The next morning dawned with a golden glow, the sunlight filtering through the broken shutters of the orphanage. The Blade King stretched lazily on the porch, his straw hat tilted to shield his face from the light.
Kain was already up, hammering away at a loose fence board with enthusiasm that far outstripped his skill. The sound of clanging metal echoed across the yard.
"You're going to scare the chickens," the Blade King remarked, pushing himself up with a yawn.
Kain glanced over, his cheeks red. "Sorry, Master. I'm just trying to fix this before Elya yells at me again."
"She yells because she cares," the Blade King said with a faint smile. "Mostly about being louder than everyone else."
Kain snickered, then quickly pretended to focus on the fence as Elya appeared from the house, carrying a bucket of water.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or are you actually going to help?" she snapped at the Blade King.
He scratched his head. "I wasn't aware I needed permission to supervise."
Elya muttered something under her breath and stomped off toward the garden.
---
By mid-morning, the Blade King had gathered the orphans and Rina in the yard.
"If we're going to keep this place standing, we need to think beyond patching fences and chasing chickens," he said, his tone calm but firm.
Lin raised his hand. "Does this mean we get swords?"
"No."
"Spears?"
"No."
"Magic chickens that—"
"No," the Blade King interrupted, though his lips twitched in amusement. "It means we need to learn how to take care of ourselves. And that starts with discipline."
"Great," Elya muttered. "More boring exercises."
"They're only boring if you don't understand their purpose," he said. "But fine, let's make it more... interesting."
The orphans exchanged wary glances.
---
The Blade King led them to a patch of uneven ground near the garden. He demonstrated simple stances and movements, carefully tailoring each exercise to disguise its true nature.
"Hold this pose," he instructed, demonstrating a deep squat with his arms extended. "It's good for building strength. And endurance."
The children groaned as they struggled to mimic him, their legs shaking within minutes.
"This isn't fair!" Lin complained. "You're not even sweating!"
The Blade King tipped his hat back. "Of course not. I've had decades of practice."
Elya glared at him, sweat dripping down her face. "Decades of what, exactly?"
"Wood chopping," he said with a straight face.
Her glare deepened, but she held the pose, refusing to quit.
---
After the exercises, the Blade King divided the children into small teams and gave them specific tasks:
Kain and Elya were put in charge of reinforcing the garden fences.
Lin and two younger boys were tasked with clearing debris from the yard.
Mira, a quiet girl with an uncanny knack for noticing details, was asked to sort through the orphanage's limited supplies and create an inventory.
As they worked, the Blade King moved among them, offering subtle corrections and words of encouragement.
"You're not hammering a wall, Kain," he said gently, taking the hammer from the boy. "Think of it as guiding the nail where it needs to go."
Kain furrowed his brow, then tried again. This time, the nail sank cleanly into the wood. "Huh. That's... actually kind of cool."
Lin, meanwhile, had managed to turn clearing debris into a chaotic game of tag, prompting Elya to storm over and lecture him about responsibility.
The Blade King watched the exchange with quiet amusement. Despite the chaos, he saw glimpses of potential in each of them.
---
By late afternoon, the orphanage looked markedly better. The fences were sturdy, the yard was clear, and even the chickens seemed calmer.
Rina approached the Blade King as he sat on the porch, whittling a piece of wood with a small knife.
"I don't know how you did it," she said, gesturing toward the children, "but they've been more focused today than I've seen in months."
He shrugged. "Children just need a little guidance. And the occasional chicken-related distraction."
She chuckled, then sobered. "But I worry it's not enough. Fendrel's the kind of man who holds grudges. He won't stop just because his thugs got humiliated."
"I'm counting on that," the Blade King said, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
Rina frowned. "You're not scared of him, are you?"
"Scared?" He smiled faintly. "Rina, I've walked through fire and shadows, faced things most people can't even imagine. Fendrel is a minor inconvenience."
"Then why hide what you can do?"
He paused, considering her words. "Because power draws attention. And attention brings trouble. I'd rather keep the trouble to a minimum—for their sake."
She followed his gaze to the children, who were gathered around Lin as he attempted a dramatic reenactment of the morning's training.
Rina sighed. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I," he said, though his smile suggested otherwise.
---
That evening, as the children ate dinner, Elya approached the Blade King, her arms crossed.
"You're hiding something," she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear.
"Am I?"
"Don't play dumb. No one moves like you did yesterday without training. And you keep saying all these weird things about chopping wood and guiding nails. It doesn't make sense!"
He leaned back, his expression amused. "What do you think I am, then?"
She hesitated, clearly caught between curiosity and frustration. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
"Good," he said, tipping his hat. "Curiosity is the first step to learning."
She glared at him, then stomped away.
The Blade King watched her go, a faint smile on his lips. They're stronger than they realize, he thought. And soon, the world will see it too.