Chương 1165: [1092] - Y05.092 - Shame

Jirot and Jarot stared up at their greatfather with awe as he regaled the tale. The twins listened intently, each gripping their father's shirt, sucking their thumb, only stopping now and again to gasp upon their greatfather's words.

"Your father, how could he kill them too quickly?" Jarot growled, gritting his teeth, feeling the rage build within him.

"He is too strong!"

"Too strong!" Jirot complained, glaring up at her father, before returning back to sucking her thumb.

'How he can do this?'

"I'm so sorry, Jibaby. I didn't mean to be too strong. Can you forgive this father of yours?" Adam asked, leaning in to nuzzle her nose gently.

"Just this once," the girl replied, leaning in to kiss his chin. She clutched at her father's collar and hoisted herself up, Adam assisting her by pushing up her bottom, before she was finally standing on his lap. The girl stared up at her father, judgement in her eyes.

"…" Adam blinked at his daughter, feeling the pressure of her gaze.

"Oh my gosh!" Jirot huffed, exhausted from her father's behaviour.

"Daddy! How you can be so strong and so handsome? So ridiculous!"

"I'm so sorry, but isn't it your mummy's fault? She is so strong and beautiful too!"

"Mummy is mummy," Jirot replied, narrowing her eyes at her father.

"How you can say that?" Little Jarot pulled his thumb out of his mouth, pouting up at his father.

"Daddy…"

"You're right, of course."

"Of coas." The one armed Jarot watched their act with peace in his heart, the old man almost smiling. His heart still ached, for the innocence that his greatchildren could no longer know, but the joy they held for their father, it hadn't dampened in the slightest.

"The bad people will not come back?" Jirot asked.

"Those two won't come back again," Adam said, smiling slightly, though his eyes held a sadness. Vengeance Requires Attunement You gain a +2 bonus to attack rolls and damage rolls made with this weapon. Deals 2D6 slashing damage. On a hit, you can spend 1 Mana to deal an additional 2D6 necrotic damage, up to a maximum of your Trained Bonus. On a hit, you can choose to deal XD6 damage to yourself, to deal 2XD6 necrotic damage to an enemy. The limit of X is the your Level.

Those killed by this weapon can only be revived with spells of Seventh Gate or greater.

"Good." Old Jarot's eyes darted to the side, his glued to the particular figure. She was an older Iyrman, about Jarot's age, wearing simple Iyrish attire. She had short hair, greyed from age, her wrinkles lighter than the scar under her eye, and at her side, the woman wore a rapier, a rare weapon in the Iyr. Upon her forehead was a red hollow kite, flanked by blue crescent moons, the tips pointed downwards. She held a basket in one hand, and walked gracefully towards the group.

However, Adam was too busy looking at the glare in Jarot's eyes. It was filled with a sight Adam hadn't expected, for had the old man ever looked at an Iyrman with such scorn before? Even now, Adam could see it, the old man was riling himself up.

"You must be Adam, the Mad Dog's grandson," the woman said, politely, causing Jarot to clench his fist, the old Iyrman ready to draw his axe.

"My name is Adam. Adam Fate." The old woman smiled a gentle smile, before revealing the basket, which held three columns of small bread balls.

"I am Keiwyj. I have brought food for your twins. This third column, they are for your grandfather, but these two are for our Jirot and our Jarot."

"Bread balls?" Jirot asked.

"I do not make them as well as my father, but my grandchildren enjoy them." The old woman smiled gracefully. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Baba brings yummy bread balls. They have cheese, and they are so good." Jirot's covetous glare loomed over the bread balls.

"You should eat them quickly, they are best when warm," Keiwyj said, still beaming at the children.

"Jarot, come," Jirot said, reaching down for the food, but Adam snatched the girl's hand.

"What do we do before we eat?"

"I wash my hands already, daddy!"

"We wash our hands, dear."

"We must eat quickly! They are best when warm, daddy! Best when warm!"

"I will bring the water quickly," Adam assured, kissing the girl's cheek, before slipping away from them. Jirot's eyes darted to her greatfather's, ready to cause trouble, but upon seeing the look within her greatfather's eyes, and then to the woman, she reached out to hold her brother's hand. Once Adam had returned, to a quiet pair of twins, he helped them wash their hands.

"You want to eat?" Jirot asked, holding up the small soft ball to her brother's lips. When her little brother pulled her head away, she bit into the ball, chewing it slowly.

"I knew it! The ball has cheese!"

"Now…" Keiwyj said, her eyes darting from little Jarot to Jirot, lowering her gaze slightly.

