“Noorhabi!” Jeras declared, whatever annoyance the other half elf had spurred within him had all but disappeared. 

“Hey, let’s end it here, shall we?” the half elf asked, sweating under the noonval sun and the effort of beating up the older woman. He had at least donned his shield, but it was still difficult when much of his greatest strength lay in his armour, and she had managed to Critically Hit him once. However, there was something about her way of fighting that had caused his heart to sink. 

It was simple, deadly, efficient. 

Almost Iyrmanly. 

Taygak narrowed her eyes. 

Health: 74 

However, his opponent looked terrible, the woman already sweating profusely, her blade shaking lightly within her grasp. While she had brought him to roughly six tenths, he was pretty sure she was upon her last tenth, and if they exchanged one more clash, he would defeat her. 

“I had no idea you were so strong,” the woman admitted, for when they first clashed, she could feel he was strong, but it was after she had burst forth to reveal her great strength did the half elf begin smiting her, the holy magic pulsing through her bones, aching deep within her core. 

‘It seems he really can face Grand Commanders of various Orders,’ Jeras thought, his eyes completely focused on the half elf. “How old are you, Brother?”

“I’m twenty four.”

“Twenty four? Don’t you have many children too?”

“Many? Only eight, ten, or twelve, depending on your point of view,” the half elf replied, his arms crossed.

“What are these points of view?”

“Well, you know. There’s my eight, from my triplets, twins, the youngest trio, then there’s Damrot and Monarot, but Jurot isn’t here to defend himself, but then you have to include Ranya and Enisa.”

“My daughters,” Dunes informed the merchant.

“You see?” Adam shook his head. “Seriously! Anyway, since you both adore each other so, how many children do you have?”

“None,” Jeras admitted. “We did not intend to have children.”

“Ey?” Adam blinked. ‘That’s a thing in this world? I guess, since he’s rich he has the choice?’

“Although, seeing how you adore your own, I wonder if it was a mistake, but it is too late now.” The merchant shrugged. “Perhaps we can adopt a child, though in our elder years, it would be untoward.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixty.”

“Sixty? Damn! You don’t look a day over twenty four!” Adam half joked, since Jeras was a half elf. Adam’s eyes then darted to the woman. “So you must be forty?”

“Sixty,” the woman replied. 

“Not a day over thirty,” Adam joked. “Although, you really do look quite young. You must be a tenth elf, or maybe that’s just how all Aswadians are? Are you all a tenth elf or something, because you all age so gracefully?”

“Not all of us,” Dunes replied, in a way that suggested Adam was more correct than he was incorrect about their ageing. 

“Can you imagine a half elf who is half elf and half Aswadian? That kid’s going to look like a baby for a whole hundred years!”

“That is just an elf,” Dunes stated.

“I need an elf kid, someone who will stay a cute little baby for a hundred years. No, no, it’s got to be a dwarf. Dunes-,”

“Mo,-“ the Priest corrected.

“Uh, yeah, Mo, can you imagine that? A chubby little dwarf baby? So adorable! So big! A chonky little baby! I want a chonky little boy like Gurot and Murot.”

“What about a chonky little girl.”

“My daughters already destroy my soul, I don’t need them to destroy my arms when I pick them up too,” Adam replied with full sincerity. “You know, my eldest daughter, she’s pretty sweet. My second eldest too, she’s lovely, and she never causes me trouble, but my third daughter?” The half elf let out a sigh. “You know what the issue is?”

“She’s too smart,” Jeras guessed.

“How did you know?”

“One hears it often enough.”

“Well, you’re right! She’s smart, way too smart, very adorable, but so smart. She’s-,”

Jeras noted the way the young father stopped, it was only for an instant, a hesitation as memories flooded into the young father’s mind, but to him, it felt like a lifetime. 

“She’s the best,” Adam said. “My younger daughter, on the other hand, she’s really vicious. Sometimes, she’ll let me kiss her cheek and she’ll kiss my cheek, but she loves her mother, so I don’t feel too sorry for myself, but I wouldn’t mind a little more love.”

