The weapon trembled in his hand for a heartbeat. Then, a steely glint entered his eyes.
He pressed the axe against Grum'Thal's chest with a headshake. "This is not a weapon—it's the orc's history, your ancestral treasure, your memories. I can't take it."
Grum'Thal's jaw dropped beneath his wide eyes, and everyone gasped. "Are you sure? This is a weapon like no other. The chieftain of my village carried it, and the previous chieftain did before that. I only inherited it because I was the last orc. But you, you are—"
"Aren't you giving me more reasons to refuse?" Adam laughed. "You know I've inherited Leoric's legacy. Did you see me wield the Unbroken Blade of Orrivandrel?" Before Grum'Thal could ask, he continued. "I handed it over to his blood, as I should have. And I won't take the axe of your ancestors because I shouldn't. Your intention is enough."
