Omen: 1, 20

‘Is this a sign?’ Adam thought, having decided to check his Omens that day on a whim. His Omens, which could shift Fate to allow him an opportunity to replace a roll. Life was full of fortune and misfortune, though it was Adam who held a deeper connection than any other with such a system.

“No!” Jirot cried aloud. “No! Daddy, no!”

“It’s going to be okay,” Adam said, realising he probably should have told the girl the previous day, though he hadn’t expected they were going to leave the first thing next morning.

“No! Nana! Daddy is not good!” Jirot declared, motioning to her father with a finger, though it was almost a blade with the way she was ready to use it.

“We must go,” Sonarot said. “We are all going. Babos and nanos too.”

“Babo? Nano?” The girl blinked, the tears already threatening to spill out. “Nana, you coming too?”

“I am.”

“Nana?” Jirot looked to Mirot.

“I am coming too,” Mirot assured, wiping the girl’s face clean with a cloth.

The one armed Jarot ruffled the girl’s hair. “Why are you crying?”

“Fort is not good!” Jirot said, hugging the old man’s good leg, hiding her face within it.

“Are you… afraid?” The old man stretched out his neck, feeling the itch of his rage tickle against the back of it.

“I am not afraid!” The girl continued to hide against her greatfather’s leg, the old man ruffling her hair, while little Jarot was too shy to sob, the boy’s tears gently slipping down his face.

“I should stay with Virot and Xarot,” Vonda said.

“Virot should come too," Jurot said. “I am taking Damrot.”

“It’s a bit awkward, but… I don’t think Virot will be happy with that,” Adam admitted.

“I will watch over her,” Sonarot assured, lifting up the girl, who smiled with such delight at her grandmother.

“Nana!” Virot giggled wildly and clapped her hands. She grabbed her grandmother’s face and kissed her cheek, babbling excitedly.

‘I should watch over you more often,’ Sonarot thought, pinching the girl’s nose before the pair exchanged adoring smiles.

As the Iyrmen prepared the carriages for the children, the Elder, the Family Heads, and the Iyr making the arrangements within minutes of Zijin thinking of the idea, the rest of the Iyrmen gathered together to assist with the children. With all the children who were coming along, at least an Expert from the families came to escort them, including for Adam’s children. However, the half elf didn’t expect so many of the older Iyrmen, from the likes of the Bearded Dragon Rajin, to Bloodblade Shasen, and even Black Shark Baztam.

‘Damn. I guess the Reavers are around the corner, so…’

The carriages began to lead the group out, with Adam holding onto Larot, while Jirot and Jarot remained with Jarot and Gangak. The other children also sat along with their siblings and cousins, who kept them company the entire ride to the Front Iyr.

“The Iyr has big walls, but the business walls are smaller,” Lanarot informed her brother, staring out the window, pointing out to the large walls.

“Yes,” Jurot agreed.

“Stachoos,” Kavgak called out, glancing towards her sister as she pointed out the six statues which guarded the main gate of the Iyr, the gate closing behind them.

“They are,” Jaygak said, holding her sister upon her lap, feeling how heavy she had become, already like a five or six year old, even though she wasn’t even half way through four.

Beside her, Jogak, her father, held Maygak, who was only three and a half. The girl was quiet as always, but she yawned, looking up at her father, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“The river is so big, papa,” Inakan said, noting the way the water sprayed around the rock.

“Yes,” Amokan replied. “We catch the fish often within this river.”

“You can find fish in rivers, and the lakes, and the seas, and the oceans.”

“Do you know the difference between seas and oceans?” Amokan asked.

“Oceans are bigger.”

Amokan smiled, before his eyes darted down towards his youngest brother. “Mokan, do you know the difference between seas and oceans?”

“I can see it,” Mokan said. “Look! Papa! Hills!”

“I see them.” Amokan smiled, wondering if the hills looked as big to his younger brother as they did to a young Amokan. His eyes darted towards the hills, the trees keeping much of them hidden from sight, but he thought back to when he was a boy and took a carriage out of the Main Iyr. The hills of the Iyr seemed almost as boundless as the ocean, but he knew the hills stopped once they reached the ocean. Yet, though he knew more about the hills, they only seemed greater than when he was a child.

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Malfev was glad to see Jirot and Jarot were not quite as upset as they had been when stepping within the carriage. They listened intently to their greatfather’s tales, Jirot answering all the questions her greatfather asked.

“I know it! It was a wyvern!” Jirot grinned wide, revealing her eight canines to her greatfather as she giggled.

“My greatdaughter, you are too smart!” Jarot tickled her cheek with a finger.

“Babo kill so many wyverns…” little Jarot said, his amber eyes staring up with the awe of a child.

“I only killed…” Jarot thought back to his stories. He thought about the fights he had with great names most of the young folk had forgotten, and every so often, he recalled facing a wyvern. ‘I killed so many wyverns.’

Malfev cleared his throat. “I also slew so many wyverns.”

“I know! I know! Babo, you always kill so many!”

“How do you know?” Malfev asked, raising his brows.

“Nano tell me your stories.”

Malfev’s eyes darted to Mulrot, who glanced to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Has my sister told you her tales?”

“I know!” Jirot called, before beginning to ramble about her greatmother’s tales.

Meanwhile, within one carriage, the triplets played dragonchess against their baba, their granduncle Tonagek, while Damrot clutched at Adam’s collar, the boy listening to Adam’s tale.

“Damrot?”

Damrot blinked towards the half elf. “Papo?”

