“No,” Jurot said.

  Theo raised his brows inquisitively, though his heart eased. It had been almost two brutal weeks of gettien, even though it was Jurot who put himself through the gauheo always fought him first, for the ce to earwenty silvers. It was just twenty silvers, but sihey could fight daily, it meant that he could earn more thaypical hundred silvers they earned monthly. It was Theo’s duty to tire him out enough for the rest.

  However, they would only eary silvers if they won, otherwise it was half, split between the five. He would fight first, followed by Thomas, then Alfie, then Aria. If they could not defeat him, then it would be up to Dunes. In his heart, there e. The hope of being able to get lucky and all that for himself spurred Theo on, but they all ighat particur offer, sihere was no way they could defeat him before even the fourth person stepped forward. Unfortunately, it seemed those days had e to an end.

  “The four of you should attack me all at once,” Jurot finally said, feeling the heat of the rage fill him. There was only a moment of the four blinking, before they charged forward, staves in hand as they assaulted the Iyrmaoo, used a staff, beating them each senseless with surgical precision. His skin was like iron, threatening to break any staff which did not know its pce as struck him. As the four fell before him, the heavily armoured Dunes charged forward, his magical longsword in hand, g with the Iyrman.

  Duruck true six times within their bout, pushing his body to its limits as he swung his magical bde, shrugging off the cttering staff against his armour. He used his bde to strike true three times, while naturally striking true ahree times, each time healing himself from Jurot’s onsught. This day he pushed Jurot further he had previously.

  While Dunes did not use his magic, Jurot did not wield his axe, nor held any shield. Dunes was fighting a weaker Jurot, and he himself repaid that in kind, though still used his magical bde so as to assist the workers in earning a greater pay. Yet, somehow, the Aswadian who had been trai the Order of the Bck Mountaio his knees, panting wildly, feeling the sweat seep through his clothing from within his heavy armour. ‘Is this why Brandon the Great warned us?’

  Jurot remained red hot with rage, feeling it pulse through his body, filling every pour with the intense o kill, before it finally dissipated. He closed his eyes, allowing the breeze to cool his skin. “You did well. I almost fell.”

  Duared up at the Iyrman, who stood tall, his skin bruised, his side slightly bloodied. He inhaled deeply, sighing out, before standing, crag his back. He tried to recall who he was meant to slip his silvers to that day.

  ‘Was he always that strong?’ Amira thought, the woman sitting to one side, with a few of the other mothers, each who were busy dealing with their own work, from teag, to knitting, to repairing clothing or maintaining the business’ equipment. She had apanied Jurot for some time, but she didn’t remember him being so monstrously strong, or her husband for that matter.

  ‘He’s not so bad,’ Bael thought. ‘Is he as strong as his brother, though?’ Even so, Bael wasn’t sure he could beat the Iyrman, fighting with only his fists.

  Cobra also peeked at the fight, taking a small break during her work, with Viper and Python c for her.

  ‘You are acceptable,’ Jurot had informed her when she had asked for training.

  ‘Acceptable?’ Cobra had already seen the differeween herself and Adam, but it appeared to her that the distaween herself and Jurot was equally as fathomless. Then, of course, there was Kitool. ‘Will she e to train us too?’ Her eyes darted to the side, to find her cousins, one in specific.

  The Silver Fate squad remai the business, assisting the group iraining. While Jurot assisted the new set of figures, Nirot and the rest assisted Cobra and the others. Their training was far lighter, though still quite difficult, training an hour every m and an hour every evening as part of their duties.

  Even though they were all training this way, Cobra could feel it. There was something else in the air. It was unspoken, but she uood. Though Jurot had called her acceptable, it meant she did not require harsh training as the others. While she was someone who could be refined into a true Expert, the others still o master the basics. Jurot’s training would quickly beat the others into shape, while also assisting Dunes.

  ‘Are they pnning to use us for revenge against the Orders?’ Cobra thought. She wouldn’t have thought it, but when it came to them, she couldn’t rule anything out. ‘What am I meant to tell the children?’

  The days tio pass by, one day at a time.

  Amira finally approached Dunes during a prayer. The Aswadian sat upon his knees, praying before the magical bde. The woman sat down on a stool, also bowing her head to pray a lighter prayer.

  “You should go see him,” Amira finally said. “He will want to see you.”

  Dunes fihe sentence for his prayer, before falling silent for a moment. “I ’t.”

  “You must.”

  “I ’t,” Dunes replied, his voice tired.

