450. Duskval Festival XI

450. Duskval Festival XI

Omen: 8, 20

‘Should I enchant?’ Adam thought.

Konarot’s face appeared as she noted how her father’s breath had changed when he awoke. She tilted her head, wondering when he was going to greet her.

“Hello, Princess,” Adam whispered, reaching up to rub her head. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t.’

This time the children led Adam around the festival, avoiding the parts which they had been told to avoid by Jarot, who had remained behind with the Goblins. Konarot quickly ran away towards a certain part of the festival, where there was a pile of bags full of scrap and rope all around the ground where once it had been chalk.

‘Is this darts?’ Adam thought, watching as Konarot picked up a small bag. She tossed the bag, which landed outside the largest circle. She looked at her father and pointed to the bag, shocked it was still bullying her like this.

Adam looked at her confused. “Nice throw.”

Kirot was next, tossing the bag to the outer circle, staring up at her father with a large smile.

“Well done,” Adam said.

Karot tried to toss the bag, but it landed outside the large circle too, and he gave the same look Konarot had.

Lanarot squealed as she ran towards them, and picked her own bag, squatting with a grunt, before she tossed the bag away at the circle. She watched as it dropped near the rope. She blinked. She looked to her brother, confused. She looked to her mother, throwing up her arms in exasperation.

“It was a nice try,” Sonarot said, rubbing the girl’s head.

They continued to play, with Konarot and Kirot managing to land within the circles properly, and Karot and Lanarot missing once more. Lanarot hugged her mother’s leg with a pout. Karot copied her, hugging Adam’s leg as he pouted. They wanted their parents to make this injustice right, but as the girls continued to throw bags, they quickly joined them and scored a point.

“They are so cute,” Sonarot said.

Adam smiled. “Of course they are.” ‘This game does seem kind of fun...’ Adam wondered if he should play, but if he did, would he have to throw well or throw poorly? He decided against playing, and instead allowed the children to guide him along.

Eventually they walked into a shared family estate and lay down to rest, with Adam and Sonarot remaining nearby. However, Konarot forced Adam to come with her, and she cuddled up to him. Lanarot blinked, furrowing her brows in thought, before she pointed up at them. “No.”

“What’s wrong, Lanababy?” Adam asked.

“No.” Lanarot stomped over and tried to cuddle against Adam, groaning and complaining when she couldn’t find a spot with the triplets hogging her brother. “Huu!” She stared up at her brother, threatening to cry.

“Are you bullying your sister?” Strom asked, appearing with a gourd in hand. He bowed his head to Sonarot.

“Baba,” the little Iyrman said, stomping up to him.

Strom lifted her up, with an exaggerated grunt, before letting her rest against his chest. “Or is it that you are bullying your brother?”

Lanarot cackled in response, before she pointed towards the sky. “Up.”

“When will you give me greatchildren?” Jarot asked.

Jurot snapped out of his thoughts. “I do not know.”

“I have heard of this baker...” Jarot began, noting how his grandson’s ears turned red. A small smile flashed across his face for a moment. “Is she well built?”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, trying to keep his voice level. He crossed his arms, trying to keep some semblance of neutrality.

“Good.” Jarot nodded. “I hope to be surrounded by more greatchildren soon. You do not need to give as many as Adam, but ten greatchildren would be nice.”

Jurot thought about how his mother would respond to the situation. “They sleep well. The rain always helps me to sleep well too.”

Jarot smiled, but it was a sad smile. He wouldn’t sleep well that night, nor any night that it rained.

Jurot recalled how much his grandfather disliked the rain, remembering the tale from back then. It was raining then too, he remembered. It was his first memory, a memory which had been engraved within his mind. Jurot remained silent, but the silence was deafening in its awkwardness.

Lucy and Mara lay nearby, having decided against doing much that day. She stared up at the sky, the clouds which passed the Iyr by, bringing with them rain.

“The rain is cold today,” Lucy whispered.

“It is,” Mara agreed, staring up at the sky from beside her companion. “It is a different sort of rain, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“There hasn’t been that much rain this month,” Lucy said. “Less than average, I hear.”

“The rivers did not flood this year,” Mara said. “It would be difficult for the Iyrmen if it didn’t flood for a while.”

“For the farms?”

Mara nodded her head. “They’ve been focused on keeping their warehouses stocked. It appears something is happening.”

“Mara, there are things we should know, and things we should not know,” Lucy said, her eyes glancing around the area, hoping no Iyrmen was listening to their conversation.

Mara sighed, understanding the point. “Forgive me.”

“It’s alright. You need to know all these things, I understand, but pretend not to know them.”

“It was my mistake for growing so rusty,” Mara said. However, she couldn’t help it. Though the Iyr was a dangerous place, they had been guaranteed under Jurot’s name, which apparently meant quite a lot. Of course, if they did grow up to become extremely deadly, then Jurot’s name wouldn’t be enough, as though it protected Adam, they were not Nieces of the Iyr.

‘Should we join the Iyr?’ Mara thought.

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Totally no action in the next few chapters...