I looked down at my slave, Kiv'Lar, who had managed to execute a martial arts technique perfectly. Skillfully avoiding the thrown object and parrying it away with his forearm. He also reached for something on his belt that didn’t exist, which meant it was probably a weapon of some kind. The look on his face was priceless though, as he realized that he had openly shown himself to be rebellious and had knowledge of martial arts.

I continued to keep the leery grin on my face as I folded my arms across my chest. “Don’t worry Kiv’lar.” I said, speaking in a low tone, not wanting people to overhear the scuffle and come running in, “I’m not going to kill you or report you, however, I would like you to teach me your skills in hand to hand fighting.”

Kiv’Lar blinked a few times before giving a sigh of relief, being glad that his fate wasn’t to be ripped to shreds by hyenas or trampled to death by zebras. He untensed his muscles, letting himself stay standing, in a neutral position. Despite the impression to the untrained eye, thanks to my past life’s experience in the ring, dojo and on the street. He was ready to intercept any attack that came his way. He was skilled, or at the very least, not a complete amateur.

Kiv’lar looked up at me, grinning sheepishly as his yellow teeth flashed in the crackling of the fire, “How’d you figure out my secret, young master?”

“Simple, while I was having a hard night sleeping, I woke up to go for a walk around the village. Just behind our hut, I spotted you practicing, your rags off. I could see your supple form, your strong muscles, your abilities to move quickly and silently.”

Kiv’Lar bowed his head as he placed a hand over his heart in a symbolic fashion, “Such praise is undeserving of one such as I, master.”

I rolled my eyes, waving my hand in a dismissive manner, “Save the false compliments. I am curious, why did you not kill my father and I in our sleep and escape? I am certain a warrior such as you has shed blood before. So, why have you not?’

Kiv’Lar raised his head while pursing his lips tersely, before answering in short order, “Simple my lord. I could not outrun the hyenas that the slave catchers of the Asatru tribe. Even if I did kill the two of you, I would simply be hunted to the ends of this world and slaughtered like a jackal. To tell you the truth lord, I am not such a great fighter. I am a coward, my lord”

I raised my brow, surely a fighter had not spent too much time as a slave? To the point where his spirit has been broken? I cleared my throat, “A coward? Surely a fighter with skills such as yourself, could not be a coward?”

He bowed his head lower once more, “No my lord. I am a coward, I fear death, so instead of perishing like a warrior, I let myself become a slave. I am the only adult male survivor of my tribe, my lord.”

I could hear the hint of regret and shame in his voice, the self loathing, the pity he had for himself. To that I gave a bark of laughter, immediately causing tears to well in Kiv’Lar’s eyes. I quickly came to the conclusion that he thought I was mocking him, I shook my head slowly before looking him in the eyes.

“I do not laugh at you because I find you weak, Kiv’Lar. I laugh because you think you are a coward for self preservation. No, that is not cowardice. It is by Fate that you surrendered to the Asatru tribe, because now, Fate has decreed that you shall serve by my side and teach me the ways of Goblin martial arts.”

_____

Kiv’lar’s perspective

I was completely astounded. The young master, son of Chieftan Gortholax, an Orc no less, allowing a warrior to be captured? And to not find it shameful? How did such a young child, at the age of 2 no less, manage to figure out this knowledge?

Sure, Orc children age quickly, similar to goblin ones. A 2 year old orc child is around the age of a 5 year old human child. But for that child to develop their own independent thoughts and beliefs that quickly? Truly, this child had to be a genius, a true chosen. In that moment, I understood why he was chosen by the Greenskin God Pandar. It truly was Fate that decreed I would join him. In my heart of hearts, I thanked Pandar, God of the Greenskins, for letting me join the inner ranks of his chosen.

Immediately, I went on my knees, bowing my head low to touch the ground. Tears of gratitude and joy filled my eyes as I began to openly weep. I could hear the confused “Huh?” that my young master gave. I managed to choke out a reply to his obvious query.

“M-my lord. I praise you! I praise the chosen lion of Pandar! I-I will do my best to educate you in all manner of things that you desire! It is as you say my lord, it is b-”

I was interrupted mid sentence as the 2 year old orc child hoisted me by the shoulders and stood me up. Even if he was around 6 inches taller than me, it was surprising with such ease that he lifted me off the ground.

“Silence Kiv’lar. I understand your devotion to me, your charge. But I do not want people to come in and make a scene, understand? Now wipe your tears, we will get to training after we finish our stew.”

I nodded silently, using the rags that I wore to wipe away my tears. I clear my throat, a tinge of red appearing on my cheeks considering I did something, in retrospect, was incredibly embarrassing. I sat back down, picking up the wooden ladle from inside the stew and continued serving the young master his bowl.

