Pam decided not to ask her husband what he had been up to the last month. She understood within her heart that the Iyr had its secrets, and though she had married the Iyrman, she still preferred to know less about the monster that was the Iyr. She was a baker, the wife of an Iyrman, and the mother of two children, and that was all she needed to know.

“Dada,” Damrot called, his eyes glued to his father. As their eyes met, the boy squealed, clapping his hands excitedly.

“Did you miss me?” Jurot asked, reaching down to brush his boy’s dark hair, noting how thick it had become, feeling the difference even after not seeing the boy for months.

“Dada!” Damrot giggled wildly, his bright smile stretching all the way to his eyes.

“Monarot has begun to eat from a spoon,” Pam informed, the girl sucking away at her dummy, her eyes glued to her mother. “She likes bananas, salya, the most.”

“She is eating well,” Jurot said, noting how chubby his youngest daughter had become. She had grown so much during the one month, which was much longer for him, and almost an instant for the girl. Her hair slightly longer and thicker, her eyes clearer. “You are growing well, Monarot. I will whittle you another spoon. Eat more.”

Pam smiled slightly, realising how hard her husband was trying, feeling the urge to tease her husband rise. ‘You’re so good at going to fight, but when it comes to spoiling your children…’ “Did you slay a few dragons while you were gone?”

The shadow of a smile encroached upon Jurot’s face, causing Pam’s smile to drop.

‘You were only gone a month!’

“Kako…” Konarot called, pouting up at her aunt, strands of her silver hair slipping down the sides of her face.

“What’s wrong?” Jaygak asked.

“Your leg is hurt?” Konarot placed a hand on her aunt’s, her lower lip quivering.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It was hurt during the journey.”

“Why?”

“Bad luck.”

“Why?”

Jaygak smiled. “Sometimes bad luck strikes us.”

“Bad luck strike Jarot and Larot?” Konarot asked, her silver eyes not quite full of the childish innocence she should posses.

‘You really are your sister’s sister!’ Jaygak smiled sadly, before reaching down to brush her hair. “Yes.”

Konarot blinked. “I do not like bad luck.”

“I do not like it either.” Jaygak tucked the strands of silver behind her ear, rubbing the girl’s nose with her thumb. She rubbed along the scar across the girl’s eye, while the girl gave in to her aunt’s rough hand. “Did you like the ring your father gifted you?”

“Yes.” Konarot smiled wide, revealing the gem ring on her necklace, which was matched by a second ring of silver Jaygak had gifted.

“I thought about gifting you a sword, but you’re a Rot, so you should use a shield and axe…” Jaygak pulled the girl to her chest. “Should I steal you away from your father? You can be a Gak, and you can use a sword and shield, just like your baba.”

“Baba?”

“What do you think?” Jaygak whispered, before she felt a hand against her shoulder.

“Stop troubling her,” Jogak growled.

“Troubling my Konarot? Konarot, am I troubling you?” Jaygak asked, smirking down at her niece.

“Kako! You are bullying my kaka?” Jirot asked, peeking from the side, holding up the bread bun for her brother, who refused the first bite.

“I’m not!”

Jirot raised her brow incredulously. “You are not?”

“Konarot…” Jaygak pleaded.

Konarot reached up to pat Jaygak’s head. “It is okay, kako. You can trouble me, since you are so lovely.”

“I’m just troubling you a little bit?”

“A little bit,” Konarot assured, the pair embracing tight, her aunt brushing her hair so gently. The girl could feel the coolness of joy fill her, even though her aunt was so much warmer than the other Iyrmen around, since she was a Gak.

Jogak’s eyes fell upon his daughter’s leg, before he glanced aside towards his wife. He stifled a sigh, swallowing his disappointment. Her dream of becoming a Master had become far more difficult, and she was not quite as talented as Tonagek, who had not stopped adventuring because of a limp, but because of a greater wound within his heart.

‘Bad luck strikes the Gak family again.’

Adam sat beside his wife, his pinky finger hooked within hers. He leaned back in his seat, holding his youngest son within his lap, the chubby boy staring up at his father, sucking against his dummy silently. Adam peeked down to see the boy looking up at him, causing Xarot to stop sucking for a moment, the boy smiling so gleefully.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Are you happy daddy’s back?” Adam asked, leaning in to plant a firm kiss against his forehead. “What a silly daddy, leaving you all alone. I bet you started crawling to punish me, didn’t you?”

“He did not wish to bully you,” Vonda teased.

“Is that right? You didn’t want to bully daddy?” Adam brought his hand up to his son’s cheek, gently squeezing them. The boy giggled, almost dropping his dummy, though his father pushed it back within his mouth with a finger. “My kids, they’re the best at bullying.”

“What of Katool?”

“She’s really good too.”

“Kavgak?”

“When does our Kavgak bully me?” Adam replied, furrowing his brows towards his wife.

“Inakan?”

Adam frowned. His eyes darted to the tiny girl, who revealed the banana to her father, before biting into it. She was smaller and thinner than the younger children, stemming from her early birth. She adjusted her glasses, stylised as though she would grow up to become a dragon rider.

“Even if she’s vicious, I can handle it, since our cousin is so adorable.”

“So adorable,” Vonda agreed, smiling slightly.

Once they were done with their meals, the Rot children said their goodbyes to the others, before making their way to one side, towards a collection of buildings, most of which were assigned to the artists of the Iyr. An older man waited for them within the small garden, placing the weights at each corner of the paper. He paused for a moment, his eyes dancing along the large number of Iyrmen, and the three who had married into the Iyr. Without complaints, he sketched the entire family, from the older Jarot to the younger Jarot.

