“Sky! You must protect the foat, okay?” Lanarot said, hugging the awakened wolf, their heads glued together.

“Okay.”

“Bye bye, Sky,” the girl said, waving her hand at the wolf, before joining her brothers, and her nieces and nephews.

The sight of the Iyrmen leaving was a sight to behold for the businessfolk, who watched as their Executives and Directors left, along with a great many Experts and Masters who had come, not for the wedding, but to scour the land. They had half a guess to think the Iyrmen were actually here to protect the children, but there was no way the Iyrmen would send so many great warriors just to escort their children. Right?

The dozens upon dozens of carriages left, pulled away by the magical steeds.

“Wow!” Jirot said, as though it was the first time she saw the giant wall, which stretched from one horizon to the next, following the curves of the hills. The bottom of the wall was made of earth and rock, and was about as tall as her father. At the top of each hill was a tower, though it was covered by cloth, coloured similarly to the walls.

They continued along until they finally arrived at, what Adam had called, the Valley of Death. The early evening sun illuminated the huge walls, which overlooked the incline. It was wide enough for twenty people to walk abreast, while the walls, at least a dozen Adam’s tall on either side, loomed over them with unseen eyes gazing upon the group, and this was already beyond the first set of gates. However, since there were children within the returning horde of Iyrmen, the gates atop the Death Valley were swiftly opened, with Iyrmen beneath in the one in a million chance it would fall, the Iyrmen eager to catch the gate. The falling gate would skewer an Aldishman in half if they tried, save for the northerners who were heartily built.

An Iyrman awaited for the group at the gates, a silver fox of a man, with a chiselled jaw, and greyish hair which fell to his shoulders. At his side was a flail, though none could think it was impractical, as his adventurer’s tag hung loosely across his bare chest, glinting the blueish silver of mithril.

The leader of the returning horde, Butcher Marmak, clasped Lykan’s forearm. “We have returned.”

“You have returned,” Lykan confirmed, before watching as the group quickly filed in, the carriages pulling towards the Front Iyr. One particular carriage stopped before him at his command, and the Front Iyr Elder knocked on the side.

Adam and Jurot leapt out, while Adam held out his hand to assist Vonda out, before he motioned his head to Jurot, who assisted Pam out with a hand, though Jurot was fairly certain Pam’s legs worked just fine.

“Congratulations,” Elder Lykan said, shaking Jurot’s forearm, before doing the same to Adam. The pair were, in some respects, his nephews, though he had little to do with his family as the Front Iyr Elder.

“Thank you,” Adam replied, nodding his head towards the Elder, allowing him to congratulate the others. The pair met eyes once more, with Adam’s eyes holding a particular look.

“You wish to work so soon?” Lykan asked, unsure if he should be surprised by the fact, or if he should have expected it.

“I did a lot of thinking on the way here and I realised…” Adam’s eyes darted about to see the few Iyrmen about, all the Front Iyr Elder’s aides. “The business doesn’t have too much coin, so I probably should get to enchanting.”

“You’re an-,” Pam began, quickly covering her mouth.

Adam and Jurot both glanced towards the woman. They had informed her of quite a bit on the way to the Front Iyr Elder, though had kept a few things hidden. ‘Did we forget to tell her about that?’

‘I thought they did not wish to tell her,’ Vonda thought, having kept silent when they spoke their secrets to Pam.

Pam felt their gazes upon her skin, and her eyes narrowed, as suddenly the puzzle pieces began to fit together until things made sense while also making less sense than before.

Lykan wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for Pam to learn too much too quickly, but he kept his words to himself. Pam was the Iyr’s collective responsibility, but she was first and foremost the responsibility of the Rot family.

The Front Iyr was as Adam recalled, though it was still vastly different from the original Front Iyr he had stepped into four years ago. Where once lay the small village known as the Front Iyr, a village of a few thousands at most, once encased within a wooden fence, now lay a different Front Iyr, a Front Iyr his children had known their entire lives.

Where once they could see the open plains which hid mysteries unknown to outsiders, there were large walls of jagged rock, like those of mountain peaks. Where once a sparse, expansive village of wooden cabins dotted across the land, now lay hundreds of large estates. The ground floor of each estate was made of hard stone, and the few buildings with more than one story, the upper story were made of wood. A handful of buildings which reached the sky, three stories tall, were made completely of stone.

