“What are you doing here?” Adam asked, staring at the old man. There was something off about him, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

Jarot narrowed his eyes slightly, but seeing that the Iyrmen around were on high alert, he made a motion to his wife.

“I heard that there was a birthday in the Rot family so thought to come by,” Strom replied.

“Welcome, Sir Strom,” Mulrot called, walking over to greet him.

“I’m no Sir, young lady,” Strom replied.

“And I am no lady,” Mulrot replied.

Strom smiled. “Of course. The Family Elder, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting the birthday.”

Mulrot had heard this particular Guest of the Iyr was close to Adam in some way, and considering he had lost his prized weapon to Adam, she wasn’t sure if she should refuse his entrance. The other members of the Rot family were unsure of him, but she bowed her head.

“I am certain that Adam wishes to show off his sister to you,” Mulrot said. She had taken a moment to think about how to word the fact that he was welcome here, but a typical welcome wouldn’t have good enough.

Adam smiled. “That’s right.” When he noticed the Iyrmen had turned their attention to him, he straightened up. “I hope you’ve brought a gift.”

“What kind of person invites himself to a birthday without bringing a gift?” Strom asked, understanding that he was barging in. It would have been hard to refuse him, considering his special status within the Iyr. Rumours had passed through the Iyr that he had the ability to travel freely as he pleased within the Iyr, something unheard of within the Iyr.

“What did you…” Adam paused. “Did you lose weight?”

Strom smiled. “A little.”

The old man had certainly lost a little weight but there was something else which was different.

Jarot had noticed it when Strom had appeared, and the Iyrmen who had met Strom had noticed it later.

The domineering presence he once held was gone.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked.

“I’m just an old man now.”

“You were already an old man, weren’t you?” Adam asked.

“I suppose I was.” Strom smiled wider, before taking his seat opposite Adam. “It’s a shame that I had to give it up so soon since I still have some unfinished business.”

“What do you mean by that?” Adam sighed. Strom was always so vague, and it annoyed him to no end. He wondered if Strom would ever reveal his true identity to him, though he had been told it was quite dangerous. ‘I’m still curious though.’

“What I mean is that I have given away my Spark,” Strom said.

Upon hearing his words, Jurot choked on his wine, turning aside to cough and splutter against the floor. He wiped his face with a piece of cloth, before looking up at Strom in uncharacteristic shock.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked, patting Jurot’s back.

“I am fine,” Jurot said, coughing into the cloth.

“Sounds like giving away your Spark is a big deal?”

“One could describe it as such.” Strom smiled coyly.

“Who to?”

“An old friend?”

“How old are we talking?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“They are as old as me.”

Adam whistled. “Damn. That’s pretty old.”

Strom bowed his head. “Give or take a few hundred years, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam replied, wondering how seriously he should take the old man. ‘Then again, I did die twice and I’ve met a few gods too…’ “Speaking of which, how do you look so good in your old age?”

“I bathed in the blood of my enemies.”

The Iyrmen children nearby were keeping a keen eye on the stranger and Adam, both of whom were making waves in the Iyr. Strom was far more famous, however, overshadowing much of Adam’s ridiculousness. However, they nodded their heads approvingly towards his secrets to youth.

‘Why’s he so weird?’ Adam thought. ‘That’s my thing.’ “Stop being such a bad influence on the children.”

“A bad influence?” Strom scoffed. “The Iyr is plenty capable in making them bloodthirsty without my assistance.”

“Well, that’s true, but still…”

“Anyway, I’m just an old man. Without my Spark, I’ll die by the year’s end, and then what can I do?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adam couldn’t help but feel so awkward when he was talking about facing death so easily.

Strom laughed. “You’re far too young to be worrying about me. Sire a few hundred children and then start worrying about old men like me.”

“A hundred children? That’s far too much. How am I meant to look after a hundred children?” Adam asked.

“You are to not look after them alone. You have the Iyr, your future wives and, ah, right, you are queer.” Strom chuckled as he corrected himself. He had forgotten that Adam, though holding some Fey blood, wasn’t interested in men.

