471. Choices I

471. Choices I

Jarot lay between the pair of goblins, who were twitching beside him, each staring his way. He cooed towards them, reaching around to tickle their exposed cheeks and noses. They returned with their small gurgles, falling silent in shock when they felt his snow covered finger against his cheek, before they returned to gurgling noisily towards him.

Out of anyone, Jarot was the one who spent the most time with the twins. He spent hours daily with them, reading story after story to them. He spoke of the tales of his ancestors, those they were named after, sometimes slipping them his own stories, with a cheekiness as though he were slipping them rum.

Elder Zijin stared at the trio, his hands crossed behind his back. Seeing Jarot wearing the typical attire of the Iyrmen all while laying in the snow reminded him that the Rot family was truly built differently than other Iyrmen.

Upon feeling the unsightly gaze, Jarot sat up, allowing the pair of children to stare at his back while it provided them shade. Jarot remained silent, his eyes glued to the Elder’s.

“I will be taking Jarot and Jirot,” Elder Zijin said.

‘Now you have come for them?’ Jarot thought. “Without your blade?”

“I am hoping it does not come to that.”

“You will not take them.” Jarot remained sitting, and though his axe was not at his side, it was not that far away, resting against the side of the estate.

“The Great Elders have asked for the children,” Zijin said, trying to invoke the status of the Great Elders for this matter to go smoothly.

Jarot’s neck tensed, his jaws clenched. “You will not take them.” These were the words he had used in front of the triplets back then too. Unfortunately, they were in the shared family estate, so he could not cut into the desk with his axe.

Elder Zijin sighed. He hadn’t spent much time thinking about how to get Jarot to give up the children, for it was an impossible task. Jarot was still wild for an Iyrman, and though his heart was heavy due to the loss of his son, he was still the same Jarot as back then.

“Why is it that you have come to me, the greatfather of these children, and not the father?” Jarot accused, his eyes dark.

The accusation struck Zijin harshly. Jarot had rubbed salt into the wound which he had made previously when he had spoken such terrible words to the Elder last time. It was a difficult position for Elder Zijin to be in, since Jarot was not under his authority, but the authority of the Great Elders. The Great Elder had not decided to step forward, as Jarot had not pushed them to act yet.

“Tell the Great Elders if they wish to shame the Iyr, I will not be complicit, and these innocent children of my Rot family will not be sacrificed for their games,” Jarot warned.

Jirot cooed quietly, but Jarot remained sitting, glaring up at the Elder. Even as she began to cry, Jarot did not move. It was only when the Elder was out of sight that Jarot returned back to his greatdaughter.

“Little Jirot, why are you crying?” Jarot asked, scooping her up to his chest, coddling her within his arm. He rubbed her stomach, gently rocking her against him as the girl continued to screech and cry, eventually causing baby Jarot to cry too. Jarot reached out with his stub, and for a moment, he felt the ghostly sensation of his hand again. He sighed, calling for one of his nieces to assist him.

Adam plucked a Thread of Fate, annoyed that he rolled extremely poorly.

“He will not give the children up?” Iromin asked, sitting at his gazebo, with tea and snacks at the ready.

Elder Zijin bowed his head. “He will not.”

Adam plucked a Thread of Fate, and thus Fate was forever changed.

When he returned to the estate, he raised his brow, wondering what the Prince of Flames was doing here. He was settled beside Jarot, looking over the twins.

“Lord Morkarai,” Adam said, before taking a moment to realise the title. “Shouldn’t it be Prince Morkarai?”

“There are no Princes in the Iyr,” Morkarai said. “Even I am only a Lord within the Iyr.”

“Oh?” Adam replied, wondering what that meant, but he decided against prodding more. “How are you?”

“I am well.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“You as well,” Morkarai said, motioning a hand to a seat opposite them.

Adam sat down, picking up Jirot into his arms, who cooed quietly. He brushed her forehead gently with his thumb, holding the back of her head carefully.

Morkarai exchanged a look with Jarot for a moment, before he smiled. “I have enjoyed my time within the Iyr, but I have begun to miss home.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, nodding his head. What he wouldn’t do to have a proper shower and to watch some telly. “It do be that way.”

Morkarai tilted his head slightly. “I miss the heat of the volcanoes, the smell of the food, and the...” Morkarai paused. “No, the women here are properly rugged too.”

Adam stifled a chuckle, though he let slip a smile. “Well, there are some crazy beautiful Iyrmen here. You should see the Kan family. It’s utterly unfair, I say.”

Jarot nodded his head to punctuate the thought.

Morkarai bowed his head, giving the point to Adam. “I’ve a thought in my mind, if you would take no offence.”

Adam cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “Don’t stand on ceremony, Lord Morkarai. I wouldn’t dare to take offence at what you say. Well, that’s a lie, but you know what I mean.”

Morakrai chuckled lightly. “I have thought to offer you a position as a Hill Lord, Adam.”

“A what?”

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I hope nothing bad happens with all these Omens...

:)