A gentle tune guided them within, while the Iyrmen, mostly young families and their children, enjoyed themselves, busying themselves with work, school, and doing nothing in particular. Every so often they could spot older Iyrmen, those lazing in the brisk dawnval air, with the evening sun’s rays basking their rough skin.

‘Did they change it again?’ Adam thought, glancing all about the Front Iyr, though he couldn’t spot anything different.

The group made their way to one of the outer fires, all of which connected to three other fires by the long, straight roads, two of which connected on the outer edge, to form the rest of the hexagonal shape of the Front Iyr, while the last connected to the central fire, which was connected to every other fire. The outer estates sprawled across the outer area, while Adam glanced over towards Morkarai’s estate, pristine white like the first snow, where the fire giant disappeared behind the gates, as though entering a new world.

“Lanababy,” Adam called, lifting the girl up from beside her mother. “Let’s go take a walk, yeah?”

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“I want buhread,” the girl replied, pouting towards her brother.

“Do you want papa to make you bread?”

“Kaka.”

Adam blinked. “This betrayal has hurt me the most.”

Lanarot smiled innocently, brushing her dark hair behind her ears, before reaching out to grab her brother’s collar, her attention falling to the soft cloth within her hands. She had no idea the pain and suffering she had brought to her elder brother, but of course he forgave her since she was cute.

“Do you wish to walk?” the spindly form of Filliam called, the young man adjusting his minuscule glasses, bridged by a triangle no larger than a pinky nail.

“Yeah. My legs are feeling all twitchy because we rode the carriage the entire way.”

I will come walk too!

Adam read the words across the paper, and he nodded, the dark skinned half elf smiling up towards him like a picture of innocence. “You can’t cause any trouble.”

Tariel wrote furiously within her book. She was dark skinned, but not like an Aswadian, holding a gentle golden hue. She wore long, thick robes, dark brown, having adopted the Iyr’s style within the Iyr. Resting between her pit was her long staff, made of dark wood which curled around a gem at the top, coiled like a viper.

I won’t!

“Alright.”

The trio of Iyrmen, each tasked with watching over one of the three, let out soft sighs.

“Kaza Adam!” a tiny voice called out, charging towards the half elf. Inakan stared up through her glasses, staring at his crisp figure, her pearly white smile contrasted against her bronze skin. She pointed towards the road further up. “Woak?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” the girl said, shuffling her way forward, the shadow of her own brother walking behind her, his arms crossed behind his back.

“Amokan, you need to convince your parents to surrender Inakan to me,” Adam said.

“We do not wish to surrender her?” Amokan teased back.

“How can you do this to me?”

Amokan smirked, while Tariel tapped at a word written in the corner of the last page of her book.

“I’m allowed to be today, it’s my birthday.”

She tapped the other word beside it.

Okay.

“The Front Iyr has changed so much,” Amokan said, his eyes darting around the walls, which covered the beautiful landscape beyond.

“Yeah,” Adam replied, glancing towards the Iyrman. ‘Right, he’s been at the fort since he returned.’

“It is more like the Iyr now, but it is not the Iyr I recall.”

“You should go speak with your uncle if you’re so displeased,” Adam joked.

Amokan smirked slightly. “Once I become Chief, I can speak with him then.”

“Right.” Adam chuckled lightly, the pair following Inakan as she led them about, confidently storming her way around now that she was so familiar with her new sight.

“Adam.”

“Yeah?”

Amokan recalled the pair of outsiders beside them, having almost lost himself within his thoughts. “You should surrender Larot to me, since he is so well behaved.”

“Are you starting a fight?”

Amokan’s chuckle filled the air, causing Inakan to glance back, almost walking into another figure, who scooped up the girl with ease, raising her up.

“If it isn’t little Inakan,” Ashmir said, feeling the gaze of an Iyrman upon his skin, before it quickly dissipated when the young Chief hopeful realised who the old man was. Inakan remained frozen with his grasp for a moment, before she squirmed, trying to escape his grasp.

“Don’t bully my sister like this,” Adam said.

“Your sister?”

“Didn’t you surrender her to me?”

“If you wish to joke that much, you should draw your axe.”

“No way, you Iyrmen are so scary,” Adam said, squatting down with his arms out while Inakan darted towards them. Amokan also squatted down with his arms out.

