Once Adam was done with his meal, slipping the silver and gold to the temple, the half elf wondered what he should do. It didn’t sit right with him that a man like Illias, who had fought in one of the most prestigious companies, was out on the road, apparently without a home, though he was able to stay within the temple. Why was he abandoned out here? Were his demons so terrible they couldn’t even find him his own little place? The Shen had plenty of space, more than enough land for all those gardens, and yet here Illias was, one of the people who had protected the Shen’s life, interests, and perhaps more importantly, wealth, but he couldn’t spare a few coppers from his mountains of gold?

‘That’s how it is, isn’t it?’ Adam thought, letting out a soft sigh. ‘The state fails. The rich then give breadcrumbs to the poor to justify their existence.’

“He is lucky to be born in Aswadasad, for within Aldland, the temples do not treat their own this well,” Dunes said. “The King of Aldland even taxes the dead for dying.”

“Amen to that,” the half elf joked, though his mood remained dour.

The half elf remained deep in thought, even as they sauntered their way through the market, the Black Lion allowing them a wide berth, meanwhile the half elf perused all the various wares. Eventually he returned back to the estate, drowning within his thoughts, and copious cups of kafa. 

John stared out towards the greenery, for though the world was hot and arid around him, the greenery soothed his Aldish skin, the gentle mists which he could wade through could freshen him up for the day, but as he took in the sight of the garden, his eyes slowly drew towards the side, towards the guards adorned within the long attire of the Aswadians. They weren’t any guard, however, and perhaps they were not stronger than most guards either, but they were guards who were assigned by the royal family of Aswadasad. 

A month ago, he had barely known Adam for a few days, but already he had seen the half elf meet the King of Floria. No, when was it that he met with Adam? It might have been a month to that day, though perhaps he was off by a day or two. He met Adam out of the blue, then, somehow, the half elf had gone to meet with King Merryweather the day after. Then they had met Captain O’Shan of the Windy Warhawk, he had seen the half elf face a great many figures, from the likes of Ashuk to the various Grand Commanders of the Aswadian Orders. The half elf had even said that he had met and defeated the likes of the Honeysuckle Sword, a relative of the King, and had apparently allowed the other Grand Commanders to step back. His words of slaying the Grand Commander of High Garden, a Paragon, seemed true enough, to the point that other great warriors, like the Crimson Blade, took it seriously, as true as the Divine.  

One month. 

One month and he had stepped into the land of the royal family, not just the earth of a city which belonged to them, but an estate. 

‘They will never believe me,’ John thought.

Yasha panted as she trained, having felt her body stiffen over the past few days, if not from inactivity, if not from watching John train twice as hard as her, then at the very least from the constant shock towards her heart because of a particular, peculiar figure who she tried to pretend didn’t exist. A fool of a half elf who was in one breath a, what was the word again? A cringe father, and in the next, a demon who was scarier than even the Reavers which seemed to plague the land. 

As she thrust her spear forward, she smiled, for regardless of all of that, it was true that she was currently within the estate of the royal family. She could have dreamt of it, once she was a Master, she may have been invited to join one of the various units as a guard, but here she was not a guard, she was a guest. 

‘A guest of the royal family?’

Zabir’s eyes fell across the estate. He had been invited to one of the royal family’s estates many years ago, but it wasn’t quite as impressive as this one. His eyes then fell to the half elf, who was apparently worth more to the royal family than an honest, loyal, dutiful guard, a veteran who had made a name for himself, a hero, some might have called him at the time. The old man sighed, smiling to himself, for that was how the world worked. 

As the cool winds of evening welcomed blanketed the group, they retired early for the night, the half elf brushing his teeth slightly longer, while thinking of his home, his family, and the gifts he still needed, or rather, if anyone else were to describe it, wanted to buy. 

Bael sat upon the top of a small tower, resting his blade over his shoulder, staring out into the darkness. Moments continue to pass by, before finally, opposite him, upon the other tower, a figure stood within the darkness of night. 

The pair stared into one another’s eyes for a long while, seconds of silence turning to minutes of mutedness, before finally, a smirk broke the quiet. 

“A storm?” a guard called, staring beyond the walls, out into the distance. 

“Probably just a dragon,” another replied, yawning, since if it was a dragon fighting so close to the city, it was probably one that had some issue with another secretive figure, and they had taken it outside to duke it out between one another. If they had done so within the city, the matter would have escalated, and the last one that dared to do such, one that also used lightning, had been slaughtered over ten years ago, closer to two decades ago?

“Oh…” The other guard replied, having finished his own yawn, catching it from his companion. “Oh! Did I tell you, Farah gave birth to a boy.”

“You just told me now? I would have bought a scarf from the market. I’ll have Kalifa buy one from the night market when she greets us for duty.” 

“Don’t worry, I bought a scarf for you, because I knew I would forget to tell you until half our shift.”

“You have a terrible memory, but at least you’re smart about it.”

“Half a brain, but I think twice.”

As the guards continued to joke between one another, Bael continued to fight, having yet to unsheathe his blade. He swung his sword, still within its scabbard, wildly, like a beast, while his opponent shifted in impossible ways to dodge, shifting its body as though he were facing a river as they clashed. At first it used a pair of blades, but the silver it wielded shifted into a glaive, then a greatclub, and a greatsword, and more, utilising every weapon imaginable against the half dragon, whose lightning crackled with every strike. 

Bael’s blade, all of a sudden, struck more refined, though he quickly withdrew it, annoyed he had allowed the blade to move in such a manner within his grasp. However, his heart pounded, sweat poured down his side, and all the while he had barely managed to cause it to lose its breath, while the half dragon inhaled deeply, seconds at a time, exhaling out his exhaustion. It had remained on the defensive, and even then, even without focusing upon its offence, it had managed to force Bael back. 

‘I’m better with a sword than I am with my fists, but I was still losing?’ Bael thought, and even if he were to unsheathe his blade, he doubted it would have changed the situation. If he had burned part of his Spark, he still wasn’t certain he could go toe to toe with it, feeling its abilities were as ambiguous as itself. 

“You, you’re pretty decent using every weapon, huh?” Bael half accused. 

“I am best with a bow,” it replied.

“A bow?” Bael hadn’t seen it wield a bow yet, but it had no reason to lie. 

“Archer.”

“I would assume so.”

“That is my name.”

“Bael.”

“I currently go by the name of Rabia the Rain Bow.” 

“So you’re the Vice Commander of the Purple Hearts?”

“The Mustashalur.”

“Ah, right, that was the word,” Bael said, resting his blade over his shoulder once more. “Why is the greatest archer across Aswadasad stalking our troublesome group?”

“The Anomaly…”

“Adam?”

“Yes.”

“You do not need to concern yourself with him,” Bael stated, a crackle of thunder flowing through the blade. 

“Do I have your word?”

“You do not need my word,” Bael replied. “You have the Iyr’s.”

‘If the Iyr wishes to take responsibility…’ Rabia thought. 

“I thought your kind disappeared thousands of years ago?” Bael asked. 

“It appears so,” Rabia replied, her voice calm, but Bael could hear it, the loneliness of one who had been born in the wrong time, long after the rest of her kind had disappeared. 

“I need a drink,” Bael said, turning. “Do you know what the most delicious drink is?”

“The kind you don’t pay for,” Rabia replied, betraying the wisdom of spending centuries travelling the land. 

Bael cackled.

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I hope one day you can see how strong Bael is without holding back. Perhaps around chapter 10,000?