[1016] – Y05.016 – Responsibilities I

[1016] – Y05.016 – Responsibilities I

“I hear you have returned with good news,” Elder Zijin said, pushing forward the dried dough snacks, the dried fruit, and poured her a cup of water.

Jaygak helped herself to one of the dried dough snacks, feeling the light crunch against her molars, before chewing the dried fruit, wincing slightly at the harsh flavour. She sipped the water to temper the flavour, the young woman, reaching out for another dough snack. Finally, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes trailing across the courtyard, taking in the sight of the greenery within, some of the flowers forced to bloom, while others were still in the early weeks of growing.

“I am... almost a Master,” Jaygak said, keeping her eyes glued to the small tree in the corner. The leaves were already in full bloom, as one might have expected.

“Congratulations.”

Jaygak remained silent for a long moment, staring at the leaves. She sipped her water, still tasting the sourness of the dried fruit. “I did not expect to reach this height so young. I am twenty three, the same as Jurot, Kitool... Adam. He bought me a new sword for my birthday, and a new staff for Kitool.” Jaygak smiled slightly, patting the blade at her side, finally catching the Elder’s eyes. Adam had forced her to wield Larot’s sword to wet it for him, he had still gifted her a blade for her birthday while they travelled in the first month of dawnval.

Zijin slowly nodded, sipping his drink, keeping his eyes upon hers. He could see how resolute her gaze was, though her body remained tense.

“I did it, Elder. I am Steel. The goal I strived for, which I would have reached in my thirties, with some luck, I have already completed, a decade too soon.” Jaygak reached up to her chin, scratching the itch, feeling the tingling up against her skull, wanting to scratch that itch too, but she reached down to hold the cup again. Her eyes darted around the desk, looking at nothing in particular.

“You did well.”

“I...” Jaygak bit her lower lip for a moment as she collected her thoughts. “I can feel it, Elder. Soon, I can reach the heights of a Master. I don’t know how I can feel it, but deep within me, I can feel it. Jurot, Kitool, they can feel it too. I’m sure Adam understands it, somehow.”

Zijin poured more water for the pair of them, hearing the gentle tapping as the young woman tapped the table, her thoughts overwhelming her.

“Second place? In my first tournament, I was... but a footnote, as Veisswing would say. A footnote. My second tournament, I placed second. I beat her, the King’s Sword’s daughter. The future King’s Sword lost to me, Elder. To me. Jaygak.” Jaygak’s lips formed a wide grin, unable to contain the sheer joy which rocked through her. “I may have lost to Adam, I may have lost to the Princess, but I can say that I defeated the future King’s Sword.”

Zijin reached down for a pair of small cups, before lifting the gourd up, grabbing the cork which sealed the it shut, his body flashing red as he undid the sealed cork. The wine trickled into the cups slowly, the liquid a deep red, with darker sheen. He raised the cup, and Jaygak did the same, before the pair sipped. The spice of the wine struck along through his tongue.

Jaygak smiled, feeling the gentle warmth against her throat, which was definitely burning the Elder, to the point of causing his eyes to tear up. “You have access to such wine?”

“This wine, I asked for it... almost twenty years ago, when I first became an Elder.” Zijin coughed to the side wincing as the tears threatened to pour down his eyes.

“You should have kept it shut.”

“No,” Zijin said. “Today is the day.”

Jaygak furrowed her brows slightly, but she smiled, raising her cup again, and the Elder poured her another shot, doing the same for himself. She sipped it, feeling the spice tickle her throat. The silence followed for a long moment. The Elder coughed once more, wiping a tear from the side of his eye.

“I’ve done all I’ve ever wished to do, and more. This is as high as I go.”

Zijin kept her gaze. Though he know it was futile, he had to speak up. “You could do so much more.”

“No. I can’t. I’ll give myself to the Iyr. Whatever the Iyr needs of me, if it is to become a Master, to become a Grandmaster, even if it is to marry someone without horns. Whatever the Iyr needs of me.”

