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Here is your text with the grammar and spelling corrected while keeping your original style and structure intact:
"I can't. I'm wearing clean clothes."
"Shut up and fight me, your teacher!"
"But Teacher Kalashnikov, I really can't this time. If I ruin these clothes, my grandmother will beat me!"
"Do I look like I care about that granny?"
"I think you should let the boy go this time," said Kordon.
"The old master comes today," said the twins.
"Wait, your grandpa comes today?"
"Yes, I was shocked too."
"Well, think of it this way. Would your grandpa want to hear you skipped today's lessons? Or, worse, what if somebody told him his grandson is skipping classes? What would you do then?"
"That somebody would only be you."
"You never know."
"What do I do about the nice clothes then?"
"Easy. You change into dirty ones, and after practice, you rewear them again."
"I'll smell all sweaty!"
"You'll smell all manly."
"Cut it short with the twins and come to the yard. I'll wait for you there."
"Sorry, guys. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."
He stood up from the table and continued to leave.
"Teacher, wait!"
"Yes?"
"Good luck!"
"I won't need luck to beat him."
*****
Kratosus came to the yard.
The yard was a well-equipped training ground. It was large and enclosed by wooden fences. In one corner, there were dummies or wooden practice targets, some with padding for sword strikes and others designed to simulate a human form for archery practice. There was also a large tower on the left side of the yard.
In some parts of the ground, there were marked zones used for different types of drills, like circles for hand-to-hand combat or archery and crossbow shooting.
In the middle of a marked circle stood Kalashnikov, looking menacing.
"Quickly change your clothes and come here. I have something important to tell you."
Kratosus quickly started to remove his clothes, but he had only brought a pair of shorts and nothing else. With only his shorts on, he decided to approach his teacher.
"Very well. Shall we start?"
"Yes, sir."
"For today, we will do a simple one-on-one judo-style combat."
"Judo? You're feeling sentimental, teacher?"
"Shut up and start bowing, please."
Kalashnikov always had a deadpan look on his face, with his round head and small features making him look both scary and relaxed. His lean body and dark clothes matched his hair and eyes perfectly, giving him an air of mystery.
The teacher and student bowed to each other to show respect.
Kratosus made the first move, reaching for the teacher's sleeve, but with a fluid motion, Kalashnikov evaded, effortlessly pulling away. Now Kratosus decided to change tactics. He adjusted his stance and, with a focused mind, attempted a hip throw—a move he'd practiced countless times. For a brief moment, it seemed perfect. But before he could complete it, Kalashnikov was already behind him, pinning him to the mat in one swift motion.
"Oh man!" cried Kratosus.
Kalashnikov extended his hand to help him up.
"You have to tell me how you did that."
"Of course. The lesson just started. Don't worry. But I want to say that you are good—never let someone tell you otherwise."
Kalashnikov seemed to mean more than just Kratosus' fighting abilities.
"Excuse me, are you admitting that I am strong?"
"Shut up. 500 matches right now."
"No, you don't mean…"
"But I do."
"Oh man."
*****
"Oh man, I'm dead," Kratosus muttered.
"You did very well. From 500 matches, you won 80."
"Yeah, from the end when you began to get tired."
"You don't know that. And what have I told you? Never assume that kind of thing about your enemies."
"Yeah, yeah. The enemy has a right to lie, but I don't see you as my enemy, teacher."
"And this is why you always lose to me."
"Young master, can you hear me?" a voice was heard.
It was Yara calling for Kratosus.
"Sorry, teacher. With your permission, can I leave? Yara is asking for me."
"Yeah, go on."
Kratosus went to Yara, who was at the south side of the yard.
"Yes, Yara?"
"They sent me to tell you that they have seen your grandfather's ship."
"Oh no! I wish I had time to wash again. Yara, do I smell bad?"
"Why do you ask me that, you perv?"
Yara left, leaving the young master dumbfounded.
Her words left Kratosus feeling robotic. He went back to where he had put his clothes, re-wore them, and rushed to the port to greet his grandfather.
*****
The port was unusually quiet. Everything had stopped—merchants had halted their trading, and only the cries of seagulls echoed in the air. Soon, a group of soldiers arrived, signaling the arrival of an important figure: their leader was coming.
A large ship came into view, its sails proudly bearing the family crest. The ship docked, and a bridge extended to connect it to the port. Soldiers stood at attention, and master of ships, Kiaren Seahorse, stepped off first.
From his cabin emerged Kismet, Kratosus' grandfather. Though far away, Kratosus could see him clearly. He tried to stay composed, but when Kismet's sharp eyes landed on him, the old man immediately began rushing toward his grandson.
"Ah, dear boy! Thank you for staying safe and growing up well," Kismet said, embracing Kratosus tightly.
"Grandpa, you've only been gone a month!"
"One month too many! Did you miss me?"
"Yes," Kratosus replied to making him happy
Kismet smiled like a child who had just been praised. "Ah, yes! Let me give you this."
"What is it?"
"I got this from an exotic trader."
Kismet handed Kratosus a small charm, intricately designed with red and black threads woven into a small amulet.
"What's it called?"
"Kismet," the old man said, chuckling.
"It has your name, Grandpa!"
"Yes, and the trader told me it would bring good luck to whoever I gift it to."
"Oh, Grandpa, thank you!" Kratosus said, hugging him tightly.
"I wish I had brought you more gifts," Kismet lamented.
"You know I don't care about gifts. As long as we can play catch together, nothing else matters."
"Oh, you're such a good boy. I don't deserve you," Kismet said, his eyes moist.
The master of ships approached them, clearing his throat. "About the matter we discussed earlier, sir, what's your decision?"
"Ah, yes," Kismet replied, his tone shifting to a serious one. He turned to Kratosus. "Why don't you head home and make sure everything is ready for dinner? After dinner, I'd like to speak with you privately."
"Okay, Grandpa."
As Kratosus left, he noticed Kismet's expression turn grim, and it made him wonder what his grandfather wanted to discuss so seriously.
*****
After dinner, Kratosus sat at his desk, sketching absentmindedly. His drawings, a mix of landscapes and abstract designs, were a hobby he loved but rarely got recognition for.
A knock at the door interrupted him.
"Come in," he said, not looking up.
Kismet entered without hesitation.
"I see you're still wasting time with these hobbies," Kismet said, gesturing to the drawings.
"It's a good way to spend time," Kratosus replied. He didn't want to admit how seriously he took his art.
"Good."
"Grandpa, you said you wanted to talk to me about something."
"Ah, yes." Kismet took a deep breath, sitting down at his bed across from Kratosus. "Tomorrow, you're going to be crowned king of KY "