'You've got to be kidding me.' Adam let out a long defeated sigh. He had calculated the group could, if they left swiftly, return back home by the end of the year. 'We need to wait until the twenty second?’

'The Grand Commander is leaving, but if we remain...' Jaygak thought, noting Adam's expression, the half elf certainly annoyed he couldn't return back home.

"What should we do for the next week?"

"We can help prepare the defences.”

"For the Twilight Month? I guess we could..." Adam sat beside Jaygak, who refused to speak of Jurot and Kitool and their fights. 'What's taking them so long?'

The North shifted its attention to the oncoming onslaught that was the Twilight Month throughout the last two weeks of nightval. The food stores were triple checked. The farmers worked upon their homes, readying themselves for the Twilight Month.

"Jimmy, Brown Boots?" an older farmer asked, carrying a large sack of grain over his shoulder.

Jimmy reached into his cloak to reveal a large silver medallion, stamped with the scales of Lady Elaveil.

"Thought you were volunteering?"

"I was gonna, but Knives got sick."

"They still got you anyhow?" Limes shrugged his shoulders. "Least you got the silver."

"Yeah."

The smiths kept their hours open for any smithing required by the town during the last few weeks of nightval, just in case, as inscribed within its laws. Adam and his companions also assisted, taking on the role of Brown Boots, those who volunteered to assist, shoring up the defences of the town and the nearby outposts, making sure items were stocked, and whatever else was required of them by those who made demands of them, mostly those from the clergy.

"You going to be fighting?" Limes asked.

"Probably," Adam replied, before Jaygak threw him a look. "I mean, yes, we are."

"Say, by any chance, are you the purple fellow?"

"Are you asking if I'm Executive Adam?"

"Aye, that's it."

"I am, yes."

"Thought so. Your axe and shield, recognised them from the fighting. Lost a gold on you when you fought against our Blade. I would have sworn she was going to win."

"She was the toughest fight for sure," Adam admitted, flashing an awkward smile. "I almost lost my bet, and man, my wife would have killed me. Well, not kill me, because, you know, she's from Life's Rose, but figuratively speaking."

The farmer nodded his head, throwing the Iyrmen a look, considering Adam's ridiculous words. "Life's Rose?"

"That's right, she's-,"

"Limes! Sammy's callin' for you!"

"Must be wonderin' where I left the salt," Limes said. "I always tell her, in the back, third bag. In the back, third bag." The old man grumbled and peeled himself off the bench, shuffling through to find Sammy.

Adam's eyes fell across the mass of people, all in their furs and heavy cloaks, moving about in small squads. The Northerners moved with practised efficiency, not quite as efficient as Iyrmen, Adam thought, but they moved as though they were familiar with the situation.

"What's with all the kids?" Adam asked, noting some teens nearby, who were currently being instructed by some individuals Jaygak had pointed out to him. They were those who used to fight in the tournaments, or nobles of some renown, the warriors old and grizzled, the nobles young, but disciplined.

"It's a right of passage," Jaygak explained. "They'll sign up to fight during the Twilight Month, and if they survive, most do, they are considered men and women."

"What's the survival rate like?"

"They only die if grave mistakes are made, which is extremely rare," Jaygak said.

Fate's Golden continued to assist throughout the week, with Lucy and Mara assisting with the labour, alongside Jurot. Kitool also assisted with her swiftness, while Jaygak and Adam remained beside one another, the half elf assisting with his magic.

Then it was time.

The arena was full to the brim, with all the fighters who had decided to remain, and those who won and placed. Though there were tens of thousands sitting in the crowd, and standing all around the arena, all were silent. The white snow engrossed the people, but not as much as the sight of the old man.

He was lean, speckled all over with venerability, and the only sound which echoed through the arena was his cane striking the floor as he approached the wooden stand. A pair of knight escorted him from behind. The old man was glad that the podium hid most of his body, allowing him to lean against it.

He glanced around, barely able to spot the faces ahead of him, but he raised his hand, and the cheering began, applause filling the stadium. It was as though he had won the tournament only moments ago, the hollering and the cheering. He basked in it for a long moment, before raising his shaking hand, dismissing the sounds, which petered out over the course of another long moment. One of the knights brought a small horn over, which he placed over the old man's neck.

