“No,” Jaygak whispered once the tale had ended. “I can’t forgive this betrayal, not until I die.”

Jogak readied himself, understanding that his daughter was about to do something.

The other Iyrmen remained silent, trying to digest their meal and the story which had been told to them.

The children had swarmed around Jurot, touching the scar which had been gifted to him by Sir Merry.

“Don’t stop me,” Jaygak said, standing up. “I won’t forgive him unless I punch him!”

Jogak grabbed his daughter, his arms hooking up her shoulders as she flailed her arms around. 

“Adam! Just one punch! I won’t be able to sleep unless I get to punch you once!” Jaygak cried, unable to contain herself. “How could you have so much fun without me? No fair! No fair!”

Adam remained sitting down, Lanarot against his chest as she sucked her thumb. She looked at Jaygak, who was making a commotion in front of all the Guests, but they left her be. How could they stop her?

Adam continued to smirk at her, doing his best to earn the beat down Jaygak wanted to put down. 

“Not only Lord Stokmar, but the King’s Sword too?” Jaygak continued to flail in her father’s arms. “No! I want to punch you twice! Once with each fist!”

Elder Zijin grabbed the girl’s head, having appeared right as Jurot had begun his tale. He had been busy with other matters so couldn’t help the others to their houses, but once Jurot had said he had fought Sir Merry, he stayed to listen to the tale. 

“Enough,” Zijin said. “You are embarrassing your family in front of the Guests.”

Jurot had done so well to bring such a grand mystique to the Iyrmen, but Jaygak had shattered it all for the newcomers.

‘Iyrmen,’ Filliam thought. ‘Are they just normal people?’

“But… but…” Jaygak continued to sniffle. 

“If you continue to embarrass yourself, I’ll make you clear a forest,” Zijin warned her. He normally let her do as she pleased, but to embarrass her family in front of Guests, it was a terrible thing.

Jaygak whimpered quietly, still wanting to punch Adam at least twice for having so much fun without her. “Adam’s a gentleman, he’ll accept it.”

“Uncle Jogak,” Adam said. “If you want me to beat, I mean, discipline her, let me know.” 

Jogak wanted to tell him off, but considering her behaviour, he wondered if it wouldn’t do good for the brat.

Kitool placed a hand on Jaygak’s shoulder. “You can request a spar with Adam once he has rested from his journey.”

“I don’t want to spar with him, I want t-“

Kitool squeezed Jaygak’s shoulder, leaning in so Jaygak could see her half open eyes. “You can request a spar with Adam once he had rested from his journey.”

Jaygak fell silent. 

“Well, I have brought you a gift, but you can talk about it later with her,” Adam said, giving Sir Vonda a nod.

Sir Vonda stared at him. “A gift?”

“You know,” Adam said. “That thing.”

“Thing?” Sir Vonda asked. “What thing?”

“You know,” Adam said, raising his brows at her. “That thing.”

“You mean… that thing?” Sir Vonda asked. She looked at Jaygak. “With her?”

“What?” Jaygak asked, still sniffling.

“Not just her, Kitool will be there too,” Adam said. “Dunes too.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sir Vonda said, her brows furrowing together. 

“If you want that thing earlier, they’re your best shot,” Adam said. “Think about it.”

‘With… her?’ Sir Vonda looked to Jaygak, her thoughts of the Iyrmen very different from minutes ago.

Lanarot squirmed in Adam’s lap.

“When did you become so fat?” Adam asked, brushing her hair. “No. Not fat. Big and sturdy, like your papa.” Adam held her up to Jurot. “Look. You’re just like papa now.”

Jurot blinked. “No she is not. She is small.”

Lanarot babbled towards him and cooed, before giggling as she clapped her hands. 

“Even though he bullies you, you can’t bully him yet,” Adam said.

Jurot reached out with a finger, letting Lanarot grab it. She tugged on it and swung her other arm in delight as she babbled.

‘Jurot must be on a post story high, so I need to connect that feeling with playing with Lanarot,’ Adam thought. 

Jurot remained staring at Lanarot, trying to process her. All the while, the other Iyrmen were trying to process what Jurot had told them.

Crowseer.

Lord Stokmar.

Sir Merry.

These three were not beings you met every day, and yet he met all three of them in the span of two months. Apparently, within about a week of each other.