I paused for a second as he raised his hand to stop me. I was a little confused, why did the young master stop me? Did he not want me to serve food?

“What is wrong my lord?”

He sighed loudly, before gesturing towards a spare bowl at the side, “I said that WE will finish our stew, did I not? Hurry up and get your bowl. Since you are my tutor and you will train me afterwards, I need you to be at full strength. Hurry up.”

He spoke sternly, like a man many seniors his age? Was this child even well, a child? He carried the air of a leader and to be blunt, seemed far far more intelligent than your average orc. I was astounded, before he snapped his fingers in my face, snapping me back to reality.

“Well? Hurry up! Go get your damn bowl!”

I nodded quickly, rushing over to grab the bowl and then returning as fast as possible. I sat down immediately, ladling the antelope stew into my own bowl.

Life was looking good for old Kiv’Lar…

______

Takeshi/Simba’s perspective

It had been a long 2 hours. After the weightlifting training, eating antelope stew, resting for another hour and then getting to learning the new martial art. It was oddly similar to Silat and other southeast asian martial arts. It was obviously based heavily on agility and speed, considering the small size of the Goblins.

It emphasizes dodging and ducking, while maneuvering around with speed and mobility. Unlike the Orc sport which was similar to Pankration or Ancient Sumo. Simple brawling with some basic moves, that was only particularly useful due to the innate brute strength of the orcs that really made the Orc martial art had value.

The hand to hand combat aspect without weapons was something he didn’t really need to learn. Nothing there that he didn’t know, however, the aspect of training with spears, blades and weapons was the one he wanted to master the most. Most especially, the one with daggers.

Considering his small stature and dagger's viability as a backup weapon. This was the one he chose to master first. Daggers could easily reach through and find gaps in the armour of an opponent. Most Orcs didn’t have any form of significant armor anyway, considering Orcs were still in the hunter gatherer era for the most part.

The most advanced piece of armour one could find was probably bronze armor, akin the ones the Greeks and Persians would have. But it was mostly the core elite of the tribe or the chieftain and his progeny. Unlike most of the tribes, the Asatru tribe despite being large was in a region where bronze, copper and tin were relatively scarce. They were a more pastoral group, constantly circling around in a set out territory.

Occasionally catching down Orc or Goblin tribes that were migrating through their region or leaving the territory to go raid and extend their region. Territory was just a rough term for their general region that they moved around within. Most of the time, Orcs never really had a strict “border” for their tribe.

Hard to maintain one’s borders when most tribes were around 50 to 100 members and were semi nomadic hunter gatherers. Raiding and scouting were most common ways to increase your member count, either through slavery or just looting them. That was the way of Pandar after all and was the strict iron law of the plains.

Might makes right.

It was late in the afternoon and I’m already pretty tired. There isn’t much to do now considering the training was done. I decided to hop on my pile of furs, made out of antelope and gemsbok, nice and comfy to sleep in. I feel my sore muscles, wincing in pain from a full 3 hours of hard work out. I yawn loudly, letting my eyelids close as I drift off to sleep.

_____

I’ve slept incredibly deeply, when I woke up, it was probably midnight. I look around, glancing around my tent. Despite it being late at night, I could hear the commotion outside. It seemed the hunting party had come back. I groan, stretching my muscles. I was really glad to be born an Orc, my muscles had already recovered from around 8 hours or so of sleep. It made sense that Orcs grew so big so quickly in terms of muscle mass and bone size.

Our muscles recovered easily, gaining muscle and maintaining it? A lot easier than it did than being a human. I cracked my neck, hearing the pop as I rotated it from right to left. I yawned loudly, stretching once more before I went out to meet my father.

I still wasn’t used to how dark it was, only lit by torchlight and the large flame in the middle of the town, the flame of Pandar, representing the spiritual or literal centre of the Orc tribes, or in this case, the Asatru tribe. He saw his father and the elite Orcs of the tribe, otherwise known as the Immortals. The chosen few that were “High born” or in the upper class.

The best warriors, the best fighters, the strongest fighters. All of them were “high born” Immortals. Most of the Orcs in the village was already asleep or watching from the sideline with respect. The Chieftain and the Highborns were together after all, they were of a higher status and should be given their space.

However, considering I’m of the high born class as well and the heir of Chieftan Gortholax, no one stopped me or intruded as I approached my father and his hunting party. I gave a quick look over, none of them wore any armour of any sorts, it was a hunting party after all, not a raiding party.

They had managed to bring down a few zebras, carrying them back with them. That would feed the tribe for a week or so, considering we had so many mouths to feed, slaves including. It was a decent haul for the tribe and plus, I quite liked the taste of zebra meat.

My father spotted me as I walked closer, out of nowhere he suddenly stormed over in all of his 6’7 Orc-ness, if that was even a word. He picked me up and swung me around. Personally, I wasn’t a huge fan of affection considering I was a 20 year old male inside the body of a 2 year old child. But hey, got to keep the facade up! My riches and rewards are waiting.

