’t have time for this! You’re acting like children!”

And then from the shadows came booming laughter. Goibniu leaned against the forge, arms crossed, his expression alight with mirth.

“This,” he said, still chuckling, “is the most entertainment I’ve had in ages.”

Kyron and Maelan glared at each other, still breathless from their impromptu battle.

Goibniu pushed off the forge, rolling his massive shoulders. “If you wish to fight, then I will teach you to fight.”

He cracked his knuckles, stepping forward, towering over them both. Kyron and Maelan exchanged a wary glance. Sorcha sighed, rubbing her temples.

This was going to be a long morning. Without another word, the God strode forward, his presence alone commanding the space. He gestured to the scattered weapons still strewn across the forge from their earlier fight. “Pick them up. Let’s see what you can do.”

Maelan groaned, kicking at a discarded staff. “Is this really necessary?”

Goibniu raised a brow. “Only if you want to survive someone like me trying to kill you.”

That was enough to shut him up. Maelan bent down, retrieving a practice sword from the pile. Kyron did the same, testing the balance of the blade in his grip. They faced each other once again, but this time, under Goibniu’s watch.

Kyron didn’t hesitate. He lunged, but before his blade could touch Goibniu, he moved.

In a single, fluid motion, he intercepted the strike with the flat of his palm, barely exerting effort as he shoved Kyron’s arm off course. Kyron staggered, caught off guard.

“Your stance is weak and you’re slow,” Goibniu remarked, stepping past him. “Strike like that again, and you’ll be dead before you land a hit.”

Kyron gritted his teeth, resetting his position. Maelan, seeing an opportunity, went for an attack of his own, bringing on his own misfortune. Goibniu barely looked at him before sidestepping effortlessly and catching Maelan’s wrist mid swing. He twisted it just enough to send the sword clattering to the ground.

“You’re too slow, too,” Goibniu noted, his tone almost bored.

Maelan scowled. “I’d be faster if I some more rest.”

Goibniu let out a laugh. “Then consider this your wake up call.”

Without warning, he swept a leg out, knocking Maelan completely off balance. He hit the ground with a loud thud.

Kyron snorted. Maelan shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

Goibniu folded his arms, regarding them both. “If this is what you’re bringing to battle, then you’re already dead.”

Kyron clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the sword hilt. “Then teach us.”

Goibniu grinned. “Gladly.”