“Commander Silversky, how do you fare?” Adam asked, smiling warmly towards the Commander, but the exhaustion was evident on the half elf’s face.

“Well, and you, Brother?”

“I have my health, my wealth, and the great Lord of Death watching over me, so I can’t complain,” the half elf replied, and the Commander understood, it was perhaps the greatest threat Adam could accidentally make, since he was that kind of fellow.

The Commander allowed the group within, while the adventurers of the Circle of the Eclipse, side eyed the half elf, who had managed to restrain Commander Silversky, bringing him to heel as though he were a puppy.

Father Alden and his companions each sat around the camp, hearing the tales of the various Iyrmen, and they understood, though they were each slightly greater than Experts, Tanagek and Chosen, their entire being suggested they were equals, even though the Iyrmen would be considered from the next generation.

“Ah! Your granduncle is the Blood Blade?”

“No, he is the Bloodblade.”

“The Bloodblade?” Robert asked, taking a moment to note how quickly the Iyrman said it. “Not the Blood Blade, but the Bloodblade?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I see…” Robert chuckled lightly. “I suppose it is an awkward title considering your granduncle needs to compare to one of the Blades.”

“What is their to compare?” Chosen replied, his lips forming a wide grin, the kind that was almost hyena like. “When it comes to fame, perhaps the Aldish Blood Blade is more famous in Aldland, but when it comes to strength, my granduncle would defeat him.”

“Is that so?”

“Granduncle Shasen is closer to a Paragon than the Aldish Blood Blade,” Tanagek confirmed, holding Robert’s gaze. “If they were to fight, Granduncle would hold the edge.”

“We have met a great number of Iyrmen on our journey, and though we have met many who are stronger, you two are perhaps the most impressive,” Terri said, smiling politely. “I can feel it even as we speak, you are no weaker than any of us.”

“You should speak with Jurot and Kitool,” Chosen said, leaning back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. “We are the same age, but they are already Masters.”

“Masters?” Terri half exclaimed.

“Did you say Jurot?” Alden asked, stopping Terri’s exclamation and any other questions, since...

“Yes.”

“Is there a relation between this Jurot and the Mad Dog?” Alden asked, holding Chosen’s gaze.

“Is there?” Chosen grinned even wider. “I suppose, it depends on the Aldish, what do they call one’s father’s father?”

Alden raised his brows in surprise, for to meet with the Mad Dog’s grandson, what a great blessing it was! “I would wish to meet this cousin of yours.”

“Jurot!” Chosen shouted, causing the large Iyrman to approach, who was so broad shouldered, as though he could carry a mountain upon his back. “This Father of Death wishes to speak with you, grandson of the Mad Dog.”

“Baktu bless you, Father,” Jurot greeted, for of course the Father of Death would wish to meet him, the grandson of one of those who favoured the Lord of Death so eagerly in his youth, and who was equally as adored by the Lord of Death in return.

The group listened intently to Jurot’s tales, and it was then they also got to hear about that particular fellow’s tales.

‘Oh,’ Robert thought. ‘So that’s why…’

The sky grew purple, black, warmth, then blue, and the outpost eyed the group suspiciously. However, with the presence of so many of those religious, and more importantly, Iyrmen children, the outpost allowed the group to pass by uneventfully.

As the walls of Red Oak approached, the half elf stared out to the side. Even as they were so close to return back home, his entire body remained weighed down. If not for Amal, the half elf’s mood would have soured deeper. He allowed the girl to hold onto his thumb, while she sucked on her own. She glanced up towards him, to see whether he had disappeared, but seeing him still there, the girl closed her eyes and fell into slumber.

“Thank you again for allowing us to join you,” Alden said, bowing his head politely.

“It was our honour,” Jurot replied.

“Please, accept this as a token of gratitude,” Alden said, offering the Iyrman a dagger made of fine steel. It was not a Masterwork, nor was it forged of special steel, but it was worth a pretty sum of coin, not enough for their assistance, but enough in terms of respect.

Jurot accepted the dagger with its respects, and the group parted ways, heading to the Adventurer’s Guild, while his own group made their way to a nearby inn, where the half elf could ease his heart with a nice hot bath.

“It is awkward,” Mork whispered.

