“What?” Adam asked, peeking down at his children, whose eyes sparkled so brightly they threatened to blind him.
“You are so strong daddy!” Jirot exclaimed, her face so full of awe.
“It’s not that daddy is strong, it’s that the Radiant Blade is weak,” the half elf replied, closing his eyes, tensing his face, because at this time he should act in front of his children, and if he continued to look at them, he would break into a fool.
“Oh.” Jirot blinked. The girl was pretty sure that was wrong, for the Radiant Blade was the Radiant Blade, a figure of such great renown, such great power, she was the Moon Commander of the Golden Guard, the Malika’s personal protector, after all. At the same time, her daddy did end up beating her twice in one go, and would have beaten her a third time too if her nano didn’t show the Amira mercy. The girl slowly turned her head towards her mother.
Vonda smiled.
‘Mummy is even stronger than daddy…’ Jirot furrowed her brows, trying to rank them each properly within her mind.
“Adam,” Jurot called.
“Yeah?” Adam replied, noting the look within Jurot’s eyes. He supposed he should have shown the Radiant Blade some mer-
“That was cool.”
Adam’s cheeks flushed crimson, and slowly his eyes trailed to the little girl beside his brother.
“Hmm,” the girl replied, reaching up to her chin. “Brother, you beat her so quickly, but you beat her twice, so well done, brother, well done.”
Adam’s lips twitched, and he glanced aside, peeking down towards the chonky girl, who held up her thumbs up with a large smile upon her face.
“You brat!” the old man exclaimed, glaring at the half elf, with the kind of glare that suggested he was proud and wanted to cause trouble. “You should have beaten her a third time!”
“The Amira is so kind to prepare such a lovely garden for your greatchildren and you’re being this rude?”
Jarot blinked. “You brat! When did you become so wise?”
“I have to be this wise if I can only beat the Radiant Blade three times.”
“You only beat her twice?” Jarot accused.
“Yeah, but I could have beaten her a third time, and then… a fourth time would have been fifty fifty, I think?”
“You should beat her four times at least.”
Adam closed his eyes, with the understanding he was spitting on the Amira’s face, but if she was wise, she would allow it to slide, for he was saving her from his grandfather’s wrath. “You’re right. Sorry, grandfather. I’ll train so I can beat her at least five times.”
“As long as you know,” Jarot replied, crossing his arms, his neck tensing.
Mulrot side eyed her husband, and she jabbed his neck from the side, though did not send any inner energy to stop the fool from acting. “I now know where my grandson gets his terrible joked from.”
The old man’s neck shuddered as he resisted the urge to laugh.
“Oh!” Lanarot gasped, slapping her forehead. “Of course!”
“Of coas!” the children echoed, slapping their foreheads.
Adam closed his eyes once more, threatening to cry, while his grandfather covered his eyes with his hand, gripping his temples tightly to stop himself.
‘A fool like that defeated me?’ Halifa thought. Even if he was empowered by great magic, even if he drank all manner of potions, even if he, himself, was a Paragon, even with all these factors, there was no way she wouldn’t be able to at least push him back, and yet, not even once had she managed to claim the upper hand.
“You may rest,” an older woman said, her head bald, her tone courteous, her eyes filled with an intense pressure. “The Iyr will protect you.”
“…”
“My grandnephew is particular when it comes to his children,” Shaool said, holding the woman’s eyes. “You should feel great pride, for you lasted longer than Kal Yamas of High Garden.”
Halifa blinked. ‘That was true?’
‘To think he could defeat her thrice over,’ the Amira thought. It was a braggart’s tongue, but the tongue belonged to the fellow who, seemingly, loathed to lie. Yet, even if he was bragging slightly about being unable to guarantee a victory upon the fourth fight, the fact he had managed to defeat the women twice over, and more than likely could do so for a third, was undeniable to the young woman. ‘We can never make him into our enemy.’
Vonda’s eyes fell to her husband, who was swarmed by his children, the five threatening to pin him down, each assisting him in doffing their armour. Everyone was trying to figure out the depths of his power, even the Iyr, for as the half elf fought, he seemed to surpass their expectations, and even his own. Yet, as he doffed his armour, and as the woman tried to understand the depths of his strength, at the very least she understood the half elf would not go too far.
