Novel Wait
[1080] – Y05.080 – No Justice IV
[1080] – Y05.080 – No Justice IV
“If they do not step aside, shall I take it as the Iyr no longer wishes to cooperate against the Reavers?” King Merryweather asked, having stood uncorrected, and running out of options when he considered how eager the Orders seemed.
Elder Peace held her beads in one hand. She rubbed them gently, rubbing each of the beads, one by one. There were over a hundred, a hundred and two to be precise. One hundred beads were rounded, but two were cubes. One, white, which she currently thumbed, and another, red, which she avoided, and had avoided since she had inherited the beads.
“If it is true that these children were killed upon the Aldish lands, a demon, and a goblin, then I, as Elder Peace, shall declare that this group before us, stand without the blessing of the Iyr, and shall be subject to whatever the King of Floria shall declare.”n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om
King Merryweather tensed up slightly, noting the wording of her statement. He stared at her long and hard, while she remained rubbing her white bead, her eyes closed, the woman completely relaxed, standing calmly with no aides beside her.
Elder Peace stopped rubbing the white bead, feeling the edge of the red bead against her fingers. Slowly, the woman opened her eyes, catching the eyes of a particular Iyrman. “A demon and a goblin have no rights.”
“My Jarot. My Larot. They are Iyrmen.” The old one armed Iyrman stared into the Great Elder’s eyes, refusing to allow her to draw her eyes away.
“When I left to assist in the gathering, they were not, in the eyes of the Iyr,” Elder Peace said clearly, making sure to speak each word clearly.
“They are Iyrmen, like my Farot.”
Elder Peace stopped rubbing her beads, narrowing her eyes slightly. Even though they were engaging in such theatrics, for the Aldish loved their justification, the threat Jarot held in his voice was very real. “They are truly children of the Iyr?”
King Merryweather remained focused on the Great Elder. He gathered there was something off about the situation, but he couldn’t quite place what. Except there was more than one thing that didn’t make sense. It just couldn’t be the case that a child of the Iyr was killed, and the Iyr hadn’t declared anything in months. ‘Chief Iromin…’
“They are,” Jarot declared, a silence creeping into the fort.
Sir Dunnock inhaled sharply, feeling a deep chill set within her, the woman standing completely still. Even her companions remained frozen. ‘That is impossible.’
Another Vice Commander of the Thousand Hunts had crept closer, taking his position nearby, but his eyes remained focused on a particular half elf.
“This has gone far enough,” Kris stated, trying to catch the King’s eye, but the King remained completely focused on the Great Elder.
“The rules are clear,” Elder Peace said, brushing her thumb along the red bead. “The heads of the accused must be offered to the Iyr, or we will escalate this matter.”
“War? At this time?” King Merryweather urged, hoping she would change her mind. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, for though he had exiled the Orders, he still commanded a great respect from them, and for them, but the Iyr had also been pivotal in him forming the current Floria. “The war will disrupt so much. Floria. Aldland. The Iyr.”
“The rules are clear,” Elder Peace stated firmly.
“This is a matter for the Rot family,” Jarot stated, as though Elder Peace didn’t know that already.
Elder Peace clasped her hands together in prayer for a moment, before she bowed her head. “It seems I have no rights in this matter.”
“Adam,” King Merryweather called, glad that the Orders had kept their blades at bay, but he could feel that things were simmering to a boil. “I understand that you feel a great pain for the loss of your children. I merely wish to speak from my heart. What is about to happen, you can stop it. The Reavers will come soon. The loss you have felt, it will be felt all over these lands. I know a little of the Reaver threat from my studies, but I know they are a great danger, for when is it that the Iyr calls forth a forum to discuss sharing prey they hunt? Please, consider not just your lives, but the lives of those who will be lost when the world loses the Mad Dog, the Bearded Dragon, and your companions beside you.”
Adam swallowed. He looked around himself, noting the looks of the various Oathsworn around him, those who had once laughed, and yet had stopped as the heavy aura pressed against them. The Reavers were a grave threat, one that caused even the Iyr to pause. This matter had grown too big. They had their chance, but they had ruined it in a fit of rage. Elder Peace had stepped in, and had given them all the power to deal with the situation, and he understood he had a choice to make.
“If you leave now, we shall forget this matter,” King Merryweather declared, his voice filling the air.
