As the evening sky claid Aswadasad, a particular pair of Iyrn remained sipping tea within the corner.
“Will you step out to assist at the auction?” Shaman Lokat asked.
“If you request it, I will go,” Samool assured, sipping his tea lightly, and with the nod and the woman falling into prayer, he slipped away into the shadows.
It was not just the Shaman and the Captain who thought so deeply of the auction.
“Baztam, will you take on my role?” Takvar asked, pouring the Iyrman a small cup of wine.
“Do you intend to disregard Elder Peace’s orders so brazenly.”
“Is that not why I have co to you?”
“…”
“…”
Baztam’s lips ford a small smirk. “I am not unrelated to little Lanarot.”
“Do not speak so Aldishly.”
“I will kill you if you do not go.”
“Okay,” Takvar replied, partly because whether Baztam ant it or not would be at the whim of a flip of a coin.
”Otkan,” Saywir called.
“Okay,” Otkan replied.
As the rays of dawn blanketed Aswadasad, Adam had finished his early morning training, and as he returned to find his children awakening, they furrowed their brows in confusion to their father.
He dared to leave them while they slumbered?
“Daddy, if you cause trouble for mummy, you watch what I do,” the girl threatened as the half elf prepared his heart to leave the children, and she prepared her heart to watch her mummy and daddy leave.
“Dear, I will be spoiling your mother a lot,” the half elf replied, holding her gaze.
The girl huffed, clasping her arms behind her back, turning, glancing away, for she could not bear to see them go. “If you are to cause trouble, what can I do?”
“…”
“…”
The pair held one another tightly, the girl clutching at his collar to the point she almost tore apart the seams, but she relented, and as her brother embraced their father, the girl was swallowed whole by her mother.
“Do not worry, I will be sure to bully your father appropriately,” Vonda promised.
“It is mummy who knows best,” the girl joked, and the pair kissed one another’s cheeks, until finally the children made their rounds to greet all the others who were leaving.
Adam’s eyes slipped around, for all but one of the unard martials, those like Kitool, who was acting in an official capacity this ti, while Jurot was stepping out to spoil his wife. However, as his eyes fell upon them all, he realised…
‘If Kitool is considered the weakest of the group…’
Bael, too, had chosen to step out, but as he did, the glare of a particularly vicious Iyrman kept him at bay. However, his eyes fell to Lucy and Mara, one of whom was annoyed because the girl wanted him there, but the other was feigning annoyance for the sake of Lucy.
“We are going to play all day,” Jirot said, her voice holding the threat, but it was the two behind her who held the threat within their eyes.
“Okay,” Bael replied.
“You cannot take any weapons,” Shaool inford the half elf.
“I know.”
“You cannot take your dagger.”
Adam blinked. “What? Would they dare to ask to-,”
Shaool pinched the half elf’s nose, stopping his cringe imdiately, because though the auction would dare to ask him to remove his dagger, that was not why he was to disarm. “Do you understand why?”
“They don’t want anyone to cause trouble?”
“No. Do you know why I am asking you to remove all your weapons?”
“No?”
“They must understand,” Shaool began, brushing her grandnephew’s hair, noting his leaf shaped ears. “Even without our weapons, we are still the Iyr.”
The half elf reached into his inner shirt, withdrawing the dagger. It was white, the symbol of Life’s Rose etched against the smooth white handle of the dagger. The handle was just long enough for Adam to hold it within a single hand, while the blade was two finger lengths, made of silver steel. The unmistakeable electricity of magic rushed through his fingers.
The half elf sighed, suddenly his neck pulsed with tension, and for a mont he thought to refuse, for how could they ask him to surrender his dagger. He let out a soft sigh, and then turned to look down towards the figure who should hold onto it, but right before he was going to offer it to her, he blinked.
Lanarot blinked up towards her brother expectantly, eyeing up Adam’s Dawn, the beautiful dagger her sister had made for her brother.
The half elf paused for a long mont, suddenly unsure of who to hand the dagger to, since Lanarot was coming along with them. He had planned this wholeso scene within his mind to gift her the dagger so she knew how much he trusted her, but how could he do that when she would be going along with them?