Jeras continued to poke Adam about his children and his wife, allowing the half elf to continue gushing about those he adored most.

“Your grandfather is the Mad Dog?” Insaf asked, her eyes wide. 

“He is, he is, but don’t tell him I easily admitted to it!” Adam huffed. 

“You are an Iyrman’s brother, truly?” the older woman asked. 

“He is,” Dunes stated, as the other Brother looked at him expectantly. 

“My grandmother is Flame Brand too.”

“Flame Brand too?” 

“That’s right! Taygak, isn’t it true?” Adam asked, only to then repeat it in Aldish, and the teen nodded her head. 

“He is really Flame Brand’s grandson?” the woman asked in devilkin. 

“Yes,” Taygak replied. 

“Are you her granddaughter too?”

“She is my grandaunt.”

Insaf’s eyes darted between the pair. “When I joined the army, I was dressed as a man, for I was a little boyish and masculine, even when I was young. Your grandmother, she…”

Insaf remembered the flames which had engulfed their camp. It was awkward timing, for it wasn’t long after when the enemy had come to attack them. They were trapped between a wall of steel and a wall of fire. However, an awkwardness had remained upon the air, an awkwardness broken by a figure who stood tall and strong. 

Lady Thea Barrenhill could hear the screaming and wailing of those trapped within the fire, and for a moment, she had considered it Lord Noor’s will, but she raised her hand. “Surrender, and we will assist in saving your companions.”

Lord Karim Tarec stood tall and proud, even with the wailing behind him, his cloak fluttering in the wind. One might have thought they could negotiate, but the problem was that he was known as Karim the Iron Wall, for he was sturdy, unbending. He was so well known to the Aldish, they could only send Lady Thea Barrenhill the Dark to deal with him, so known she was to the Aswadians, they could only send Lord Karim Tarec the Iron Wall to deal with her. 

Though they both held a similar reputation, and were the undisputed supremes of their Companies, the jangling of armour took away their attention. 

“Flames are to purge the unworthy,” the figure said, her helmet revealing the horns, and her nature beneath. She undid her helmet, however, revealing her red skin, and the tattoos upon her forehead, meaning she was no devilkin. “I do not count any among your Company as unworthy, Lord Karim.”

“Flame Brand, is it?” the Sergeant replied, standing tall and proud, even as many within his army perished behind him. 

“We can speak over tea once I have completed my task here, Naqib,” the woman said, walking casually into the camp of the enemy, none of whom had dared to stop her. 

“Seventh!” Thea commanded, holding up her fist. “Put out the flames!”

“Yes, Madam!” came the shouts in response. 

Insaf could still feel the smoke within her lungs, though it was a figure adorned in well worn armour, red of skin, with her tattoos displayed proudly, which had burned deep within her mind.

“It had been the first time within that Company,” the woman admitted. “I was so proud, for I was to be against one of Aswadasad’s most terrifying enemies, the Barrenhills. I was trapped, the smoke had almost killed me before the fire had managed to lick my skin.”

Adam remained still, his cheeks flushing, his entire skin prickling. Dunes remained rather impressed the half elf had managed to keep himself in check, though he was moments from bursting out. 

“We met again in the future, a short while before she was forced away,” the woman said. “I assisted her during the time when she had killed the blue dragon, with the assistance of many of the various Orders’ current greatest warriors. By the time she had left, I had managed to earn the strength of an Expert, all due to her swordsmanship.”

“Ah!” Adam said, raising a finger. “No wonder! When we sparred, I felt like your swordsmanship was familiar!”

“I only managed to achieve Grandmaster because of the swordsmanship she taught me,” the woman confirmed. 

“Doesn’t that make you my martial aunt then?” Adam asked. 

“What?” Insaf asked.

Adam shook his head. “Never mind.” ‘I really am in the wrong genre.’

Dunes tilted his head. “It… would?”

“You know what I’m talking about?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” the Priest of War replied. 

‘Yeah, that makes sense.’

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I really should write a cultivation story, but then I'd be courting death.