How could a man become patriarch without some real ability?
The old patriarch was a renowned hero in his own right. Past sixty, his spearwork had only grown more uncanny. His arms seemed to tremble slightly, but in truth, parries, binds, and thrusts flowed together seamlessly, feints and genuine strikes driving straight for Rogier's brow.
Rogier merely laughed and tilted his head aside. The old patriarch flicked his spearhead upward, aiming for Rogier's covered eye.
A shiver ran through Rogier. His Power Armour was high-tech, but its smooth exterior still looked little different from crude iron armour. If that coarse cloth patch covering his mechanical eye came off, though, these people would start screaming that a devil had descended.
Old Wolf reached out, shoved a young man aside, and caught the incoming spear in one hand.
The old patriarch felt tremendous force surge through the shaft. Holding his breath and concentrating, he tried to force it downward, only for a deft twist within that strength to send both his feet flying off the ground.
The old patriarch tumbled through the air as though riding the clouds, took a heavy blow to his back, and rolled twice across the ground. He planted the shaft to halt his retreat, then sprang to his feet and faced Rogier.
"Fine skills, hero." (Barbarian language)
The old patriarch admired him. There was no shame in losing to a hulking warrior whom the entire clan together could not defeat.
But when his gaze fell on Rogier's hand, and his arm muscles recovered from their numbness enough to feel what he was holding, rage instantly consumed him.
Rogier was rather surprised too. He had misjudged his strength and broken the Sacredwood Spear, leaving half of it, spearhead included, in his hand.
Seeing the old patriarch about to