"Is everyone. Quiet?" he asked, his voice carrying far along the breeze. "These old ears. They're not. What they. Used to be." The old man smiled, allowing the crowd to chuckle for a few moments, before they settled down. He glanced from side to side, smiling at them all.

He focused his attention upon the stand, rubbing the wood. "Northern ash. Strong." He raised his hand, clenching it weakly, smiling wider. "Northern built."

The crowd hollered at his words, shouting and clapping their hands, before falling silent.

He pointed out with a shaking finger. "S'over there. I was beaten. By the Noskan. Wind." He pointed to another spot, reliving the memory. "By the. By the." He swallowed, gathering his thoughts. "Old William. Yes. Old William." He nodded his head, smiling. "Great Boar. No. Great Bear. Then Mark. Mark. Great Wolf. Bastards. The pair. Of them. So great. They put it. In their name."

The chuckling began once more as the old man smiled, his eyes slowly gazing from side to side, before he raised his hand again.

"If I. Mentioned more. We'd be here. All Twilight." He smiled, and a gentle chuckle followed, with a few cackling louder. The old man continued to smile coyly, winking. "Been a few. Years. Standing here. Must be bad. For this. Old man. To walk up. All these. Steps."

He allowed the crowd to laugh again, before he raised his hand once more.

"The Grand. Duchess. She called me. She said. Old bear. Watch the show. This year. You'll see. I said. I'm too old. To be seeing. Gave me. Some. Spectacles." He raised his hand, forming a circle. "Worth. My weight. In gold." He shook his head, glancing out across the crowd again.

"This year. It was. A good year. I saw." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I retired. Twenty years. They took. My sword." He groaned quietly, shaking his head. "This old bear. I'm. So old. But. I still. I remember." The old man stood up a little taller. "I remember the fights. I remember the cuts, the bruises. I remember when I. Struck with my sword!" The old man huffed quietly, panting for air, before slumping slightly. "Those. Those were. The days. The children. After." He shook his head disapprovingly. "How many Paragon? In my era. The era after. Merryweather. Sir Robin. Grand Commander." He paused again for a long moment. "Grand Commander?" He glanced from side to side. "He heard. The North. A rough Twilight." He shook his head. "Paragon, my ass."

The crowd laughed, for there were few old men who could dare to speak so poorly of someone of such high repute, and most were found in the North.

"When I saw. The kids fight. In this. Tournament." He took in the sight of all the fighters before him, standing neatly together, as though they were awaiting a command from him. "This generation. The Princess. Nightval Blade. The Iyrmen. The purple boy. I saw. In this generation." He slowly nodded his head. "You! Are not. So bad."

The cheering and laughter filled the air, the old man basking in the attention. He smiled, slowly nodding his head, before he raised his hand, silencing the crowd. He eyed it up again, glancing slowly from side to side, before he placed his hand down on the counter.

"There is. No greater. Tournament. Than our. Tournament." He licked his lips, chewing on his lower lip for a moment, his eyes slightly sharper, narrowed, honing in upon the mood of the crowd. "Fifteen tournaments. I fought. Fifteen tournaments. I lost. I fought. With steel. And magical. Steel. I fought. Great names. So many. Warriors. You remember. Old William. Great Bear. Great Wolf. You remember. Many names. You don't. Remember. Iron Akmed. Bone Rock. Kal Rahim. Black Rukh."

The old man eyed up the crowd once more, his brows furrowed. "Black Rukh. He was. Aswadi. He came. Hundreds. Of miles. He fought. In the. Southern tournaments. Dawnval. Noonval. Duskval. He wasn't. Allowed to. Even place. The Southerners. That's how they. Do it." The old man raised his hand, his finger shaking lightly. "When he came. To ours. The Nightval. Tournament." The old man swallowed, eyeing up the crowd once more. "I placed. Fourth. He placed. Third. He earned. Third. The year. Previous. I placed. Second. But. He beat me. With his. Pike. He earned that place. Because this. Is the North."

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The crowd cheered again, though quickly stopped when the old man raised his hand to stop them.

