Interlude: Such Terrible News

Interlude: Such Terrible News

The gazes fell upon the Iyrman as he stepped out of the carriage, noting some of the workers still within the estate, though mostly the young children remained. He approached the group, making his way to the two Managers who waited for him.

“You must tell me,” Jurot said simply.

Once Jurot was informed, he remained silent. He could envision the scene within his mind. The Iyrman tensed up several times, beating away the rage which dared to overwhelm him. He could only wonder what the children felt at the time. His own thoughts fell back to when he was a child, and the most danger he had been, held hostage by Balrog the Bane, and the shame which had filled him since. His father and aunt had let them go peacefully in order to protect him, but...

Where had he been when his niece and nephews were in trouble?

“Okay,” the Iyrman said, his voice cold. “Gather the workers.”

“Jurot,” Kamrot called, approaching his grandnephew as he took command of the business. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Jurot replied, his voice holding a slight rasp, informing Kamrot of his true feelings. “Thank you for watching over the business.”

Kamrot rubbed along his freshly shaved head, glancing aside for a moment. “It was my mistake. I should have watched over them, as their babo.”

Jurot shook his head. “It was the mistake of the Order.”

“It is a matter of the family?”

“Yes.”

Kamrot slowly nodded his head. “I will go.”

Jurot closed his eyes. “Adam will decide.”

“I must go,” Kamrot stated. “I will speak with him.”

“Adam will come,” Jurot promised. “Will you remain at the business and watch over it?”

“I will,” Kamrot promised, shaking the young Iyrman’s forearm, before clasping the boy’s hand within his own. “Are they well?”

“Jarot does not eat.”

Kamrot shut his eyes tight, feeling the chill run through him. He contained his rage, the old man having decades of practise in dealing with such emotions. “I will not be able to face Rirot if I cannot slaughter them.”

“Adam is dealing with the matter.”

“Can he?”

“Adam is Adam.”

Kamrot slowly nodded his head, and pulled away, leaving the Iyrman be. He returned back to the wall, his sharp eyes demanding the nearby Iyrmen to keep on guard, though none required such a look.

The businessfolk gathered before the Iyrman, the Iyrman who held the same tattoos as many of the Iyrmen nearby, the blue circle flanked by blue diamonds. The Managers, the Leads, and all the other businessfolk waited for the Iyrman to speak. Bilal stood behind the Aswadians children, Jasmine stood beside her fully clothed companion, and Bael sat to one side, leaning his jaw against his fist.

The air hung heavy within the air. The businessfolk could feel it on the air. It was that kind of feeling, the feeling that someone wanted to cut you down, and it was only a matter of time for them to draw their blade.

“The Iyr will assist in our defences indefinitely.” Jurot closed his eyes, tensing up slightly. Though he could feel the knot in his heart and throat, Adam had made it obvious that he needed to ease their worries. “We, the Executives of the United Kindom, are sorry to have caused such distress to you. We made a mistake, and it will not happen again.”

Dunes could feel the air grow heavier around them. He felt a hand against his, and he squeezed it gently. He took in the sight of Jurot, whose nephews had been killed. Jurot usually stood so tall and proud, carrying an aura of confidence, which delved into a practised arrogance. He once stood like a tiger, but now he was a house cat.

“Our business will close its gates for a short time,” Jurot began. “I will begin the training once more. Lead Jonn will train you once I return to the Iyr.”

The words cut deep as Jonn swallowed. He swore his Oaths to Adam, not his brother, but the half elf’s heart remained heavy with the burden of failure. He, who had meant to protect the children, had allowed them to be killed right beside him.

“Bilal, Siten, thank you for your assistance. I will inform the Enchanter of your contributions.”

Bavin approached Jurot, the young Iyrman, who was almost like Nobby in his stature, and even held the same boyishness, though he was the previous Elder Wrath’s grandson. “May I come?”

“You should remain,” Jurot said.

“I owe Adam...”

“I know.”

Bavin bowed his head lightly, accepting the words, the young Iyrman making his way to Laygak, placing a hand on his shoulder, tapping it gently. Laygak sniffled, wiping his eyes, before they made their way to the estate.

When evening came, Dunes stepped out towards the courtyard to one of the empty estates. He drew his blade and began his nightly routine, swinging his blade. He had waited for Amira to fall asleep, having promised at least the nights to her. He taught, prayed, and trained, but he needed to spend some time with his wife.

As he finished his blade prayer, he turned to the side, taking in the sight of the Iyrman. He bowed his head, and Jurot returned a bow of his head. The pair remained silent for a long while.

“I’m sorry.”

Jurot slowly nodded his head towards the Priest, who had wasted two of the business’ diamonds, but that was not why he was sorry.

“If only I was a little...” Dunes shook his head, his blade suddenly feeling so heavy.

“It is not your fault, Dunes.”

“I... remember when they were born. The rain on my skin. The mud beneath my boots. The chill from the glare.” Dunes swallowed, staring at the past. “I can feel the shame of my thoughts at the time.”

Jurot slowly nodded, noting the gleam that fell down the Aswadian’s cheek. Then, their eyes met. Jurot stared into the Aswadian’s eyes. He bowed his head and joined the Aswadian in his prayers, swinging his axe until the pain distracted him from a touch of his grief.

It was around this time when he finally received word too.

“...” The Princess fell silent as the Prince opposite held up a hand, furrowing his red brows in concentration. It was only upon the blink, which transformed his face from a gentle curiosity to a sudden stupor that she understood her betrothed had received a most terrible message.

“I understand,” the fire giant replied, reaching up to cover his eyes, rubbing his pounding forehead. “Thank you for informing me.”

“What is the matter?” the Princess asked, who was only a foot shorter than her betrothed. Her skin was the colour of the ocean, with small gills around her neck, her fingers slender and webbed. She had long hair, curly, like silver kelp. The woman was adorned in sea silk, with bits of scale armour across her body, though it was the blade that rested at the table that would have caused people to think twice to bother with her.

Morkarai closed his eyes, shaking his head lightly. “I need to send word back to the Iyr once I have collected my thoughts.”

“Did they kill that friend of yours?” Merza asked, smiling slightly. He had long curly hair, adorned in golden scales, with a golden trident within arm’s reach.

“No,” Morkarai replied.

“They let him live?” Merza joked, before feeling a stab against his foot, pulling away his feet to under his chair, crossing his legs as his eyes darted to his sister.

“I must request that you send my blade to the Iyr,” Morkarai eventually said.

The mermen Prince and Princess raised their brows in surprise towards the fire giant Prince.

Just what was it that had happened in the Iyr for him, a member of the Rai family, to entrust their blade to the mermen, and to send it alone to the Iyr?

Morkarai remained silent, lost within his thoughts. News that Adam had died would have troubled him, but not this much. He reached down to his red beard, clasping it within his large, dark hand. He recalled the tiny green fists which would tug upon his beard, their innocent curious eyes mesmerised by his fiery red hair, their babbles of delight as they caused him to wince.

Morkarai closed his eyes. He could think of no words to say to his young friend, whose heart had been torn, like the fire giants of old when they had been exiled from their homeland.

No.

This was much worse.



Sad.