The elderly barbarian who had spoken cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"We've heard stories about your strength and your achievements at the academy," he said, his tone filled with awe and respect. "We'd like to ask for pointers."
Spark raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his wine.
"Pointers? What kind of pointers do you want?" he asked, intrigued.
Without hesitation, the elder asked, "The secrets of invincibility. How can we, too, reach your level?"
Spark almost choked on his wine, coughing as it went down the wrong way.
He blinked in disbelief, turning to Bronn, who stood beside him, looking guilty but trying not to laugh. It was clear Bronn had spread some exaggerated stories about him.
"These greedy bunch," Spark muttered, shaking his head. Bronn scratched the back of his neck, unable to meet Spark's gaze.
The elders leaned in closer, eyes wide with anticipation, waiting for some great secret. Spark sighed, setting his cup down and giving them a serious look. "You can't."
A hush fell over the group. The elders stared at him, confused.
"You can't achieve invincibility. It's not something you can just train for or learn," Spark explained. "You have to be born with it."
The elders exchanged bewildered glances, not fully understanding. One of them, hesitant, finally spoke. "Born with it? What does scion mean?"
Spark sighed again, this time rubbing his temples as he gathered his thoughts.
"Let me put it this way," he said, "No matter how much you train, no matter how many battles you fight, there's a limit to what you can achieve. Invincibility isn't just about strength or skill. It's something inherent, something that comes with... fate."
The elderly men exchanged glances, still trying to grasp the idea.
They looked frustrated, as though they had expected a hidden technique or some profound wisdom that would unlock a new level of power for them.
Seeing their disappointment, Spark decided to explain further. "Strength, skill, and intelligence, they all matter. But true invincibility? The kind you're talking about? It's not something you can attain through effort. No amount of training will give you that."
One elder, clearly dissatisfied, frowned. "But we've trained for decades, mastering ancient techniques and fighting countless battles..."
At the table, Spark sat calmly, his fingers lightly tapping his wine cup.
He met the king's gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched the giant man approach.
Bronn, standing nearby, shifted nervously, clearly unsure of how this was going to play out.
Spark took another sip of his wine, his cheeks flushed slightly from Bronn's earlier pour.
He eyed the king with mild amusement.
"Oh?" he said, the smirk widening. "You are challenging me?"
The king, standing tall and full of pride, nodded firmly. "Yes! Let's see what you've got!"
His words were slurred, but the challenge was clear. He slammed his jug down on a nearby table, ready for a brawl.
Spark, still seated, swirled the wine in his cup lazily, his eyes never leaving the king.
"Why are you so sure of yourself?" he asked, his tone playful. "Do you want to lose face in front of your son?"
At those words, a hush fell over the nearby onlookers. Bronn blinked in surprise, while the elders exchanged wary glances.
The king paused, his brow furrowing as Spark's words seemed to pierce through his drunken haze.
For a moment, he stood there, deep in thought.
Finally, after a long silence, the king grunted.
"Hmph..." He scratched his head as if reconsidering. "Forget it."
With a dismissive wave, he turned and stumbled away, wobbling slightly as he went.
"Once I defeat your old man," the king muttered, waving his hand in the air, "then I'll challenge you."
As the Barbarian King staggered off, the tension in the air lifted, and the feast resumed. Spark, still seated, chuckled quietly to himself and finished the last of his wine.