Jurot spoke of the tale to the Iyrmen around, each of them glued to his every word. It was a quick tale, though it felt so much longer to each of them, as half their thoughts were focused on what Jurot had said earlier. The young Jurot confirmed their thoughts, and they wondered what kind of madness they were hearing.

Jarot huffed, clutching onto his knee with his good hand. ‘I should have gone to watch the bout.’

The others were thinking something similar, though they were still caught in the web of madness which was Adam’s existence. How could he, a boy, beat someone like Lord Morkarai.

Kaygak knew that if she and another of her compatriots faced Lord Morkarai, the Prince of Giants, even in his more Human form, they would have struggled to beat him. Yet, Adam had done so. Was it luck? Or was it something else?

“My grandson did well,” Jarot eventually said, his lips a half grin. He was filled with so much pride, the others could see he was beaming. “To face against Lord Morkarai, and to beat him, it brings my family such great…” His face twitched slightly, and his smile grew into a frown.

The silence shocked the Iyrmen around, each of whom knew how much joy this news brought their uncle, and yet here he was, frowning.

“Adam Fateson did well,” Jarot corrected, distancing Adam from the Rot family. ‘This honour should be all yours.’

“The bet was won,” Mirot said, staring at her father, who held that kind of look on his face. It was as though they had asked him to part with Churot, the same Churot who was sitting right beside him, staring at Jurot with wide eyes.

He, too, knew the significance of Adam’s victory.

“You can keep your gold.”

“We have lost the bet,” Citool said, calmly. “You should take the coin.”

“How can I steal from my nieces?”

“Then we will give your share to Mirot.”

Jarot’s eyes fell to Mirot, before his lips formed a smile again. “You have doubled your bet.”

Jurot remained silent, staring at his aunt. She did not like Adam, and made that dislike known. However, she at least acted like an Iyrman, unlike some of his own family. His lips almost twitched into a smile. If nothing else, he was glad that she had bet on her brother.

Mirot bowed her head, but said nothing more of it. She, who had bet on Adam, had won quite a large sum of money. She hadn’t bet on him simply because he was her Nephew, or nephew as Sonarot would put it, but because she knew of what Adam was capable of with Phantom in his hand. Though others would have put the fight at a rate of two to eight, she put the fight at four to six.

Phantom had forced her to surrender before she could even swing her axe. It was a weapon which was powerful, far too powerful for Adam to wield. It was dangerous. It was dangerous enough without Adam realising its full effects, as he was one of few people who could utilise it to its full effects, and it was something designed to kill her father. Though it had been a joke, it was no doubt something which could have come true.

Mirot’s eyes fell to her father, who tickled baby Jarot’s cheek, speaking to the babe about how his father was so strong. She knew how strong her father was, even after losing an arm, but with Phantom in Adam’s hand, she couldn’t help but think the Half Elf’s odds were better than five to five.

Morkarai was thinking deeply about his bout. To think that Adam could defeat him, it was something which had left a greater mark against his heart. It was not a terrible mark, not a darkness, but something which he’d be unable to rid unless he thought about it deeply.

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“I did not expect to lose to a boy,” Morkarai said, shaking his head. ‘They will laugh at me once I return.’

“You did not lose to a boy,” Zijin replied, almost smirking. “You lost to Adam.”

“Did you expect for it to happen?”

“It was unlikely he would beat you.”

“How unlikely?”

“Three in ten,” Zijin replied. His odds for Adam had been greater than perhaps most others, but that was because he knew Adam. At least, he thought he knew Adam. Even after everything they had gone through, with Adam revealing so many of his secrets to the Iyr, there were still times he could shock them.

“That high?” Morkarai asked. He had personally thought it would be one in ten, perhaps two in ten with Phantom in hand. Three in ten was quite the statement.

Zijin smiled, motioning to the cabin which the Giant could claim as his during the festival. “He is Adam.”

“I can see why the Iyr is so interested in him,” Morkarai said. “How did you manage to catch someone so terrifying?”

“You should ask his sister?”

“The baby?”

Zijin bowed his head. “Yes. She is the reason why he remains.”

Morkarai sighed, his thoughts falling to the girl. The Emperor had also mentioned her, though he thought of Adam’s children. “I am surprised to hear that you Iyrmen do not accept Goblins into the Iyr. I have heard tales that you do not discriminate in such a way.”

“The Iyrmen do not discriminate on one’s race,” Zijin replied, curtly.

“Then what of his children?”

“That is a matter for the Rot family,” Zijin said, as politely as an Elder should to such a Guest. He had thought about interfering, but Adam had yet to ask him to assist. This was a matter for the Rot family, and though Zijin would be overstepping, it was still something which he could do. Though the Rot family had broken a rule, it was something which was unavoidable. Adam and his relationship with the Rot family was unique within the Iyr, and they would need to deal with it together.

“What a terrifying young man,” Morkarai said, sighing.

Zijin smiled, before excusing himself, going off to find the other Guest. He found Strom nearby, drinking from his gourd, laughing like a mad man.

“What a fight!” Strom roared. “I knew he could do it!” He continued to chuckle before finishing the rest of his wine, wiping his mouth. “I should have bet against you.”

“I am glad you enjoyed the fight.”

“Thank you for sending word.”

“It was my honour,” Zijin replied, bowing his head slightly. “I thank you again for bringing their gear.”

“Handling those armours was quite pleasant,” Strom said, thinking about how they had felt in his hands. “If I was younger, and if I wasn’t in the Iyr, I may have thought to… borrow them for a few centuries.”

“Should I escort you to your residence?” Zijin asked, watching the old man bring out another gourd from his ring. The old man stood, wordless, and followed the Elder, deep in his thoughts. He wondered if he should fight Adam, but decided against it.

He didn’t want to taint Lanarot’s memories of him by losing to a brat not even a century old.

The Great Elders gathered during the evening, having heard of the matter. Iromin could feel the heaviness against him, the pressure from the other Great Elders, as well as the stress of having to deal with someone like Adam.

“It is a strange thing,” Elder Gold said. “I thought Adam was stronger than I imagined, but not to this extent.”

“Lord Morkarai would be able to fight with us, and yet he was defeated by Adam,” Elder Peace said, her voice heavy with a warning.

Iromin was fairly certain he’d be able to go toe to toe with the Prince of Giants, but he would never be able to defeat him as Adam had. Elder Gold’s ability to strike was greater than his own, but even she would be unable to defeat the Giant quite so easily.

“He used Phantom too,” Elder Forest said. “We took it away from him for a reason, but he used it once more.”

“The weapon belongs to the Rot family,” Elder Gold retorted. “It was returned back to them after the bout.”

“Is this a message to us?” Elder Forest asked. “He should know the significance of what it means to face Lord Morkarai.”

Elder Peace nodded. “Even he should know that Lord Morkarai is strong, and would be able to face us in combat.”

“I do not believe so,” Iromin replied, tapping the table with a finger. For the past short while the Great Elders had been pressuring him to make a move, to confirm whether or not they could believe in Adam truly. “It was no message to us. It was a shock to him too.”

“How can you be so certain?” Elder Gold asked. Iromin showed great favour to Adam, so he required more evidence to his words. The Great Elders were convinced that Adam wanted to show them something.

Though he had lost to Emperor Shama, he was still able to fight well.

“He did not want his children to see,” Iromin stated, simply.