"I didn't. Lose. Fifteen. Fucking. Tournaments. To hear. This. Auroch shit. About our. Tournament. Our sacred. Nightval. Tournament. Our! Northern! Nightval! Tournament!" The old man kept his hand up, within his old, cold bones, a fury burned. "Our tournament! Is fair! It's always been that way! Drakken. Noskan. Aldish. Iyrman. Aswadi. You win, you win. You lose, you lose. You come to the North. We treat you proper. You kids. You don't know. I remember. My old man. He told me about the. Wars of his time. He fought against. The Noskans. The Noskans. They came to port. They stepped into our arena! They fought! They left! Not in the South. Not in the South. Not in the South. Not. In. The. South. In the North! Only in the North! Can they do that!"

He dropped his hand, allowing the crowd to erupt, shouting, cheering, seeing the passion of the old man, who remained fuming. He allowed the crowd to cheer, and chant, and even sing.

"Only the North! Only the North! Wahey! Only the North!"

The chant repeated again and again, before the old man raised his hand, the chant quietening down over three more shouts. "I saw fights. In this tournament. I can't remember. Ever seeing. Before. The kids. The kids who won. They won. Iyrmen. Northern. Southern. Aswadi. They earned their place. The Princess. Fought well. Just the. Other week. She went out. To slay trolls. You. You're all. Sword droppers. Ungrateful. Shameful. Even our. Nightval Blade. Dropped out. You're going to. Say ours. Was rigged? Clean the milk. Off your lips. The mud. In your eyes. The South. In your ears. I have. Nothing but. Gratitude. For these kids. They fought well. You earned. That honour." The old man held up his hands, beginning to clap, though his claps were drowned out by the claps of the crowd.

As the old man went down, and the ceremony began, Adam leaned in to his side. "Who was that old man?"

"Peter the Ram," Jaygak replied. "He fought in the Nightval Tournament fifteen times over the course of twenty years. He placed most of the time, and gained second ten times."

Adam raised his brows. "Whoa."

"He beat almost everyone who had won the tournaments during his time, but he was never able to claim first."

"Damn."

"After he retired from the tournaments, he continued to fight in the Twilight Months across the North, before he was forced to retire by the Grand Duchess during my father's time."

"She forced him to retire?"

"He was growing old. It's better for him to live for thirty years without drawing his blade, than to die with his blade his hand in the next Twilight."

"Fair enough." Adam eyed up the old man as he took his place to the side, leaning back, with the knights beside him. He was definitely a man who had lived a long life, the old man leaning back and almost sleeping right away while the ceremony continued. 'Damn. Second place that many times? That's rough.'

Jaygak also stared at the old man, understanding the pain of coming second, especially considering he had also fought some ridiculous warriors in his time. "The tournaments during his time were said to be some of the greatest."

"Yeah?"

Jayak slowly nodded her head. "He was defeated by several Iyrmen. Greatfather lost to him during a tournament."

"Your greatfather?" Adam asked. "Whoa."

"It was during the time of Black Rukh. He was still young, and had placed in the top ten. Greatfather fought in six or seven tournaments, but he always viewed the Nightval Tournaments of the time was the best. He watched as many as he could."

"..." Adam wondered what was going through Jaygak's mind, considering how she was looking through the world and into her own thoughts.

The speeches began, the various individuals who placed speaking their mind. It soon became Jaygak's turn, and she stepped onto the stage, where the old man had walked. She stood in the same spot as the old man, holding onto the wood that the old man had held. She stared down at the horn that stood in front of her on the wood. It was bone, a wyvern bone no doubt. She inhaled deeply and looked out to the crowd, taking in the thousands upon thousands of eyes upon her. She may have worn a hat, but she wore her tattoos proudly.

"I shouldn't be here," Jaygak began, completely ignoring the rest of the fighters, focused on the crowd. "I should have reached Steel Rank in the far future, and then? I should have retired. Second place is too high for me, and I will not aim to reach higher. I do not care if you forget my name, Jaygak, daughter of Lavgak and Jogak. I came in second place, but no one cares for second place. I am not the King's Sword's daughter. I am not the Princess. I am of the Gak family." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

'Jaygak...' Adam thought, and so did his companions.

