Interlude: Memories

Interlude: Memories

Jurot spent a part of his evening outside, swinging his axe, completing a light set of training. The way his axe glided through the air, it was so different. He needed to get used to how his body had grown in the past few months.

‘Not months,’ Jurot thought, staring at his palm, before clenching his fist. Ever since they had left the Iyr to enter the tournament, his body had gone through an explosive change. They had fought a few beasts, but against the ice trolls, he had managed to realise just how much his body had changed. It wasn’t just that the Iyrman had grown more powerful, for he had reached a particular height gained through experience, but something had been amplified.

‘I have done it,’ Jurot thought, surprised. Some time before becoming a Grandmaster, he would have reached the peak for his natural strength. Some time before becoming a Paragon, he would have reached the peak for his natural toughness. Then, beyond Paragon, with enough luck, with enough slaughter, he would have reached even greater heights, the heights known to great beings, giants, dragons.

Except.

Right now, before even becoming a Master, Jurot could feel it. The ceiling that was the natural peak of strength. His fist shook slightly as he tried to control his great strength, but it continued to shake.

Kitool, too, sat and meditated within her room. She inhaled the crisp air of the north, feeling it fill her lungs, which seemed to be able to hold in slightly more air than previous, before exhaling. Yet, it wasn’t just her physical toughness which had improved, not enough to truly effect her combat abilities, but her day to day life had certainly grown easier. Except, there it was. She could feel it. Not just it, but the world around her. She could feel the chill against her skin, the fibres of the cloth against her skin, and she could even smell the harshness of the North in the air.

She might have even sensed Jaygak in the next room.

‘What have you done, Adam?’ Jaygak thought. She looked down to her hand, seeing the callouses of her skin, many of which she had earned when she was younger. When she had torn through the ice troll, her blade moved with a swiftness she hadn’t expected. Her muscles strained less, her movement did not tire her as much, and her lungs accepted air in so easily, one might have thought she was born in the Rot family.

Except, she still wasn’t quite that nimble.

The girl stared at her hand for a long while, her mind turning back to the time she was a girl.

It was sunny that day.

The sun dared to bear down against the Iyr, bringing with it a heat that one might have thought was unreasonable, even for the sun. Indeed, many of the children complained to Elder Zijin, telling them to speak with the sun so that it would not bully them so much.

“I will do my best to speak with the sun,” Zijin said, understanding it was borderline impossible. Not impossible, for there was a one in a lifetime opportunity that would never repeat itself for the Elder to speak to the sun, but it was not impossible.

“Father!” called the girl, who was slightly older than the others. “Is there a way to defeat the sun?”

“I’m not father, I am the Elder,” Zijin replied, though seeing the fury within his daughter’s eyes, he glanced away.

“I know, I know,” the girl said, holding out a piece of paper. “I have written my request!”

“...” Zijin stared down at the words. “You should work on your handwriting.”

“I do not need for my handwriting to be well for you to take my petition seriously.”

“I will see what I can do,” the Elder replied, responding in a way that was satisfactory enough for the girl to leave. ‘The children must be really annoyed if they are to trouble me like this.’

Children. Trouble.

The words caused Zijin to furrow his brows. He recalled all the children who had come to see him.

‘Hmm?’

The Elder made his rounds, starting with a particular estate. His eyes fell across the quiet girl, her hair cut into a bob, and always so well behaved. Then there was the boy, whose hair had been recently trimmed by his father, the boy sticking to him like glue. Of course, the other boy was probably in the other estate. Then he found... a boy, who was red of skin, with small horns. The boy was so young, so chubby, but even that didn’t give him protection from her.

‘Where is she?’

“Ten!” the girl said, marking down a piece of chalk, before running to the ball to pick it up. “One!” she declared, tossing the ball again.

“She is not causing trouble today?” Zijin asked, standing with his arms crossed behind his back.

“Our Jaygak? Trouble?” Tangak asked, narrowing his eyes at the young Elder. “I should invite brother to come and speak with you.”

“I have so much work to do, please...”

“Our Jaygak, trouble?” Tangak grumbled. “I sometimes like my tea spicy, there is nothing wrong with it!” The Iyrman sipped his tea, wincing out of habit, before realising his tea hadn’t been spiked. ‘Ah, right. Perhaps I do prefer it without spice, but...’

Zijin counted the marks on the floor, while the girl had marked another line. “Ten tens,” Zijin said, causing the girl to snap out of her trance. “How much is ten tens?”

“One hundred!” the girl replied. She was certain of that much, because that’s what the adults always told her.

“Yes...” Zijin stared down at the marks, then glanced aside, to marks which had been marked recently, though not that day. “You like to play with the ball?”

“Yes, I love it!”

“You are normally so lazy, but when it is hot, you are always so full of energy?”

“When it is hot, I am stronger than Jurot,” the girl said, smirking.

“That is because he has not learnt his family’s way, and then, when he dances, he might be stronger?”

“I am not strong, I am not smart.”

“I think you are smart and strong.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“...” Jaygak smirked. “I am so strong and smart.”

“You do not have to worry, Jaygak, for you are an Iyrman.”

“Elder Zijin?”

“Yes?”

“I am so strong, I can beat the Aldish?”

Zijin smiled. “The Iyr will train you so that you will not lose against the Aldish.”

“I do not like them.”

“I know.” Zijin lifted the girl up, carrying her within an arm. “You must promise me, Jaygak.”

“Promise?”

“You must promise me, that no matter what, you must try your best.”

“I will try.”

“Even if it is hard to learn, you must learn.”

“I know, I know! Daddy always tell me I must try, I try all the time, but not when I am tired.”

“You are tired most days. I know it is difficult, but you must try, even when you are tired.”

“I try.”

“I know.” Zijin smiled. “Now, you must promise me something else.”

“Mm?”

“You must promise me that you will stop hiding your father’s boots.”

“Elder Zijin! How can you say? I going to tell dado!”

“Hmmm. Fine. However, you cannot hide them much, because he will be sad.”

“Daddy will be sad?”

“Yes. If you bully him too much, he will be sad.”

“Okay. I will hide mommy’s shoes too.”

Zijin blinked. “I did not mean...”

The girl yawned, resting her head against the Elder’s shoulder, who carried her to his estate. He allowed her to nap, while completing his work. He stared down at the notes for a long moment, before glancing aside to Jaygak. The girl slept, her face full of innocence that her soul did not possess, or perhaps, possessed in too much abundance.

‘Fakrot, please return to handle your father, and Chayrot, please return to handle your niece.’ Zijin smiled, returning back to his notes, preparing to teach the girl how to count to a hundred. ‘I should inform the warehouse to send Jogak a few more pairs of boots.’

After all, the best way for Jaygak to learn how to count to one hundred was to reward her for stealing her father’s boots. It was probably the second best, but should he need to justify himself, he could ask for assistance from the girl.

‘You will help me, will you not, Jaygak?’ Zijin thought for a long moment. ‘I should just use the ball.’

The girl continued to sleep, laying under the harsh sun.

The young woman continued to stare, laying under the nightval moon. The chill of the night seeped into her, but she warded it off with her toughness, and the thick blanket she had bought from the first northern town they had stopped at.

Jaygak sighed, making her way to the Guild’s training area, grabbing Great Moon, before beginning her swings. She took a momentary pause after the hundredth swing. She stared at Great Moon for a long moment, recalling how she had learnt to count to a thousand.

‘I should buy Elder Zijin a gift.’



No wonder she loves Jirot so much.