Chapter 226: Punishment

Rhydor’s POV

I strode deeper into the center of the training ring, my boots kicking up clouds of dry dust.

My gaze locked onto the boy who had just knocked my brother down. He was still standing over Nicholas, a wide, smug grin plastered across his face.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerously cold tone.

The boy stopped laughing instantly. His smile vanished, replaced by an expression of total confusion as he looked up at me.

"Huh?" he blurted out, sounding nervous as he shrank back slightly under my intense glare.

"Apologize," I demanded, stepping closer until my shadow completely covered him.

The boy began to stammer, clutching his wooden sword tightly against his chest.

"But... but it was a fair fight! We were just training in the ring."

"Apologize right now," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet thick with a promise of violence.

"Or I will force you to do it."

The boy’s eyes welled up with big, trembling tears. The cocky confidence he had shown moments ago completely vanished, replaced by sheer panic.

"I am sorry!" he cried out quickly, taking a step back.

"I am sorry! We were just practicing. It was nothing serious at all."

The adult guard standing near the edge of the field quickly stepped forward, placing a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"Rhydor, you need to calm down," the guard said, keeping his tone calm and steady.

"They were only training together. Nobody was trying to cause real harm."

"He hurt my brother," I snapped, turning my head to glare at the guard.

"And he had the nerve to stand there and laugh in his face."

A soft, pathetic sniffling sound broke through the tense silence.

I looked down at the dirt.

Nicholas was still sitting on the ground, crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his red cheeks, mixing with the dirt on his skin.

His small hands were scraped and bleeding from where he had tried to catch his fall on the sharp stones.

A sharp wave of pure fury rolled through my chest, directed entirely at the boy sitting on the ground.

"Are you seriously crying right now?" I asked, my voice rising as I stared down at my brother in disgust.

"You just lost a match, and instead of standing your ground and fighting back, you sit in the dirt and weep? You do not think you need to stand up right now, huh?"

Nicholas did not offer a single word in his defense. He simply lowered his head, staring silently at his bloody palms while his shoulders shook with heavy sobs.

I reached down, grabbed his arm firmly, and yanked him up off the dirt floor.

I turned on my heel and began dragging him forcefully toward the main pack house.

"You are hurting me!" Nicholas wailed, struggling against my grip as he tried to pull away.

"Let go of my arm! I want to go to Mother!"

"Stop crying like a girl," I said, my tone cold and unforgiving as I maintained my harsh grip on his wrist.

"You are a boy. You are supposed to act like one."

"Rhydor!" a loud, furious voice screamed my name from up the hill.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around.

My mother was walking rapidly down the dirt path toward us, her long skirts swishing around her heels. My father followed a few paces behind her, looking calm but weary.

My mother’s face was flushed with anger, her eyes flashing with a dangerous heat I rarely saw.

She reached us in seconds and immediately pried my fingers off Nicholas’s bruised arm.

Gathering him against her side, she inspected his shaking frame before looking down at his torn skin.

"Who did this to you?" she asked sharply, her voice full of maternal protectiveness.

Nicholas shook his head fast, refusing to speak a word as he wiped his wet face against her sleeve.

My mother snapped her gaze up to me, her eyes icy.

"Did you hurt your brother?"

"I did not hurt him," I said, stepping back defensively and crossing my arms over my chest.

"He could not even defend himself against a boy his own age. He is acting just like a fragile girl."

"It seems you need to be taught a serious lesson," my mother said, her voice trembling with intense frustration.

"The freedom I have allowed you in this house is turning you into something cruel."

"What did I even do wrong?" I asked, genuinely confused by her intense reaction.

"I was only trying to make him stronger! If I do not push him, he will end up getting beaten up by everyone for the rest of his life."

My mother turned her face toward my father, her expression filled with pure frustration.

"Are you really not going to say anything about this behavior?"

My father let out a quiet sigh, his face remaining completely relaxed.

"What exactly do you want me to say, honey? I have tried speaking to him multiple times. He simply never listens to anyone."

My mother turned her burning gaze back to me, her expression setting into a hard, unyielding wall.

"Go down to the river stream," she commanded, her tone firm and final.

"Kneel under the open sun. You will stay right there until the sun moves completely away from your spot, until evening comes."

My jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Seriously? You are punishing me just because I was trying to make my brother better?"

"Do not make me repeat my words, Rhydor," she said, her voice completely flat.

I glared past her at Nicholas, who was hiding cowardly behind the folds of her long skirt, peeking out at me with wide, teary eyes.

Without saying another word, I spun around and marched down the dirt path toward the river stream.

I stood by the rushing water of the stream, completely ignoring my mother’s orders.

I was not kneeling on the sharp rocks, and I certainly was not bowing my head in shame.

****

I stood tall near the embankment, casually picking up flat gray stones from the mud and hurling them violently into the current to blow off steam.

A loud, sudden giggle rang out from the tall grass right beside me.

I froze, snapping my head around toward the sound.

A little girl was standing just a few feet away near the edge of the water.

She wore a simple dress that was thoroughly covered in brown dirt and mud. Her black hair was a wild, tangled mess of twigs and leaves, and a thick smear of dark mud stretched across her left cheek.

She was staring right at me, grinning widely with a gap where one of her front teeth used to be.

"You are doing it wrong," she said, her bright voice full of amusement.

I instantly scowled, folding my arms across my chest as I glared down at her.

"No, I am not."

Without saying another word, the little girl bent down, scooped a smooth, oval-shaped pebble from the mud, and drew her arm back.

She flicked her wrist with a quick, practiced motion, sending the pebble sailing across the river.

It bounced smoothly off the surface of the water once, twice, three times, before gently sinking near the far bank.

She turned back to me, tossing her messy white hair over her shoulder with a proud look on her face.

"See?"

"That was pure luck," I scoffed, rolling my eyes at her foolish pride.

"Was not," she said firmly, taking a bold step closer to me.

"Was too," I insisted, refusing to be outdone by a filthy child.

She narrowed her eyes at me, her missing-tooth smile turning into a mischievous challenge.

"Then prove it. Prove to me that you can actually do it too."

I gritted my teeth, reached down, and grabbed a random heavy rock from the mud.

I drew my arm back and threw it as hard as I could into the center of the stream.

The heavy stone made a loud splash and sank straight to the bottom like a piece of lead, splashing cold water all over my boots.

The girl burst into a fit of wild, ringing laughter, holding her stomach as she pointed a dirty finger at me.

"See? I told you that you were doing it wrong!"

I felt a dark flush of embarrassment heat my neck and face.

Nobody ever laughed at me like this. Not the warriors, not the elders, and certainly not random children in the village.

Most kids ran away or cowered in fear whenever I lost my temper.

Yet this strange, dirty girl was standing right in front of me, laughing at my failure without a single trace of fear in her eyes.

"Shut your dirty mouth," I said, my voice turning icy and sharp enough to make a full-grown man flinch.

The little girl stopped laughing, but she did not run away.

Instead, she looked me straight in the eye, placed her hands on her hips, and smiled even wider.

"No," she said, her tone light and completely fearless. "I will not."