Dunes smiled towards the glaring Maharan, extending a hand. “Black Mountain.”

“Oh?” Maharan replied, slightly surprised, but he reached out a hand. “Asaym, Mo.”

“Walay,” Dunes replied, smiling warmly. “From the Confederacy?”

Maharan smiled, tilting his head lightly. “I was born and raised in Crimson Port.”

“Oh?” Dunes replied, raising a brow, a smile across his lips. “It has been some time, but we still hold much respect for the Band of the Crimson Swords.”

“There are only three left now, but I was able to meet one of the future leaders thanks to the Iyrmen,” Maharan admitted, motioning his head to Sokikez. “You know of Raining Bow?”

“I do not, but you see that one, Bavin?” Dunes motioned a hand.

“He is the one to protect me,” Maharan confirmed.

“He is the previous Elder Wrath’s grandson.”

Mahran’s eyes snapped to the Iyrman, who sat nearby, his eyes full of shock. He had somehow managed to save the Chief’s cousin when he was but ten years old. He had not known the Iyrman was the Chief’s cousin, all he knew was that a man was dying before him and he dragged the Iyrman away to help him. Then, somehow, he had come under the protection of those which were once his enemies, working as a guide for the Free Territories, but never in grave danger thanks to the Iyrman. He recalled the chest which the Pirate Chief had opened, earning more than enough gold for watching over the young man for a few years.

Except, what was he doing now under the protection of the half elf, who may have been tattooed, but was certainly no Iyrman. Didn’t they promise to…

“Are you able to use that sword?” Dunes asked.

“Not as well as you, Mo.”

Dunes chuckled, nodding his head lightly. “You will not need to draw it now that you are here.”

Maharan leaned in, motioning his head to the woman. “I saw her shoot the eye out of a wyvern.”

Dunes leaned in. “You see that older man?”

“Hmm,” Maharan replied with an affirmative grunt.

“He is the Lion King,” Dunes whispered.

“The…” Maharan’s eyes widened, his brows shooting up, taking in the sight of the old man who held a giant toddler against his chest. ‘The Lion King?’

Adam remained in thought, glancing aside towards the surprised Maharan. His eyes fell to the sabre, then to the shorter dagger at the young man’s side. ‘I can’t just forge plate mail for the guy, but the chain and scale should be enough for him for now, but still, I should probably get him something.’

“Mo Dunes, Maharan,” Adam called, motioning with a hand. “Maharan, do you have any family from where you are from?”

“No.”

“Friends?”

“A few.”

“If there’s anyone you want us to gift some silver or gold, let me know. I’m going to give you a hundred gold to spend as you please in the capital, and if you need any more gold, let us know. We’re going to be heading out soon, so make sure you grab anything you want or need. Also, uh, as we travel, if you want to buy anything from the various towns, let us know, and if you need more silver or gold, let us know, because…” Adam dismissed any notion of shame with a hand. “Listen, we’re rich, and I’m tasked in rewarding you for your good deed.”

“Yes?” Maharan replied, even more shocked, not able to handle Adam’s straightforwardness.

“Mo Dunes, could you please take Maharan and buy him a quicksilver sword and dagger from that smithy?”

“As you wish.”

“For now, you can borrow my shield, it’s a Greater shield, so it should be alright, just in case something happens,” Adam said, winking.

‘Huh?’

“Also, that’s a quicksilver dagger too,” Adam stated, making sure they understood.

Maharan didn’t understand what was happening, but he felt the tingle of the shield, holding a pattern of various crosses within a circle, and at his side he now wore a blade made of quicksilver, which was easily worth a few hundred gold, and he carried within his pouch not just silvers, but gold, the gems upon Nobby and Bavin, each of whom would be hard to steal from since they were so scary, or so Adam had explained.

‘Huh?’

Yasha eyed up the newcomer, from the east, from the territory which was once a part of Aswadasad, but was now part of the Confederacy. At first, she was annoyed, only to recall that those particular states despised Aswabayyad, meaning they were the enemies of their enemy. Plus, he was now apparently a member of the United Kindom?

What was he exactly?

Adam yawned, eyes falling aside towards Jurot. “What?”

“What are your plans with Maharan?”

“Oh, didn’t I show you the letter?” Adam asked, reaching into his robes, summoning the letter and handing it to Jurot. The Iyrman scanned through it, for the letter had been written by Iromin, with Iyrman efficiency.

“How do you intend to raise him?” Jurot asked.

