“Who is the Painter?” Adam whispered, leaning towards his brother.

“The Painter,” Jurot corrected, emphasising the The within her title. “She is a legendary figure within Aswadasad.”

“She was considered one of the Seven Noons of Aswadasad in her day, a title given to those considered to be the strongest seven aligned with Aswadasad, which has fallen out of use in the last two generations,” Kitool said. “Her abilities are similar to the Ools in some ways, but different in other ways.”

‘So she was a Monk with a different Subclass?’ Adam thought. 

“The Radiant Blade was considered her successor, though she has denied any relation to The Painter, though admitted they had met a few times.”

“Oh? Why is she considered the successor?”

“She fights in a similar manner. Their blades are equally as deadly, and they both hold great control over light and holy radiance.”

“Except they both use it differently?”

“In some ways.”

Adam thought about The Radiant Blade, Sayf adh Mashi’aya, who was considered one of the strongest within this generation. However, from the way they spoke, was The Painter considered even more powerful?

“The Painter earned her name because she loved to paint, and her blade moved as though she were painting,” Kitool said, thinking of the woman who inspired even her Iyrmanly heart. “It is confirmed she reached the Peak before she disappeared.”

“She disappeared?”

“She most likely retired and ended up painting for the rest of her days,” Kitool stated, though she spoke as though it was merely an assumption. 

“What a lovely retirement,” Adam mused, smiling slightly. “Well, since she worked so hard, then she deserved the rest.”

“So it is said.”

“So Scholar Muh was trained by her? Except, if no one knew he was her apprentice, then does that mean he fights differently?”

“His abilities are unique to himself, in the same way that The Painter’s abilities were unique to herself,” Kitool stated. “He fights in a similar manner to me, but differently in many ways.”

‘So he’s a Monk too? Damn. I hate fighting Monks, more than fighting Rage Dancers…’ Adam shuddered at the thought of fighting someone who used their inner energy to freeze him in place. It was one of the reasons Kitool had almost defeated Jurot all those years ago at the Noonval Tournament, and if she had used Tigerstaff, she would have claimed victory. ‘Scary!’

While the half elf was eating his meal alongside the rest of his companions, the twin brothers, each who looked so different, eyed up the beautiful Aswadian women in the corner, each warriors who travelled together. 

“By the Divine there’s a storm somewhere,” Mork whispered.

“What do they feed the women around these parts?” Tork agreed. 

“Beautiful like the night sky.”

“Deadly too,” Tork added, exchanging a glance with his twin brother, the pair smirking between one another. The pair waited a long moment before finally working up the courage to speak with them, liquid courage flowing through their hearts. 

Dunes leaned back in his chair, feeling half full from the meal already, his eyes peeking towards Kizwolima, who gorged herself upon the watery fruits, the juices running all down her face, the half elf wiping her chin and the rest of her face repeatedly. 

“No one’s going to steal the fruit from you!” Adam urged, leaning in towards the top of her head before he jolted backwards, having almost treated her like he would Jirot. ‘Careful, Adam. Don’t be doing weird stuff to someone else’s kid.’

“I cannot believe you haven’t already died,” Dunes admitted, the man shaking his head lightly towards the half elf. “You are truly a monster among monsters.”

“Don’t wish for my death like that!”

Dunes laughed. “You have already met so many grand figures from Aldand and Aswadasad. A few years ago, you would have lost to many of them, but in the last year or two, you have somehow gained such strength, even those who have reached the Peak cannot deal with you.”

“That’s only if I’m lucky,” Adam replied firmly, not wanting to admit he was so strong, not yet. “There are plenty of those who are Grandmasters that could probably defeat me if I’m not lucky.”

“I wanted to tell you all about the great warriors in Aswadasad. Not just The Painter, but those who are not as legendary. Those like… Jalal. Bright Star Jalal. With his blade, Bright Star is one of the strongest in all of Aswadasad, though… he makes his home in Aldland.”

“Aldland?”

Dunes smiled knowingly, deciding against telling the half elf yet. “He is so powerful, he can clash with even King Merryweather. He could not defeat him, but if one required to give the King pause, to keep him at bay with blades locked, one would send someone like Bright Star.”

“He’s that strong?” Adam gasped, already impressed by this figure, for who could dare to keep King Merryweather at bay. “What a guy! I’ve been thinking about hiring some strong monsters in the business, to help train the kids, but also for general guarding duties. You think he would want to join us?”

