“There is little chance he will kill you,” Jurot admitted.

Adam rolled his shoulders, donning the crimson shield he had missed dearly, fingers trailing along the shield’s rim. “Little chance, but not none.”

“He is, as you would call him, one of the good ones,” Jurot said, though as he spoke to his brother, he kept the Faro within his sights.

“What is he like?” Adam asked, stretching out his arms and back, swaying from side to side to limber up for the upcoming bout.

“Strong.”

“His personality?”

“Noble.”

“Jurot, please.”

“When Marmak had slain his two closest friends, the Faro guaranteed his life during the meeting, and allowed him to step out peacefully, even after placing a ten thousand gold bounty upon his head,” Jurot said. “If he did not kill Marmak, he would not kill you, but…”

“He is a noble,” the half elf joked.

Jurot nodded. “You should hold back.”

“Alright, got it.”

After warming up, the pair stepped forward, readying themselves for their little spar.

“Scholar Muh, you may referee the bout,” the Faro stated, in a way that betrayed that he did not expect argument, and he was right, as the half elf bowed his head towards the figure, who smiled with delight to referee such a match.

Adam drew his axe, while the Faro muttered a prayer, and drew his blade, revealing the blackness of the ebony, feeling the magic within flooding through him, coaxing him to draw out its greater might. However, the blade remained as it was, as though carved of the void, the light not daring to touch it.

The half elf couldn’t feel any pressure from the figure opposite him, but since Jurot had called him strong, he couldn’t underestimate the Faro.

“Seeing as you are both so eager,” Scholar Muh called, almost chuckling, the man beginning to smile wider. “You may begin.”

Battle Order

D20 + 1 = 12 (11)

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 18 (8)

Miss!

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 19 (9)

Miss!

Health: 126 - 60

Condition: Slashed

Weapon Attacks are made with Disadvantage.

‘Oh?’ Adam thought, as the pair clashed, axe against blade, but his arm twisted behind him, his bicep twitching and aching, shooting out jolts of pain.

“You do not need to hold back that much,” Jurot called, standing with his arms, crossed, watching as his brother was forced back by Usama, the Ebony Tiger.

‘Who is he to think such a young man can hold back against our Lord?’ the farisi thought.

“Okay,” Adam replied calmly.

Fighting Spirit: 3 - 2

Health: 60 - 65

Seventh Sky: 1 - 0

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 12 (2)

Miss!

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 28 (18)

Hit!

Mana: 34 - 33

Ability: Divine Smite

4D6 + 2D6 + 8 = 34 (16)(10)

34 damage!

Onward Soar: 1 - 0

Tough Spirit: 1 - 0

2D6 + 9 = 16 (7)

Health: 65 - 81

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 16 (6)

Miss!

Attack: Seventh Sky

D20 + 10 = 28 (18)

Hit!

Mana: 33 - 32

Ability: Divine Smite

4D6 + 2D6 + 8 = 29 (12)(9)

29 damage!

Mana: 32 - 31

Spell: Shield

Defence: 25 - 30

Adam tensed his body, narrowing his eyes, and completely relaxed as he stepped forward, and though his arm ached, through his focus he was able to ignore the pain. This time as the Faro swung his blade, he stepped back, forced back by Adam’s great strength as the pair clashed, unable to find purchase upon the half elf with his ebony blade. It was, however, then he understood why the half elf was able to fight against the greatest warriors across the lands, for even if Usama fought against the likes of the Fariq of the Black Lions, he would have been able to force him back easier than when he fought against this half elf.

Then he saw it.

Through the half elf’s purple visor.

Apathy.

Fighting Spirit: 2 - 1

Health: 81 - 86

Attack: Seventh Sky (Advantage)

D20 + 10 = 19 (9)

D20 + 10 = 21 (11)

Hit!

Mana: 31 - 30

Ability: Divine Smite

4D6 + 2D6 + 8 = 29 (13)(8)

29 damage!

Attack: Seventh Sky (Advantage)

D20 + 10 = 16 (6)

D20 + 10 = 19 (9)

Miss!

Adorned in black, the Faro stepped back, his blade pointed towards the earth, clutched within both hands, the force of the half elf’s axe causing his arms to shake, his entire body aching as the radiant might flooded through him. He supposed he was able to fight another round, but the clashes had said enough, for while Usama felt his body grow heavier, the half elf seemed to step ever forward with greater strength.

“I believe this is enough,” Scholar Muh said, noting how the pair had taken three beats longer to engage into another round, assuming the Faro had gathered enough.