He finally set me down, clapping me on the shoulder, HARD. It took my full lower body strength to hold still and not get flung to the earth.

“So, how are you tonight?”

My father was stoic, the kind of strong silent type. It might seem like he’s some kind of father bear instinct or whatever the fuck at first. But having seen him come back drenched in the blood of his enemies. Unlike most Orcs who talked quite loudly, my father, Gortholax spoke with a quiet bass voice. He did not yell or shout to get his way, most of the time. He was the stoic Orc that all other Orcs bowed too.

“I’m doing pretty good dad.”

“Come my son, let us talk more inside the Hut. Tell me about your day and your new exploits.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a duel lined up.”

“Hoh? Tell me more.”

We talked and walked as we went back to our hut, burning the midnight oil. I caught him up with the exploits of the day and we slowly drifted off to sleep. My father first, as he was tired from a long day of hunting, then me as I grew bored. Kiv’Lar remained out of our way, staying in the corner of the hut, leaving us be, like a good slave does.

______

3 days have passed, it was now time for the fight between me and and the unnamed child. At sun up, a small gathering had been made on the outskirts of town. There was a large circle in the ground that was devoid of grass, worn down from weeks and months of fighting in that area. That was where I would fight.

I stride into the ring, confident. Sure, the guy may be bigger than me, but I had the speed and dexterity advantage. I knew how to handle myself and I know what to do. I wore nothing but a loincloth around my waist, made out of the tawny lion fur, to establish my superiority and status over the low born pleb scum.

Of course, my opponent made his way. Standing at 4 feet tall and weighing in at probably 130 pounds, he had the strength and size advantage. He stood at the edge of the makeshift ring. In the crowd, a few of the tribe members and slaves that were given the mercy of free time watched.

Of course, my father was in the crowd, with one of his most trusted aides. His second in command, his name was Chaganath. A high born Immortal, second only to the Chieftan. He was the largest Orc we had, standing at 7 foot tall and easily beating my father in size. However, my father, the chief, was not the chief for nothing. Despite the size and weight difference, Gortholax was the superior tactician and fighter.

I got into a traditional orthodox kickboxing stance, keeping my fists light and loose. I was already accustomed to my Orc body. I knew how to fight with it and I knew exactly what to do.

“Alright fucker! Let’s get this shit, FUCKING STARTED!”

I immediately rushed forward, ducking my left body to the side as I flung my fist in a right overhand at his nose. The surprise attack, well, caught him by surprise as the fist smashed into his nose. I could hear the crunch, how nostalgic, just like all those times ago.

I suddenly darted forward, grabbing the kid’s waist. I immediately flung myself backward, slamming him into a suplex. Headfirst. Of course, as an Orc, this wouldn’t have killed him or have damaged him as much. His neck and spine were thick, there was no way he would have been knocked out by that.

Immediately, I mounted on top of him. While he was stunned, I took the advantage. I smashed my elbow right into his nose, causing blood to spray and obstruct his bleeding once more. I slammed my left fist into his chin, causing his head to swing this way and that. I smashed my fist into his eye socket, again and again and again and again and again. Repeatedly I pummeled his left eye. Blood poured from my knuckles and his face. I swung with my elbow once more, slashing open his face. I swung my elbows again and again, cutting him open until his face was turned into mince.

By that time, the adults had gone in to intervene. I was dragged off of the child by my Father and two other adults, separating the two of us. I spat at the foot of the half dead child that dared challenge me and insult my honor. As the adult dragged me far enough away and released me, I let out a loud cry of victory.

“COME AND TAKE MY HONOR YOU FUCKING COWARDS!”

I had defended my honor, the adults saw that I defended my honor and done so in a beautiful fashion. The entire crowd erupted in cheers, cheering on the victorious champion of Pandar. All expect a orc female, who happened to be cradling my half dead victim in her arms. I could see tears fill her eyes as she looked at me with hate.

I stared back at her, extending my tongue outward and dragged my thumb across my throat. I then pointed my thumb at her. My hands were drenched in blood, mine and what I assumed to be her childs. The woman looked away, cradling her child as she stood up, carrying her dishonored child away.

I was about to give chase, but my father placed his hand gently on my shoulder and looked down at me with a faint smile on his face.

“Well done Simba, you have made your father proud.”

As those words were spoken to me, a great smile erupted across my face as I raised my blood soaked fist into the air in victory. Surrounded by the crowd and the cheers, I truly have gone to my own personal haven.

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Feedback/comments are appreciated as always. If you enjoy, please upvote the post, thanks! Oh also, any speculation about the future of the story? Feel free to leave that in the comments too, I fucking love that shit.