Adam awoke early that morning, early even for him, though as he looked down to the twins glued to his sides, he slowly peeled himself away from each of them. A gentle kiss on each of their forehead caused them to jerk, but the twins allowed their father to hold them, and he slowly floated over to their mother, who stared up at the half elf, her eyes holding only a gentle exhaustion, and once she accepted her twins from him, she returned back to her slumber.
The half elf dunked himself into cold water, almost yelping out, and once he was out, he shook himself dry, pat himself with a towel, and then once he cleaned the towel, he adorned the shalwar. As he stepped out he blinked, finding Korin already there, the young man swinging his blade in front of him with such intense focus, he almost didn’t notice Adam.
Almost.
“Did you find it difficult to sleep?” Korin asked, glancing aside to the half elf who began his walk from one wall to the next, then began this fast walk, and then his jogging.
“No, no, but I just woke up randomly. You?”
“I always find it difficult to sleep whenever I spend the first night in a place like this.”
“A place like this?”
“A place with so many warriors who know the value of rough hands and hard steel,” Korin replied, his blade slipping through the air, and though he was a man who fought with heavy armour, his body floated through the air with each swing of his blade, almost blurring.
Adam began a light bodyweight workout before finally moving on to his axeplay, in which the half elf tore through the air, practising the movements of the Rot family. Though he was adorned in heavy steel most of the time, he wielded the flexible axe of the Rot family well, partly because other than one move, which was mostly to keep one’s back strong, there was little in the way of movement beyond stepping forward, as though one’s skin was formed of steel, while his axe tore through the air with a savageness one might expect of the Rot family.
Korin stared at the tip of his sword, and then turned to face the half elf, who stretched out his body, covered in a light sheen of sweat, impressive, for he was faeblooded. “Mo Adam.”
“Kal Korin,” the half elf replied.
However, before Korin could speak, his sister appeared, raising her brow towards the pair of them, who were outlined by the dawn’s first rays, and considering Korin had certainly completed his prayers that morning, he must have woken up far too early.
“Once we are in the capital, let us drink, my friend,” Korin said, sheathing his blade and then stepping away to bathe, all the while the Iyrmen stepped into the courtyard to begin their morning exercises, greeting one another, and all those around before beginning their own training.
The half elf glanced between all of them, and after a gentle smile crossed his lips, especially as the tired children rushed up towards him, one of them holding up a fist, as though to punch him, but the pair exchanged fist bumps, and soon they joined their father in his exercises, the half elf leading a gentle exercise before their grandmother arrived, taking over the exercising duties from their father, and their granduncle, who typically led them.
Ellani watched from a tower, smiling to herself, and with that, she stepped out, readying herself to host the Iyrmen for a light meal in the morning, and prepared for them to leave.
The feast was as expected, a large meal for all the Iyrmen, who ate lightly, and the Black Lions sent the food out for the nearby villagers, and as Ellani greeted them, she handed out a sword made of jeticule.
“I will entrust this blade to you, young Karot,” the woman said, reaching down to brush the boy’s cheek gently, and ruffled his hair, feeling the way his horns brushing against the side of her rough hands.
Karot flushed lightly, and then after looking at his father’s look, the boy clasped his palm over a fist. “Yes! Thank you!”
‘That’s my boy!’ the half elf thought. “That’s my boy!”
Karot flushed once more, the boy smiling up towards his father, who laughed.
“It seems all the worries I possess in my old age, I can let them go freely now that I’ve met your wife,” the woman half teased the half elf.
“What are you worrying about, also, not a day over twenty five, jadda?” Adam asked, smiling awkwardly, half flushing with embarrassment, since he could feel Vonda’s gaze against him from the side.
“No longer do I worry, so there is no need to speak of it,” the woman assured, and then she reached down to ruffle the hair of the triplets. “I did not have a sword large enough for you both, so I will commission a greatblade and a greataxe.”
Konarot and Kirot both also flushed, smiling with such delight, their tails moving as though they held a heaviness, much heavier than the tails which appeared.
“Jadda’akbar…” Jirot called.
“I will also commission a pair of shortblades for you both, you do not have to worry, for how could I forget you, the most troublesome children who need to bully their father more often,” Ellani joked, picking the twins up, hugging them tight, then planting gentle kisses on their foreheads, returning them back to their mother, the old woman side eyeing the half elf and the others, who were shocked at her affection. “Do not forget, betti, betta, for otherwise…”
“You do not have to worry, jadda’akbar!” The girl held up a fist towards her father’s chin, the half elf fist bumping it. Then she smirked, side eyeing the woman. “Do you see?”
