“My mother is close to Queen Silvari,” Miriam stated, still holding the half elf’s gaze, unable to draw herself away from him. She was certain of it, though it was impossible, in the same way it was impossible for the half elf to have killed the Grand Commander of High Garden. 

“You should have said so!” The half elf leaned back, relaxing within his chair, letting out a soft sigh. “Here I was, acting a greater fool than normal, and now you’re telling me you’re a friend of Entalia?”

“Lady Entalia,” Miriam corrected. 

“I thought she was Entalia, but Queen Silvari is the title and name she adopts when she’s the ruler?”

“She is still a dragon, and as such, gains the title of Lord or Lady,” Miriam stated firmly, for though Aldland perhaps did so more casually, Aswadasad made sure to keep the titles firmly in place, since there were so many dragons who made their home within their land. 

“Right, right,” Adam replied, rolling his eyes lightly. “Seriously, though! If I had known, I would have brought more gifts. Don’t quote me on it, but I think we have a few more swords, maybe a shield or two, that we could have brought. Aw, man. I would-“

The Amira watched as the half elf admonished himself, shaking his head towards himself. 

“Oh! Actually, oh man, we did bring another magical gift? Right? The Basic Enhanced sword? We gifted one to King Merryweather, but we had another for the Shen, I completely forgot!” 

‘Ah,’ Dunes thought, having thought the sword was going to be kept for a future gift, for the half elf had changed it to a Greater Enhanced sword to be enchanted in the future. 

“It is not a secret that we are close to Queen Silvari, thought not many know how,” the Amira stated firmly. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me. I give up my secrets a little too easily, but other people’s? If I even remember them, I end up not saying them, so you don’t have to worry.” Adam chuckled. 

The Amira remained silent, fluttering her lashes lightly in thought, for once caught off guard, for she recalled something else that the dragon had told her a few years ago. “Your eldest children, they are triplets?”

“Yeah, they are,” the half elf said, smiling wide, but then it happened, confirming the Amira’s suspicions. A moment where the half elf realised he couldn’t speak much about them, revealed so overtly upon his face, and the Amira understood that it was true.

“Your daughter, Jirot, does she trouble her elder siblings often?”

“In a cute, wholesome, not very troubling way,” the half elf replied. “Thankfully, Konarot, Kirot too, and Jirot, all are very wise, and very forward and strong of will, whereas my sons, Karot, Jarot, they’re both so meek, and so cute. You should have seen Konarot at first, she was almost a beast! She even dared to snap her teeth at the Mad Dog!”

The half elf’s beaming eyes reminded the Amira of another fool of a father who always troubled her, causing her to inhale deeply, though she allowed the half elf to continue speaking of his children, revealing bits and pieces of them. She understood the picture of his children, though it was Larot, the child she assumed appeared to look like a demon, which remained vague.

Lanarot, who was still a child, but held great hopes, especially considering Jurot kept speaking up about how she would surpass even himself. 

Also, she loved bread. 

Konarot, the wise eldest, who was so strong of will, and watched over the others well. 

Kirot, who was in an awkward position that she was just like Konarot, and the half elf was troubled that he did not coax out her own uniqueness.

Karot who was so sweet and shy and tender and adored his mother so.

Jirot, who was as troublesome as him, and, as Adam had mentioned, may cause greater trouble than himself, though he promised to assist whenever she did. 

Jarot, named after the Mad Dog, though he was much sweeter and meeker than even Karot. However, the there was a darkness there, in that he struggled to eat, causing the Amira’s heart to falter. 

Larot, who was Larot. 

Virot, who was like Jirot, but more vicious, but equally as adorable.

Damrot, who was certainly not the half elf’s son, but he pretended as such, and was just like his other sons. 

Xarot and Monarot, each who were so young, and he was troubled to miss their birthdays. 

“Hah? What are you guys doing here?” the half elf asked, allowing the Amira to think, consolidating all that she had learned about the half elf within her mind, and her heart. 

“We had to make sure your armour was not slipping into the hands of the royal family,” Chosen replied, as audacious as someone whose granduncle was the Bloodblade. 

“We are here to guard Taygak,” Tanagek said, unarmoured, though he carried his blade at his side. He escorted Taygak to approach a seat, without the Amira’s permission, noting the gazes upon himself and Chosen. 

“The mood seems good,” Laygak said, his voice accusatory, the young man’s eyes darting about the room for a moment, for his first duty was to make sure Taygak would be fine. “Too good?”

“What can I say? I’m so charming, aren’t I? Why else would my wife marry me? Because I’m strong? Rich? Handsome?” The half elf paused. “Of course, each of those things, but also because I’m so charming!”

