654. Stories Of Old

654. Stories Of Old

Adam had decided against using his rolls or Omens during enchanting, not wishing to tempt Fate any more than he had. If his Omens could really shift Fate in the world, he didn’t want to end up causing any civil wars, or worse, cause any illness to befall his children as he had done the previous year.

His morning began with a light workout, a bath, and then breakfast. He read to his children after breakfast, a single chapter of one of the many stories of the Rot family, before going off to enchant. He enchanted from late morning to the early evening.

He returned to play with the children, before eating with the group. He spent his evenings then reading to the children again, before spending time with his own children. He spent the early nights with his friends and family, just chatting away, before they would need to turn in to the night.

However, he was not the only one hard at work. Jonn continued to train Brittany, focusing on her agility and her skill. Nobby assisted the Iyr with his might, for strong bodies were always welcome in the Iyr. Fred also assisted the Iyr, wanting to keep his body moving, and his mind occupied.

Kitool had chosen to begin her studies into the way of the Iyrmen. Jurot continued to assist the Iyr as he usually did, though worked a few hours less than typical. His mother saw him spend more time with the youth, speaking of their tales, as well as generally assisting the parents with the young children.

“Ji?” Jirot asked, looking up towards her uncle’s face. She sat on his lap, beside her brother, who also looked up at Jurot.

“Yes,” Jurot confirmed. “You were named after Ji of the Rot family, Jirot.”

“Oooh,” Jirot replied, as though she understood. “Ji?”

“Yes.”

“Oooh.” The girl stared down at the book, before placing her hand on the page. “Wead.”

“Okay.”

The pair of Goblins stared down at his finger as he continued to read, following along. In the back of Jurot’s head, he thought about how distant the triplets remained. Konarot was currently whispering to a bird, while her younger siblings played nearby.

Jaygak assisted the Iyr with whatever matters they required, trying to keep her body busy as she thought about what she wanted to do.

‘I have plate mail now, but they don’t need me,’ she thought. ‘I should retire now that I am an Expert.’ Yet, Elder Zijin’s words plagued her mind. She sighed, staring at the lumber that was to head to storage.

When she returned back to the shared estate during the evening, she saw Raygak sitting beside Kavgak, reading to her. Kavgak was not quite as, to borrow the phrase which Adam often used, chonky as Gurot, but she was still rather tall and broad for her age. She sat up straight, and Jaygak could have sworn the girl was more like Taygak than herself.

“Look,” Taygak said, holding up Tavgak, her own younger sibling, towards her cousin. “Poop.”

“She soiled herself?”

“Yes,” Taygak said. “Big poop.”

“I will go clean her.”

“Taygak help,” Taygak said, before following Jaygak to clean up her sister.

Jaygak returned with a sleepy Tavgak, who had also decided to pee all over the older pair, before finally yawning and making to sleep. Jaygak placed her aside with the other children who were also sleeping, and she returned back to see Maygak suckling on the teet of their mother.

Maygak, who was so young, and had yet to hear of her elder sister’s tales. Raygak sat nearby, his hands clasped together, the boy deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaygak asked, reaching down to rub the boy’s head.

Mara nodded. “We have made our intentions known.”

“We will consider them,” Iromin assured. He waited for a long while, and seeing that she had no more to say, he raised his hand to dismiss her.

Mara stood. “I appreciate that you met with me so soon.”

“It was my pleasure,” Iromin replied, watching as she stepped away. “Do you know the story of Jirot?”

“The Jirot of the Demonic Devastation?” Mara replied.

“Yes.”

“I do.”

“A tale as sad as time,” Iromin said. “She once trusted the Ancient Dragon, the Demon General Balakazor, only to come to blow many years later. She fell, allowing Jurot to save the child.”

“Jurot has spoken of the tale to the elder twin.”

Iromin nodded.

“I am fond of the girl,” Mara said.

“So was Balakazor,” Iromin replied.

“...” Mara understood the threat behind Iromin’s words. “She is no Iyrman.”

“Whether she is an Iyrman or not,” Iromin began, his voice remaining neutral, “she carries the name of Rot. You may not know of this, but her greatfather was wild in his youth.”

“I have heard the tales.”

“No,” Iromin said. “You have not. If you knew of the tales, you would never have mentioned that the girl was no Iyrman.”

“I am merely stating facts.”

“The Iyr has many rules,” Iromin said, holding the woman’s gaze. “Even I, the Chief of the Iyr, find it difficult to keep track. However, every rule derives from one singular rule, or as you might call it, the first law. Every time we Iyrmen wake up to welcome the next day, the sun’s ray’s greeting us in the morning. Every time we Iyrmen reach for our weapons, ready to wet the steel with our enemy’s blood. We do it for the sake of the first law. Do you know of it?”

“I do.”

“It is a rule which we have engraved into this land, by blood and steel,” Iromin said, recalling the last time it happened. “We Iyrmen never forget. One year. Ten. One hundred. One thousand. It does not matter. We Iyrmen never forget. Where you are from Aldland. Whether you are from Aswadasad. Whether you are from this realm. Whether you are from outside our realm. It does not matter. We Iyrmen never forget.”

“I shall take your words to the Demon Lord.”

“Adam has offered us a great many boons,” Iromin said. “We will repay him in kind. It does not matter whether you are an Elf, full blooded or otherwise, or a Demon. We Iyrmen never forget.”

Yeah if anything happens to our little Jirot I'm sure the old man Jarot will do something.

Oh...