“Now we have a picture together!” the older Jarot exclaimed, pulling the twins closer to his chest, planting firm kisses on their foreheads. “The Iyr, could they deny it?”

The older artist reached to a pile of scroll cases, approaching the group as they prepared to leave. He dropped to a knee, holding out a scroll case to the triplets, the twins, and finally the hornless red skinned baby, who stared at the world as though already tired of it.

“Enjoy your day,” the old man whispered, his voice gruff, low, like sand against stone.

‘I forgot he could talk,’ Adam thought.

“Thank you!” Jirot almost exclaimed towards the old man, causing her siblings to thank the old man.

“Where is mine, mother?” Lanarot whispered.

“I will ask him to sketch you something,” Sonarot promised.

“He forget me?”

“No. He gave them to your nieces and nephews because… he was sad.”

Lanarot pouted. “Okay… I am sad too!”

“I know, but you have given them so many gifts, and he has not.” Sonarot brushed a hand through her hair once more, before they walked the long path, passing the large walls, where a pair of Iyrmen waved towards them, continuing along towards the extended family estate.

The extended family estates were formed of superblocks, the same as the shared family estates. Four tall walls, three stories tall, an archway in the middle of each of the walls upon the ground floor. They were full of life, those of the elderly, those of the young, and those in between.

As the group stepped within, they were swarmed by the children of the Rot family, the various children of their cousins. Adam watched as his children played alongside their aunts and uncles, each around their same age, as their greatmother, Mulrot, spoiled them with her affection, wrapping them in scarves she had procured for them.

“Is granduncle not back yet?” Adam asked the Family Elder.

“He will return once he is a Grandmaster,” Zirot replied, the old woman also missing her husband, and the stupid jokes he made. “How was your outing?”

“It was okay.”

“Are you stronger?”

Adam inhaled deeply. He glanced aside to his grandaunt, the one who had been forced to take the role when Mulrot had stepped down in the previous year. “A little.”

Zirot reached out a hand, placing it upon Adam’s, brushing her thumb along his knuckles. She wasn’t sure what to say to him, with even Mulrot, who had started her relationship awkwardly with the half elf, was better at speaking with him.

“If granduncle becomes a Grandmaster, will he be able to beat the old geezer?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Then he should at least aim for Paragon.”

Zirot smiled wide, for if he wasn’t the grandson of Jarot, he was surely the grandson of her husband. “I will tell him.”

“No, no. He shouldn’t bother himself too much, we can always ask the Bearded Dragon,” Adam said, jaw tightening as he refrained from cracking a smile.

“You should have mentioned Shaool.”

“Oh, right,” Adam replied, thinking of the bald woman, the images in his mind flashing of all the blood. “That makes more sense.”

“Babo!” Jirot squealed as an older man appeared, bald, with a thick beard that was cut horizontally at his collarbone.

“My Jirot, what are you doing here today?” Malfev asked, brushing along his moustache, curling it up at the side, as though he hadn’t expected to see the child that day. “Konarot? Kirot? Karot? You are here too?”

“Babo!” Jirot groaned, before giggling wildly and charging him, little Jarot following after her.

The older Jarot glared at the Family Elder of the Fev family, but he was trapped beneath the triplets, who cuddled up to him, wanting to nap in the warm noon sky. The triplets peeked up towards the old man, and for a moment, they stirred to get up, but they heard their greatfather huff quietly, glancing away, not wanting to see his triplets betray him, and Konarot, being her sister’s sister, paused in thought.

However, she decided not to tease her babo, so instead held out a hand and beckoned the old man towards them.

Meanwhile, as the extended Rot family filled with more familiar faces, there was one which had been notably missing that day.

“I am watching Duteous fight,” Tokan said, his voice low. He could feel the sweat drip down the side of his cheek.

“Mnn,” Gorot agreed, watching the fight between Duteous and the creature made of shadow and blood, that which would give Grandmasters trouble.

Duteous was no Grandmaster.

“Is that why you came despite their fifth birthdays?”

“Will our relationship change if they call me baba or granduncle?”

“Granduncle? They call your wife grandmother, they should call you grandfather too.”

“My wife dotes upon them.”

“You dote upon them in your own way.”

“Soon, I will earn such a right.”

“Soon?” Tokan asked, before his eyes narrowed. ‘Ah.’ “Soon you may.”

Once Duteous Dogek finished slaying the creature, which would have wreaked havoc upon any other land, he held his blade against the fire, the leftover shadow and blood burning to a crisp. He saw his reflection against the blade, Quiet Rain. Those eyes of his, no longer cold and distant, but the eyes of a stranger, filled with the passion of an Iyrman’s rage.

‘Duteous,’ the Chief had called the old man within the last week. ‘The Order of High Garden will come within the first weeks of dawnval. They will demand justice.’

‘Justice?’

‘Justice for their Vice Commander and his apprentice.’

‘They… will demand it?’

‘Their Grand Commander will come,’ the Chief warned, leaving the words unspoken.

Duteous understood what was being asked of him. The Grand Commander was one of a handful of Paragons in the Aldish lands, not like the Sky Commander he had brutalised the previous year. He was the Grand Commander of one of the most prestigious Orders, one that had merged with two others to form an Order that surpassed any other within the lands.

An Order which would find its home at the Iyr’s doorstep.

Yet, he dared to step forward to demand justice?

Dogek understood what the Chief was asking. Adam was strong, there was no doubt about that, but could he face the Grand Commander?

“Duteous,” Tokan called, stretching out his neck, ready to fight any other creatures of blood and shadow alongside Gorot. “We must continue.”

‘Okay,’ Duteous had replied.