“Tell me, Sir Dunnock, how do you think this will go?” Adam asked.
“We will fend off the Iyrmen, and I will take down the Demon’s with my own blade,” Sir Dunnock stated, simply. “They will die, and the matter will be done.”
“I disagree.”
“How do you think it will go?”
“That depends,” Adam admitted. “I have two choices before me, and no, it’s not what you think. We’ll be fighting, but I’m trying to think what I should do. I could summon two Fireballs, but I don’t think that’ll be very fun for my companions.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at the older woman. “Right, right. I know what’ll happen. I’m going to face you, and I’ll fend you off. Jurot here will face one of yours, Kitool will face one of yours, and Jaygak will face one of yours. Jonn is going to support us, he’ll probably help out one of the Iyrmen in some way. Lucy and Mara?”
Adam tilted his head. “Hmmm. No, wait, I think that’s wrong. Lucy and Mara are going to maybe come for you, or maybe help Kitool and Jaygak, and though I won’t kill you, and the Iyrmen won’t kill you, we’ll hold back when we land the final blow, Lucy and Mara? They’ll kill whoever they fight, and Jonn? Jonn’s a Guardian, like you. He’s sworn his oaths, as have you. He’s sworn them to me. He’s sworn them for vengeance.”
‘He’s sworn his oaths to you?’ Sir Dunnock thought.
Adam leaned in slowly, his smile gone, rage simmering on his face. “Jonn is going to kill your boy. You’re going to fight us, and because of the consequences of your actions, at the very least, your heir is going to die. He’s either going to die by Jonn’s hand, or mine, or the Demon’s, or Jurot’s, because you decided to come into my camp, and threaten my friends, and you’re not even a fucking Dragon.”
“You overestimate yourself, boy.”
“Jurot, what do you think? What are our odds?” Adam asked, his body tense, like a coil sprung, ready to unfurl into action.
Jurot knew the odds, but as he was about to say them, he remembered what Adam had told him earlier in the day.
‘Well, I’ve got a crit in my back pocket, so we should be alright.’
“Eight to two,” Jurot said. “We will win.”
“Jurot, if we can’t kill the heir, will you?” Adam asked.
The Iyr held a great respect for the Watchers. They were the best of the orders, in the sense that they kept neutral in all conflicts, except for those against greater threats from outside forces. The civil wars did nothing to spur them into action, though they assisted the land against typical creatures, the Undead, and the Beast Waves. They asked for very little in return, doing what they had to and only asking for the kindness of the people’s heart. No Iyrman had ever shamed themselves by killing the heir of a Watcher.
“Yes,” Jurot said. “I will.”
Sir Dunnock remained frozen, and the rest of the Watchers remained equally as still. The Iyrmen and the Watchers had been allies for years. The Iyr did not need the Watchers, but they assisted their order, the Order of Wings, from the very beginning. There was a mutual respect between the two groups, and though the order had fallen to such lows, the Iyr did not rescind their assistance, and most importantly, had never used their influence to block the Watchers in their duties.
“You would really kill my heir?” Sir Dunnock asked, clenching her fists tight, filling the air with her killing intent.
“If my brother asks me to kill them, I will,” Jurot replied, simply. “You have your oaths, and I have mine.”
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“Our order has never had any quarrels against your people,” she said.
“Our people have never had any quarrels against your order,” he replied.
“Would you really break that tradition for the sake of a Demon?”
“No,” Jurot replied. “I would do it for my brother.”
“These Demons will bring a great catastrophe to our lands,” Sir Dunnock said.
“How?” Adam asked.
“They will want for slaughter and death.”
“Has she done so?” Adam asked. “Tell me, Sir Dunnock, what have they done that they deserve to die?”
“Their people have-,”
“Sir Dunnock!” Adam shouted, his face red. “I asked you what they have done! I have not asked you what other Demons have done, but what my friends, Lucy and Mara, have done! If you want to talk about what peoples have done, then why don’t you draw your sword against me? I, a Fae, a member of the race which had committed the Massacre of Rock Hill, while I had never stepped on this land? Or better yet, should I take your boy’s life since he’s an Aldishman that tried to go against Elves who didn’t even know my existence before a couple of years ago?”