“Thank you again for showing mercy to ka,” Zahid called, smiling warmly towards the half elf.
“How could I not show mercy when you have treated us so well?” the half elf replied, smiling.
Zahid was certain the smile was that kind of smile, the kind of smile that suggested he wouldn’t have stepped back unless his grandmother would have asked. Holding the half elf’s eyes, the middle aged Zahid also smiled.
“Aren’t you fifty or so, Kal Zahid?”
“So I am.”
“Oh? A Paragon at fifty, isn’t that really impressive?”
“Impressive? I dare not use the word in front of you.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of villain!” Adam laughed, the kind of laughter which suggested he understood what he was.
“I was fortunate, for I have been able to draw my blade against many, and so I was able to reach the height of a Paragon in half a century.”
“’That is extremely impressive,’ the half elf thought, and looking towards the Radiant Blade, who was probably in her sixties, he considered Zahid’s talent. ‘I thought he was Level 15, but I guess he was 16?’
The Amira finally motioned towards Zahid, who stepped away and began to open up the various boxes, revealing the gifts the Amira had brought.
The half elf smiled, made to make a joke, but he stopped, preparing himself.
The Amira gifted them weapons of fine steel, though most were daggers, with a few spears and swords in the mix, the woman glad she had such forethought, for his grandmothers used a spear and a sword, and thankfully there were others who wielded sword and spears too. She also brought jewellery for the two mothers, for one, intricate silver, for the other, simpler gold, thought not too simple, for she did not wish to offend the baker.
The Amira’s eyes fell to Jurot, who kept a keen eye upon his wife, and as the woman tried to refuse, Jurot spoke up.
“This much is enough,” Jurot said.
“I can’t accept a gift like this! Isn’t she the Princess of Aswadasad?”
“She is of her family, you are of mine.”
“She’s nobility, a royal, and I’m just a baker.”
“Should I kill Kal Zahid to prove it to you?” Jurot asked, his voice carrying in the air, causing the others to look their way.
Pam reached up to her head, her eyes darting towards Zahid, who blinked.
‘What did I do?’ the Crimson Blade thought.
“Don’t threaten the Kal!” Adam called out. “How can you do this, papo Jurot? Don’t you see how bright the spear is? Even though he gifted us such a special gift, casting a spell upon our grandmother’s spear, a gift from our sister-“
“I have committed a grave mistake,” Jurot said. “I am sorry, Kal Zahid.”
“I’m sure if we fought, you would not kill me, for I have not wronged you.”
“I would kill you if it would please my wife,” Jurot said.
Kal Zahid’s eyes fell to the woman, who covered her face, which was red from the stress of the situation.
“If you want to spar, ask nicely,” Adam said.
“Kal Zahid, I would like to spar with you.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Kal Zahid, I would like to spar with you. Please.”
“Seriously, papo is so…” Adam shook his head towards his children, who laughed, while Jirot sighed, shaking her head.
“Brother against the Crimson Blade?” Lanarot mused, holding her chin. “Since brother Adam has defeated the Crimson Blade, brother Jurot must defeat the Crimson Blade?”
Jurot stood, reaching for his axe.
“I surrender,” Kal Zahid said, turning slightly. “Betti, please tell your uncle to step back.”
“Hmm…” Jirot held the older man’s gaze, noting how his gaze was so full of meekness. “Since you are a lovely man, I will protect you.”
“Thank you, betti.”
“Papo, if you wish to wish,” Jirot began, hopping off her chair, rolling up her left sleeve.
“Jirot, you cannot bully me like this,” Jurot said.
“You are so tough, you can handle my bullying,” the girl said, rolling her right sleeve, then she focused, holding out her hands in front of her. “Fireball!”
Jurot leapt backwards, as though he had been struck by a great blow.
“If my papo bullies you again, you may call for me,” the girl said, unrolling her sleeves one by one.
“Thank you,” Kal Zahid said, and looking towards the fallen Iyrman, he blinked. ‘They really are brothers.’
Pam remained hidden behind her hands, tears slipping down her cheeks from all the stress, and the embarrassment.