“Are you coveting him?” Adam teased.

“He is fine,” Jurot admitted.

“Alright, well, I guess we can raise him as a typical fighter.” Adam stretched out his back lightly, before glancing aside towards Maharan again. ‘Worthy of a Lead? I guess I’ll have to share my XP with him.’

Maharan’s head turned towards the figures adorned in breastplate, wielding blades at their side, though it was Tanagek who was more exited, for the figure’s hand was half made of metal, defining who she was. He thought about asking for a spar.

“What’s this?” Adam asked, accepting the pouch from the pretty woman, who smiled.

“The payment for the spears,” the woman replied, before greeting the Iyrmen, and leaving.

Adam peeked into the pouch, counting just ten gems. “I mean, unless they’re worth a thousand gold each, she’s underpaid us.”

Kitool checked the gems within, for she had spent much time with Jaygak, who had learned how to deal in gems. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“They are.”

“Oh,” Adam said, looking down into the pouch, seeing through the dim light as though it was clear as day, before he tightened the string and held it out to Kitool. “I’ll leave it to you.”

“Okay,” Kitool said, nodding her head to Tanagek, Chosen, and the other Iyrmen, who escorted her to the Guild in order to not keep a bag of thousand gold gems on her person.

‘I see,’ Adam thought. ‘I’m in Aswadasad now.’

“What is wrong?” Jurot thought, noting Adam’s awkward smile.

“The Amira is pretty baller, huh?”

Jurot just nodded, assuming it meant impressive.

Quest Complete: Royal Dealings

XP Gained: +200

It was later in that evening, the half elf sent word back to the Iyr, using his Sending spell.

Mana: 34 - 31

Spell: Sending

“Business with Amira. Ten Greater spears. Ten Basic spears. Paid. Also a gift to be discussed in the future.”

‘Okay,’ came the Iyrmanly response from the Director.

Adam remained silent for a long while. ‘I guess speaking only business is rather rude.’

Mana: 31 - 28

Spell: Sending

“I hope you are well, Aunt. Please bully all my children, all my children, on my behalf. Jurot sends his love.”

Jurot finished sipping his cup of wine as Adam burst onto the scene.

“Jurot!” Adam exclaimed. “Our kids are already standing so well! Should we go back? We can befriend a dragon to take us back!”

The others could see the joy and pain upon the fool of a father’s face, no doubt a storm of complex emotion filling his heart. If it was Adam, then he truly meant what he said, the half elf wanting to return back home. Jurot stood, approaching his brother, placing a hand upon the half elf’s shoulder.

“Jurot…”

“They will forgive you.”

“Huu!” The half elf whimpered lightly. “My Xarot, my Monarot.”

Jurot understood the half elf was in too much pain to state that Monarot was his daughter, instead he pat Adam’s shoulder. “Let us buy more gifts tomorrow, before we leave.”

“You’re right, Jurot, you’re right,” the half elf said, filling with greater shame. ‘Xarot, Monarot…’

Sokikez hair stood on end, the woman’s head snapping to the side, feeling the grave aura emanating from the half elf. For a moment, she had felt it, the thirst for blood. Her eyes remained entirely focused on the half elf, who seemed almost on the verge of tears.

‘What was that?’ the woman thought.

Ashmir yawned, peeking to the side, noting how the half elf returned back to the group, drinking away his sorrows.

“Huu! Amal, my Amal, how could they do this to me? No, it’s all my fault isn’t it? My sweet Xarot, my sweet Monarot, they’re only doing this because I’m being mean first, isn’t that right?” Adam sniffled.

“Adam,” Chosen called.

“Yeah?”

“You have yet to speak of your children to Sokikez.”

“Why would she care about my adorable children?” Adam replied.

The Iyrmen’s eyes fell to the half elf.

Jurot was pretty sure the half elf was trying to dampen his want to spill blood by falling further into his cringe, but to even deny speaking of his children to a newcomer? His eyes darted to Kitool.

“You should inform her of how much Virot likes to bully you,” Kitool said, her voice dark, fairly certain they needed to get Adam to speak of his children, otherwise they weren’t sure if he would be allowed to meet another noble.

Is that why?

Had he met too many nobles?

Even Ashmir, who hadn’t spent much time with Adam, felt the dread within the air, understanding its source to be the fool of a father, the same fool of a father who was considered among the top ten strongest mortals across the nearby lands.

‘Why are they all so worried?’ Maharan thought.

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What a scary end to a chapter.