The inner complex was much like the outer complex, with the various pinks and purples all about, the sandy gold buildings, but unlike the outer complex, the pinks were pinker, the purples were purpler, the sandy golds, sandier, golder. The details within the buildings had been carved by the hands of geniuses, with the elongated letters forming various prayers, sayings, stories, and paid homage to various cultural artefacts Adam had never heard of.
The clienetele of this place was so, but unfortunately for them, an ignorant rich man stepped through.
A nearby guard glanced their way, a man adorned in cream and grey, a loose cream scarf over his head, kept atop his head by a black cord, and he wore a curved sabre at his side, his face hidden, save for his dark eyes, which snapped towards the group.
There was another, adorned in cream, with a deep blue vest, patterned with silver flowers, a hat upon his head, also carrying a sabre at his side. He was in his mid forties, so certainly in his fifties, and his skin was almost pure black, his eyes amber tempered by iron grey, and his smile charming, though as he noted the commotion nearby, disappeared into a sneer.
“Ba-,” the man began, his eyes scanning between the large group of Iyrmen around. “To think there were bavwa within the Iyr.”
Jirot gasped, turning her head towards her mother, clutching onto the woman’s shoulder. Her eyes pleaded towards her mother, for if her mother did not act, she would act, and she knew the trouble which she would cause. Little Jarot peeked up towards his mother’s face, clutching the end of her scarf tightly in one hand, the boy’s lips a pout.
“My children are Iyrmen,” Adam stated firmly, standing a touch taller, leaning his back slightly so he was looking down at the man, whose tone suggested he was not a commoner, not even a merchant, but the kind who possessed his own banners.
The Aswadian’s eyes fell to the half elf’s chest, noting the amulet forged of obsidian, and upon catching the half elf’s eyes once more, he bowed his head gently. “Ak.”
“Mo,” Adam corrected, holding the noble’s gaze, though the noble’s eyes swiftly darted aside. ‘To think you would dare to-,’
“A thousand blessings, Ray,” the Aswadian man called, bowing his head gently once more.
Vonda replied with a bow of her head, holding his gaze firmly within her own eyes. “It seems you have some issues with my children?”
“Your children?”
“Yes,” the Ray replied. “These children, who are Iyrmen, are my children.”
“I see...” The man remained silent, and though many thoughts slipped through his mind, he decided against speaking the words, and though the Iyrmen would dare not to trouble him so, to speak poorly of a Ray’s children in front of her would be untoward. “A thousand blessings.”
As the man left, along with his guard and the several workers who carried out the boxes, Adam’s forehead pulsed.
“How may I assist you, Mo?” the woman asked, who had been dealing with the nobleman. She wore a sea of black, even against the Shen’s recommendations, her cloth rippling with every movement. Her bronze face remained revealed to the world, her hazel eyes, lined with silver, sparkling curiously towards the half elf, before recalling him from the previous year. Her cream lips formed a gentle, motherly smile.
“I wanted to show off my wife to you first,” Adam said, motioning a hand to Vonda, who smiled innocently. “My children too, Jirot, Jarot, and also my eldest triplets, Konarot, Kirot, and Karot.”
The woman’s eyes fell to the Ray, bowing her head respectfully, and upon her eyes scanning the two green skinned children and the three red skinned children, she remained acutely aware of all the Iyrmen around.
‘I dare you not to sell me the uthur now,’ Adam thought, all the while beaming with the widest smile.
Fortunately for Alladi Farah, a figure approached.
He was tall and lean, his pale skin tanned by decades under the harsh Aswadian sun. A pair of curled up and back, and his gleaming silver scales shimmered under the harsh noonval sun. A cuirass of silver scale covered his torso, a longblade formed of what appeared to be liquid silver rested at his side, encrusted with blue gems, and the amulet of a sun was almost as beautiful as his smile.
“Asaym, Mo!”
“Walay, Kal Tawid,” Adam replied, reaching out to clasp the half dragon’s forearm, the fellow then greeting the rest of his companions with a general head nod and a wave of his hand.
“If I had known you were coming I would have prepared something for you,” Tawid said, patting Adam upon his shoulder, before leaning in to poke little Jirot’s nose, though seeing the furrowed brow, instead tapped little Jarot upon his nose. “Greetings, Ray.”
“Greetings, Kal.”