"Have a bite of the other."

"Jarot, look," Jirot said, holding up the second ball, the girl squinting her eyes. After little Jarot pulled his head back, the girl took a bite of the bread ball, and she gasped, tasting the melting sweetness on her tongue.

"Mm? Is so yummy! Daddy! Is chocolate!"

"Chocolate?" Adam asked, raising his brow slightly, noting the melting darkness within the ball.

"Oh, how yummy! Cheese and chocolate, they always go well together!"

"Daddy!" Jirot held up the half eaten balls.

"I will eat these balls," Adam said, noting the saliva on her fingers, and how the girl drooled so joyfully.

"You should feed your babo the third ball," Keywyj said. Jarot still held a simmering anger within his eyes, though he had calmed after noting the woman was still an Iyrman. He allowed his greatdaughter to feed him the third ball, and his face began to turn red, sweat forming along his face, fire dancing within his mouth and throat.

"Kekeke!" Jirot cackled at her greatfather.

"It is spicy?"

"A little bit," the old man replied, his tongue swelling slightly.

"I will leave you be," Keiwyj said, bowing her head, before she excused herself, returning back to her shared estate. After noting that little Jarot was not eating, the old one armed Iyrman sighed.

"Jirot, Jarot, go share the bread with your siblings. Lucy, Mara, you must make sure Jirot does not feed them the third ball." Lucy perked up from nearby, the woman quickly leaping to her feet.

"Okay!" Once they were left alone, Jarot poured them cups of milk.

"She is wiser than I expected."

"Keiwyj?" Adam asked.

"I was planning on beating her soon, but since she has come, it is fine."

"Why were you planning on beating her?"

"Dogek beat her, but I wished to beat her too."

"Why?" Adam asked, noting the old man tense up slightly, before he relaxed.

"Can anyone deny that you are my grandson, when you cause so much trouble?" Jarot joked.

"…" Adam sipped the milk, tasting the light sourness.

"The Mad Dog speaking so cryptically? I'm so afraid!"

"Keiwyj complained that your children could not be considered Iyrmen," Jarot said.

"She has accepted them now, so you must forgive her, and you must forgive Dogek, since he drew his blade." Adam swallowed slightly.

"Have you forgiven her?" Jarot sipped the rest of his milk. He inhaled deeply, and perhaps, when he was still the Mad Dog everyone knew, the kind of Mad Dog that made the Aldish cower, he would not have forgiven her.

"Since she knows her shame, I have."

"Then I'll forgive her too." Adam shrugged his shoulders.

'So, the Iyr still has people like that?' Jarot slowly nodded his head, seeing the disappointed thoughts upon his grandson's face.

'Should I beat her?'

"Is your heart at ease now?"

"A little, but at the same time…"

"You cannot stop thinking about it," Jarot said.

"The next time." Adam bowed his head, staring at the Iyrman. He wondered how Jarot must have felt, his son had been killed, but he was too old to bring back to life.

"My grandsons are both so strong, but there are many stronger still," Jarot whispered, frowning slightly.

"How can you worry your grandfather like this?"

"I want to become stronger, but…" Adam shook his head.

"If I do that, there's going to be something worse."

"One man becoming too strong will not bother the world, for even now, the Reavers have come, and though you are strong, you have not brought the Reavers upon the world," Jarot assured. Adam wasn't sure if that was true.

'I mean, what are the chances that I appear and cause trouble and then the Reavers appear coincidentally?'

"I cannot say it will not happen again, but it will not happen so easily," Jarot stated, his voice firm. The pair remained silent for a long while. Jarot couldn't help but think of how weak he had become. Adam couldn't help but think how terrifying the world was.

"Hey, old man?"

"Did you not call me grandfather earlier?"

"When did I do that?" Jarot grumbled quietly to himself, pouring them both milk once more.

"How can you say it? I will tell Jirot!" Adam smiled slightly.

"Thank you. For everything."

"You named your son after me, so of course I will help," Jarot said, peeking at his grandson, waiting for it.

"What if I didn't name him after you?" It was the shock of Adam's answer that caused the Iyrman to raise his brow, but then this too was very much like Adam.

"He is still my greatson." Adam slowly nodded his head.

"Yeah."

'In his heart, it was he who named his son after me,' Jarot thought, smiling slightly. It was one grandson's brain, and the other's heart, which had named his grandson after the pathetic old man. Then, for a moment, the rage slipped through his body once more.

'Should I kill the Grand Commander?'