  Amira felt the annoyance rush through her, though pushed away her feelings. She stood, leaving her husband to his prayers. Dunes spoke so pathetically, that if she remained, she might have struck him to wake him up, but she couldn’t. Dunes he time, and he o wait for that.

  ‘Has the noonval wind ever felt so cold, even in Aldnd?’ The words repyed within the woman’s mind, for how could her husband say something like that? Of course the noonval wind was cold, it was Aldnd! Yet, her heart ached, because she knew what he meant, as much as she wao ighe words.

  Finally, it was that day.

  Adam returned back to the shared estate, holding a bundle, something ed within the cloth. Though his children charged him, he quickly ruffled their hairs, before he slipped the buo Sonarot, allowio take it away.

  “Is magic, daddy?” Jirot asked, clutg at the hem of his shirt.

  “It is.” Adam lifted his twins up, holding them close. “It’s an axe.”

  “Of coase it is axe,” Jirot said, smiling brightly towards her father. “What it do?”

  “It do so much.” Adam pnted a kiss on her forehead. “It beat up bad dreams!”

  “Is my axe, daddy?”

  “Ah, it’s the Iyr’s axe?” Adam replied, smiling awkwardly.

  “Iyr’s axe? Not my axe?”

  “No, no, but maybe you ask the Iyr for it?” Adam asked, not realising just hoard he had made it for the Iyr.

  “I do not want axe, I want daddy,” Jirot said, somehow managing to fix the trouble for the Iyr. She hugged her father’s neck, kissing his cheek, causing the half elf to smile wide, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Daddy worked so hard, so he needs some rest,” Adam admitted, dropping down to the side, cuddling his twins close to his chest.

  “You are always w, daddy, I always tell you…” Jirot pouted, still holding her father’s neck.

  “I know, I know, but daddy o work hard. Enough about daddy, though. How was your day, my little Demon Lord?” Adam pnted a firm kiss on the girl’s cheek, allowio rex as she spoke of all that had happened during the day, the girl also speaking of what Jarot did. “Oh yeah? Tell me about that, Jababy.”

  “It was so big,” little Jarot said. “I ot climb the statue, is so dangerous…”

  “Did you both say thank you to nana for taking you out to see the statue?”

  “I said it!” Jirot firmed, while little Jarot nodded. “We are so polite, daddy!”

  “Yes, you’re all so good.” Adam’s voice cracked slightly, pulling the pair closer to his chest. “My wonderful children, who are all so well behaved.”

  As evening approached, the old, one armed, one legged Iyrman sighed. His body ached from his training, though the bath had soothed his muscles. He sat at the round table alohe venerable Iyrman lost within his thoughts. He gnced around at the empty seats, before closing his eyes.

  ‘I am a Grandmaster now,’ Sarot had revealed, his voice low. Jarot remembered how his brother’s eyes had been awkwardly focused upon him. ‘I will take that role.’

  Churot had sat upon Jarot’s leg, the same leg which remained. He could still remember the weight of the boy, even when he was still a toddler, a so quiet, so well behaved. Though he ate slowly, he still ate well.

  ‘Do you think Rirot will allow it?’ Jarot had joked, causing Tarot to ugh, before the old man stopped, noting Churot look up at him. Tarot beamed down at the boy, reag out with a thick finger, rubbing the boy’s nose.

  Jarot’s thoughts fell away as steps approached him, and the bald Iyrman, with the thick beard, sat opposite him. Jarot let out a small sigh, as though pining at the old man for interrupting his thoughts. The old Iyrman poured himself a cup of wine, but stopped as Jarot shook his head.

  “I will drink my milk.”

  “Milk?” Rajin whispered.

  “It is my favourite,” Jarot replied, simply, sipping the milk lightly.

  “…”

  A moment of silence apahe pair.

  “Mad Dog,” Jarot said, before chug lightly. “Undying. The Kid.” He inhaled deeply. “It was because I am so weak, my brother is dead, and the you is training when he is needed here.”

  “…”

  “They should burn my tales,” Jarot growled, feeling the heat of the rage filling him, though it was kept at bay by the chill of his grief, the old man too tired to allow the grief to fuel his rage.

  “I do nret it,” Rajin finally said, watg as the old crippled Iyrman froze in pce, before their eyes met.

  Jarot slowly smiled, sipping his milk. “Let us share a drink wheurn.”

  “Okay,” Rajin replied, as though the pair truly would return.

  It's still many chapters away, but I think it's worth the wait.