“I see.” Ellani smield, and then motioned a hand to the three Masters. “Kal Uli and the other great warriors will continue to escort you so trouble does not spill over to my adorable great grandchildren, and my grandchildren, especially one who wishes for such violence, and the other who is so violent against desserts.”
Lanarot smirked guiltily, meanwhile Amalrot sat upright at the word for dessert, and the girl turned to look about, only to find a small block of cheese, cooled by the coldbox, the girl grabbing the old man’s sleeve.
“Cheese!” the girl accused, as though catching a criminal, and though it was not dessert, she leaned in to eat from the Lion King’s hand.
The old woman waved her hands at the carriages, which flew with such swiftness, one might have thought they were being pulled away by dragons. A flash of lightning, and a rumble of thunder, for the lightning flew from one of the carriages towards one of the towers, searing the stone to one side, and as the woman stared at the tip of the tower which was marked black, she turned to look out towards the carriage.
Within the carriages were those who would end up carving a name for themselves for this century, and would be this century’s heroes, and at the start of the second millennium, the twenty first century, the future would be in their hands.
‘Ten more years,’ the woman thought, but as the thought entered her mind, she allowed it to slip away. No. Even if she lasted another ten years, she did not have to worry, for the fool of a half elf, who had come with such audacity, to the point he had caused her to consider killing him last year, revealed his true self so openly to her yesterday and this morning. ‘Crazy Father…’
Fariq Agadun stared out towards the carriages.
The wind kept him company.
The group arrived within a particular village, and as the half elf stepped out, he noticed Taygak carrying something wrapped in a scarf.
“Taygak, where did you get that?”
“Kal Ellani!” Taygak replied firmly.
“Oh? A gift?”
“No! A request!”
“A request?”
“Taygak, safeguard.”
“Oh?” The half elf’s formed a wide smile. “It seems the Ellani is so wise, for if the sword is in your possession, who can dare to take it?”
“Yes!” Taygak replied, standing confidently, the girl holding a great weight upon her shoulders though her forehead was bare, it was her bearing which one could state was Iyrmanly.
Marmak let out a low groan, narrowing his eyes, for standing within the village was a figure he was fairly certain he had killed long before. ‘Did she have a twin?’
Marmak drew his sword, the ringing of steel clashing, as the half fae woman, though she was shorter, and though she was leaner, and though she wielded a staff, forced the Iyrman back. Adam was fairly certain the clash would end, but defying his thoughts, the woman leapt forward, and with a fist turning black as death, the death force of necrotic magic emanated out of the air, and the raging Marmak swung his greatsword like a beast.
“Should you not stop her?” Baztam asked.
“Allow them to fight for now,” Karmin replied, since the woman and the man held such bad blood between one another, it would not end well for either of them if he stepped in at the time, and, from the Iyr’s estimations, it would end better once they were both close to death.
“You should have made sure,” the woman said, her fingers reaching towards Baztam’s eyes, and though they were moments away from blinding the Iyrman, she leapt up over the sword, barely managing to dodge it.
“I thought I had,” Marmak admitted earnestly, even as he threatened to bisect her, and their clash lasted longer than any expected, allowing one girl to sigh, for this dessert was truly the greatest.
Finally, it was time, as two raging beasts stepped forward under Jarot’s words, for though the old man wanted to step forward himself, his granddaughter trapped him, the girl watching the bout with such fascination, for she was her sister’s sister.
“Stop,” Gorot stated, his greatsword clashing against the old man.
Marmak, bloody, bruised, his skin grey and flaked, swung wickedly towards the fellow who was his nephew.
“If you do not stop, I will cut your neck,” warned the Iyrman’s uncle, whose arms were crossed, and though he stood beside the boy, he was more than happy to return the sword to the boy and step forward.
“May I ask you to step back, miss?” Fakrot asked, hiding behind his shield, his axe out, but he had yet to swing it.
“Young man, if you do not step away, you will find my staff does not discriminate against Iyrmen.”
“There are Iyrmen children about,” Fakrot stated.
“Does it matter?”
Fakrot’s axe blurred through the air as the woman leapt backwards, already near her limits from Marmak, and yet realising Fakrot was a Master too.
Except, Fakrot stepped forward, chasing after her.
‘You should not have spoken the words,’ Fakrot thought, with his axe aiming for her neck.