Omen: 3, 4

Seeing that he was rather unfortunate, Adam decided to take the day off. He played Warriors and Wanderers with the children. Many of their character’s died trying to face against the Hydra, which they had correctly surmised was weak to fire.

“Good,” Taygak said, patting the children’s head. They had fought well, and so she made sure to praise them, as others would do to her.

Adam assisted them in making new characters. “Alright, Saygak, what do you want to play?”

“Mage,” the boy said.

“Again?”

Saygak nodded his head. “I want Fireball.” The boy’s lips twitched into a shy smile.

Adam smiled. “Alright, alright.”

Once he was done with Warriors and Wanderers, Adam wondered what he should do.

‘I should pay him a visit…’

“Have you come to make trouble?” the Iyrman asked. He was strongly built, as Iyrmen were, and he was unarmoured, like most Iyrmen. At his side was an axe. He sat at a table, drinking from a clay bottle.

“I’ve just come to check up on you,” Adam said, taking the Iyrman’s cue to sit opposite him. He placed down his pack on the table.

“What need of you, of this Bovin?” The Iyrman smiled. “I, who once wanted you dead.”

Adam swallowed. “Really?”

“I believed you to be a danger.”

“Well, you’re not Elder Wrath any more, so…”

Bovin bowed his head. “I was denied a good death. Then, he who denied me the good death, joined the Iyr, and his Cousin took my place. Is it not a good story?” Bovin grinned wide.

“It is,” Adam admitted. “I can’t believe it, honestly. I heard Zardon was going to win, but then…”

“I lost a wyvern skull on the bet,” Bovin admitted. “I cannot be too sad, for is that not what the Iyr is? A place of stories?”

“I suppose so.”

Bovin nodded his head. “Now I drink and I eat. I wait for it, Adam. When I can, I will leave, and then I will search for a good death.”

“What is a good death?”

“A good death, is a death which comes,” Bovin said, grinning wide. “Even now, if you were to cut me down, it would be a good death, for it had come.”

“Well, I have no intention of killing you.”

Bovin roared, tossing his clay bottle. “So I must live for another day, to see the dawn of shame once more!” He laughed a long, sad laugh.

“Well, I mean, if you want to look for a good death, why don’t you join my business?” Adam dared to ask. “I’m sure there will come a day I will be in trouble, and then I’ll need to send you to do an impossible task, a suicide mission.”

“What is this business of yours, Nephew of the Rot family?”

“Right now I’m training Nobby, and soon I’ll be looking after his family. Brittany too. I was planning on making an enchanting business, and a business to take young orphans or peasants, and build them up. I want to educate them, and train them into Experts. Eventually, I’ll form a caravan, perhaps, ones which may go to dangerous lands. Might take a few years, but it is what it is.”

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“That would take too long, Adam,” Bovin said. “Too long.”

“Then, should I tell you why I’m really training them?” Adam asked.

Bovin leaned in, nodding his head.

“I want them to become a great force which can deal with a threat. A threat so unimaginably strong, that you couldn’t imagine its danger. A being so powerful, even at its weakest, it could toss Entalia like a doll, and could make…” Adam paused. “No. You wouldn’t believe that part, but you could at least believe that?”

“Entalia is not so weak,” Bovin said. “Do you speak the truth?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“I do not know.”

“I don’t think I have.”

Bovin leaned back, groaning quietly in thought. His lips formed a small smirk. “I cannot, Adam. I was once Elder Wrath. I know too many of the Iyr’s secrets, so I cannot leave. I must remain here until I am needed. Until there is something which will give it to me, my good death.”

Adam reached into his pack, pulling out his tea, as well as his Persevian tea pot. He heated the water inside using his Tricks trick, before he poured the tea for them both. He was beginning to run out.

“Bovin. Can I ask a cheeky question?” Adam asked, smiling slightly.

“Ask, Adam, but I do not promise to reply.” Bovin returned a smirk.