“It is their way.”
“Have the Aldishmen never committed atrocities? Have the Aswadians never committed atrocities?” Adam asked. “In the same way that I don’t expect Sir Vonda to kill every random Aswadian she meets, I don’t expect Dunes to kill any random Aldishman he meets.” Adam inhaled deeply to try and calm himself. “Nor do I expect Jurot to kill any Aldishman he meets, and nor do I expect you to kill any random Demon you meet.”
“Is it really the same?”
“If Lucy and Mara have done something worthy of death, then it shouldn’t be hard to tell me what they have done. If you want to kill them because they exist, don’t make excuses, just tell me that you’re a bunch of no good beasts, thirsty for blood so I can put you down.”
“Demons are Demons!” Sir Dunnock shouted. “They are a plague on this land! How could you extend the rights afforded to our people to Demons!”
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” Adam asked. “There are plenty of people who want to kill me because I’m an Elf. They’d say the same thing, especially those who survived Rock Hill. No, that’s not right. You’re much worse. Not only have the Demons done nothing to you, but I’ve met someone from Rock Hill who holds little to no hatred for me being a Half Elf. Hell, he even stepped aside, not wanting to fight you because he holds so much respect for you. Fred fought by my side to protect a Demon, and he did so facing a terrifying foe that could kill all of us here without blinking an eye.”
“I am compelled by my oaths,” Sir Dunnock said.
“And I’m compelled by not being a huge piece of shit,” Adam replied, finally standing up. Jonn, Lucy and Mara also stood, the maid crossing her hands over her navel.
Though the Half Elf stood, ready to fight, Jurot and the other Iyrmen remained sitting. They waited since it hadn’t gotten too late just yet.
The other Guardians remained sat, waiting for Sir Dunnock. The older woman remained still, thinking, unsettling her companions. Sir Dunnock, she who could clash with their leader and who loved to fight as much as any Iyrman, remained quiet, even with every reason to fight.
Her eyes went from Adam to Jurot. The Iyrman seemed close to Adam, but it wasn’t just that he was close, the pair were brothers. Brothers. They were so close, to the point the Iyrman would even kill her heir? The future Sir Dunnock, who would protect the land from the threat of outsiders? The Iyr had never gone so far before, not when the Iyr and the order protected the world together, typically in secret. The Order of Wings knew, and the Iyr knew, and that was all that mattered.
He’d give it up, not for a pair of Demons, but because his brother asked?
The way the Iyrmen sat, the lack of tension in their bodies, as though they were simply minding their own business, it was very different to the way the Guardians sat. The Watchers, the Guardians who swore their oaths, remained tense.
‘Eight to two.’
Sir Dunnock thought back through the fifty years she had lived. She did her duty, as was expected of her, keeping the world safe from threats which had yet to arrive on the surface. The creatures she had faced would have been mere fantasy to the typical folk across Aldland, and even across the world.
It was a feeling shared by Iyrmen, who, collectively, did the same. They went out and fought unimaginable creatures, and they would return with stories. They would have their own names of creatures, sometimes those names were the same as those in the Aldish, Aswadian, or Drakken tongue, but sometimes they would have their own names. The Iyrmen, known as Deathsingers by those who remembered, were the same in many ways as the Watchers, and yet so different.
It was one thing for the Darkknights of Deadwood, or the Hillknights of Hill Grave, or the Eagleknights of Eagle Wing, to overestimate themselves against herself and her four companions, but it was another thing entirely when it came to Iyrmen. In the same way that she had seen unimaginable things, the Iyrmen too, saw unimaginable things.
“What is your story, Iyrman?” Sir Dunnock eventually asked.
“My name is Jurot, son of Sonarot,” Jurot said, before beginning the tale.