Victory!

Sakruv

XP Gained: +350XP

XP: 4150 -> 4500

There were a large number of youth who had come to paw at Adam’s breastplate, shield and Phantom.

“Now, now,” Adam said. “Form an orderly queue and we can deal with everything.”

The youth stopped, staring at him quizzically, but did as he asked, as he was the great victor.

‘It’s just like home,’ Adam thought, squinting his eyes, trying not to cry.

“Queueing?” an Iyrman whispered.

“I do not know,” another replied. “They say he is queer.”

Adam started to pull off his breastplate, letting the youth pat it, before they picked up his Phantom and shield, filling with a sense of awe as they felt the weapon and armour. Eventually he placed his breastplate down, allowing some of them to pretend to wear it.

“You fought well, Adam,” Jurot said.

“Thanks.”

“I will claim victory next time,” Jurot assured.

“You know, I was thinking,” Adam began, helping a child out of the breastplate. “I should make you a new axe, one like Phantom. Greater enchantment, with a more useful ability to it.”

“I have no need for a new axe.”

“Yeah, you have no need for one, but it’s a little awkward if I’m walking around with this axe when my brother has something worse.”

“Flaming Sanguine suits its purpose. It is a good axe.”

“Then put it in the family vault,” Adam said, simply. “I’m making you a new one?”

“Can I stop you?”

Adam looked back at him, smiling. “Can you?”

Jurot sighed.

“You treat your brother well,” Strom said, appearing seemingly out of the blue, like an Iyrman.

“Well, yeah,” Adam replied, staring up at the old man. “He’s my brother.”

Strom smiled. “I had to kill my brother with my own hands.”

‘First he appears randomly, then he makes things awkward. Is he really not an Iyrman?’ Adam thought. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Strom shook his head. “We hated one another dearly. He always bullied me since I was the fifth son, and he was the fourth son. He took out his feelings of frustration at his inferiority against me. I killed them all, my brothers and sisters, for the throne. I did like two of them, as my second brother was nice, and my fifth sister was someone I was especially close with.”

‘Fucking hell,’ Adam thought. ‘This guy.’ He blinked, unable to respond.

“Oh, that was so long ago,” Strom said, dismissively. “I barely even remember their faces, or the way they sounded. Though, I can’t forget the smell of my mother’s bread. I wonder if I’ll be able to smell it again?” He closed his eyes, smiling.

Adam pat the man’s back. “Yeah, I know that feeling. You can’t think about that sort of thing, though. It’s in the past now. You have a year left, remember? So use that time to have fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Do what you like to do the most in this time. You said you liked fighting, right? Let me introduce you to the one man who beat me, my… Jurot’s grandfather, Jarot.” Adam motioned a hand to the heavily injured Jarot. “Uh, nevermind. My Grandaunt, Otkan, is pretty strong too. I barely managed to beat her, but only because she held back, a lot.”

Strom cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward since he had beaten Jarot the night earlier. ‘How embarrassing for me to talk so highly of myself only to use my hybrid form.’

‘I can’t believe I was taken out first,’ Jarot thought. ‘Normally they go for the easiest one to take out, not the hardest.’

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“What? If they’re too weak for you, you could always fight the Chief,” Adam said, looking to the Chief, who was standing nearby. He was wearing his typical fine clothing, though there were bandages which were hidden beneath them.

Strom cleared his throat again. ‘Does he know? Or is it his keen insight?’ “No, no, perhaps I shouldn’t cause issues in the Iyr.”

‘Why did you not say that last night?’ Iromin thought, thinking about how he was beaten down the previous evening.

“I was planning on meeting an old friend of mine,” Strom said.

“Another old friend?” Adam asked. “When you say old…”

“A relic of a bygone era,” Strom said. “I’m sure she’ll join me in a century or two.”

“Then meet here and have fun, you know? You should be spending time with your friends and family, doing what you love.”

“I’m sick of my family, that’s why I’m here,” Strom said. “Do you know how many of my descendants have run away from home to run havoc on this land?” he sighed. “Friends and doing what I love? Won’t I have more children fighting for succession if I keep doing what I love?”

“You old dog,” Adam said, slapping his back gently. “Then don’t do that, do something else. Drink booze, laugh, cry, fight, whatever.”

“You’re right,” Strom said. “You are wise beyond your years, son of Fate.”

“Of course,” Adam said. “How else can someone like me manage to do what I’ve done in the Iyr and not get, you know.” Adam slid his throat with a thumb.

Strom nodded his head slowly.

