‘Damn it, you old geezer!’

Lanarot held the axe in her lap, the blade wrapped within a thick hide of a beast the old man had killed. The axe was a blade that was not like most axes, it's blade a deep red, like that of blood. Bloodsteel, as the Iyrmen had dubbed it, a metal that was found rarely in the Iyr, and was rarer outside of its borders. The Sen family’s weapon, the Bloodblade, was made of such a steel, though it had been magically enchanted. This axe, Heartkiller, was not like most axes made of bloodsteel either, for it was crafted so masterfully, it was considered a mundane blade almost equal to that of a Basic blade.

"That axe, isn't it too much?" Adam complained, though he did so quietly, barely above a whisper as he glared at the old man.

"Too much for my granddaughter?" The old Jarot grinned wildly, for though his axe was not considered magical, in the eyes of the Iyr, it was equal to the shield Adam had passed along. Why? It was because though Jarot had used the shield for a while, it was this blade he had used more often. The shield had protected the old man during his journey, but it was that axe which had claimed the lives of many nobles.

"What about Gurot and Murot? You should spoil them too, so if you give too much to Lanababy, Gubaby and Mubaby will be so sad."

Jarot noted the annoyance within Adam's voice, causing him to smirk even wider at the half elf. "Do you think I have but one or two axes which have claimed the lives of Aldishmen?"

"Not just any Aldishmen, but nobles," Adam retorted.

"Axes which have killed nobles?" Jarot thought, leaning back, taking the thought far more seriously than anyone expected. "I own at least one axe for each nickname I possess."

'Damn, how many axes does this old man have?' Adam reached up to rub his brow gently, glancing aside. 'Should I use multiple weapons too? I could pass them on to my...' Adam stopped the thought there, not wanting to even imagine his children growing up.

"You do not have to envy me, since you will grow even more powerful," Jarot said, his lips twitching slightly. "One day?"

"I'm going to give them all weapons that are equally as good."

"You should give weapons which are greater."

"I can't do that, I can't go around killing nobles."

"Why not?" Jarot asked, sitting up a little, almost offended by the words.

"Jirot, your babo is trying to bully your mummy," Adam called, while Jirot's head snapped towards them, her eyes narrowing towards her babo.

"Does this old man bully your mother?" Jarot asked.

Jirot narrowed her eyes towards her father. "Babo does not bully mummy?"

"He said I should kill nobles, even though I am married to mummy?" Adam stated.

Jirot's eyes fell back onto her babo, the girl raising her brows.

“Your babo misspoke because he is so old,” the old one armed Iyrman said, reaching out a hand, the girl rushing over to him to hold onto his hand, scarred and rough.

“It is okay, babo. You are so old now.” Jirot brushed the old man’s hand tenderly with her free hand, while little Jarot also stumbled over, climbing up to his babo, sitting beside him, his large amber eyes staring at the old man curiously.

The older, one armed Jarot, reached down to ruffle his greatson’s hair, brushing his thumb through those thick, curly locks, before pinning the boy’s head to his chest, allowing little Jarot to climb onto his lap. “Yes. This babo of yours is so old, so you must stay with him to take care of him.”

“I take care of you, babo,” Jirot assured, patting his thigh gently.

“Will you take care of me too?” An Iyrman called. He was old, tall and lean. His head was smoothly, freshly shaved that morning, his thick moustache white as snow, hiding his lips, while his long beard fell down to his chest, tapering towards his abdomen. An aura of gentleness emanated from him. Upon his back, he wore a spear, the tip wrapped in leather.

“Babo!” Jirot called, smiling wide, giggling in delight as the old man appeared.

The old Iyrman reached down to brush Jirot’s hair gently, before his eyes fell down to the other tiny girl, who looked up at him expectantly. “I was told it was your birthday?”

“Hello, dado,” Lanarot said bashfully, while she bowed her head as the old man ruffled her hair.

