497. Skooled

497. Skooled

“No way,” Adam replied, simply.

“Why not?” Nirot asked.

“Have you forgotten?” Adam asked.

“Forgotten?”

“You’re an Iyrman.”

“Yes.” Nirot wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.

“You guys are scary.”

“You will spar with Lord Morkarai, but you will not spar with me?” Nirot’s lips were pulled taut into a frown.

“Lord Morkarai isn’t an Iyrman.”

Nirot wasn’t sure if she could believe Adam’s words. They were utterly ridiculous. ‘He is more afraid of me than Lord Morkarai?’ The thought stewed within her mind for a short while.

“I’d rather come across Lord Morkarai than any of you,” Adam admitted. “I’ve fought enough Iyrmen for a lifetime.”

“You will not face us?” Naqokan asked.

Adam looked to the expectant eyes of the other teen Iyrmen. He sighed, melting under their gazes. “Perhaps in the future. I don’t feel like it right now.”

Konarot climbed atop her father, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him. She looked back at the Iyrmen teens who were bullying her father and frowned at them, before returning back to her father.

“What’s that?” Adam asked. “You’ll grow up big and strong to protect daddy? You silly girl, you should stay small and cute forever.” Adam brushed her hair tenderly. ‘My kids are the cutest.’

Omen: 17, 18Diiscover new stories at novelhall.comn these Omens.’

Adam worked out lightly in the morning, playing with the children, before going off to bathe. He bathed with his triplets, who did not enjoy the warm water, so they sat in their own tubs of cool water, while their father relaxed in his warm water. He had almost used his Tricks trick to warm up the bath, but remembered what month it was, so used a stone which heated the water instead.

Adam changed them into the attire Sonarot had procured for them, the clothes indistinguishable to any other Iyrman child’s clothing. Seeing them adorned in their clothing, Adam couldn’t help but lift them up and hug them all. “Who gave you permission to be this cute? You silly little babbies!”

When Adam returned to the estate, he found a large figure looming over his twins, who were reaching up for his red beard.

“Lord Morkarai,” Adam called.

“Adam,” the Prince of the Fire Giants replied.

“Is Jirot bullying you?” Adam asked.

“She is having fun.”

“That’s good, because she’s only allowed to bully me,” Adam joked, before getting his tea pot, not the Persevian tea pot, but his metal pot, boiling some tea for the Fire Giant.

“How are you?” Lord Morkarai asked, sipping his tea when it was still piping hot.

“I’m alright, not too bad, thanks. You?”

“I am well. The Iyr has requested I take a break from smithing and enchanting.”

“Yeah, they won’t let me smith this month either,” Adam said, smirking up at the Fire Giant.

“Has there ever been conflict between Aldland and the Wizards of Skool?”

“I recall it has happened once within Aldland,” Morkarai admitted. “After the Demonic Devastation, the Wizards of Skool came to request a particular favour. I do not recall the exactly details, but the Wizards of Skool did not waste the opportunity to try to call for a certain demand, which was refused at the time. It wasn’t long before fifteen Wizards arrived, at least three of which could command the abilities of Sixth Gate spells, with a small army of capable soldiers, and took over a small portion of land just north of Eastsea.”

Adam was trying to recall when that would have happened in the time line he knew, which must have been within the last millennia. “So what happened?”

“A town was devastated and the army marched towards the second to deal with it. The Iyr, owing to its treaty, sent a hundred Iyrmen, who assisted in keeping the soldiers at bay with Aldland’s army, but the Wizards were too powerful.”

“Too powerful for the Iyrmen?”

“Too powerful for the one hundred Iyrmen who made up part of the Aldish army at the time,” Morkarai corrected. “The Iyr sent an envoy to meet with the Wizards, made up of their Chief, Elder Peace, and more Iyrmen. The Wizards did not negotiate, and so the Chief was killed, and the Iyr decided to war. A limited war, I think they call it?”

Adam nodded.

“The Wizard’s army did not last, and only a single Wizard managed to flee from the devastation the Iyrmen wrought. There was a second round of negotiations, through Sending spells, where the Iyr called for the Wizard to be brought to them for justice. It was refused, and so the Iyr placed a ban on the Wizards from appearing within the surrounding lands for five hundred years.”

Adam whistled. “Did they obey?”

“No. They returned fifty years later, assuming the Iyr would not enforce the bans, but quickly found that their Wizards were hunted by the Iyrmen who travelled across the land. The Wizards of Skool tried to demand for justice, but the Iyr did not forget. The Wizards of Skool had lost two dozen Wizards, some of them who could cast Seventh Gate spells, and they quickly found out why the Iyrmen were so feared even in distant lands.”

“Then what happened?”

“Peace was made,” Morkarai said. “The Wizards requested for their spellbooks to be returned, and it was denied. However, the Wizards realised the Iyrmen always kept to their word, and so promises were made between the two groups, and to this day, if a Wizard dies near an Iyrman, whether they be part of the Wizards of Skool or not, the spellbook would be confiscated by the Iyrmen, and if they were a member of the Wizards of Skool, the spellbook would be sent back to them. It is but one of many promises the Iyr made towards the Wizards of Skool.”

“That’s... weirdly nice.”

“You may meet them sooner or later,” Morkarai said.

“I will?”

“I would bet on it.”

“What would you bet on it?”

“A magical weapon.”

“Hmmm,” Adam replied, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll trust you this time. Anything I should consider?”

“Treat them like they are Aldish nobles, and not Giant nobles.”

“Is there a difference?”

“You said you would rather face me than a young Iyrman and I did not complain,” Morkarai said.

“Fair, but Iyrmen are scary.”

Morkarai thought about what he had seen in the Iyr so far, from the appearance of three Lords, and potentially a fourth with the white scaled Drakken. Then there was the story of the Iyrmen and the Wizards of Skool, who, whenever stubbed, would tear across the land until they were satisfied.

Yet, the Iyr was one of very few places which had managed to force them away to lick their wounds with zero hesitation, and had hunted them as though they were dogs.

“Yes,” Morkarai said. “They are.”

Iyr: You can't come here for five hundred years.

Skool: What about fifty?

Iyr: So you have chosen death.