Rice was boiled. Meat was cooked. Fruit was chopped.
Vadim listened to the Iyrman’s tales, Chosen speaking his own tale of the year, of how he faced many great warriors, managing to defeat even a Grandmaster, and revealing his sword to the old Aswadian man.
“What a wonderful sword,” Vadim said, feeling the great magic within the sword, holding it tightly within one hand. His eyes remained glued to the sword, so beautiful that it was, but it was the magic within the sword which was most beautiful, most intoxicating, to the point even his old heart stirred.
“My nephew designed the sword.” Chosen motioned towards Karot, who smiled shyly, hiding against his father’s arm. Adam, too, flushed, wrapping an arm around his son, revealing the type of father he was so obviously so to the others.
Vadim slowly bowed his head, with the understanding that the children were the kind born in obscene privilege, and thus they would be able to design such a blade, the opportunity of which would be a miracle for any other around him. He did not even consider who enchanted the weapon, or how a child was able to do so, for he knew the why, and the why answered any other question.
It was then Tanagek’s turn, all the while the children listened intently to their papo’s story, for though they had heard it previously, the children remained completely enamoured, for he was their papo, a Gek, the same family their grandmother was born into, and their baba, who had found them, and their babo, who had raised his sword for them. Their tails swayed behind them as they listened.
Vadim also held his sword, and felt the same feeling within his heart, with the understanding this sword was, even in his prime, something he would only be able to wield in his dreams. It was a blade which was so similar to the other, and upon hearing it was also designed by Karot, his nephew, he paused a moment.
“Your children are Iyrmen?” Vadim asked, holding Adam’s gaze with his single eye.
“They are,” Adam replied.
“You do not seem an Iyrman.”
“I’m not an Iyrman, but my brother and my sisters are,” Adam replied, sipping his tea lightly, holding the old man’s gaze, and he noticed the realisation within the old man’s eyes.
“Mo Adam, may I hear your tale?”
“I don’t want to show off too much in front of my children, so perhaps I shall speak of it another time.” Adam’s eyes slowly drifted over to Chosen, noting the accusatory look. “I’m doing this so I don’t dampen your tale to the good ahm.”
“We are used to it.”
“Even so, am I so rude?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not!” Adam tensed up lightly, feeling his entire body cringe at the accusation. “Konarot, you must tell papo not to lie!”
Konarot side eyed her father, revealing whose sister she was, causing Adam to gasp, and then he disciplined her with the tightest of hugs, infinite kisses, and countless praise to his daughter.
“Why are your children so full of humour?” Chosen laughed.
Adam held Konarot upon his lap, keeping her pinned against him, even as the girl squirmed to try and escape, but she surrendered, for her father was too strong. “I ended up meeting Jurot about seven or so years ago, back when I was freshly eighteen, and so was he, and then I was adopted into his family thanks to our sister. I tied myself to the Iyr, and even after I married a Ray of Life’s Rose, I remained close with the Iyr.”
“You married a Ray, Mo?” Vadim’s lips twitched slightly, holding Adam’s gaze, and the two understood the joke.
“I am so fortunate. My wife is the youngest Ray, my brother is even a step more powerful than even my cousins you see around me, and my children, they’re all so beautiful, so healthy, so kind, and-,” Adam swallowed, his throat threatening to close up, but he continued to smile. “It just so happens I am quite strong too.”
“I am sure, you must be at least as strong as your brother, so a step above Master?”
“Something like that,” Adam replied, finishing the rest of his tea as a young man stepped into the estate.
“Oh?” Tanagek called as the young man appeared, roughly their age, who wore a shalwar of cream, that which was currently drenched in sweat, and as he spotted the nearby Iyrmen, his dark eyes darted around suspiciously, until he finally met Chosen’s eyes.
“Akh Cho,” Hakam called, holding up a hand to greet the Iyrman, reaching out to shake his forearm,
“I brought my cousins with me, Tanagek, who is named after Hadi Tanagek,” Chosen explained, causing the young man’s brows to raise quickly, nodding his head respectfully, and then he motioned a hand to the half elf. “This is Mo Adam, who is also a cousin of mine, for he is close with the Iyr, and he is the brother of my cousin, and so is my cousin.”
“It is good to meet you all, and it is good to see you are all well,” Hakam replied, shaking Tanagek’s forearm, then Adam’s, smiling towards the children awkwardly, and then retreated towards his grandfather, pouring the old man a cup of water. The way the young man moved, it was obvious he had been trained in the martial ways, and the Iyrmen couldn’t help but think should he had been born in the Iyr, he would have been considered one of their golden children.
“If you a spare sword, I would like to test your abilities this year,” Chosen said, for he wished to strike while the iron was hot, or so they liked to say.
“I shall bring it with my armour,” Hakam said, pouring his grandfather a cup of tea, earning a rub of his ear, before he slipped away to adorn his armour.
“My grandson is my pride and joy,” Vadim said, his eyes falling to Adam once more. “It is only a shame he was born as my grandson, or his name would be widely known.”
“It is because he was born as you grandson that his family will be well known.” Though Vadim’s eye narrowed lightly, Adam’s eyes darted to meet with Chosen’s, for it was difficult for the half elf to deny him. “It is because I am my grandfather’s grandson that I am so well known, for my grandfather, perhaps you have heard of him, for he is to Aldland that Butcher Marmak is to Aswadasad.”
“Your grandfather is the Mad Dog?” Vadim asked, noting how the children each gasped, looking towards their father.
“Hmph! Whose grandfather is he?” Adam huffed, peeking aside towards Vadim in such a way that suggest he was not at all against being called his grandson, all the while his children snickered within his arms. “How do you know of my grandfather?”
“It is difficult to not know of the one who killed the Azure Terror,” Vadim admitted, leaning back slightly, as though recalling the moment he had heard of it, as though it was just yesterday. “It was during my time when he had made a name for himself. I stepped into the land when he had already left. Do you know why he stopped?”
“He chose the Iyr.”
“It seems I misunderstood him…” Vadim smiled slightly, and then as he looked at his tea cup, a dark thought passed through his mind.
Hakam returned shortly, adorned in steel, heavy chain, covered in a thin layer of cloth to protect it, and himself, from the sun. As he donned his helmet, a turban helmet that pointed upwards, the chain falling down like a beard, he held out a sword towards the Iyrman, who stood, and in his shalwar, stepped aside, rolling the sword over the back of his hand, swinging it twice before taking his stance. He did not wield a shield as he pointed the sword to Hakam.
The two fell into a dance of steel, for all those around them to see, from the old cripple, to the fool of a father, to the Iyrmen, and all those that called this place home, including the children. As the two fought, they could feel the weight of one another’s blade, and as Hakam charged forward, his two blades threatening the Iyrman, and Chosen did not shun his approach, their blades a blur of grey.
Vadim’s eyes remained upon the fight, narrowed as they were to completely focusing on the blurring storm of steel. He could see it.
Once more Chosen could feel the heaviness within the young man’s blade, and once more, Hakam did not hold back in the slightest. Chosen, red in face and body, returned the favour, and it was once more confirmed, that Hakam was an Expert. The young man’s feints were not quite feints, for at any time they could threaten to provoke his blood.
“You trained hard,” Chosen finally said, his body cut, for the young man had managed to strike true a few times, but even then, he was unable to overcome the wall known as Chosen. “The ghostly touch of the Chimera is as frightening as ever.”
The applause distracted the group as the children all beamed up towards them, confirming they were indeed Iyrmen.