618. West Fort I

618. West Fort I

The walls of West Fort were large, made of thick stone. The city was large, and spread all across the land, starting from the sea, and heading towards the mountains to their right. Adam could spot the walls continued all the way to the mountains, losing themselves to the horizon in the distance.

“How many people are in West...” Adam’s brow twitched. “Is this place West Fort or West Port?”

“West Fort is West Port,” Jurot replied. Gét latest novel chapters on nov(e)lbj/n(.)c/om

“Oh?”

“There are almost two million people in West Fort. It is the capital of West Aldland,” Jurot stated.

“Is this the place Duke Lionheart is from?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Adam slowly nodded his head. “You think we’ll meet him?”

“No, he is fighting on the front line.”

“Oh. Cool. I’ve met with the Duchess, so I thought perhaps I could meet the Duke.”

“...” Jurot blinked. “You have met the Duke previously.”

“I have?”

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“When we first made our way to the Iyr,” Jurot explained. “A carriage made its way to Red Oak from the villages. The handsome man with yellow hair and blue eyes.”

“Oh. You know what? I think I do remember that.” Adam slowly nodded his head. “I remember he tried to scare me. He hated me for being a Half Elf, right?”

“He disliked you for it, yes.”

“Didn’t he try to threaten the Iyr?”

“He tried.”

“Hmm. What do you think?”

“What do I think?”

“Can the Iyr take on West Aldland.”

“West Aldland is difficult,” Jurot said. “Almost as difficult as North Aldland.”

“Why is that?”

“The warriors from North Aldland are considered the greatest of all Aldishmen, they are the hardiest. South Aldland’s warriors are greatest with the bow. East Aldland’s warriors are greatest on the sea. Central Aldland possesses the greatest cavalry. West Aldland, however, may not be the greatest in any of these regards, but they are decent in all matters.”

“Ah, a jack of all trades.”

“Yes?”

“Ah.” Adam slowly nodded his head while Jurot tried to understand what Adam was talking about. “Jurot, why is everything always about the army?”

“There is a civil war.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Adam looked around, seeing how peaceful the land was. “It’s always weird when war happens. Lots of death. Lots of, you know, other bad stuff. Lots of migrants, refugees, and so on. Feels weird. I, uh...” Adam glanced back to the rest of his companions, before sighing. ‘Yeah. War is real. Probably best not to think about what the great patriots of each country are doing to their enemies.’

The road led to a set of large gates, each manned by guards wearing a scale tunic over mail, wielding spears in hand, with blades at their side. Long rectangular shields rested on the ground, a hand resting against the top of each, as though daring the group to act up in front of them. Their helmets were open faced, with what appeared to be angry eyes glaring down from above.

“It was a good fight,” Jurot replied, recalling the memory. “Father slew two dire wolves, and aunt slew two, but almost fell to the third.”

“Your father only killed two because he was too busy protecting us,” Sir Roland stated, smiling. “What a great warrior he was, and I’m sure you are just as great.”

“I placed first in the Noonval Tournament,” Jurot stated.

“Hah! Of course you did!” Sir Roland laughed. “Did you all fight in the tournament?”

“Kitool took second, and Adam took third, only surrendering to Sir Roseia and Sir Karra,” Jurot confirmed.

Lord Zakaria was certain of it now. One of the riders beside the Lord approached him and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. Though the Lord had heard the specific phrase, and though he was certain the member of the order was right, his eyes did not go from Jurot to the cart.

Originally, he had planned to request coin from the group, at least ten gold, which would have paid for the horses’ feed for a short while at least. Yet, upon seeing the group of Iyrmen, and not just a group of Iyrmen, but Iyrmen with that tattoo, he fell still and silent.

“What of the rest of your group?” Sir Roland asked.

“We hold at least one Master, and the weakest are each Experts, or near Experts,” Jurot stated.

“The entire group?” Sir Roland asked, spotting the teen Iyrmen. They were each probably eighteen or so? Experts, though?

“Yes. They all placed well in the tournament too. Nobby was first place, and my Cousins placed second to seventh.”

“They’re really Experts?” Sir Roland asked once more, looking across the entire group. “What of the porters?”

“Yes.”

“...” Sir Roland stared at the group, and then his eyes fell to Jurot. “How amazing. Do you intend to sell your blade to fight in the war?”

“No.”

“If you are, I hope you’ll join the WAF.”

“We will remember your words.”

Sir Roland nodded. “A pleasure to see you again, and I do hope you will visit our estate one day.”

“I will remember your words. If we come to West Aldland again, I will surely pay a visit.”

“We should be leaving,” the Lord said, before leading his horse away, leaving the soldier beside him stunned, while Sir Roland retreated back to the company. The third soldier was certain he had warned the Lord, but he wasn’t going to do anything?

“Your family is pretty cool, eh?” Adam said, chuckling as he watched the company leave.

“Yes.”

“It feels weird they didn’t start any issues...”

“Lord Zakaria is a Baron, and Sir Roland is the second son of a Count,” Jurot said. “It would have been awkward to deny Sir Roland his respect.”

“Yeah, but still. The Baron was giving you a weird look.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder why...” Adam watched as the company left, riding away as about twenty riders fell behind the chariot to protect it from behind. “What’s the WAF?”

“The Western Auxiliary Force,” Jurot replied.

“Ah.”

The nobles... didn't start a fight?