Interlude: To War

Interlude: To War

‘What madness is this?’ Justinian thought, looking out to the Iyrmen who had been brought to him. There were over one hundred Iyrmen, but they were all old men, women, and cripples. His jaw tensed, his brow pulsed, and the rage washed over him.

“What use are these old men?” Justinian asked, staring at the Chief, who had dared to step out of the gates.

The Chief was joined by four others. One was a large man in flamedarksteel plate mail, and carried a greatsword. There were three Drakken, one with bronze scales, another with black scales, and the last, an older man, white.

“They may not be the Iyr’s greatest warriors, but they match those from your Order of the King,” Iromin said, simply.

“Do you believe my Order to be so weak?” Justinian’s brow pulsed as he glared at the Iyrman, who had shamed him far too many times.

“No, they are fine,” Iromin replied, casually. He was in no danger, for he could take on any of those nearby without much effort, even without the three Dragons and the Giant. “The Iyrmen we have provided are at least at Silver Rank if they were to be judged within the guild, and many are as powerful as Mithril. We made the call, and it was they who answered.”

“They are at least Silver?”

“Yes.”

Justinian stared at the Iyrmen, each who were less than agreeable. If they were at least Silver Rank, then they wouldn’t be useless. ‘They must be considered Steel Rank if they are this old.’ “I will rest the night within the Iyr, and we may discuss military matters within the Front Iyr.”

“The Iyr’s gates are closed,” Iromin repeated.

“I am the King.” Justinian continued to glare at the Chief. The Chief was a great warrior, but with his great magical gear, there was no way he would be unable to slay the Chief.

“The Iyr has its rules. As we follow yours within your land, so must you obey our rules within our land.”

“Your land?” Justinian coughed. “I am the King of this land.”

“This land belongs to we Iyrmen, and there are no Kings in the Iyr,” Iromin said. “Even Emperors are Lords within the Iyr.”

‘What utter savages!’ “You would leave us here, at the mercy of beasts?”

“The beasts will not dare step on our land, even during a Beast Wave. Baktu will welcome them with open arms if they do.”

‘These damn cultists...’ “Perhaps I expected too much of you Iyrmen.”

“You have come to us in an unprecedented time,” Iromin said. “We ask simply for your understanding until we have resolved matters of the Iyr.”

“What matters are these?”

“Internal matters, which we cannot ignore,” Iromin replied, not giving up anything. “We have requested Elder Wrath, and his council, to assist you during the war. In such matters, Elder Wrath holds complete authority, even greater than my own.”

“At least you have sent someone more dependable than the last,” Justinian said, referring to the previous Elder Wrath who had been so unruly. “I hope this one understands how to take commands.”

“Elder Wrath has complete authority over the Iyrmen under his command,” Iromin said. “Three hundred Iyrmen will not die under his command.”

“I thought you Iyrmen liked death?”

“Ten years ago there were the Greys who left the Forests,” Kris said. “I slew a Greater Grey. Yours, Iyrman?”

“Otkan and I,” Jarot said, motioning his head to the pretty Iyrman with the harsh scar across her face, “as well as our brother and sister, Zaool and Tangak, we slew Forgryn.”

“The Azure Terror?” Kris said, his voice lighter. “I heard he was killed in Aswadia not two decades ago.”

“We slew him,” Jarot said, nodding his head. “He slew my son, my daughter, and my grandson.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“We bathed in his blood,” Jarot said. “We lost our brother and sister in the battle, but it was a good battle.”

Kris could see the rage flash within the Iyrman’s eyes, and offered him some wine. “If you are as half as strong as you were when you fought Forgryn, then I will be at ease fighting at your side.”

“I have not grown so weak that I am half as strong, but I no longer possess the power I had back then,” Jarot admitted.

“You must be the kind who uses his rage,” Kris said, noting the furs. “Axe?”

“Axe and shield, but...” Jarot motioned with his stub. “It is difficult to wield a shield like this.”

“I would have assumed.”

“Still, it is good enough for my greatchildren to play with,” Jarot said. “They are small, but they grow quickly. I gained five greatchildren recently, and they will grow well, and become more powerful than I.”

“Greatchildren?”

“Great grandchildren,” Jarot explained.

“Ah.”

“Their father is quite strong,” Jarot said, smiling. “He has slain two Dragons already.”

“Your grandson?”

Jarot smiled. “Yes.”

“Two Dragons? Really?”

Jarot bowed his head. “He slew two. My other grandson was there both times, and assisted in killing one too.”

Kris raised his brows. Those of the Thousand Hunts knew Iyrmen didn’t lie. They had formed so long ago, and it was one of the first things all within the Order learnt. “You have such great and mighty grandsons. I hope that our Order will meet them one day.”

“One day,” Jarot said, raising up the cup of wine, drinking it.

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Even Jarot can be cute.