Laygak chuckled, even as a Gak, he behaved exactly as an Iyrman should in front of royalty. Tagak said nothing, eyeing up Bael for a moment, before his eyes darted towards the guards, who kept an eye upon the half dragon the most. 

“Please, take a seat, Iyrmen,” the woman said, calling for more seats, just in case.

The Gaks sat together, with the Gek and Sen bookending them, and though Chosen had replied so casually and playfully, the dark aura emanating from him dared anyone to draw their blade against Taygak, so he could tear their flesh from their bones, even towards the Amira. 

As they had arrived, another had arrived, a handsome man, with silver and red hair, a thick moustache, and a crimson blade at his side, and, somehow, he was wearing his full plate within the royal temple, simple in design, but well crafted. 

“I greet the Little Moon,” the Kal said, dropping to a knee before the Amira. 

“Kal Zahid, Crimson Blade, I command you face against the Executive in a bout,” the Amira said, getting right to business, for all their sakes. 

“I will obey,” the figure said, standing, before his eyes darted towards Bael, the Aswadian’s eyes beaming with a lust for battle. However, it was then he noticed that the half elf was beginning to adorn the puthral plate, and he furrowed his brows. ‘Hmm?’

“You may fight without holding back,” Jurot assured, while he and Taygak assisted Adam into his armour, Taygak so that she could say she assisted in his spar against the Crimson Blade. 

“Oh yeah? Is he strong?” Adam’s voice was light and playful, but his eyes remained more serious. 

“He is not a Paragon, but he is greater than a Grandmaster, and he is an Oathsworn,” Jurot replied. 

‘So 14 to 16? That’s pretty strong!’ Adam understood that someone who was an Oathsworn could still get lucky and completely decimate him in a single blow, and someone who was greater than a Grandmaster would have an easier time to do that. ‘Two Critical Hit and I’m done, one and I might be done if he rolls well for damage...’

“Though you should not slay one another, especially not within the temple, it is my hope you do not hold back,” Miriam said.

‘You do not wish to hold back against a child?’ the Crimson Blade thought, in sheer surprise at the, usually quite moderate, Amira’s words. ‘What offence did he commit?’

“I won’t hold back too much,” Adam said. “Though, if you really didn’t want me to hold back, you should have told me before, I would have used Thunder’s Triumph, the same blade I used to cut off the Grand Commander’s neck.”

The Crimson Blade stood a little taller, eyes darting towards the figure in puthral, the young half elf who looked to have weaned off his mother’s teeth but days ago. ‘He killed the Fariq of High Garden?’

“If you wish, you may,” the Amira offered. 

“No, no, Thunder’s Triumph has so many victories under its name already, I suppose I should make a name for Seventh Sky too, although…” The half elf’s eyes turned towards Taygak. “Taygak, may I borrow your sword?”

“Yes!” Taygak replied. 

“I’ll use our Taygak’s magical sword, if it’s not too much of a bother,” the half elf said, his voice full of arrogance towards Kal Zahid. 

“The young men these days, they know little respect,” Kal Zahid, the Crimson Blade said, before drawing his blade, which was as red as blood, made seemingly of bloodsteel, the hilt of rubicule, though Adam noted the patterns on the blade, and the steel itself, looked different to bloodsteel. “In this Royal Temple of the One Sun, I shall teach you.”

“Oh ho? Old man, perhaps it’s time for you to retire?” Adam joked, his eyes catching the Crimson Blade’s, noting how tense he had become. Adam rolled his shoulder, clasping his shield tight in hand. 

Meanwhile, the Crimson Blade did his absolute best not to burst into laughter, while a guard stepped forward to place his helmet upon his face, closing his visor, allowing him to grin wildly. 

“I am Executive Adam Fate, High Alchemist of the United Kindom, though many call me the Crazy Father,” the half elf said, far more respectfully.

“I am Kal Zahid, Commander of the Malika’s Golden Guard, though many call me the Crimson Blade,” the older Aswadian replied. 

“If I may ask, how old are you?” 

“Fifty.”

‘Damn! He barely looks forty!’ “Wait, fifty?”

“Yes.”

‘Damn! Isn’t the average time to become a Grandmaster, like, sixty? So this guy is stronger than that, and he’s younger? Yo!’

“How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

Kal Zahid blinked. ‘Did they say he killed the Fariq?’

It wasn’t long until the half elf confirmed it. 

“Taygak, watch carefully,” the half elf said, feeling the tingling of magic within his hand. 

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Just a bit of banter.