‘What madness is this?’ Justinian thought, looking out to the Iyrmen who had been brought to him. There were over one hundred Iyrmen, but they were all old men, women, and cripples. His jaw tensed, his brow pulsed, and the rage washed over him.

“What use are these old men?” Justinian asked, staring at the Chief, who had dared to step out of the gates.

The Chief was joined by four others. One was a large man in flamedarksteel plate mail, and carried a greatsword. There were three Drakken, one with bronze scales, another with black scales, and the last, an older man, white.

“They may not be the Iyr’s greatest warriors, but they match those from your Order of the King,” Iromin said, simply.

“Do you believe my Order to be so weak?” Justinian’s brow pulsed as he glared at the Iyrman, who had shamed him far too many times.

“No, they are fine,” Iromin replied, casually. He was in no danger, for he could take on any of those nearby without much effort, even without the three Dragons and the Giant. “The Iyrmen we have provided are at least at Silver Rank if they were to be judged within the guild, and many are as powerful as Mithril. We made the call, and it was they who answered.”

“They are at least Silver?”

“Yes.”

Justinian stared at the Iyrmen, each who were less than agreeable. If they were at least Silver Rank, then they wouldn’t be useless. ‘They must be considered Steel Rank if they are this old.’ “I will rest the night within the Iyr, and we may discuss military matters within the Front Iyr.”

“The Iyr’s gates are closed,” Iromin repeated.

“I am the King.” Justinian continued to glare at the Chief. The Chief was a great warrior, but with his great magical gear, there was no way he would be unable to slay the Chief.

“The Iyr has its rules. As we follow yours within your land, so must you obey our rules within our land.”

“Your land?” Justinian coughed. “I am the King of this land.”

“This land belongs to we Iyrmen, and there are no Kings in the Iyr,” Iromin said. “Even Emperors are Lords within the Iyr.”

‘What utter savages!’ “You would leave us here, at the mercy of beasts?”

“The beasts will not dare step on our land, even during a Beast Wave. Baktu will welcome them with open arms if they do.”

‘These damn cultists…’ “Perhaps I expected too much of you Iyrmen.”

“You have come to us in an unprecedented time,” Iromin said. “We ask simply for your understanding until we have resolved matters of the Iyr.”

“What matters are these?”

“Internal matters, which we cannot ignore,” Iromin replied, not giving up anything. “We have requested Elder Wrath, and his council, to assist you during the war. In such matters, Elder Wrath holds complete authority, even greater than my own.”

“At least you have sent someone more dependable than the last,” Justinian said, referring to the previous Elder Wrath who had been so unruly. “I hope this one understands how to take commands.”

“Elder Wrath has complete authority over the Iyrmen under his command,” Iromin said. “Three hundred Iyrmen will not die under his command.”

“I thought you Iyrmen liked death?”

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“What good is a death which has been given to a failed war?”

Justinian narrowed his eyes. “It is a simple matter to deal with the traitor.”

“Lord Harold and his gryphons are not so easily beat.”

“He is not the only one with gryphons,” Justinian said.

Iromin bowed his head. “I will bid you a good night, and Elder Wrath will take over as a representative of the Great Elders.”

“Good night, Chief,” Justinian said, not holding back the venomous tone.

“Good night, Lord,” Iromin said, before bowing his head, and turning.

The King’s Blades were still on edge as the Chief retreated. They were wise enough not to speak for the King, as there were many a great Knight who spoke up against the rudeness towards their liege, only to be cut down immediately.

“Tell the men to fish,” Justinian commanded, before he retreated back to the large tent which had been set out for him and his advisors.

The Iyrmen were surrounded, outnumbered two hundred to one. Yet, they were at least evenly matched with the strongest of the King’s army, none of whom held the strength of the previous King’s Sword.

Elder Wrath made sure the Iyrmen were settled well, and on their best behaviour. If any of them died, then it would have meant a full blown war against Aldland, which would have been awkward while Elder Peace was gone. It was not as though they could not, however, for a limited defensive war was not something which required Elder Peace’s authority, but such a thing would be difficult when they had lost two Great Elders for close to a year, and a third Great Elder for the war.

Upon seeing that the soldiers were chopping down trees and beginning to dig ditches, Elder Wrath swiftly made his way to speak with the King.

Jarot kept watch, noting the several different Orders which had come to assist the King. There were the most likely suspects, but he found one of the Orders strange, considering their allegiance was historically known to be in South Aldland.

“You are here to assist the King, though you are a member of the Order of a Thousand Hunts?” Jarot asked.

“We had been called in the middle of the year,” the older man explained. “We are here to assist, along with the other Orders. The Orders from the south have decided to close their gates, and have decided to remain neutral for the duration of the war.”

“A wise decision,” Jarot admitted. “I am Jarot. I retired when I was a Silver Rank Adventurer. You are a Vice Commander of the Thousand Hunts?”

“I am. Sir Kris Huntmaster, the First Vice Commander.”

Jarot nodded his head. Huntmaster was a noble name given to those within the Order of the Thousand Hunts, and he was the First Vice Commander, which meant he held the highest rank among those with the same title. It seemed the Order was trying to earn the favour of the King before the war began.

Jarot shook the man’s hand. “Let us slay many monsters in our days to come.”

“I pray for the same,” Kris admitted, taking a seat beside the Iyrman.

“There will be little killing from we Iyrmen,” Gangak said. “We are to remain as a defensive force.”

Jarot growled quietly, but did not refute the words.

Kris bowed his head slowly towards the Devilkin, but did not say any more. Gangak, seeing that the Vice Commander was not pleased with her presence, left, leaving Otkan and Jarot behind.

“What is your greatest prey?” Jarot asked.

“Ten years ago there were the Greys who left the Forests,” Kris said. “I slew a Greater Grey. Yours, Iyrman?”

“Otkan and I,” Jarot said, motioning his head to the pretty Iyrman with the harsh scar across her face, “as well as our brother and sister, Zaool and Tangak, we slew Forgryn.”

“The Azure Terror?” Kris said, his voice lighter. “I heard he was killed in Aswadia not two decades ago.”

“We slew him,” Jarot said, nodding his head. “He slew my son, my daughter, and my grandson.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“We bathed in his blood,” Jarot said. “We lost our brother and sister in the battle, but it was a good battle.”

Kris could see the rage flash within the Iyrman’s eyes, and offered him some wine. “If you are as half as strong as you were when you fought Forgryn, then I will be at ease fighting at your side.”

“I have not grown so weak that I am half as strong, but I no longer possess the power I had back then,” Jarot admitted.

“You must be the kind who uses his rage,” Kris said, noting the furs. “Axe?”

“Axe and shield, but…” Jarot motioned with his stub. “It is difficult to wield a shield like this.”

“I would have assumed.”

“Still, it is good enough for my greatchildren to play with,” Jarot said. “They are small, but they grow quickly. I gained five greatchildren recently, and they will grow well, and become more powerful than I.”

“Greatchildren?”

“Great grandchildren,” Jarot explained.

“Ah.”

“Their father is quite strong,” Jarot said, smiling. “He has slain two Dragons already.”

“Your grandson?”

Jarot smiled. “Yes.”

“Two Dragons? Really?”

Jarot bowed his head. “He slew two. My other grandson was there both times, and assisted in killing one too.”

Kris raised his brows. Those of the Thousand Hunts knew Iyrmen didn’t lie. They had formed so long ago, and it was one of the first things all within the Order learnt. “You have such great and mighty grandsons. I hope that our Order will meet them one day.”

“One day,” Jarot said, raising up the cup of wine, drinking it.