A ripple of energy swept through the training yard as Krivex's transformation finished. The faint, oppressive aura that now radiated from him drew instinctive shuffles and wary glances from the surrounding goblins and kobolds.
For a moment, no one spoke, then a chorus broke out.
"Warlord Krivex!"
"No, Warmarch now!"
"That's the High Marshal for you"
"Congratulations!"
Even Skitz gave a toothy grin, clapping once in approval. The captains thumped their chest in a warrior's salute.
Lumberling stepped forward, his gaze meeting Krivex's. "You've done well."
Krivex bared his teeth in a grin. "I suppose I should thank you, my Lord. Without your help and training, I'd probably still be half the goblin I was… or dead in a ditch." He chuckled, then lowered his head slightly, not in mockery, but in genuine respect. "I think my bones still remember every one of your drills."
A few nearby goblins laughed. Lumberling's lips curved faintly. "You'll live."