“I see the rumours were not unfounded,” the Faro admitted, sheathing his blade, flexing his muscles as he regained his strength, letting out a soft sigh. “If I were to rely upon my blade’s strength, I am uncertain if I would be able to defeat you.”

“I think we both held back an appropriate amount,” the half elf said. “You are probably at half strength, meanwhile I’m probably at eight tenths.”

“So much?”

“I’m considering abilities that I’d keep secret, in that case, I’m probably at nine tenths,” the half elf admitted, undoing his helmet to reveal he seemed entirely fine, and, if one dared to suggest, bored. “However, I’m not sure how strong your sword is, since even without you pulling out its full might, it’s about as great as my typical blows with Seventh Sky.”

“Are you an Oathsworn?”

“I am…” Adam began, pausing, taking a moment. “I am someone who is close with the Divine, so they have granted me greater abilities.”

The Faro was fairly certain the half elf had admitted to something no one should know, the old man’s eyes falling upon the others around him, who either did not know of the heaviness of his words, or did not care.

“I will prepare the tea,” Usama said, strapping his blade to his side, before stepping away, his mind burdened by his thoughts.

Adam stood a little taller, wondering what kind of tea the Faro had brought. ‘Even if he’s poisoned it, it would be rude to not take a sip at least?’

The farisi quickly set up the various tents, taking only a handful of minutes, for they had prepared most of it before the duel, taking to the perimeter as the Faro hosted the various figures within the party.

Adam sipped his tea lightly, the sweet flavour almost like honey, but also smoky, which reminded him of barbecue. ‘Oh? It’s weirdly good…’

Usama spoke with the group politely, though the presence of the farisi pressed upon them, each keeping a keen eye upon the group in case they dared to harm the Faro. Such a pressure did not reach one of the group, for the Faro had warned them enough upon their journey, as Taygak sipped her tea.

‘Even if she cuts into my heart, you cannot even cut a single hair from her head,’ the Faro had warned, declaring anyone who did, would be killed unceremoniously, as well as three generations of their family.

“How did you come to meet Kizwolima?” Usama asked casually.

“We met her upon the sea,” Jurot replied simply, trying to figure out what the Faro was trying to figure out as the noble probed them, asking more questions which Jurot answered, even going on to ask about Amal.

“I heard rumours the child may be a Sorcerer,” Usama stated, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“She is?” Adam asked, glancing down at the girl, who sucked against her thumb while nuzzled up against Ashmir’s chest. “Look at you, Amal! Aren’t you so special? Of course you are, our little Amal! How cute!”

Amal turned her head, hiding her face shyly within the older Aswadian’s chest, the girl squirming slightly.

“It would be best to surrender the girl to us,” Usama said, his eyes then darting towards the half elf, while the farisi tensed up, since the quick motions had spooked them, almost causing them to draw their weapons.

The silence was broken by Scholar Muh placing down his cup, feeling the tension in the air, the man smiling, while the half elf was kept at bay, a hand upon each of his shoulders, his face red hot, his eyes narrowed, a vicious smile that held no joy upon his lips, his eyes shut tight as the half elf took the pair’s advice to heart, for upon one shoulder was Jurot’s hand, and the other, Kitool’s.

“Is Amal a Sorcerer?” Jurot asked.

“I did not hear of this,” Ashmir admitted.

“You may speak the truth, for the Iyr will take responsibility, since the girl has been adopted into the Iyr,” Jurot assured.

“He did not say it, but I would not be surprised if he did not speak of it, since it is that bastard,” Ashmir admitted.

“You said the child has been adopted into the Iyr?” Usama asked.

“She is to be adopted into the Mir family.”

“Is she currently adopted into the Mir family?”

“No.”

“You said she was adopted into the Iyr.”

“She is currently adopted into the Iyr as my cousin,” Jurot stated firmly, his eyes holding the Faro’s gaze. Since Jurot had spoken the words, he would need to take responsibility, and if he didn’t do this much, he was pretty sure Adam was going to become the most wanted criminal in Aswadasad.

“Very well,” Usama replied, relenting the girl.

“If you wanted to covet our cute Amalrot, you should have at least brought the Painter,” Adam joked, though as the others turned to the audacious half elf, they could see it, still tense, still red hot with rage, that he wasn’t joking in the slightest.

‘This bastara is crazy,’ Maharan thought, frozen in place, his heart pounding too violently to drink.

Sokikez’s eyes fell to the half elf, suddenly understanding why Karmin had warned her.

----------------------------------------

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Someone needs to hide all the nobles from Adam.