222. The Two Old Men

222. The Two Old Men

Adam spent the next couple of days relaxing, though he spent some time assisting the village with various tasks. He helped with cutting down trees, and moving items to and fro.

The villagers left him to his own business, with many sending awkward glances his way. Some of them had tried to come to him, but they had been stopped by others, who wisely reminded their compatriots of who Adam had come with.

Sir Harold seemed to demand quite some respect from the villagers, who didn’t dare to bother Adam.

Some villagers were also afraid or hesitant of dealing with the Iyrmen, but they left the Iyrmen be, who spent most of their time assisting the villagers with whatever task they required, including the most gruesome and disgusting tasks, like emptying the latrines.

The Iyrmen didn’t seem to mind Adam much, though they did view him as a rude and boastful young man, but they couldn’t blame him, as he was still young.

Omen: 3 16

The world was white.

Snow continued to fall all around the small village, no longer brown and green, but pure white.

Adam looked around and smile, before touching the freezing snow. It was soft, and crumbled against his finger tips.

“Do you like the snow?” Sir Vonda asked, brushing her hand along it too.

“A little. It’s fun to play with, and there’s something romantic about it.”

“Yes,” she said, bowing her head. She smiled behind her scarf, gathering the snow together, forming a small ball, before pressing her thumbs into the centre, forming a small hole in the centre. She placed it down, and created more small snow objects.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

“It is an art,” she said. “We used to create a number of these objects and would place them down. Then we’d look at them from above to see what we had created.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam said, before looking up to find a vantage point, only to find a few familiar figures approaching.

The villagers eventually gathered around the centre of the village, where the returning Gryphons landed, with seven figures soon hopping off.

“What is the news?” an old woman asked.

“The Chief is dead,” Sir Harold said. “I buried him and spoke his last rites. The Iyrmen witnessed it.”

“What of Sir Gorold?”

Sir Harold bowed his head. “He was slain by a Chimera, but it has been dealt with.”

Whispers began to fill the village upon hearing that a Chimera had been spotted.

“It wasn’t close to the village,” Sir Harold assured. “I buried him too, and spoke his last rites.”

The Iyrmen nodded.

Sir Harold quickly left to check on the village to make sure everything was fine, though he knew that the Iyrmen would have dealt with any issues.

The other villagers quickly returned to their work, mourning silently. However, they could not allow the death of their Chief to sour their moods, as they had much work to do.

The Iyrmen had assisted the villagers in creating a large ditch outside around the perimeter of the village, as well as a second wall, which was still in the process of being built. It was more like a fence at the moment, but it wouldn’t take long for it to truly bloom into a beautiful wall which would protect them for generations.

“Welcome back,” Adam said, shaking Jurot’s forearm. “How was it?”

Jurot smiled. “It was a beautiful sight. I fought alongside Sir Merry against a Gryphon, and I watched as he slew a Chimera. He is truly a great warrior.”

“How great?”

“Greater than I thought,” Jurot admitted.

Adam smiled. “Well, that’s good news.”

Jurot nodded his head. “It is. Thank you, Adam, for allowing me to go.”

“You went because of your own ability. I didn’t allow you to do anything.” Adam pat the young Iyrman’s arm. “I need your help with something. Come on.”

Jurot followed Adam back to Sarot and the other Iyrmen, who were currently taking a small break. However, as he approached, a villager approached him.

“The Iyr holds more sway than you realise,” Sir Harold said. “However, if you are willing to go that far, then you can save your favour for later. Though, if you wait too long, then we will pass before we can complete our favours to you.”

“Sure,” Adam replied. “I’m well aware of the dangers of putting it off.”

“Do you think I’ll keep my word?” Sir Royce asked. “I don’t really need to owe you a favour.”

“Then you only amounted to that much,” Adam said.

“I only amounted to what?”

Adam smiled. “If you can’t keep your word, then you aren’t someone I’m bothered about. The Iyr holds your name up to the level of the Great Elders, but if you only amount to that much, then I’ll do my best to sully your name.”

“I didn’t expect you to threaten me in front of my face,” Sir Royce said. “The Iyrmen are too far away to stop me this time.”

“Sir Harold is here,” Adam said. “Though that doesn’t matter to me whether you attack me or not. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to take the first couple of blows, and I can flee to my Granduncle.”

“Are you certain you have that capability?” Sir Royce asked, his fingers twitching.

“Are you sure you want to find out, old man?” Adam sipped his tea. “I don’t think even you’re so rude that you’ll attack a man who is drinking tea.”

“I was once known as the Knight of Death,” Sir Royce said. “Whether you’re drinking tea or taking a shit, I’ll kill you as I please.”

Adam laughed. “I’m sure Baktu appreciates your assistance, but you should know that Baktu and I have quite a special relationship too.”

Harold and Royce hadn’t expected Adam to claim something so brazen.

“A special relationship?” Harold asked.

Adam winked. “Enough about me. It’s quite alarming that so many magical weapons are coming to this small village.”

“There are dark tidings on the horizon,” Sir Harold said, simply. “We must be prepared to face it.”

‘Dark tidings?’ Adam thought, staring at pair.

Harold and Royce noted Adam’s pensive gaze, which looked past them to another time.

“Let’s hope that you can deal with those dark tidings,” Adam said, before placing down the cup of tea. “I should go.”

The curiosity within the pair of old men ate at them, but they left Adam be.

“Do you think he knows?” Royce asked.

“No,” Harold said. “He must be thinking about another matter.”

“Should we ask?”

“No,” Harold said.

“Why not?”

“He is the Son of Fate.” Harold, having spent some time researching about Adam through his conversations with Jurot, understood.

It was Adam who had affected him during his bouts.

“He seems dangerous,” Royce said.

“He is.”

“Do we kill him?”

“We shouldn’t tempt Fate.”

“Is it related to your dreams?” Royce asked, biting into some fruit.

“I don’t know.”

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Adam is drawing another 25 cards.