“Are you enjoying your gifts?”

“Yes,” the small girl replied, rubbing the hide gently, before trying to undo the string to reveal the axe, only to be stopped by Adam tickling her hand.

“Smelly girl, you need to leave it in there. Tell your dado the name of the weapon, he’ll know.”

“It is Hutkiller.”

“Heartkiller,” Adam stated, sounding it out slowly for his little sister.

“Hahtkiller?” Lanarot smiled innocently.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“You handed over Heartkiller?” The old man asked, settling himself beside Jarot.

“What else would I hand to my granddaughter?”

“Do not forget, Lanarot, you are also of our family,” the elderly bald man said.

Adam was fairly certain he was Malfev, considering the bottom half of a blue semi circle was flanked by green hollowed squares on either side, and his bald head and thick beard. He had met the old man a few times, the pair sharing few words. Mulrot was the Family Elder of the Rot family, but she was Malfev’s younger sister, who held the position of the Family Elder of the Fev family.

“I am Lanaroh!” Lanarot declared, sitting up taller.

“That is right!” Jarot grinned like a beast towards Malfev, unable to resist showing off his granddaughter.

‘When did your eyes become so sharp?’ Malfev thought, who let out a low sigh. It was already difficult enough to deal with Jarot when he had retired, but seeing the warning his sister had stated was true, it caused a tired sigh to run through his bones. “You cannot forget me, yes?”

“I will not, dado.” Lanarot smiled, staring at the old man.

“I will give my gift then,” Malfev said, reaching into his tunic, grasping a small, silver bracelet, with tiny rubies within, the bracelet easily worth a hundred gold, if not more. “Do you remember how I came to obtain this bracelet?”

“Yes!”

“How did I do it?”

“I do not remember,” the girl replied earnestly, causing a small symphony of chuckles.

“It was my prize when I defeated the Fire Blossom Knight.”

“Yes!” Lanarot replied, partly remembering the tale. “Fyah Blossom Knight.”

“It is my gift to you,” Malfev said, tying the bracelet against the girl’s sleeve, his fingers as gentle as a breeze, the girl barely able to feel the bracelet even as he let go.

“Thank you, dado!” Lanarot said, upon seeing her brother’s expectant gaze, who beamed with pride at how polite she was.

Malfev brushed the girl’s hair tenderly once more with a finger. “Do you also forget your nana’s stories?”

Lanarot pouted, blushing slightly. “I do not.”

“Then you must tell us one of the stories.”

“I am so tired, dado, so tired.” The girl let out an exasperated sigh, glancing to the side, peeking back at the old man.

“Then you must do so when you are less tired, yes?”

“Yes!”

The old man spotted a few of the gazes nearby. “It seems you have more gifts to receive?”

“More gifts?”

Dunes cleared his throat lightly from the side. “Hello, little Lanarot.”

“Hello Manager Dunes!” the girl’s eyes beamed up towards the Aswadian.

“Would you like for me to cast some spells for you?” Dunes asked.

The girl gasped. “Yes! I want it!”

“I want it too!” Jirot said, climbing down from her greatfather, followed by her twin brother. “Babo, I going now, okay?”

The old Jarot wanted to complain, but he let out a soft snort. “You may go, since you wish to go.”

“I will come back, and we can play, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Babo…” Jirot looked to Malfev and raised her finger. “No more running up wall, okay?”

“I cannot?” Malfev asked.

“You cannot! It is not fair!”

“I see.” Malfev threw a look to the old Jarot, hiding their smiles. “Since you have spoken, I will not run up the walls.”

“Daddy!” Jirot pointed towards Adam. “You cannot work, okay?”

“I already said I wasn’t working today, smelly girl!” Adam reached out to grab his daughter, but she squealed and fled, little Jarot giggling too as he escaped.

Konarot sauntered over, leading her younger sister and brother, before they settled themselves with Malfev and Jarot.

“Hello, babo.”