Dunes shook his head, smiling even wider. “What a shame he is already taken by another, a friend of yours.”

“A friend of mine?”

“He is Yellow Turban’s closest companion, and his guard, although one would say he is more like a brother to Yellow Turban,” Dunes informed, sipping this kafa lightly.

“Oh! Really? I might have met him then, though… I don’t know, I feel like I would have remembered someone like him.” Adam thought back to Yellow Turban, who was apparently a monster in his own right. He was certain he would have remembered someone like Jalal, but then again, Jalal could have been completing some secret task or some such, since someone who as strong as Bright Star would be able to carry out quite a large number of secret matters for someone like Yellow Turban.

“Aswadasad has rivalled Aldland for generations, millennia, and though at one point it was considered more powerful, though….” Dunes leaned in to whisper. “Now it is considered slightly weaker, but even so, it will continue to rival Aldand for generations to come thanks to those like Bright Star, Sayf adh Mashi’aya, and so many others. Even Zabir, though many would not consider him to be among the likes of The Radiant Blade, but he is one of many who come from the commonfolk and earn their place as Experts, and remain to train the next generation. It is Bright Star who causes pause for today, and Zabir who causes pause for tomorrow.”

Mork and Tork returned back to the group, Mork sliding himself casually near the half elf, leaning in towards him. “Executive, any chance we could borrow some gold to buy some pretty women a few drinks this evening?”

“I pay you enough for you to…” Adam paused. “How much do the drinks cost?”

“Ten gold a bottle.”

“I forgot how much drinks cost here,” Adam thought, recalling that Earth had bottles of wine for coppers and silvers rather than gold. “Just buy them and write inform us and we’ll reimburse you. Unless… you didn’t spend all your coin, did you?”

“Not yet,” Mork replied, though Tork’s eyes darted to the side. 

“Alright, alright,” Adam said, the half elf smiling. “If you need more gold, let me know, and we can take it from your wages over the course of the next few years.”

“Thank you, Executive,” Mork said, chuckling lightly. 

“Anyway, this Jalal guy, does he use a sword?”

“He does,” Dunes confirmed. 

“We should meet him and let Taygak listen to his stories or maybe hold his sword or something,” Adam said, almost instantly thinking of his cousin. 

“Jalal?” Mork asked, furrowing his brows. 

“Bright Star,” Tork said, elbowing his brother lightly. 

“Oh! Bright Star!”

“You know of him?” Adam asked.

“Who doesn’t know of Bright Star!” Mork raised his brows. “He’s one of the few who could…” 

Tork’s eyes fell to the half elf, understanding why his brother had paused, since he was about to say that Jalal was one of the few who could go blow for blow against the likes of the Grand Commanders of the various Orders…

“Shame what happened to him,” Mork said, shaking his head lightly.

“What happened to him?” Dunes asked.

“Say he was killed by tha Reavers recently,” Tork said. 

“That’s…” Dunes began, his eyes growing wide, distant, the young man frozen in place. ‘Impossible.’

“That’s what we’ve been told,” Mork said. 

“It was quite tha news for a bit,” Tork added. “Even ah was surprised, since Bright Star’s not tha kind t’lose ta most anyone.”

Mork elbowed his brother lightly, motioning towards his jaw. ‘Tork, talk, properly.’

“Jalal would not fall to a Reaver, even if they are powerful. Jalal is…” Dunes blinked. “He is Bright Star.”

Adam placed a hand on Dunes’ shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry about that, Dunes. It’s a big loss for Yellow Turban, and Aswadasad too.”

“They say Yellow Turban was killed too…” Mork added tentatively. 

“What? Yellow Turban too?” Adam half exclaimed, his face full of shock. “What are you talking about? Yellow Turban’s a monster!”

“I was as shocked as you,” Mork admitted, and even Tork nodded his head, the pair glancing between one another awkwardly. 

Adam fell quiet for a long while, Dunes pouring him a cup of kafa, the pair silently drinking in the peace of their thoughts. 

‘What a terrible time for Aswadasad,’ Dunes thought, reaching up to rub his forehead. He glanced aside towards the half elf, whose eyes were still full of shock. Adam hadn’t been too close to Yellow Turban, but certainly he rather liked the fellow. It was the merchant’s son who Adam adored the most, who was quite the character. 

‘You damn Reavers!’ Adam thought, his annoyance rising. ‘Just you wait! If Vonda asks me, or if my kids wants me to beat you up, your days are numbered!’

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If Virot bullies Adam a little too hard, just you wait.