[879] – Y03.179 – Duskval Days V

[879] – Y03.179 – Duskval Days V

“Nano is so stuhrong, daddy, oh my gosh,” Jirot began to babble towards her father.

“When I am big I will be stuhrong too,” little Jarot said, inhaling deeply.

“You should stay small and cute forever,” Adam replied, embracing his twins within his arms, carrying them back as the triplets followed after. Konarot glanced back towards her greatfather, who remained behind with their greataunt, before she continued to bring up the rear, keeping her siblings within her sights.

“Did you see?” Jarot asked, puffing out his chest. “Our greatchildren, they are so good.”

“I saw,” Rirot replied. “His children are so well behaved.” She exchanged a look with Jarot, the pair smirking between one another as they thought of the girl who had beamed up towards Rirot upon hearing her tales.

‘Wait!’ she had declared. ‘I go poopoo! Wait!’ She had stormed away during one of the tales, with her twin and father following after, the half elf pink in the face.

“You have worked hard,” Jarot said.

“I should work harder.”

“If you work harder, we will not go in peace.”T/his chapter is updated by nov(ê(l)biin.co/m

Rirot looked towards the sky, darkened by clouds. Lightning fell, thunder rumbling nearly an instant later. She could feel the rumbling deep within her bones. It was uncomfortable, but the life of an Iyrman was often uncomfortable, burdened by their duties. “Zirot is also training to become a Grandmaster?”

“She cannot allow Tarot to surpass her.”

Rirot smiled, letting out a soft snort. “Once Kamrot returns, I will leave.”

Jarot poured the woman her tea, the pair still alone. The others had sat in the corner to have their own conversation by the time they had arrived, all but certain the Mad Dog would come. They understood not to coax out trouble from the Mad Dog, especially when he was behaving so well.

“You must speak of my tales when they are older,” the woman said, sipping the tea, which was near scalding. “They will forget.”

“I will speak of them yearly,” Jarot assured. “They will engrave your tales within their heart, though it will be under my own.”

Rirot smiled warmly, leaning back within her chair. She could feel the slow creep of death beckon her, but she had already resolved herself to see her husband.

Jarot remained silent for a long while, sipping the tea opposite the woman. As a member of the extended family, she had completed her duty well. If not for her, he wouldn’t have been able to cause his mess, and the Rot family would not be stable enough to prepare for war, if it ever came to it.

Jarot could still recall the rain of that day. It was a sorrowful rain. There had been a single flash of lightning, and a single rumble of thunder.

“With Sarot and I gone, you should not be so careless,” Rirot dared to say to her cousin, the one who had caused such a mess within the Iyr. Even if she wasn’t dying, and even with his one arm and one leg, Rirot wasn’t confident enough to face her crazy cousin.

“Will you stop me?” Jarot grinned wide.

“Little Jirot will stop you when I cannot.”

Jarot’s laughter echoed through the estate, drowned out by the gentle rain and the rumble of thunder.

Jirot allowed her father to feed her, opening her mouth whenever he brought the fork to her lips. She clamped her lips tight along the fork while her father pulled the fork away from her lips, before she slowly chewed the meat.

“Cahruh, daddy.” The girl pointed towards the sliced orange vegetable, which her father brought to her lips. She crunched into it, slowly chewing the raw vegetable with her molars, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

Little Jarot reached for his own carrot, before Adam brought a slice to his lips. The boy smiled and bit it out of his father’s hand, pushing the rest of it into his tiny mouth. He let out a small squeak of satisfaction while he leaned into his father’s hand, which brushed his cheek tenderly.

Lucy was glad Adam and Jarot were there to tease Jurot, quickly placing herself beside Jirot and Jarot, feeding the pair. She could feel the glare from Adam, who wanted to keep spoiling his children.

‘You should let me feed them since we’re companions in arms in this regard,’ Lucy’s gaze said.

‘I’m only going to forgive you just this once,’ Adam’s eyes returned.

Jurot was not used to this feeling. ‘This is how it feels to be a sheep surrounded by wolves?’

The thunder rumbled lightly in the distance as Adam gently soothed his children to nap, while the sky darkened from the clouds, though evening had yet to blanket the Iyr. He gently pat his youngest son’s back, who rested his head against his father’s shoulder, sucking along his dummy.

Jirot and Jarot were sprawled in front of their greatfather, who was trapped within the minefield of children, with the triplets snoozing behind him and beside him. However, he was also an Iyrman, so he quietly, slowly, began to shift away from the children. It was awkward with his metal leg, but he placed it down first, and once he felt confident, hoisted the rest of his body away from the children, landing with his flesh leg, before slowly peeling his metal leg off the ground, and he silently crept away.

Adam gently lay his youngest son down, before creeping away to one side, allowing Mulrot to silently knit beside the children. Gurot and Murot slept beside her, the pair within their own blankets, near identical, save for a thread which denoted their names.

“I forget how big the Rot family is,” Adam whispered, sipping his juice. “I come here once a week and, yeah, I shmooze with everyone, but... everyone has their own lives, families, stories.”

“Those stories are ours to share,” Jarot said. “They are my stories, they are Jurot’s stories, they are your stories, and those stories are your children’s stories too.”

“I’m not sure if they’re my stories, but I’m happy that they can be my children’s stories.”

Jarot grunted. As much as he didn’t want Adam to pull away from them, he was fine with Adam at least compromising that the children get to have their stories. “No,” the old man began, feeling the discomfort within his heart, “they are your stories too.”

Jurot nodded. “You are my brother Adam.”

“I’ll accept everyone’s stories but yours, old man.”

“You will not accept my stories? I am your grandfather, brat!” Jarot snapped, gritting his teeth, his lips forming a wild grin.

“Whose grandfather are you?” Adam narrowed his eyes.

“Will you treat me so when I am so close to death?”

“Close to death? Who gave you permission to die, old man?”

“Baktu demands it of all of us.”

“What will I tell my children?”

Jarot grinned wide, though the crack in his smile was obvious to Jurot.

“You haven’t even met Jurot’s children yet!”

“You are right. I do not plan to die soon, I must spend more time spoiling my greatchildren!”

“That’s right.”

Jurot remained silent. He had thought about the death of the Rot family, and even his own death, but it took a moment for him to realise. ‘Grandfather will die too...’

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