Omen: 15, 20

The fire flickered as Nirot spoke the tale. She started from the fight, when Adam had fallen, and spoke of what had occurred. Adam listened intently, trying to understand what the old man was. Someone with the ability to take him out in a single blow wasn’t surprising to him, even Adam could knock himself out in a single blow if they were to fight, but…

To take out pretty much their entire party within seconds? That level of strength was something only creatures like Dragons possessed, and they had to be quite powerful. Even Entalia would have been heavily wounded from their assault, so to think that this old man could just shrug them off…

Adam sighed. That wasn’t the most important thing. His eyes fell to Fred, who had fought with them, and had dropped almost instantly. The young man had finally chosen to fight, and Adam had gifted him a sword which would have assisted him quite well.

‘Jonn didn’t do too bad either,’ Adam thought, looking to the other Half Elf. The man, though a no good liar, at least regained some respect from Adam. ‘I guess I can’t be too mad at you any more…’

Adam tapped the bowl with his finger. His eyes flashed between both Kitool and Jurot, who had managed to will themselves up to fight the old monster, only for them to watch as Lucy died. ‘Damn.’ He wasn’t sure what to say, feeling his throat close for a moment, before his eyes fell to Lucy.

‘How could…’ Adam’s thoughts stopped, as he understood just how they had met the old man. ‘It’s definitely my fault. This entire year, I’ve been tempting Mistress Fate, and now…’

The hair at the back of his neck began to prickle, and he thought about what he had learnt. ‘I can’t be so cocky any more…’

The group finished their baths, courtesy of Adam’s spell, before they continued on. No one decided to admonish Adam for the spell, not after what had happened the day before.

“Alright,” Adam said, turning to face the entire group. “We need to get to the forest safe and sound. We’re going to speed up a little just to put some distance between us and that old guy. Instead of heading to Ever Green, we’re going to continue along the road, and we’ll even pass the town and stay outside if we have to.”

“Moving so quickly is dangerous,” Okvar said. “Are you certain?”

“I…” Adam decided against tempting Fate. “Let’s say we meet a Champion, a Champion of Order, perhaps…” Adam shared a look with Jurot. “Let’s say we meet the Champion, can we take him on, all of us?”

“Yes,” five Iyrmen replied.

Adam blinked, wondering how they could be so sure, but if Iyrmen were in agreement, then he decided to take it as fact. “Then we should be alright.”

“Will we come across the Champion of Order?” Jurot asked.

“More than likely,” Adam said. “If the Champion does appear, we’ll deal with him. How strong is a Champion?”

“At least a Paragon,” Jurot said. “There are few Champions who are a tier above.”

“What’s above a Paragon?”

“Idol.”

“Idol?” Adam asked, thinking back to what Crowseer said. “Are the Great Elders Paragons?”

“Most are, probably,” Jurot confirmed. He was unsure of Ashmir, but he was certain the other Great Elders were.

‘Probably?’ Adam thought. He wondered how many times Jurot had replied so uncertainly. “Could the Great Elders face an Idol?”

“Yes, though they would most likely lose,” Jurot said. “There are some ways to defeat an Idol, but the definition of an Idol is broad.”

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“So that man was an Idol?”

“Yes.”

Adam sighed. “Alright, well, let’s get ready to face the Champion of Order, I guess. Let’s pray they aren’t an Idol.”

They continued along their way, though Adam thought about what Jurot had told him. ‘Does that mean the old man is stronger than a Champion? The what the hell do the Gods send after someone like that?’

Omen: 3, 12

They were still within the hills when they could see it, far in the distance, a figure. Heavily armoured, sitting down against a tree, greatsword laying beside them.

Fred squinted his eyes. ‘Is that a Champion?’

Adam and Jurot glanced between one another, and the group cautiously approached the figure, only to speed along once they realised what it was. Vonda dropped down before the figure, placing her hand against the heavily armoured, and heavily wounded, Guardian of an Order, rather than a Champion of Order.

The woman winced as she awoke, feeling the healing magics fill her. She glanced up towards the group, her vision blurred. “Hello?”

“Hello,” Vonda replied. “Are you alright?”

The woman squinted up at Vonda, confused, before reaching up to grab her scarf. Vonda pulled back, while Adam grabbed the woman’s wrist.