“Even to marry someone without horns?” Zijin replied in shock, though his lips formed a wide smile, his eyes slightly narrowed, tempered by sadness.

Zijin watched her leave, noting her form disappear as she stepped through an archway. He reached up to wipe the tears which forced their way through. Flashes of the little girl’s face appeared, the same girl who would hide her father’s boots, and could only be controlled by her aunt. It was after her aunt’s death the young girl stopped hiding her father’s boots, or her grandaunt’s sword. He remembered when the Mad Dog had left in such a fury. The Mad Dog’s rage had almost taken his life, and had forged a great number of scars upon his body, but it was still the tears of a little girl which hurt him most.

Another little girl squealed with delight, before her father disappeared.

“Peekabo!” Adam said, revealing his face to Virot, who squealed again, her toothless grin lighting up the estate.

Jaygak stepped into the estate, her eyes darting across the children, taking in the sight. Raygak sat and read a tale to the children, while most of the youngest children listened. Inakan asked a thousand and one questions to Jurot, and the young Iyrman replied earnestly. Minakan sat by herself in the corner, drawing within her book. Minool, for once, also remained with the rest of the children.

It was this sight that the Iyrmen saw whenever they stepped into the estate, a sight which forged their bodies and hearts into the followers of Baktu. “Kitool, Elder Zijin wishes to speak with you.”

Kitool approached the estate, finding Zijin sitting at his desk, which was still full of paper and books, neatly stacked, but it was the black plaque on the table which caused the young woman to tingle with excitement. “My request has been granted?”

Zijin stared up at Kitool, whose eyes remained glued to the plaque, showing uncharacteristic surprise. ‘If only Jaygak’s dream had changed too.’ “Yes.”

Kitool reached for the plaque, slowly, cautiously, as though the plaque was not made of obsidian, but of dreams.

“Are you certain?” Zijin asked, causing the young woman to stop. “You are skilled. Even now, you could become a Paragon with your own strength, alongside Jurot.”

“I wish to be of service to the Iyr.”

“Would you allow me to suggest something as your Elder?” Zijin asked, and upon the bow of Kitool’s head, he swallowed. “I ask that, after your training, you continue as you have done thus far. Go out, adventure, become a Grandmaster, or a Paragon, if you are able, and return then to give yourself to the Iyr. If you can do so, I will give the recommendations to the Great Elders.”

“What if you are not an Elder when that time comes?” Kitool asked, holding the Elder’s gaze.

Zijin reached for a piece of paper, and began to write, taking his time to write it, making sure his handwriting was decent, unless the memories of his daughter come to plague him. He finished writing the letter, folding it carefully, before sealing it with his Elder’s seal in black wax.

“Why?” Kitool asked, staring down at the letter, a letter which none of the Great Elders could dare to ignore.

Elder Zijin thought for a long moment. He had many excuses, most of which could convince Kitool, who need very little convincing. She had already accepted the task, he was certain of it. “I do not wish to see two stars dim today. Giving yourself to the Iyr is a glory I cannot over praise, but there is so much you can still do.”

Kitool stared down at the letter, which held her wishes, the wishes which would allow her to become like her grandaunt. Five years ago, she could only dream of it, and now, on the cusp of becoming a Master, she could give herself to the Iyr. It was something which would only bring great glory to her family.

Meanwhile, a figure stepped into the shared estate, causing the children to turn his way. He was an older man, with long hair, streaks of white breaking up the red of the dye. A strong jaw, clean shaven, a wide, flat nose, and small eyes. His lean form walked with the grace a butterfly, the silks almost rippling like waves, black as the starless night, golden threads darting along the hem. At his side was a longsword made of a fusion of bone and metal.

“May we speak, Adam?” the old man asked.

“Of course, Chief,” Adam replied, feeling his hairs stand on end upon seeing the gaze within the Great Elder’s eyes.



The Rise of Taygak

ETA 1000 Chapters