Adam rubbed his chin, taking into consideration what the old man had said. “Anyway, where’s this gift of yours?”

Jarot cleared his throat, before placing down a clay pot of wine, taking a seat with the three. He poured some of the wine into a bowl, offering it to Strom. “I did not expect to see you today.”

“Did you expect to see me another day?” Strom joked.

Jarot took a sip from the bowl. “The day is usually used to celebrate with family.”

“Perhaps I’ll become a member of the Rot family too?” Strom said, containing a knowing smile.

Jarot poured some wine into a cup from his wineskin. “Firewine.”

“Firewine?” Strom asked, surprised. “How did you manage to procure some of that?”

“It may not be the firewine you are thinking of,” Jarot said, finding it highly unlikely that he was talking about the Gak family’s wine. There were many wines called firewine within the Iyr, a speciality brewed mostly by the Devilkin.

Strom sipped the firewine, feeling the tingle against his lips. “It is not the firewine I am thinking of, but it is good.” Strom wondered why Jarot had come and interrupted their conversation. Had it been because he didn’t want to put Strom in an awkward spot in case he didn’t have a gift?

“How did you two become so close?” Adam asked, glancing between the pair.

Strom smiled.

“We fought,” Jarot replied, simply.

Adam raised his brows in surprise, shooting his eyes between the pair. “Yes? And?”

Strom remained silent, and Jarot merely bowed his head, sipping some of the firewine, which caused his lips to grow numb.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Are you trying to embarrass us old men?” Strom asked. “We fought and the result is the result.”

“Fine then,” Adam grumbled. “Keep your secrets.”

“Don’t be too upset.” Strom raised his hand, and out from his hand, a giant pile of scales appeared. He held the pile of scales in the air, only to reveal they weren’t a pile of loose scales, but a breastplate made of blue scales on thin leather.

“Is that a breastplate made of scale?” Adam asked.

“Dragon scale,” Jurot said, leaning in to admire the armour.

“Oh,” Adam replied, far more enthusiastic.

“It is not just a typical breastplate made of blue dragon scales,” Strom said. “It is magical.”

“Magical how?”

“Why don’t you identify it with your spell?”

“Why do you always have to make things difficult?” Adam narrowed his eyes at the old man.

“How else will an old man like me have fun other than by teasing children?”

Adam continued to narrow his eyes, before he began to snicker. “Jurot.”

“Yes?”

“Jurot.”

“Yes?”

Adam began to laugh, causing some of the Iyrmen to glance his way. “Jurot! Can you believe it?”

The other three were confused. “Believe what?” Jurot asked.

“He… he’s giving our little sister breastplate armour! A daughter of the Rot family wearing breastplate?”

Jurot reached up to his chin. “It is not terrible.”

“Why does she needs breastplate when she’ll be so much stronger without it?” Adam asked.

“It is not terrible,” Jurot repeated.

“No, what I mean is…” Adam raised his cup. “Why does she need armour when she has the both of us?”

Jurot remained quiet for a long moment. He nodded, raising his cup, before drinking with Adam.

Strom smiled.

The breastplate armour was great, and would be useful to most people, though perhaps to someone like Adam, who could wear plate mail with ease, it was easily overlooked. It was more than a great gift for the girl, especially since it was something which would assist in keeping her safe.

‘I didn’t expect you to be so shy, Adam.’ Strom sipped some of the wine from his bowl. “I will see if you are laughing once you find out what I have given.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Strom smiled wider. “I wonder if I should tell you. It would make you look foolish, but I’d rather not do it in front of your sister on this day.”

“You know, Strom. You ain’t so bad.” Adam chuckled. “You’re much better than the Aldish nobles who can’t take a joke.”

“Even if I was offended, what can I do? I’m so close to death that there is no point in taking any offence.”

“Why did you have to make it so awkward?”

Strom sipped his bowl of alcohol, winking at the young Half Elf. “Speaking of magical weapons, where is Stormdrake?”

“Jaygak has it.”

“The Devilkin?” Strom wondered why it was in her possession. “Did you lose it to her?”

“No, I gave it to her.”

Strom almost choked on the wine he was drinking. “You did what?”