The Iyrmen turned their gazes towards Adam, who was encouraging Jurot to play with Lanarot. 

Adam was known to be quite close with the girl, and he was the envy of all Iyrmen parents. A son who would actually play with their little sister? Something like that did not exist in the Iyr on a large scale, it was perhaps only a thing in one in a hundred families. 

The Iyrmen had no doubt that Adam had managed to somehow cause the meeting with the three. 

‘She is bigger now,’ Jurot thought, feeling her tight grip around his finger. ‘Still so small.’ When Lanarot pulled his finger up to suck on it, he continued to stare down at her. She was mysterious. All children were mysterious to him. It was children around Katool’s age who he would speak to, but Lanarot was someone too young. 

‘She will hear the tales one day,’ Jurot thought. ‘The tale of meeting with Adam.’ He thought of the journey northward with Sir Harvey, meeting with Vandra, and the return where they slew a Blue Dragon. Even this tale he had told, where he met three important individuals, it would need to be repeated, for she would not remember. 

“Hmm,” Adam said, staring at Lanarot. 

“What are you thinking?” Sonarot asked. 

“She’s my sister, right?” Adam asked.

Sonarot and Jurot both looked to him, surprised. “Yes,” Sonarot said, firmly. 

“Can I teach Lanarot magic when she grows up?” Adam asked. “Am I allowed to?”

“You are her brother,” Sonarot stated once more. “Who would dare deny you that right?”

Adam smiled. “Good,” he said. 

“You would teach her magic?” Mirot asked, unable to contain herself.

“Yeah,” Adam said, as though it were obvious. 

“Why?”

“She’s my sister.”

Mirot stared down at the Half Elf, seeing him staring up at her in return, confusion in his eyes. “Scribemages like you typically keep their magics secret.”

“Scribemages?” Adam asked.

“You have a spell book, yes?”

“Yeah?”

“So you are a Scribemage.”

“I would obviously give my sister my spells if it means she can protect herself,” Adam said. “What use are my spells if they can’t protect her?”

The Iyrmen around felt as though they had heard something extremely dangerous from the Half Elf, though a few of them were already used to hearing that from Adam.

“Our rage does not allow us to cast spells,” Mirot eventually said.

“Oh,” Adam replied. “Right. Aren’t there some spells which persist through, though? Or some spells which may be useful for the situation than getting angry?”

“Perhaps, but it is not our way,” Mirot said.

“It’s my way,” Adam said. “I’m her brother, a member of this family.”

“Are you?”

“Sister!” Sonarot snapped. “You have said enough. He is a member of our family, as I have stated.”

Mirot threw Sonarot a look. “You are the Family Head, for now.”

Adam narrowed his eyes towards the woman, before his eyes fell onto the sighing Sonarot. ‘Oops. I need to deal with this somehow.’ Adam’s eyes fell to Turot, who was sitting beside his cousin who had faced Sir Merry, basking in the attention of the limelight.  ‘I need to get Turot on my side. Nirot too, somehow.’

The others felt a little awkward in seeing the way that the families worked. 

‘Even the Iyr has politics,’ they thought.

Jurot continued to stare at Lanarot. “If Adam wishes to teach her magic, he can.” 

Mirot threw a shocked look towards the boy she had helped raised. “It is not our way.”

“It is not my way. It is not your way. It is the way of my brother.”

“Have you already accepted him?” Mirot asked.

“Yes.”

“So easily?”

“Has mother not told you the tale?” Jurot asked.

“She has been waiting for your return so that you may tell them to me.”

“I will tell you them,” Jurot said, kissing Lanarot’s forehead. “You must hear them too.”

“She needs to sleep,” Adam said, noting how the girl squirmed, with her eyes half closed. She began to cough and cry. 

“I will tell aunt Mirot the tales,” Jurot said, nodding his head to Adam, who took Lanarot away. 

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” Adam said, looking to the four he had brought to the Iyr. “Sorry about all this. It’s usually not quite so lively.” He chuckled nervously.

“It is interesting to see that the Iyrmen are Human, just like us,” Sir Vonda said.

Jaygak cleared her throat, but noted the looks of Elder Zijin and her father, so remained quiet.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sir Vonda said, bowing her head. 

 

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The Iyrmen are just... people?

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