Persuasion Check (Charisma)(Trained)

D20 + 6 = 12 (6)

Inakan charged into her brother’s arms, the Iyrman lifting her up by using her momentum, before they embraced together.

“Even though it hurts my heart, she picked the right person to hug,” Adam said, his voice quivering.

Tariel resisted the urge to tap the corner of the last page.

“If you continue to behave this way, you may truly become a fool,” Amokan warned, his eyes darting back towards Ashmir, the dark skinned Aswadian, whose thick black beard was peppered with white.

“You’re not wrong. I’m a married man now and a father. If I was just a married man or just a father, I could get away with being an idiot, but now…” Adam let out a soft sigh. “I guess the wedding arc is done and now it’s time for my maturity arc?”

“Are you also walking?” Ashmir asked, his eyes flashing across the five figures.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

Adam nodded. “Would you like to join us?”

“I wish to walk without such a vicious look against my skin.”

“Amokan, knock it off.”

“You beat me well, but I wish to fight again,” Amokan said.

“It is still the beginning of the year,” Ashmir replied, letting out a long sigh, the same kind of sigh which denoted he was a great warrior who had retired into the Iyr. In the same way he had bat away all the families wishing to marry their daughters to him, the old Aswadian had to bat away all the Iyrmen eager to spar him. However, Amokan wasn’t exactly the same as the other Iyrmen who wished to spar with him. “We may spar further into the year.”

“I will leave soon.”

“How soon?”

“Towards the beginning of the next month.”

“We may fight some time towards the end of this month.”

“Okay.”

Adam bowed his head towards Ashmir, understanding his pain.

Why does no one want to fight me?

“You’re not a warrior, you’re a mage,” Adam replied.

Tariel wrote furiously within her book.

DRUID.

“Yeah, same difference.”

Tariel tapped the corner of the last page.

Meanwhile, the Chief of the Iyr sat within his estate within the Main Iyr, which was still a day away from the Front Iyr, ate his dried dough snacks, sitting opposite his cousin. The tale had been summarised to the Chief, though he had recalled much of the tale through the messages left behind. The most important matter was that the Iyr had gained another Paragon within its walls, one who he could place within the squad designed to kill Adam should he ever give the Iyr greater reasons to dispose of him. He wrote down the matter onto a piece of paper, and his aide took the paper to the Elder responsible for the half elf.

“Ten favours?” Iromin asked.

“Ten favours,” Karmin affirmed.

“Do you have any requests?” Iromin asked, writing down the number of favours Karmin had gathered from distant dragons. The matters would need to be confirmed with the dragons, and should they refuse, they would need to figure out if the dragons would need to be hunted down, or if Karmin misunderstood.

“I was saved by a boy twelve years ago,” Karmin informed. “Maharan is twenty two now, and works as a guide in the Free Territories, those at the bottom of the spine.

Though Iromin was surprised to hear his cousin had been saved by a boy of twelve only a decade ago, yet he didn’t skip a beat when it came to writing down the information. “The pirates?”

Karmin nodded. “I have informed them to keep an eye on him while the Iyr will speak upon his reward.”

Iromin continued to collect details of the boy, and with a stroke of his quill, he changed the life of the boy forever.

“I will go,” Karmin said.

“You will not rest?”

“Work today, rest tomorrow.”

Iromin said no more, creating a copy of the letter, before stamping both, sending each to Elder Forest and Elder Gold. It was one of the few times when both Great Elders had a say upon using the resources of the Iyr, for it was a matter of both inside and outside.

“When do you wish to leave?”

“Once the matter is resolved.”

“Okay.” Iromin allowed his cousin to leave, leaning back within his chair as he fell deep into thought. He snacked away on his fried dough snacks. It was up to the young man whether he wanted to accept the gifts of the Iyr. He thought of a weapon which could assist the young man, and a certain blade came to mind, one which the Iyr had procured recently to fund a particular wedding.

‘Did he…’ Iromin thought, wondering if Adam was the reason why his cousin, who could clash with a Paragon almost a decade ago, was saved by a ten year old boy. ‘No. He only came into existence four years ago.’

The only problem was the small doubt within the Chief’s heart, for even if it was impossible, such a word did not exist in the Iyr’s vocabulary, and the word impossible meant almost certainty when it came to a particular half elf.