658. Duskval Festival III

658. Duskval Festival III

“So Jurot came first, Kitool came second, and I came third,” Adam stated, finally. “Also, you know, everyone else who did well.”

The tale had taken Adam a short while, though the others had yet to return to the extended family estate even by the time he was done.

“That’s right, Inakan, even your big brother did so good,” Adam said, right next to her ear. “He and I did just as good, so make sure you’re proud of us, okay?”

Inakan looked back up towards Adam with her narrowed eyes, though her lips formed an innocent smile, in the same way that Jirot’s lips formed an innocent smile before she would do something not quite so innocent.

“Inakan, please, mercy,” Adam said, holding her closer to his chest, gently brushing her hair.

The little girl returned back to playing with her block, rubbing it against her cheek, deciding to show mercy to the one who had spoken his tale.

“Of course my grandsons did so well,” Jarot said, his lips a wide smirk, fighting off the heaviness within his face. “First and third, it should be at least that much!” He roared with laughter, causing Gurot to jolt and look back at his grandfather. He looked back towards Adam in shock, before his lips began to tremble, and he let out a screeching cry.

“How can you do this to my Gurot?” Adam asked, placing Inakan down, before going to steal Gurot from the old man. Jarot let the boy go, who was still crying and screeching, but quickly began to calm as Adam held rocked the boy gently within his arms. “How can he do this? I know, I know. Don’t worry, Gurot, when you’re big, I’ll give you Phantom and you can teach him a lesson.” Adam placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

“Your Gurot? He is my Gurot!”

“He’s my Cousin!”

“Your cousin,” Jarot corrected, “but my grandson.”

“Your grandson?” Adam asked, rubbing the back of Gurot’s head. “As if he’s your...” Adam suddenly felt hot with embarrassment and shame once more. “Just because he’s your grandson, it doesn’t mean you can bully him.”

“I can bully him because he is my grandson.”

“...” ‘Damn it, the old man’s right!’ Adam held onto Gurot tightly. “Don’t worry, Gurot, Cousin Adam will protect you.”

Gangak held onto her granddaughters, cuddling them close. “Do not worry, Jaygak did well. It is good to know when to step forward, but it is more important to know when to step back.” Gangak could only think about how Jaygak felt about stepping back from her first tournament. It was true she was unprepared, she should have been given plate mail at least, but to do so well, undefeated by the time she took a step back, the young Iyrman could take pride in that.

‘Third place?’ Otkan thought. ‘My Shikan?’ Her grandson aimed to become the Chief, and so of course he would have placed well, the top ten if not the top four, but... for him to lose against Kitool? Shikan, Timojin, Jurot, these were each golden children. Kitool was a golden child too, but her sights were set so much lower than any of theirs. Kitool was also a golden child, but it would have been difficult for her to defeat Shikan so easily.

No. The common thread between everything was obvious. Shikan, though possessing a decent magical item, didn’t possess anything similar to the likes of Tigerstaff. Tigerstaff was a weapon which was perhaps the greatest in its league, and could match the likes of Phantom and Wraith in its own way. For Kitool, there was perhaps no greater weapon to wield.

Then, of course, there was the fact that Shaool, one of the top ten strongest Iyrmen, was also the young woman’s grandaunt. It only made sense for Kitool to place well, and manage to beat almost everyone, save for Jurot, who she had held back against. She, who had chosen to step back when facing Jurot, though had almost won an even greater victory to share with her family.

“Don’t worry,” Adam said, smiling widely, an innocent smile, the kind which Inakan had revealed not long ago. “Next time, Jaygak’s going to place at least in the top four, if not first.”

“It is only right,” Jarot said, nodding his head. “You cannot forget those by your side, and the sacrifices they make for you.”

Adam could hear the guilt within Jarot’s voice, and though back to how two of his closest companions had died for his vengeance. “I won’t. I won’t forget anything the Iyr has done for me, neither.”

“If you say so, it must be true,” Jarot said, smiling slightly, though the heaviness had returned. “You will not continue the tale?”

“Gangak, do you see? Otkan, do you see? They have grown up so much!” Jarot said, reaching up to cover his face. “How can they do such things to me?”

“You should speak of the tale,” Gangak said, offering Jarot the right.

“No,” Jarot said, wiping away the tears which had fallen. “I have heard there is a tale I must hear from my grandson. Jurot, I have heard the tale from Adam, but I must hear the rest of the tale from you.”

Jurot threw a look towards Adam. “You have spoken of the tournament?”

“Yeah.”

The Iyrman nodded, understanding why Jurot left the rest to him, and he placed down the twins. Adam placed down Gurot, who went to hug his Iyrman cousin’s leg, while Adam lifted up his twins and kissed them repeatedly. The pair squirmed and giggled.

Adam looked towards Jarot with a satisfied look, and the old man smiled, glad that Adam was still willing to tease him like this.

‘Should I beat him?’ Jarot thought.

“You two, look,” Adam said, motioning towards the older man. “It’s your babo.”

“Bababoo?” Jirot asked.

“Bah. Boh. Babo.”

“Babo,” Jirot said.

“That’s right, babo. It’s your nana’s dada.”

Jirot blinked, looking to Jarot, who blinked and looked towards her.

“Babo, he is babo, okay? You have to love him... after daddy, but not before daddy, okay?” Adam kissed their foreheads. “Jarot, do you know what babo’s name is?”

“Nay?” Jarot asked.

“Yes, do you know?”

“Jawoh.”

“Wow! That’s right! His name is Jarot too!” Adam peppered the boy in kisses, who had only said his own name. Little Jarot didn’t quite understand, but he smiled from his father’s affections.

“Me!” Jirot commanded, also wanting her father to kiss her.

The older Jarot stared at the twins, before his eyes met Otkan’s. He sighed, smiling slightly, and relenting to the fact that he owed her. He was glad that she had convinced him to return so that he could see the pair, who were so grown up now, though the price still ate at his gut. He resisted the urge to embrace them himself, waiting for his turn to come.

‘Goblins?’ Wazool, the young boy with the sun kissed hair and blue eyes, which betrayed his heritage, thought. He had been adopted into the Ool family, thanks to Jurot and Kitool, and though he thought they were a savage lot, this was something else entirely. He stared at the Goblins, and then to the rest of the Iyrmen, who seemed to think this was completely normal. ‘By the Divine!’

Oh no.