“How can you be so cute?” Adam leaned in to nuzzle the boy’s nose. “Even if you are my son, I don’t think I can forgive it!”

“He is not your son,” Shagek said, the Silver Sword of the Wastes.

Bloodblade Shasen remained silent as his cousin fell into Adam’s trap.

“What? Damrot! How can he say this? Whose son are you if not mine?” Adam peppered the boy’s forehead with plentiful kisses, brushing the boy’s cheek. “Is he going to say you’re Jurot’s son? See! Jurot is always trying to steal you away from me! No one can steal my son from me!” Adam blew a raspberry against the boy’s neck, causing him to squeal and cackle with joy.

Shagek hadn’t gotten used to Adam’s antics as of yet, the Iyrman’s eyes darting to Shasen, who only shook his head. There was a particular saying that came to his mind.

Adam is Adam.

The Front Iyr welcomed the carriages, with the elderly Iyrman noting the large number of children entering from the Main Iyr. The group quickly settled themselves within the empty estates, while a figure approached. He was a silver fox of a man, chiselled jaw, grey hair which fell down his shoulders, the handsome Iyrman wearing a flail at his side. The glint of the blueish silver of mithril at his chest revealed his rank at the Adventurer’s Guild by the time he had retired, and was undoubtedly one of the reasons he had claimed the title of the Front Iyr Elder.

“Good afternoon,” Elder Lykan called, greeting the newcomers to the Front Iyr. He then spoke with Mirot, Sonarot, and Mulrot for a short while, as they were considered to be in charge of the trip to the United Kindom. As the Elder made to leave, he stopped, his eyes falling onto Inakan, who cackled and laughed at her elder brother’s jokes. Then his eyes darted to Adam. “…”

“Elder Lykan?” Adam greeted, reaching out to shake the Front Iyr Elder’s forearm, his eyes full of curiosity. “Can I help you?”

“I wished to greet the children,” Elder Lykan admitted.

“Of course! Everyone, look who it is!”

“Elder Lykan!” Jirot answered, a wide smile upon her lips.

“Yes,” Elder Lykan replied, before smiling towards the girl, reaching out a hand to shake each of the children’s forearms, while they ended up shaking his wrist. Lykan thought to ask about their trip to the business, but he remembered reading the distress the twins showed upon hearing the news. “I was told you read very well.”

“I am so good at reading,” Jirot confirmed, nodding her head, with so much emphasis her hair bounced.

“Will you read to me today?”

The girl gasped, her head darting to her father, the girl’s lips forming a small circle of shock. “I can do it!”

Adam smiled, glancing aside to meet Elder Lykan’s gaze, but the Elder was busy beaming down towards the twins and their younger brother. ‘He… didn’t want to speak with me?’

As evening came to the Iyr, and the children were whisked away to bed, various figures made their way to speak with the Front Iyr Elder. Shikan, Inakan’s father, sat opposite the Iyrman.

“They still have nightmares?” Lykan asked.

“They do,” Shikan replied.

Lykan slowly nodded his head. He let out a sharp breath, calming himself.

“Thank you.” Shikan held Lykan’s gaze.

Lykan bowed his head. As Shikan made his way to leave, Lykan cleared his throat. “You must kill one for me.”

Shikan glanced back towards Lykan. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but slowly bowed his head. The Elder’s words had all but confirmed it was happening soon. Shikan had thought there was something, since there were so many great old warriors who were escorting them on their trip to the business. If it was just a simple trip, they would have sent only Experts, not the likes of Shagek or Baztam. He had thought the Iyr was being sensitive due to the deaths of the children, but after his cousin’s words, he was certain of it.

Tarukan watched from the side as his nephew informed the rest of the adults, making their preparations for the time to come. The older Iyrmen sat to one side, sipping at their tea, eating their fruit.

“Did they just figure it out?” Baztam asked. “How could you raise your children like this?”

“They know what is expected of them,” Tarukan replied, sipping his milk.

“Hah!” Baztam shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “They should have understood.”

“Does it matter?”

“Does it not?”

“We will go to the business. If we are asked to draw our blades, we will draw our blades. Do you need to think so much before you draw your blade?”

“I must think as the Chief’s aide.”

“How did you become an aide?”

“What can I do, when Iromin cannot sharpen his own blade?”

“…”

Baztam cackled at the Iyrman, his eyes full of mischief. He poured himself a small cup of wine, doing the same for the other elderly Iyrman around him.

“Baztam,” Malfev finally called.

“Malfev?”

“Why did you gift such treasures to the triplets?”

“Can I not?” Baztam replied, staring into Malfev’s glare. “Do you think it was an inappropriate gift?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“At this time, it was inappropriate.”

“Why?”

“…”

“Speak the words, Family Elder Malfev,” Baztam teased.

“You had other treasures,” Malfev stated calmly. “You should not have gifted those.”

Baztam sipped his wine, finishing the cup. “Do you know what they call my nephew?”

Malfev remained silent.

“They call him baba. Not dado, baba.” Baztam held Malfev’s gaze. “They do not call the dead Dragon Empress their nana.”

“It was not right.”

“It is within my right to gift them what I please, and it is their right to accept the gift, for they are Iyrmen.”

“Their position is special.”

“Their position is like any other child of the Iyr. They are Iyrmen. That is it. That is where the matter begins. That is where the matter rests.”

Malfev sipped his wine, falling silent. He still didn’t like how Baztam had gifted such troublesome gifts, but what else could he say? After all, Baztam had come along with them, and he would draw his blade.