"I do not care if you forget my name, but you should not forget the name Gak, because soon..." Jaygak glared at the crowd. "She will come! Even if it's against a King's Sword's daughter! She will come! Even if it against a Princess of the North! She will come! Even if it's against a force of nature! She will come!" Jaygak drew her blade, calling forth the glow from the sword. "I leave it to you, Taygak!"

The crowd remained silent for a moment, before the applause and the cheering began. Adam clapped as hard as he could, cheering as Jaygak left the platform, approaching the noble, who held out a medallion of silver, placing it over her neck, the young woman then stepped to the side. Jaygak threw a glance towards Peter, who nodded his head in acknowledgement to the girl, and she returned a bow of her head.

It was Adam's turn next, but he wasn't sure how he could follow it up. He was half annoyed they dared to imply he came second to the Princess, but he was fine to come after Jaygak. Adam approached the stand, where Jaygak had stood moments ago. He closed his eyes, before noting all the eyes against him.

'Whoa. That's a lot of people.' Adam swallowed. He inhaled deeply, feeling the chill of the North invade his lungs. "Virot!" Adam's voice carried far upon the wind. "Did you see? Larot! Jarot! Jirot! Karot! Kirot! Konarot! Did you see?"

Adam swallowed. "Daddy got first place!" He eyed up the crowd, before his eyes quickly darted to his brother, realising he was making a fool of himself.

Then he smiled.

"Did you see? Daddy! Daddy is the strongest!" Adam raised his fists into the air. "Yeah! Yeah! Did you see?"

The crowd remained stunned by the stark difference between Jaygak and Adam.

Adam cleared his throat, still smiling, before his face quickly grew neutral. "I want to say thank you to a few people too, if you don't mind. I want to say thank you to the Rot family, for... welcoming me with open arms. I want to thank the Kan, Ool, and of course, the family you shouldn't forget, the Gak family. Without you, I wouldn't be standing here today. I want to thank Aunt Sonarot, for..." Adam cleared his throat. "Everything. I want to thank Chief Iromin, who has always had faith in me. I want to thank..." Adam swallowed once more, reaching up to his eyes.

The Grand Duchess realised Adam wasn't kidding when he said he wanted a while for his speech, but even though she received various looks, she shook her head.

"I want to thank my brother, Jurot. I can't say anything which can truly honour him, so I won't even try. Kitool, who is so scary. I want to thank Jaygak, for..." Adam shrugged his shoulders. "What can't I thank you for? Keeping me alive? I want to thank Lucy and Mara, who bear with me, even though I'm an idiot. Last, but not, well, I want to thank... I want to thank the Mad Dog, and the Bearded Dragon, Jarot and Rajin, for putting Southerners in their place earlier this year. Grandaunt Gangak, Flame Brand as some of you might know her, for being my children's favourite nano." Adam smiled cheekily. "Now, I know I took a long time, but, for the sake of all the pouches I filled, allow me one more moment. I want to thank my wife, Ray Vonda. Truly, I am the luckiest husband in the world. Thank you." Adam bowed his head, realising he had so many more people to thank, but he couldn't impose himself for too long.

The crowd cheered and clapped, though some were mostly confused, they accepted his sincerity, while Adam stepped away from the podium, only to stop.

"Oh!" Adam said. "I want to thank the Iyr, the Enchanter, and the business of United Kindom, for the opportunity that they've given me. If it wasn't for the weapon which was gifted to me by the business, I would not have done so well.

Once again, that's the business, United Kindom, which works alongside the Iyr, and has provided the Duchess Eastsea with magical items, and is currently working for the stellar, the most magnanimous Grand Duchess Blacksnow, on creating a weapon for the Knight of Death. If you have need for magical weapons, Basic or Greater, plain or Enhanced, such magical items can be bid for at all sanctioned auctions, which will also come with a token that one can redeem to procure more magical items directly from the business, sometimes creating custom, boutique weapons to your specifications. Thank you."

Then Adam quickly pulled away, approaching the noble, a much lighter set of clapping following him. He bowed his head to allow the noble to place the golden medallion upon him, partly annoyed by the gesture, before he stepped up beside Jaygak.

