The boy stood beside his father, his eyes scanning the fields, where he watched as many of his elders worked. Though their faces and tattoos were unrecognisable, for the boy only recalled a handful of tattoos, each and every one of them adored the boy, though none adored him as much as his father.

“Fieuhs,” the boy said, pointing at the fields, his head turning upwards towards his father, waiting his approval.

“Yes, you are right,” the man replied, placing a hand on the boy’s head, brushing it gently.

“Muntun,” the boy said, pointing towards the mountains to the side.

“Yes, you are right,” the man repeated, patting the boy’s head again.

“Fohr,” the boy said, pointing to the ground.

“Yes, you are right,” the man replied, still patting the boy’s head.

“Sky,” the boy said, pointing to the open sky.

“Yes.”

The boy fell silent, staring at the sky. He twitched as his father picked him up, causing him to stare at him in shock at first, before it turned to delight. He started to giggle lightly, while his father stared into his eyes, seeing how joyful his son was.

The boy’s father was tall and thicker than most Iyrmen, though not quite at the level where one might mention it. A thick beard covered his jaw, hiding much of his face. He wore a blade at his side. His tattoo was that of a purple five pointed star with yellow flowers emanating out from it, something which filled the boy with such relief. There was another tattoo which was familiar, though he rarely saw those of such a family, only when his father took him to see his aunt.

The boy was heavier than most children at his age, for there were few children who ate as well as he did, and few children who ate all which was given to him. The boy had never made a fuss when it came time to eat, though that did lead to some trouble as the boy liked to put many things into his mouth.

Tonagek raised his son further up towards the sky. “Do you see how far away the sky is?”

The boy looked up towards the sky, which was so clear, and so… big. It was even bigger than the whole of the Iyr, which, to the boy, was his entire world. He reached up towards the sky. “Sky.”

“You are so high up, but you cannot reach the sky,” Tonagek said. “You are too small.”

“Smoh,” the boy confirmed, still reaching up towards the sky.

“You are small now, but one day you will be as tall as your father,” Tonagek said, pulling the boy to his chest, allowing the boy to cuddle up to him, the boy’s tiny, chubby hand clutching at his shirt.

“One day you will go out into the world, a world full of danger,” the man said, his voice lowering slightly. “You must grow well, Danagek, so that danger will not trouble you.”

“Mmm,” the boy replied, still embracing his father close, almost feeling his father’s heartbeat through the man’s shirt.

“…” Tonagek kept his thoughts to himself. He did not want his son to grow strong, for if he grew strong, it meant he would come across such things which could challenge him.

“Dada,” the boy called.

“Yes?”

The boy looked up towards his father before smiling wide, giggling lightly once more, before he pointed away. “Mama.”

“Okay.” Tonagek turned to leave, before noting a familiar face nearby.

“You have brought your son to watch the fields?” Gorot asked, the Iyrman taking a moment to rest.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Danagek likes the fields,” Tonagek replied. “Danagek, meet your papo.”

Danagek looked up towards Gorot, a man he had barely seen, before returning back to his father’s chest. However, he noted the tattoo on the man’s forehead, that of a blue circle and blue diamonds, just like his aunt.

“He is Gurot’s father,” Tonagek said, pointing towards the Iyrman.

“Guwoh?”

“That’s right, your cousin Gurot’s father,” Tonagek stated.

The boy smiled shyly, before returning back to his father’s chest, before pulling his head back. The boy pointed away. “Guwoh?”

“You wish to see Gurot?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see Gurot or your mother?”

“Mama,” the boy replied, jabbing the air with his finger again.

“You are growing well, Danagek,” Gorot said, reaching over towards the boy’s head, before realising his hands were dirty. “I will bring Gurot to play with you another time.”

Tonagek bowed his head, allowing Gorot to take his break in peace, carrying his son back to their estate. On the way, he found another familiar face, though he allowed his son to point her out.

