Kirot lay on her back, her eyes staring at the open umbrella which blocked out the sun. The shade it provided her cooled her body, but she could still the haze of heat across her skin and scales, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.

Sonarot wondered what she should do with the triplets who wanted to remain within the shade. Even Konarot, the eldest and most well behaved of almost every child in the Iyr, wanted to remain within the shade. The little girl held her finger over her lip in thought, her eyes glued to the dragon chess board.

Tonagek held his son against his chest as the boy snoozed lightly. He could feel the warmth of his child against his hand. He had brought Danagek because the boy was slightly older, while little Donagek was too young, and would not sit quite as well, or sleep quite as peacefully.

Konarot moved a piece forward, her tail swaying behind her as she waited for her granduncle to make his move.

“You are learning well, little Kona,” Tonagek said. He reached over to brush her hair gently before moving his piece. “One more turn and then we will go to explore the festival, okay?”

“Five turns?” the girl asked.

“This is now the fifth turn.”

Konarot pouted. “Okay.”

“We must keep our word, because we are Iyrmen,” Tonagek said.

“Daddy dohtur?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

The girl took a long while with her turn, before Kirot and Karot both arrived, watching her make her move. Tonagek took a piece with his next move and the pair stood up. Danagek twitched awake, staring up at his father with confusion, before resting his head against his father’s neck.

“Danagek, it is time for the festival,” Tonagek said.

“Num num?” the boy asked.

“Yes.”

The boy smiled, trying to wake up quicker so he could walk beside his father and eat the delicious food. “Pizzah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” The boy smirked wider, before he was let down. He grabbed his father’s shirt for a moment to stabilise himself, before he held his father’s hand and followed him as they went to find food.

Konarot’s ears twitched and she sniffed the air, before pointing to a side. “Mamo.”

The group made their way to the screeching and the delight of the fights. Konarot stood on the other side, alongside her brother and sister, away from the fighting. She allowed Karot to hold their grandmother’s hand, however, since she was the eldest.

The cackle and screeching filled the air before it was silence as the girl was handed a cup of water. She looked up and smiled. “Mama!” Lanarot sipped her water slowly, before pointing towards the fighting. “Is fighting, mama, is fighting!”

“Yes.” Sonarot wiped the girl’s face, picking her up. “Has kako fed you?”

“I eat all the bread, mama,” the girl said, inhaling with pride, before returning back to her water.

“She behaved well,” Citool assured, before Katool popped up from nearby, panting for air.

“Mama!”

“Yes?”

“Minool is running away,” the girl said, pointing towards her youngest sister, who was storming away, confidently stepping through the crowd.

Citool sighed. Of all the children who were walking, Minool was the most difficult to handle. Compared to Kitool and Katool, Minool was so difficult to deal with. Citool eventually picked up her youngest daughter, who stared down at her mother with innocent shock, before she slowly formed the cheekiest smirk a child could manage. She cackled with delight, before giving in to her mother’s hug, sucking her thumb as her mother pulled her close.

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Jitool remained sitting to the side, staring at her toes, which had been painted by her mother. She narrowed her eyes, unsure of how she felt. She brought her hands up to see her coloured fingernails. She continued to stare at them for a long while, before she twitched, seeing her mother’s face in front of her. She smiled brightly towards her mother, completely forgetting about the painted nails, before she was picked up too.

Meanwhile, Shikan watched them from afar, holding his daughter close to his chest. Inakan rested her head against his shoulder, the little girl’s eyes fluttering lightly, before they finally closed, drifting off to slumber. He watched how eagerly all the children moved and played about, letting out a low sigh. He brushed his hand gently against his daughter’s back.

‘Do not worry, Inakan, your father will help you.’ He thought about his eldest son. ‘Perhaps your brother will once he is Chief…’ Shikan narrowed his eyes. ‘That boy of mine… you must return to meet your sister.’

A shadow loomed over Shikan.

“They eat well,” Jogak said, dropping down beside the Iyrman, holding his girls in each arm. Kavgak clutched her father tight with one hand, her head resting on his shoulder, while Maygak sucked her whole hand, the girl’s head resting against her father’s chest.

“They must when they are so big.”