“I see now why you speak so often of your wife, she is beautiful, and I can feel a greatness emanate from her,” Tawid called, chuckling lightly, noting the triplets, whose tails were swaying in a familiar manner, while his own tail swayed to the side, as though greeting the triplets, who all radiated bright smiles.
“This is Kal Tawid, one of the owners of the Fountains of Fragrance.”
“Fountain of Fragrance,” Tawid corrected.
“What did I say?”
“Fountains.”
“There are so many fragrances, one might as well say there are fountains,” Adam replied, winking at the man, who chuckled in response.
“Did I interrupt you?”
“No, no, we were just about to buy a few jars and then we were going to head out.”
“Then, please, allow me to take you and your family, and your companions, out for lunch.”
“I was going to head to the Dakun Manzil,” Adam replied awkwardly. “If you wish, you can come along with us, and I will treat you.”
“We cannot,” Gangak said, while Mulrot jabbed Jarot, who had made to speak, but froze in place.
“Oh?” Adam replied, holding his grandmother’s gaze.
“It is a sensitive matter, and the Dakun Manzil is not so simple,” Gangak said, reaching out to brush his cheek gently.
‘I didn’t expect the Iyr to be so…’ Adam thought as he tickled his cheek where his grandmother had brushed him.
“There is no need to war with the place, which may be forced if a third party involves itself,” Gangak said, for she had to prepare for the worst if it would occur, and even the Dakun Manzil would not be able to guarantee the safety if it meant the two forces would draw steel.
“I see…” Adam replied, understanding there was more to the situation. “I guess I’ll let you treat us this time, Kal Tawid, and next time, I’ll be sure to treat you.”
“I will await until your shopping is complete,” Tawid said, and with a motion of his hand, he commanded a nearby worker to prepare gifts for the group, who spent their silver and gold at the complex.
“Hello…” Jirot called. “You are Kal Tawid, and I am Jirot, and this is my brother, Jarot.”
“I have heard so much about you, Jirot,” Tawid said, holding the girl’s gaze for a long moment. “You as well, Jarot.”
Jirot gasped, turning to her mother. “Mummy!”
“What?”
“How can daddy do this to me?”
“The Kal did not say what your father said to him.”
“Mummy, I know…” Jirot replied, grumbling lightly, holding the woman’s shoulders, pouting.
“If you know, then you know,” Vonda teased, causing the girl to hid within her shoulder, the tiny girl grumbling, but she did not dare to speak poorly of her mother.
Tawid’s eyes shifted to the side, meeting with the half elf’s, and the pair shared knowing smile, and said nothing. “I hope your journey has remained safe?”
“Thankfully, the Iyr forces the journey to be safe.”
“I recognise quite a few warriors,” Tawid said, and as he looked to the red skinned woman who seemed close to Adam, he furrowed his brows. “Are you, by any chance, the one called Flame Brand?”
Alladi Farah’s eyes snapped towards the red skinned woman. ‘Flame Brand?’
“Yes,” Gangak replied.
“This is my grandmother, Gangak,” Adam said, and as Tawid placed a palm over his fist to greet her, Adam introduced the others to the half dragon, who was a Grandmaster of the capital, and considered one of the greatest warriors.
“To think I have shown such disrespect to the Mo’s family, a thousand apologies,” Tawid said, bowing his head, holding his fist within a palm as he greeted each.
“It seems you have researched my grandson well,” Jarot accused, letting out a huff.
Tawid smiled. “We clashed previously, and I may have allowed my curiosity to get the best of me.”
“Don’t bully my friend,” Adam said, holding up a threatening finger towards his grandfather. “Konarot, you must tell your babo off for bullying my friend, who is a handsome silver half dragon, born and raised in another culture, and has treated your father so well.”
Jarot’s lips formed a gentle pout. “You did not need to spell it out so brazenly.”
“Jirot, your babo is bullying me, and even though Kal Tawid has prepared so many gifts for your kakas and papas, your babo is so rude?”
Jirot’s finger cut through the air to point towards her greatfather, her eyes narrowed as the old man caught her gaze, and he let out a soft sigh. Jirot’s lips formed a tiny circle in surprise. “You dare gasp towards me? Your greatdaughter? Mummy, let me go! Mummy, I will, oh! I am going to! Hoo! You think you can? You think?”
Seeing Jirot riling herself while squirming within her mother’s arms caused Tawid’s eyes to shift to the side, meeting with the half elf’s, and the pair shared knowing smile.