Jaygak smiled, and though she was about to speak up, she paused. She smiled warmly. "It was a good speech."

"I know it was bad, but thank you."

"I thought it was good."

"Then it was definitely bad."

"The ending was terrible."

"It's paying for my kid's college," Adam joked, shrugging his shoulders.

The Princess gave her own speech, speaking far more regally, but Adam only half paid attention to it. He half paid attention to most speeches, up until a particular tall, strong, handsome, long haired fellow took to the stage.

"Damrot, son of Jurot," Jurot began. "I have won for you." Jurot raised his axe, and after a moment of silence, he realised he should continue. "This weapon was granted to me by United Kindom! Without it, I, Jurot, would have found it difficult to face against such great foes. The Iyr has raised me, and I will bring it glory. Mother! I have not shamed you! Father! I have not shamed you! Grandmother! I have not shamed you! Grandfather! I have not shamed you!" Jurot paused. "Granduncle Sarot! I have not shamed you!" He paused again.

Jurot could have only come this far thanks to his family. From all those who remained in the Iyr, to the brother who had come with him all this way, even so far as sacrificing his own joy. Yes, no doubt, Adam was glad to have won the tournament, but that was nothing compared to the joy he would have enjoyed spending the last day of the year with his wife and his children, especially since it was going to be his anniversary. Adam had given it up for him, simple because he asked.

He turned slightly, ignoring everyone, but one particular young man. "Adam! I have not shamed you!"

Adam smiled slightly, feeling his heart stir. He nodded his head to his brother, who brimmed with pride, and glory.

"Pam, I have not shamed you!" Jurot paused once more. "I! Am the luckiest husband in the world!"

‘That punk…’ Adam smirked.

Jurot sauntered off to allow the noble to place the golden medallion upon him, before taking his place among those he had defeated. He closed his eyes, and thought of the sensation of victory. The man who had come second had almost defeated him, since he wielded a magical blade that dealt damage to the mind, but with his shield, and with Phantom, Jurot had managed to secure the win. He felt the tingling in his heart. ‘The sensation of victory… has not dulled.’

"Damn," Adam whispered. "That was a much better speech than mine."

"It's unfair that he's so good at speeches when he's so handsome, strong, wise, and has such a great family," Jaygak joked.

"Amen."

Once the segments for their age range concluded, the next act began, with various performers appearing on stage, while the group made their way out, waiting for their last companion.

"I am Kitool. I have not shamed my family. I thank the Iyr for raising me well, and for my companions, Jurot and Jaygak, who I grew up alongside. Lucy and Mara, who are great warriors, and I hope the world will accept your softness." Kitool then paused. "I want to thank you, Adam. You are the one who gave me this opportunity, and I will not forget it, even in death." Kitool hadn’t ever imagined she would have claimed victory in the greater segment of a tournament, especially not the Nightval Tournament.

Adam smiled, ignoring all the XP he had earned during the culmination of the speeches.

"I hope I have not shamed you, Katool. I hope I have not shamed you, Maool. I hope I have not shamed you, Minool." Kitool then bowed her head, stepping off the stage to accept her own gold medallion, to a cascade of applause and cheering which drowned out even the most cringe of thoughts of a fool of a father who thought of what his children were up to at this time, especially one who caused the most trouble.

Of course, it was that little girl.

Jirot gasped, hot potato within her mouth, her head snapping to her mother, then to her older brother. "Karot!"

"Jirot, you should eat first," Vonda said, reaching down to clean the potato which had fallen out of the girl's mouth.

"Mummy! Mummy! We have to give gift to daddy!"

"Daddy is not here."

Jirot reached up to her forehead. "Oh no!"

"Let's prepare the gift for when he returns, shall we?"

"Mummy! Karot drew the gift! He must give it today because it is Gift Giving!"

"..." Vonda blinked, and within the span of the blink, Vonda recalled the scene with her son, who pouted up towards his mother upon remembering himself. 'You remembered that?'

It was only then did Vonda truly realise the trouble her daughter could cause.

As Adam had once said to Jurot, daughters are truly the scariest.