‘I can’t give it to Amalrot, that’s too stupid, even for …’
A long silence filled the air.
The half elf stared in front of her.
As their eyes t, the half elf instantly surrendered, but could he give up this dagger of his to her?
No!
She was too young!
How could he…
“Konababy, watch over Jirot and Jarot while I’m gone, okay?” Adam said, holding the girl in a tight hug, for though he tried to resist, he was unable to defeat her, his eldest daughter.
“Okay!”
“You! You’re bullying your father by growing up so much!” Adam winced, his tears threatening to slip down his face, before the fury rose within his heart. “Just you wait! I’m going to spend so much money! I’ll see who will be able to defeat !”
Konarot held her father’s head, for though he was a fool, he was her father, and she, too, was his daughter, the girl kissing the side of his temple, brushing his hair tenderly.
“I won’t return unless I spend at least a hundred thousand silver!”
“That is right, daddy!” Jirot exclaid. “You must spend that much if you are my daddy!”
The half elf’s fury engulfed the estate, all the while his head pounded, for though he had riled himself up from acknowledging the darkness which remained, his words were perhaps truer than even he expected.
“Konababy! I’ll entrust Kirot and Karot to you! Kirot, Karot, I’ll entrust the twins to you! Jirot, Jarot, I’ll entrust babo and nano to you! Amalrot!”
The chonky girl glanced from Ashmir to her brother, blinking.
“I’ll entrust my lunch to you.”
The girl sat upright, awaiting for the cheese, and as if by magic, for it was magic, the half elf held out a small block of cheese.
“Daddy has such few jokes,” Jirot whispered.
“You have as many jokes,” Chosen dared to say.
Jirot scoffed, blinking towards her papo, then turned her head to her greatfather. “Babo. You must teach papo Cho a lesson.”
Chosen chuckled, but his body reacted in a split second, his hair standing on end, his skin gleaming with sweat, his skin hot red with rage, the cool steel against his palm as he drew his blade.
“Babo,” called a voice, stopping the old man from drawing his axe. “I want to play.”
“If my greatson wishes to play, he may play.”
Karot blinked. “I want to play with you, babo.”
The old Jarot’s eyes fell upon his eldest greatson. A slow, long smile crept upon the old man’s face, until he could no longer help himself, bursting into laughter. “If my greatson wishes to play with , I will play with him!”
Karot flushed slightly, bowing his head as the old man ruffled his hair.
“It seems my greatson is not so ek after all!” the old man declared, picking his greatson up, tossing him up, catching him with ease, even with a singular arm.
Chosen blinked, returning to the present, utter bewildernt on his face. His father let out a soft sigh of relief, and Tonagek side eyed his own son. Tanagek suddenly realised why both his father and Mosen were assigned with keeping the Mad Dog at bay.
‘Jurot, Kitool, and…’ Tanagek’s eyes then fell upon the giant form of Nobby, who remained to one side. It was he who had inherited the Rot family’s way, and had recently been inford that he would assist Kitoot and Jurot in dealing with the Mad Dog if anything were to happen. It was only now, however, the young man realised they were being too conservative in their estimates.
“How is it?” Mosen asked.
Chosen rubbed the sweat out of his eyes, his heart still pounding violently within his chest. “I hadn’t expected him to reveal that much…”
“I didn’t expect it either,” Mosen admitted, but then again, that made sense. Every ti he heard the previous generation talk about the Mad Dog, he had thought they were perhaps exaggerating, but upon feeling such intense killing intent, he realised he had only grown knowing a retired Mad Dog, and then one who had lost his arm, and recently, a Mad Dog who had lost his leg. However, with that arm and leg, and with the regret within the Mad Dog’s heart, it seed the Mad Dog of his uncle’s generation had returned.
Tonagek considered how terrible the intent had been, and then, how the old man, capable of such terror, had managed to overco it to retire at the age in which a man was most volatile.
‘…’
PATREON FOR 30 CHAPTERS!
Jarot wouldn't have killed him, he would have just taken an arm or two.
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