679. Noble Problems II

679. Noble Problems II

Adam had wished for a hot bath, a proper hot bath, with the steam rising against the tiles, and his favourite soap that would create such a thick lather across his body. He supposed that a warm bath in the wash room of a small inn, with a near rock like soap was good enough.

‘Thank all the Divine I’m a Half Elf,’ Adam thought. As someone with some Fae ancestry, Adam did not sweat quite as much, and he didn’t smell too bad after a long day.

Once the group were together they ate the leftovers of meat and potatoes, which had cooled over the evening. They glanced between one another while eating quietly, leaving their words unspoken. Adam could see the innkeeper from the corner of his eye, whose eyes would sometimes wander towards the group of four who had arrived in the dead of night.

“Okay,” Adam whispered in the Iyrman’s tongue. “No more ransacking and burning down castles.”

“Okay,” Jurot replied.

“We’re probably not going to be able to sell off anything in this place.”

Jurot nodded.

“I do think... that was my bad. I’m sorry about that.”

“It was he who wished to fight,” Jurot replied. “If he wished to take the blade, it was only through killing us.”

“I received this blade so recently, I don’t want to give it up, yet!” Jaygak wrapped an arm around her blade, feeling its magic coursing through her.

“Will you ever give it up?” Adam asked, raising his brow.

“I might.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“I may gift it to Raygak.”

“Fine, but only because I adore Raygak so much.”

“You do not play with him enough.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you.”

Jurot reached into his pocket, pulling out the map which a local from the town over had drawn for them. It had cost them a gold though it was not worth a gold, but paying a guide well made sure they didn’t get any bright ideas.

“We will be able to travel at least forty miles tomorrow if we continue to trade horses.”

“Can we afford it with all the horse trading?” Adam asked.

“Yes. We will be able to sell the jewellery once we are further away.”

“That makes sense.”

They left early in the morning and continued to trade horses along the way, before they finally approached a town at night. A few gold shorter, and with the guard’s warnings, they made their way to the inn to stay the night.

Omen: 4, 14

“Alright, we’ve probably travelled far enough?” Adam said, biting into his hot, buttered potato.

“I am Baron Kegan Rockcastle.”

“Adam.”

“Jurot.”

“Jaygak.”

“Kitool.”

“Where do you hail?” the baron asked.

“We have come from very far away to make a name for ourselves,” Jurot said. “We slew many great creatures from our land, but wished to make our way in new lands.”

The baron noted how he hadn’t responded to his question, but he let it go. “How strong are you?”

Jurot glanced between the knights. “I could face your knights well.”

“Can you defeat them?”

Jurot thought for a moment. He was pretty certain they didn’t want to start a fight with the noble this time. “If I held back, I would certainly lose.”

The vague response caused the baron to smile. However, Jurot had taken a step back, showing the baron and his knights respect, even if he meant something else entirely. “Charles, test this one.”

“By your will, my lord,” one of the guards standing nearby said. He was a middle aged fellow, in his early forties, wearing chain, and wielded a blade and shield.

Jurot pulled up Phantom and held it in hand, his eyes glued to the guard ahead of him.

“You won’t use your shield?” Charles asked.

“No,” Jurot replied. “I wish to show off.”

“Don’t regret it!” Charles growled.

Once the pair were ready, the baron smiled, reaching up with his hands. “You may begin.” He clapped his hands once.

Charles waited to see what the young Iyrman would do. Unfortunately for him, giving an Iyrman a chance to make the first move was always a bad idea. Jurot rushed in towards him like a boar, swinging his axe wildly. The pair clashed, though it was only for a moment.

Charles skid back, feeling the throbbing against his shield arm. He stared at the Iyrman in shock, bringing his shield up once more, dropping to a knee as the blow shook through him into the earth.

“At least he’s not holding back that much,” Adam said, noting that other than not using his shield, Jurot was doing his best to crush Charles.

Charles managed to strike Jurot against his side, a glancing blow against his iron skin, which did more to his clothes than his body. Charles’ eyes went wide, and he stepped away from the red Iyrman.

Jurot marched forward, raising his axe once more.

‘This kid is a damn monster!’

Jurot, the Terminator.