“Forget this matter?” Adam asked, his voice full of pain. “How could I forget, King Merryweather? How could I forget the sight of my dead sons before me? How could I forget the pain from the deaths of my children? How could I forget the nightmares that awaken my son and my daughter? How could I forget that my son no longer eats from my fingers?”
The sadness within Adam’s voice cut the air like a blade, and some around even forgot they were talking about beasts.
“You will try to kill him, and then we will draw our blades, and we will fight amongst one another, while the Reavers prepare to bring a slaughter to our land?” Merryweather’s voice was also full of a sadness, of a general who had known war for far too long, and a father who had lost children of his own. “Please, Adam.”
Adam sniffled. He had been too selfish. His brother stood beside him, silent. His brother, whose daughter had just been born. His own son had also just been born, and yet rather than read to him, and to watch over him with his wife, who was far too good for him, he stood, at the edge of a blade, ready to die? He, who had been luckier than any other person in the world?
Outnumbered and outmatched.
The gazes of so many hundred of Order members before him.
The others, they might not have stepped forward, none of them seemed that eager to fight, save for three Order. The three Orders which had been exiled, and had formed a companionship from their own tragedy, and he noted how many of them had appeared here.
“Adam,” Jarot called, speaking in the Iyr’s tongue. “Whatever you decide, we will clear a path. They will not kill you, I promise that to you.”
“We are too old to leave,” Rajin assured quietly, the old man reaching out to Adam’s shoulder, gently patting it, and if the people around didn’t know any better, they would have thought Rajin was trying to console him, and not encourage him.
Adam’s eyes fell upon the First Vice Commander. They then floated over to Melinda. With each passing moment, the half elf’s body grew heavier and heavier.
They were right there.
He could reach out and touch them.
‘Five rounds, but then…’ Adam swallowed. ‘Can my luck last? No. No way.’
Adam shook his head, reaching up to his visor, covering his eyes. He’d die. He was sure of it. He would die, and then his children…
He would never get bullied by Jirot. He would receive no more pictures from Karot. He’d be unable to see Konarot miss the basket. Virot, she would forget him. Xarot, did he kiss the boy enough? Damrot, Monarot, had he left enough for them?
Adam’s eyes burned, and he grew heavier and heavier, drowning in the hopelessness of the situation.
‘I dragged Jonn all the way here, but what about Dunes? What’ll happen to Ranya? Lucy, Mara? They’re demons surrounded by Oathsworn who want nothing more than to slaughter them.’ He had already failed Lucy once, and Mara, a dragon’s heart was cheap enough for her life, but were Kris and Melinda worth as much as a dragon heart?’
Amokan, Timojin, they had come without being asked, and he had barely spoken to either of them. They had come for Jurot, no doubt.
Tonagek, his uncle, had gifted him his triplets. Gorot, though he and Adam rarely spoke, had come. Rajin, he had helped last year with his twins, but this time, there wasn’t just a Master, there were too many of them.
Bael had offered his life, sure, he was here to have fun, and then there was that other guy he still wasn’t sure about.
Adam remained silent, slowly falling deeper into the pit, feeling the guilt weight upon his shoulders.
In his second life, he had been killed because he had been way too stupid. He had let Jurot die back then, would he allow Jurot to die again this time? What about the old man, his own grand-
“One hit.”
The two words struck the air like a hammer, and Adam turned his head to the sight, the light entering through his visor, and there he stood. This entire time, Jurot had remained silent. He had replayed his life, from winning the tournament, going back to slaying all the hydras, going further back to winning another tournament, and facing more hydras, the dragons, and then back all the way to when they had first met, when he had almost drowned in despair.
He remembered when his mother had told him that Adam was his brother, and he had accepted it just like that.
Except, before that, Adam had risked his life for him, ready to face the point of the Iyr’s blade, as well as the blade of Balrog. Jurot had recalled the words which had allowed him a chance of redemption for his greatest shame, and recalled the strength to speak them.
“We will guarantee it,” Jurot said. “One hit.”
Adam’s eyes burned once more, the half elf’s lips trembling.
All was silent.
Battle Order
D20 + 1 = 10 (9)
The roars deafened the fort.
I have been waiting for this chapter since Year 0.
I have only written those two words together once in chapter 32, Balrog, and chapter 86, when Jurot thought of it.
I don't think there was a better time for everyone to understand just how ride or die Jurot is.