Interlude: Jurot’s Day

Interlude: Jurot’s Day

Dawn had yet to grace Red Oak, but the Iyrmen had awoken bright and early. They trained early in the morning, running laps around the Adventurer’s Guild, sparring lightly with one another and other adventurers.

“How are you so strong when you are so young?” an older adventurer asked. He was in his mid thirties, almost twice Jurot’s age, and he had been hard pressed when facing the young Iyrman.

“I am Jurot, son of Surot,” Jurot replied, simply.Yôur favorite stories at novelhall.com

The adventurer sighed, before laughing. “So that’s it, is it?”

Jaygak stretched out her entire body, basking in dawn’s light. Kitool sat beside her, meditating.

“Jurot,” the Hakorian Lady called.

“Lady Shamia,” the Iyrman replied.

“I wished to thank you again for your assistance, back with the gem troll, and once more.”

Jurot nodded. “It is my honour as an Iyrman.”

“I grew up hearing of the distant tales of the Iyrmen,” she said, smiling. “I had the pleasure of meeting Iyrmen previously, for there were times an Iyrman passed by with their adventuring companions. It was always so wonderful hearing their family’s tales from their lips.”

Jurot nodded. Iyrmen were like that. They always passed on a tale or two everywhere they went. Even he would speak of his family’s tales when he passed by through villages, usually over dinner.

“I didn’t expect to meet the descendant of Great Giahroh. Where are my manners? I didn’t expected to be saved by the descendant of Great Giahroh, twice. His was my favourite tale.”

Jurot let out a long sigh through his nostrils, his lips twitching slightly. “Yes. It is a good story.”

“Is it really true?” Lady Shamia whispered.

“We Iyrmen do not lie.”

“I hope that we can meet again when I am less busy,” Shamia said, noting the look of her bodyguard.

“Yes.” Jurot nodded.

Jurot quickly bathed, and made his way out of the Guild.

“Don’t eat too much,” Jaygak said as the Iyrman left. “Adam’s invited us all to eat.”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, simply.

Today, it was Jurot’s turn to do it.

Red Oak was bustling already in the morning, with the sounds of labourers moving about, guards passing through the streets to check for any troubling folk, and the servants of Nobles who were going off to sort the affairs of their masters.

He approached a tavern, one which could house at least fifty people comfortably. Two Penny Tavern, in where one could buy a meal and drink for two copper coins.

It was guarded by a man in his mid forties, who wore a chain shirt, and carried a blade at his side. He rolled a set of dice, before noting the Iyrman. “No trouble, Iyrman.”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, before stepping into the tavern. It was half full with all sorts of fellows who preferred to stick to the shadows. He settled himself in a corner, looking out to everyone, his gaze falling across them all. The fellows glanced at him, and quickly shuffled so their backs were to the Iyrman, not wanting to give the Iyrman a reason to draw that axe of his.

“What do you want?” A young man approached, carrying at his side a dagger, as all those within the tavern did.

“Potato. Egg. Buttermilk.” Jurot placed down three coins with his right hand, a copper coin which was sandwiched between two silver.

The worker waited for the Iyrman to withdraw his hand, though Jurot was busy scanning the room with his eyes. Once his eyes were done scanning the room, he released his hand, causing the worker to swipe them away as they quickly stepped away from the savage.

Once the young man confirmed the information, he bowed his head, and let Jurot leave, who made his way out, following the same way he had come. He stepped up into the dimly lit room, where he noticed a new candle, one which had been replaced not long after they had left. He picked up the peach wine, and then made his way out, holding it in his right hand, passing the final safeguard.

“Iyrman,” a young urchin called. His hair was dark, a dirty dirty blonde, but there was something more to him. Even though he had lost weight, Jurot recognised him from the previous year. He couldn’t forget, as the boy was the one who had led him to Pam’s bakery. The urchin held out his thin hands. “Please.”

Jurot stared into the urchin’s ocean blue eyes. He placed down a gold coin, and wrapped the boys fingers around it. “It is yours,” Jurot said.

“Thank you, Iyrman,” the boy whispered with a raspy breath, his eyes darting around to see which urchins had seen.

Jurot remained with the boy for a short time. He didn’t forget the face, but there was something else about the boy’s face. The hair, which was dark from dirt, hiding that it was truly blonde.

‘Sun kissed hair. Ocean blue eyes.’

They were two descriptors which Jurot had been trained to recognise. Jurot paused for a moment longer, but realised it was suspicious. “Come with me.”

The urchin followed Jurot, glad that he was protected by the Iyrman, as then he could at least spend the gold and eat his fill. Then, he could scatter the coins and run, grasping at least a silver and a few coppers.

The scrupulous guard stared at Jurot. “Iyrman, back again?”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, simply. It was the only time he could use one word, and that was to state one of two words. If he had said no, the guard would understand that blood would need to be spilled.

Jurot set the boy down in the corner, and the same worker who had served him earlier cautiously approached the Iyrman.

“Egg. Potato. Buttermilk.” Jurot placed a silver coin between two copper coins.

“What was that?” the worker asked, wanting to confirm the order.

“Egg. Potato. Buttermilk.”

The worker quickly swiped the coins, and left, all the while Jurot had slipped something into the boy’s hand. “Do not show.”

The boy stared at Jurot, but nodded his head.

“Do not drink,” Jurot stated.

The boy continued to stare up at Jurot, but nodded his head again.

Jurot left, leaving the boy to eat, before he’d inevitably be choked out by the workers so they could see what was in his hand.

Jurot paused at Thundersmith’s smithy, writing down a note as the Dwarf worked away on a piece, ignoring the Iyrman.

“Thank you,” Jurot said, before he left.

The Dwarf understood to leave the Iyrman be, and that he’d need to smith an axe for the Iyr, which would pay him double for the use of being out of sight to write down a message.

Jurot could have gone to his room, but going to the smithy would have given him a small alibi, and he made his way right to where Adam had invited all the guests for breakfast.

He handed Kitool the paper. The Iyrman read it, nodding her head, before handing it to Jaygak. Once she had read it, she burnt the paper.

There were just three words.

He is Ool.

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Did I say a double chapter? I lied! Take three chapters today!