“Are you a Paragon?”

“Yes.”

Adam whistled. “How many are there in the Iyr?”

Bovin stared into Adam’s eyes, his own lips in a playful smile. “Enough to protect the Iyr in its time of need.”

Adam wondered how much that was. “I hear there are Masters to be sent? Does every family need to send a Master?”

“Yes,” Bovin replied, simply. He could at least say that much.

“What about the families who don’t have a Master?”

“Every family as a Master.”

“Every family?”

“Yes.”

Adam whistled again. “How many families are there?” He couldn’t help but dare to ask such questions.

“Less than there are Masters,” Bovin replied. “More than one hundred.”

Adam whistled once more. “That matches the Order of King’s Blades, right?”

“Order of the King,” Bovin corrected.

‘Damn it,’ Adam thought. “I’m so bad with names.”

“There are many Masters all across the land. There is the Order of Three Hundred Blades, in which each are ranked by number, from First Blade to Three Hundredth Blade, and even Three Hundredth Blade is an Expert. Their Order Master is Zeroeth Blade, and she is a Paragon.”

“Damn,” Adam whispered. “That sounds cool.”

“They are the only Order which could match the Order of the King, though their roles are different. The Order of the King exists as the King’s personal guard, and they are also tasked with leading various troops to war. Ten are sent out, each leading a hundred men or so men. The other Orders sometimes send some of their own to assist, usually as mercenaries, as well as those which they must send as tax. If I was to bet between the Iyr and all the Orders, I would bet on the Iyr, and I would not lose my wyvern skull.” Bovin grinned wide.

Adam nodded his head slowly. “What about the Order of Wings?”

“As they do not have an official home, and work through the lands, from Drakkenlen to the Confederacy, and even beyond, they are not taxed, and nor are they expected to participate in wars. It is the respect afforded to them.”

“How strong are they?” Adam asked.

“Sir Robin is a Paragon,” Bovin said. “The others are Grandmasters and Masters, save perhaps Magpie, who is firmly an Expert at least.”

Adam whistled. “I met Sir Magpie, I think. She was the weakest?”

“Yes.”

Adam sipped his tea, thinking about what Bovin had said. “I hope that you are well and remain in good health. The Iyr still needs someone as great as you.”

“How do you know I am great?”

“My brother’s grandfather praised you,” Adam said. “He is the only one to have beaten me so far.”

Bovin roared with laughter, not expecting the joke. “I recall once, many years ago, when we once faced one another, your grandfather and I.”

“Whose my grandfather?” Adam grumbled playfully. “What happened?”

“I beat him, of course,” Bovin said, simply. “It was a good fight. This was before…”

Adam slowly nodded his head, seeing the brief look of anger and anguish on the once Great Elder’s face.

“The Chief tried to keep him back. It was not a denial of right, for they would have sent another Rot. Jarot was… distraught. Sending him would have only hurt him, that is what the Chief said. When…” Elder Wrath remained quiet for a moment. “When we heard that the boy had died, I was not glad, but I wished Jarot his vengeance.”

“I hear the Iyr is quite serious about protecting its children.”

“Yes,” Bovin said. “Our ancestors had been brought to near death. We cannot allow such a thing again.”

Adam slowly nodded his head. “You know, sometimes I think you Iyrmen are weird. I know how funny that sounds coming from me.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Still, I think that sometimes we’re as weird as each other.”

“If a child of the Iyr were to be killed, would you fight for vengeance?” Bovin asked.

“Yeah.”

“Even if it was not a child you knew?”

“If the group would have a queer Half Elf, sure.”

“I can admit when I was wrong, Adam,” Elder Wrath said. “You are queer. Strange. Dangerous. I did not trust you, but I believe your heart to be true.”

Adam smiled. “They have a saying in the shared family estate I live in. Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

“Adam is Adam.”

“Ah,” Bovin said, slowly nodding his head. “The Great Elders have the same saying.”