Jogak’s lips formed a small smile. “They will grow well and bring back many stories.”

Shikan smiled. “They will, since they are growing so well.”

“Is Mokan with sister?”

“Yes. The boy always cries for his mother.”

“Daughters love their fathers most, and sons love their mother most,” Jogak joked, rubbing his cheeks against his daughter’s heads. “They are growing quicker than even Jaygak.”

“She was so small…” Shikan recalled the little girl, who would kick her ball so eagerly when she was a girl. He couldn’t quite recall how many times the girl counted to one hundred, it had almost become background music to their ears. The girl would do the same when she slapped her drum lightly.

Tap. One. Tap. Two. Tap. Three.

“You must be so proud.”

“Her tongue is too sharp to be proud,” Jogak replied.

“She watches over her siblings well, it comes easier to her. Jurot and Kitool, they struggle, and Amokan…” Shikan let out a huff.

“He will return soon and bring back glory for his sister.”

“He should see her face first.”

Jogak smiled wider. “Is that why Jaygak is faring so well? She has seen her sister’s faces, and wishes to bring them glory?”

“If that is not the reason, what is?”

Jogak bowed his head lightly. “She has done so much, my Jaygak.” Jogak closed his eyes, recalling how the girl used to cough and cry as a little girl. How she used to sit on his lap, her eyes glued to the books he read to her every evening. How she used to push over objects to break them, cackling at her father. ‘It is no wonder you adore Jirot so much.’

“Do you think they will push back their marriages?” Shikan asked. “It is time we are given grandchildren too.”

“I do not know. A few years ago, Jaygak would have, but now, who can tell when it comes to that daughter of mine?”

“Shikan will push it back, since he is aiming to become Chief. Kitool may, she has thoughts of wielding death, and Jurot…”

“Jurot may marry first. Since his brother has many children, but leaves the Iyr, he may choose to do the same.”

“What of Adam?”

“…” Jogak raised his brows towards Shikan.

“I do not know if Naqokan will manage to take his heart, but perhaps she will.”

“Their children would have quite the heritage. The child of a Kan, and the child of Adam.”

“They would be the children of Rot.”

“Will Naqokan give up her name?”

“It is more likely.”

“Are you speaking of chance when it comes to Adam?”

Shikan smiled, rubbing his daughter’s back gently still. “I should not.”

Meanwhile, Larot glared at the one armed Iyrman, who had decided to complete a midday workout. The old man was sweating profusely, a puddle of sweat forming beneath him as he pulled himself up towards the bar, before finally dropping after his final set. He almost dropped down onto his knees, but the knowledge his greatson was watching allowed him to drop onto his one good leg properly.

The young boy had glanced away, however, just in case he had failed.

“Did you see, my boy? If you grow well, you will gain as much strength as your greatfather!”

‘I shudder at the thought of being so weak,’ the boy though, letting out a soft sigh, before looking up towards the sky. He could recall the faint sensation of the wind against him as he flew. ‘Once I regain my power, you will see how foolish you are.’

“Come, let us go bathe,” Jarot said, beginning to strap on his leg, while his greatson waited for the old man’s hand to be free so they could walk to the baths.

The festival continued, and as late afternoon fell across the Iyr, the fighting and the music died down, and the Iyrmen met with other families they hadn’t seen in so long.

A giant figure approached a particular estate where a particular group of seven children sat.

‘Should I tease him when he returns?’ the Prince thought.

While the Prince thought about teasing Adam, the young half elf let out a long sigh, his heart heavy from missing the festival. The others around him left him be.

Sir Landon let out a long sigh at the walls of Red Oak, which were still many miles away. He was glad the situation had been resolved before he stepped forward, and that they hadn’t decided to hunt them after.

As much as he wanted to assist Adam, to pick a fight with the Order of the Thousand Hunts, such would have thrown him out of the running for baronhood. His thoughts were distracted by his wife needing to pause the carriage for the umpteenth time that day so she didn’t heave and throw up again.

‘You never spoke of your travel sickness…’ Landon thought. ‘Why did you wish to travel all this way?’

However, such a question remained deep within his heart, for he wasn’t stupid enough to speak the word aloud.