"Step forward, Brakthar. The Drowning now belongs to you," Galthor said in a firm voice.
Brakthar's eyes widened and he gasped. "What?"
Indeed, of all the masters, Brakthar could be called the most average of them all. His skills were average, and he didn't have any defining qualities that set him apart.
He was made Galthor's personal guard to keep the chief's youngest out of trouble.
He looked at his chief hesitantly. "Are you sure? I can really take this?"
Galthor smiled. "Of course. Of all the masters here, you remained the most loyal even when I was wayward. Although most of it was because my father told you to do it, you still did not turn against me. You cannot say the same for someone like Skolvar."
The other masters shifted briefly because they too had turned their backs on Stronghide.
Galthor's eyes turned hard and dark. "Only Karathra and Brakthar are firmly within my grace. The rest of you will have to earn your way back."