“Hello there,” Adam said. “How are you?”

The woman glanced around, confused at first, before she sat up, feeling the pain running all through her. “Where am I?”

“A little ways away from Ever Green,” Adam replied, letting her wrist go. “Are you okay?”

“Were you attacked by a gryphon?” Jurot asked.

“Yes,” she replied, as the memories rushed back into her mind. “How did you know?”

Jurot’s eyes remained glued on the dead gryphon no more than a hundred steps away from them.

“A lucky guess,” Adam said, smiling slightly. “You alright, miss?”

“Sir Martha,” the woman replied. “Sir Martha Dawnfield.” She removed her helmet, revealing her pale skin, light eyes, and her chestnut hair. From her eye to her cheek were light claw marks, which lightened her face further.

“Sir Vonda Eastlake,” Vonda said, greeting the woman.

Martha managed to stand, leaning against her greatsword. “Thank you for your assistance, Sir Vonda, and to your company too.”

“It is our pleasure,” Vonda replied, shaking the woman’s forearm.

“Were you moving alone?” Adam asked.

“I was,” the woman admitted. “I was making my way to the nearby Order, and came across a gryphon and…” She tilted her head, trying to recall what she had seen.

“And?”

“I do not remember.”

“Oh. Well, we’re going to be passing the Order on our way, so why don’t you join us?”

“I would be most thankful.”

“Adam, son of Fate,” Adam said, eyeing up her symbols. “Which Order are you from?”

“The Order of the Thousand Hunts,” the woman replied.

“Oh,” Adam said. “I think I’ve met someone from that Order.”

The woman glanced between the party. A look of recognition filled her eyes. “You are Fate’s Golden?”

“That’s right,” Adam said, surprised. “You’ve heard of us?” He smiled at first, before it quickly turned into a frown.

“A companion of ours is a member of White’s Ghost.”

“That’s the one,” Adam said, snapping his fingers. “I knew it.”

The woman’s eyes scanned their faces, before looking to Jaygak, noting her Iyrman tattoos, before looking to Lucy. “You have some interesting company.”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, simply. He narrowed his eyes at the woman. “We going to have a problem, Sir Martha?”

“No,” the woman replied. “You have assisted me, and so I will not draw my blade against you because you’re an Elf or hold a Demon in your company.”

“She is a Devilkin,” Jurot said.

Adam kept a straight face, though his heart skipped a beat. ‘What?’

The woman looked to the Iyrman, and bowed her head. If the Iyrman said she was a Devilkin, then that was what she was.

The group continued on, and the next day, they marched into the evening, where they found the Order. It was set atop a hill, with a number of villages surrounding it. The woman excused herself to the Order, which would have accepted her, and perhaps a handful of Adam’s party, but Adam decided against heading into the Order, not wanting to start any trouble, as he expected.

“Jurot,” Adam whispered, in the Iyrman’s tongue, “did you lie?”

Jurot shook his head. He understood instantly what Adam was talking about, and he leaned back, eating a cracker with some cheese. “Devilkin. De means two. Vil means horn. Kin means people.”

“When we met her, you said she wasn’t a Devilkin, she was a…” Adam decided against saying the word, even if they were whispering in the Iyr’s tongue.

“I trusted you to clarify the statement,” Jurot said. “Devilkin are those who look like Jaygak, but also those with two horns. I used the definition to avoid trouble.”

“I thought you were lying,” Adam said.

“We do not lie, but sometimes, we do not tell the whole truth,” Jurot said.

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes,” Jurot said. “If it is to protect the Iyr, then we will only speak half the truth if we must, but we will not lie.”

“Semantics.”

Jurot said no more about the topic. He understood Adam’s point, but he also understood the Iyr’s point.

“Thanks,” Adam said.

Jurot nodded.

It had weighed on Adam’s mind since he had heard it. He wondered if the Iyr had spoken half truths to him. “Will the Iyr speak half truths to me when we make deals?”

“I do not know,” Jurot admitted. “Do you trust the Iyr?”

Adam sighed. “I have to. Well, it’s alright. The Iyr will look after Lanarot, and I don’t really have anything else the Iyr needs to look after, for now…” He thought about the rest of the party, before sighing himself to sleep.