489. What Was Expected

489. What Was Expected

Omen: 3, 9

Adam continued to forge axes, keeping his mind busy as the days passed by. He would check on his daughter every morning, and noted that baby Jarot was growing well. The boy would crawl to his father whenever he came in the morning. The tiny baby’s teeth were coming in ever so quickly. The boy was grabbing soft vegetables, eating everything the Rot family put in front of him. When Adam would leave, the boy would wave his tiny arm.

Adam sighed, staring up towards the sky. Jirot was not getting any better, but she wasn’t getting any worse either. Seeing his daughter constantly on the verge, it struck Adam’s heart deeply.

One evening, Adam whispered to the air ahead of him. “Baktu.” He waited to make sure the God of Death was paying attention. “I’m just letting you know, politely, that you can’t take her.” He said no more, leaving the threat to linger in the air. Whatever consequences would come from calling out to the God of Death would come, but that didn’t matter to Adam, as long as Jirot was safe.

One morning, in the middle of the Twilight Month, Elder Zijin called for Adam. Hot tea welcomed Adam, along with a large number of cut fruit all across a wooden platter.

“My last meal?” Adam joked, taking the seat opposite the Elder.

“I would bring you more for your last meal,” the Elder retorted, smiling slightly. If Adam didn’t joke, then he would have been in the depths of despair. “Pizza, at least.”

Adam nodded. “I appreciate that, Elder Zijin.”

Zijin motioned to the fruit, and once Adam had taken a piece, he slipped a piece between his lips, chewing slowly. “Do you still wish to gain more strength?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if you would be unable to see your sister and your children for a year?” Zijin asked, sipping the tea which had cooled down.

Adam stared down at his cup of tea, falling into thought. He hadn’t heard that he’d be out for a year. One year. It was one thing to say that if they were in their teens, but a year when they were babies was a lifetime. “You know, Jarot’s teething now. Baby Jarot, obviously. He’s able to pick up food and eat it. He’s crawling everywhere, and I just saw him stand for the first time, using the nearby chair to help him. It was just yesterday I helped him in my arms, covered in mud.”

Zijin looked up towards the sky, looking to the past. “I understand your feelings, Adam. You are a father now. Such a responsibility is heavy and deep.”

“I... I don’t want to miss out on their early years, but I need to be stronger too...” Adam sipped the tea. It was the flavour of one of the Iyr’s fruits, similar to that of a melon, which caused Adam to tilt his head. “What advice would you have for me?”

“I will not pretend to understand your mind, even if you are predictable in some ways. However, I would accept whatever fortunes the Iyr bestows upon me, for they are rare and great.”

Adam sighed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Elder. Is this about the petitioning stuff that Nirot mentioned before?”

“To petition for someone, it is to sacrifice your future for the present. To give up your rights to something you may not even know you have the rights to, to break the rules of the Iyr, for someone else’s benefit.” whistled. “Damn. That sounds pretty heavy.” Adam frowned. He didn’t like the fact that his cousins had decided to give up their future for him. “Is it worth it?”

Zijin paused. “No. It is never worth it. To the person who has given up their rights? Yes. I have never heard of anyone regretting it.”

“What adorable Cousins I have.” Adam smiled, sipping his head.

Zijin remained silent. The tea turned lukewarm. “The Iyr is changing, Adam. Somehow, it is not because of you.”

“Good.”

Zijin bowed his head. He had wanted to speak with Adam, a way to clear his mind. Adam, who was always a fool, and yet always spoke the truth. “In a few days, Lord Strom will die.”

“Right.” Adam frowned. “I should go see him.”

“He has already left.”

Adam’s heart fell. The last time they had spoken, the old man had advised Adam. He should have told the old man more stories. His eyes burned slightly for a moment. “I hope he dies with joy.”

Zijin finished his tea. “You should spend the next few days with your family. You have worked so hard already, and I have heard you have spent almost the entire month smithing.”

“Just, you know. I’m trying to keep my mind busy. My daughter is sick and I can’t do anything. No magic this month. Couldn’t leave to go find a herb.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Even if I was strong, what could I do in times like this?”

“You do not need to do anything to help her. She is a Niece of the Rot family, and she will be taken care of.”

“I still don’t quite understand what that means, Elder,” Adam admitted, frowning. “It sounds like it’s a big thing.”

Zijin smiled. “It means more than you realise in some ways, and less in other ways.”

After the conversation with the Elder, Adam took his advice, and returned back to the shared family estate. He played with the triplets, before deciding to take the triplets, and his sister, to the Rot family estate. His Aunt followed him, having heard news earlier in the day.

Jirot and Jarot crawled along the play area, which was restrained by a fence. Adam let out a gasp, before he lifted the girl up into his arms, holding her head to his chest. “Oh my little girl. You silly girl. How can you worry me so much and then go around crawling so happily? Why do you bully your daddy so much?”

Jirot cooed happily and smiled up at her father, showing her cheeky smile full of teeth.

“You silly girl.” Adam covered her in kisses, refusing to let her go, even to the old, one armed Iyrman nearby. His tears fell down his cheeks, the relief setting in, his shoulders still heavy and tense, though they were slowly relaxing.

“What are you doing?” Jarot asked. “At times like this, you should pretend not to see a father’s tears.” He ruffled the triplets’ hair, the glare from his eyes causing the others to glance away from Adam.

“You! Do you think because you’re so cute that I’ll forgive you?” Adam asked, brushing her hair repeatedly.

Jirot giggled up at her father, reaching up to his face, her tiny hand warm, but it was not as hot when she was ill.

“We returned as quickly as we could,” Tarot said. “Since you have named a child after Jarot, you should name one after me.”

Zirot sighed at her husband’s words and that stupid smile on his face. “You have done what was expected of you.”

Tarot chuckled at his wife reprimanding him.

Click banner for Patreon!

These Iyrmen sure are being too nice to Adam...