Issue The Next Challenge

I rise to my feet and lift my hand, pointing directly at Dagul.

He stands almost immediately, halberd in hand, his expression shifting into something close to amusement. He looks pleased. That surprises me.

He’s massive—easily a full head taller than me, broad across the chest and shoulders. Standing this close, I feel the difference in size more than ever. I’m built for speed and precision. He’s built to crush.

I haven’t seen him fight yet. But I’ve seen his kind on the battlefield—half-orcs who throw themselves into combat with reckless fury. They aim for killing blows, wild and savage. Effective, but often sloppy. If he fights like that, I can use it.

Still... his presence here is strange. He doesn’t act like the others—no crude jeering, no constant need to prove something. He watches. Waits. That makes him dangerous.

Now he has a choice. He can accept the challenge, fight me without knowing my skill—or he can back down and be disqualified for the rest of the day.

Part of me hopes he walks away. Not because I fear him—but because I want to watch him fall when it matters most. For my city. For my kin. For every elf who burned when the Orcs came.

But if he chooses to face me now... I’ll make sure he regrets it.