Tork grunted an affirmative, noting the looks from the others around, but that wasn’t what his brother was talking about. As their eyes shifted to the side, towards the half elf, who was leaning back against a chair after his bath, holding Amal against his chest, the pair snoozing away peacefully.

However, they were in Red Oak, which had been so close to that particular massacre.

‘It is already a surprise we did not receive much bother in…’ Mork’s eyes fell to the rest of the group. It was not a surprise at all.

Kitool was fairly certain they wouldn’t stay here for long, and though it might have been nice for Amal to remain in Red Oak for an additional day to relax, the half elf grew quieter and quieter as they approached the Iyr.

Somehow, defying all expectations, Red Oak allowed Adam to pass though in peace.

As the group left out of the gates, they approached a small caravan making their way to the west. They were a dozen or so people, with four younger children, several mules each pulling their wagons, while the adults remained armed with spears, shields, and daggers.

‘What the hell are they doing?’ Adam thought, opening the carriage door as the group stopped, his face full of annoyance, but as he was about to leave, a hand stopped him.

“You are too tense,” Jurot said. “They are commoners.”

Adam exhaled, tensing his body, before relaxing. He hopped out, smiling warmly towards the group. “How do you fare this day?”

“We fare well, Brother,” one of the men said, a man in his late forties, whose hair had been cut short recently, and he wore bits of leather and light chain, similarly to his own companions.

Adam eyed up the group, noting the fellow in his forties or so, the five who were much younger, then those who were children, teens and younger. He spotted one child, who was perhaps three or four years old, and he furrowed his brows.

“It’s, uh, rather dangerous travels around these parts,” Adam informed, his eyes falling onto the children, then the mules, then to their equipment once more. “What brings you this way?”

“We…” The fellow eyed up Adam’s armour, then his ears. “Are you members of the United Kindom?”

“Executive Adam, High Alchemist of the United Kindom,” Adam confirmed, smiling slightly, surprised someone recognised that. “Yourself?”

“I am Rowan,” the fellow greeted, bowing his head. “My cousin, Jeremy, he works for you and he recommended for us to join you.”

“Ah!” Adam said, his eyes suddenly far less tired, a wide smile on his face. “Wait, Jeremy, or Remy?”

“Jeremy, Jeremiah, Brother.”

“Well, if Jeremy vouches for you, you’re all good in my books,” Adam said, glancing around. “Are all of you  joining?”

“That’s right, Brother,” Rowan said, speaking for the group. “These are my children and my grandchildren.”

“Ah! Of course, yes, absolutely. Um, it’s rather dangerous on these lands, so what we’ll do it, uh, we’ll shift some people around, and uh, these mules and wagons, do you own them?”

“We do.”

“Did you buy them recently for the travels?”

“That’s right.”

“Alright, uh…” Adam considered the situation. “One moment.”

Jurot listened to Adam’s worries for a moment, glancing aside to the rest of his companions. “The wagons will not slow us down if those without armour settle ourselves within them.”

“Sounds good.” Adam explained the situation to Rowan.

“Brother, there’s no need, we can travel on the wagon, there’s no,” Rowan spluttered. “There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

“No, no, no trouble at all. Please, I couldn’t in good conscious leave you out like this. It’s quite dangerous, and we consider your children VIPs at this moment, so we have to defend them with as much force as required against the world, not even the military outpost ahead can dare to threaten them now.”

Rowan blinked, recalling what his cousin had informed him of, how the half elf spoke dangerously, but he had a good heart.

“We’ll shift some people around, we’ll buy the mules and wagons from you for double pay, we’ll donate them to the outpost ahead, and we’ll be able to return back to the business swiftly, and most importantly, safely.”

Rowan thought about how they would return if they were not accepted into the business, but they couldn’t refuse the half elf, could they? “It is a wondrous blessing indeed, but, should we not match your expectations, Brother, it will be difficult for us to return.”

“If you decide you don’t want to join, I promise that the United Kindom will assist in escorting you to Red Oak safely, so do not have any worry at all about that,” Adam assured.

“Thank you, Brother Adam.”

“Of course.” Adam smiled warmly.

As the group shifted around, Rowan saw Nobby, causing him to rush over to the fellow, clasping his forearm to greet him.

“Uncle Rowan,” Nobby said.

“You alright, my boy?”

“Yes.”

Rowan smiled, nodding his head, his heart full of relief. ‘Aye, this is the lot.’

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