Sonarot brought Lanarot to Adam once he was done with the youths.

“Did you see, Lanababy?” Adam asked, bouncing her in his arms.

She babbled up at him and clapped her hands.

“What did you think?”

She babbled some more, tilting her head slightly, before hugging him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Are you hungry?”

She looked up at him and pointed up and away.

“Then let’s get you something to eat,” Adam said, leaving his stuff behind for the children to play with the items.

“Look at him go, leaving his things about,” an Iyrman grumbled.

“What if someone cuts themselves on that axe of his?”

“What if they trip?”

Adam narrowed his eyes at them. “Lanarot, speak loudly and clearly for me to hear. You can’t be so cowardly to talk behind my back in hushed whispers.”

“If you have something to say, Half Elf, come say it to our faces,” an Iyrman said.

“You first,” Adam said, before brushing Lanarot’s hair. “Papa Jurot has never spoken so cowardly, not even when he was surrounded by the Guards of Red Oak, a half dozen of them threatening to take his weapon. Hell, he even threatened them back, and they stepped back.”

“Oobaba?” Lanarot asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “He was pretty manly, wasn’t he?”

The Iyrmen found it awkward to butt in, though he certainly had a point. One Iyrmen smirked at the group of grumbling Iyrmen, before chuckling.

“I should put him in his place,” an older Iyrman said. “Youth these days have no respect for their elders.”

“An old man like you bullying a little boy?” one asked. “Be careful not to shame your family.”

Adam eventually found her something to nibble on, some deep fried balls of dough which had the slightest bit of sugar sprinkled on it.

“Slowly,” Adam said. “No one will steal it from you.”

Lanarot had bit into half of it, chewing it slowly. She held it up to the sky, stretching her arm, before holding it in front of her. As she was still chewing, she tried to take another bite, but Adam held her arm so she didn’t take another bite.

“Swallow first, you silly girl,” Adam said. “You really are my sister, biting off more than you can chew.”

“So you have some sense of self awareness,” Strom said.

Adam almost jumped, wrapping his arms around Lanarot. “If you randomly appear near me like that again, I’ll help you lose your Spark, old man.”

“Hoho,” he chuckled. “I just wanted to speak with the little girl.”

“You know, Strom,” Adam said. “Last night, I noticed a bunch of flashes of lightning, and heard a little bit of thunder.”

“Yes?”

“I noticed that your name is awfully suspicious too,” Adam said. “Strom. So close to Storm, I’m not sure what to say.”

‘I knew I shouldn’t have brought down lightning last night,’ Strom thought. ‘My hybrid form and lightning? I should be embarrassed to bully these little babies.’ “Yes?”

“Just a thought,” Adam said. “What do you want to talk to Lanarot about?”

He looked down at the girl, who looked up at her, mouth full of sugar dough bread. She pulled back, making to hide against Adam’s chest.

“Hello,” he said, tickling her cheek.

Lanarot babbled with her mouth full, and Adam brushed her hair.

“Finish eating, you silly girl.”

“I’ve noticed her father is not about,” Strom said. “Is he dead?”

“Missing, presumed dead,” Adam said.

“What did the Iyrmen say?”

“Aunt believes he’s missing.”

“And you?”

“I don’t believe anyone can spend more than one year away from such a cutie,” Adam said. “If he doesn’t return by the end of the year, then…”

Strom slowly nodded his head. “Your magic. I noticed that you used the Guardian’s ability, and yet… the smell of arcane magic and divine magic clings to you.”

“I’m a… hodge podge of magic.” Adam smiled.

“Hodge podge?”

“I use a little bit of everything, you know?”

“It is in your blood?”

“No,” Adam said. “It’s… Fate.”

“Is it that Fate?” Strom asked, knowingly.

“She’s a harsh, but beautiful mistress.”

“You’ve met her?”

Adam smiled. “Did you forget my story?”

“Ah.”

“Well, I should probably get to work,” Adam said.

“Work?”

“I’m feeling pretty lucky today, so I thought I may as well. I’ll be tired as hell tomorrow, I’ll probably wake up at an awkward time, but it’s whatever.”

“Good night, Adam,” Strom said, watching the boy leave.

Adam stopped.

“Hey, Strom?”

“Yes?”

“Can you… stop your death?”

Strom remained silent for a long moment. “Good night, Adam.”

Adam just nodded, though he wasn’t looking at the old man. Curiosity had gotten the best of him for a moment. “Good night, Storm.” Adam smiled.

Later that evening, Adam used one of his Omens.