Gorot let out a short sigh, sharing a cup of milk along with one of the other Iyrmen working the fields.

“You have been working hard for the past few years,” Romajin said, sipping away at his own cup of milk. The horcish Iyrman would often trade places with his wife when working in the fields, but as far as he was aware, Gorot almost always worked the fields.

“Who does not work hard in the Iyr?”

Romajin raised his brows expectantly.

“Nirot has her own tasks to complete,” Gorot replied.

“The tasks of the Iyr will be completed, but you have young children now,” Romajin said. “What of Gurot and Murot? Will they not see their father’s face?”

“They see my face in the evening.”

“They should see their father’s face in the sun.”

“You are too young to be giving me such advice.”

“Am I?” Romajin chuckled. “You should see my Ronajin, she is so small, I can almost hold her in one hand. She smiles so much when she sees me.”

“Is she well?”

“She is well, just small,” Romajin replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“She must not be well if she smiles when she sees you,” Gorot replied, finishing his cup of milk.

Romajin howled with laughter, before returning to work with Gorot, though he noted how Gorot fell into deep thought while working.

While Gorot thought about Romajin’s words to see his sons more often, a thought came to his mind. There was a young man who adored his children so much but also worked hard. Yet, even that young man took days off to play with his children.

‘What are they doing?’ Cobra thought, watching as Vonda and Adam stared down the knight who had come. ‘She’s not just any knight, she’s a knight under the Marquise! You can’t offend her!’

The city guards around watched the scene continue to unfold. The knights had caused quite a commotion in front of the inn, while Adam and his companions continued the commotion. However, they decided against interrupting just yet, since it would have been awkward to deal with the Marquise before business was finished.

The inn keeper watched with bated breath, her sweat pooling at her forehead. Suddenly, the gem, which had felt so heavy in her pouch, felt heavier across her shoulders.

Sir Olivia remained silent as she glared at the young woman in front of her, who was so eager to clash with her. The Order of Life’s Rose had been particularly influential across the land, but at this moment, they wielded more influence than perhaps ever before, save for when a certain lie permeated through the entire land. Even after the lie had been found out, they still held tremendous influence.

It was not just their influence that caused the knight to pause, but the fact they were no longer busy dealing with the two Kings who had finally come to an agreement. Now they were merely mediating over the agreed proposal, meaning the young woman here could indeed bring the order to act, if she truly meant what she was saying.

The knight’s eyes then fell to Adam’s chest. The young man had hidden his amulet, something so inconceivable, she wasn’t certain if her eyes were playing tricks on her. No priest hid their amulet, for it was a symbol of not just their faith, but their reason of being. Priests used the amulets to channel their spells, and to hide their amulet, it was to shirk their Divine, and they would find themselves punished for the slight.

The amulet was also certainly to that God. It wasn’t just any God, but the God of Death, the same God which the Iyrmen prayed to. Yet, he wore no tattoos over his forehead, though one of his companions was certainly an Iyrman. She vaguely recalled the rules when dealing with Iyrmen, which was to avoid them as best as one could, for dealing with Iyrmen was terrible business.

Iyrmen, Aswadians of an order, and a Sister of Life’s Rose. Had it not been for the Marquise’s orders to procure the boy, even if it meant spilling blood and paying the appropriate penalties, she would have stepped back. She would do her duty, as her Lady wished.

‘Is she truly aiming to become one of the Rays or Hopes?’

It was this particular doubt which had caused her to pause even with the orders to do what she must to procure the boy. The boy was worth his weight in gold, and if the other nobles understood what he was, they would have already swarmed him.

However, it seemed as though the boy had been claimed by the Order of Life’s Rose, and was already within their care. No, he hadn’t been claimed by the order, but by a business, which was somehow reinforced by the prestigious order. It was all so confusing and murky.

‘As long as we do not kill the Sister, our duty shall be fulfilled, and our souls safe,’ the knight thought.