“Hello, Konarot.” Malfev brushed the top of her head, doing the same for each of the triplets.

Konarot smiled, shuffling closer to the old man who smelled so much like her greatmother. The triplets stayed with their father and their babos, while Lanarot, Jirot, and Jarot each went with Dunes and the demons for him to give his gifts.

“Do you know who I pray to?” Dunes asked.

“Wahtu!” Lanarot replied.

“I know it too!” Jirot stated.

Dunes smiled awkwardly. “That’s right. I pray to Lady Arya, or Wahtu as you call her. Do you know which Order I am from?”

“Black Mountain!” Lanarot replied once more, and Jirot nodded her head, while Jarot stood there, also nodding his head lightly.

“I have gained certain spells,” Dunes said, bowing his head to Sonarot, who bowed her head in return. “I will cast them upon you now.” Dunes chanted the words to his spell, holding his amulet within his hand, before motioning with his hands, and the magic began to swirl within the children. It was after the children gasped with delight, that Dunes felt many of the Iyrmen gaze elsewhere, allowing him to relax.

Lanarot, Jirot, and Jarot each felt the warmth in their body as the magic fell through them. As they were quite young, they were quite literally more than twice as resilient under the effects of the Second Gate Priest spell.

“I also have another spell I wish to show you,” Dunes said, throwing a look to Sonarot to confirm once more. He drew his blade and chanted the words to his spell, before running a finger along the blade, filling it with magical energies. He then held out the hilt of the blade to the girl.

Lanarot took the blade into her hand, with Dunes holding the blade with her hands. She felt the tingling of magic through the blade, causing her to gasp.

“Can you feel it?” Dunes asked.

“I can feel it!”

“This blade was the blade I used when I met your brother,” Dunes said, assisting the girl in swinging the blade gently. “It was gifted to me by my Order, and has helped me for many years. I do not use it any longer, because your brother has gifted me greater blades. This blade is my gift to you.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“I am Roh! I do not use sword.”

“I know. I would like for you to have it, and if you wish to gift it to another, perhaps a Gek, like your uncle’s family, then you may. My story with this blade has ended, and your story with it has begun.”

Lanarot looked up at Dunes for a moment, her eyes curious, judging the Priest, before she smiled. “Okay!”

Lucy frowned, annoyed that he had given such a great gift. ‘Should I gift Great Destroyer?’

Dunes looked down to Jirot and Jarot, who eyed up the blade with great admiration. He sighed lightly, pulling back, allowing Lucy and Mara to assist the girl and the twins.

While the party continued, Mulrot eventually took her place between her brother and husband, holding her greatchildren upon her lap, while Konarot sat upon Malfev’s lap. Jarot only allowed this because he could feed the children from his hands.

“Do you think I cannot beat you?” Jarot growled towards the old man, who had dared to try and take the fruit from his hand to feed his eldest greatdaughter.

“You may beat me, but I will ask brother Marmak to deal with you,” Malfev replied, his voice light.

“Hah? What will he do to me?”

“He can beat you.”

“I will take an arm from him at least.”

“An arm or a leg?” Malfev asked.

Jarot grinned wider, almost like a hyena. “Both!”

“Why are you talking about that sort of thing in front of my adorable kids?” Adam asked, his arms crossed, annoyed he couldn’t hold any of his children, nor feed them.

Malfev reached up to brush his beard, his moustache wrinkling slightly as he smirked beneath his beard. “Do you wish to talk of the Orders?”

“What about them?” Adam asked, his eyes glued to the old man.

Malfev held his greatniece’s hand within his own, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand. “It will be a turbulent time for them now.”

“They have lived peacefully for so long, now they can earn their keep,” Jarot stated, still grinning wide, already feeling the excitement rush through him.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked, glancing between the trio of old Iyrmen, two Family Elders, and the other Mad Dog, and yet each held the expression of Iyrmen, that was to say, excitement to kill.