Chương 1430: [1342] - Y06.142 - Black Mountain II

"Kaka?" Jirot called, stopping before her eldest sister.

"It is time to eat," Konarot stated, reaching down for Jirot's hand, her free hand reaching for Jarot's, the pair accepting their elder sister's hand. Kirot reached down for Virot's hand, the girl complaining for a moment, and as Kirot blinked, she reached for Damrot's, who accepted her hand, before Virot complained again, this time taking Kirot's hand with her own. Indeed, she had learnt well how to deal with her youngest sister.

Karot waddled after them, and little Jarot reached out to hold his hand, the children forming two chains as they returned back to the square they ate at. The older Iyrmen within the front Iyr watched as the children waddled their way along, each of them growing envious of the Rot family for claiming such well behaved children, before spotting the mischievous amber eyes, and suddenly they grew exhausted.

"Thank you, Konarot, Kirot, Karot," Vonda called, smiling down at her well behaved triplets, carrying the basins for Virot and Damrot, the eldest five making their way to wash their hands at the washroom, one of the Rot teens watching over them as they did.

"Daddy always tells me to wash my hands," Jirot accused.

"He is right," Lorot said, the teen also washing her own hands, although having already bathed after smithing, she did not want Jirot to pick her apart.

"I wash my hands so well," Jirot stated, flicking her wrists three times, before drying her hands within the towel, assisting Jarot too, before the pair stormed out. Lorot blinked, but thankfully the triplets stormed out after them, and they each made their way to the table with their mother, aunt, their sister and their cousin, climbing onto their chairs.

Lorot also sat with them, while a pair made up of a Rot and Gak settled nearby, each in charge of watching the three groups of children during the afternoons and evenings.

"Did you wash your hands?" the old one armed Jarot asked, peering troublesomely towards his greatdaughter. The girl huffed, glancing away, puffing out her cheeks. She peeked towards her greatfather.

"Babo, you are so old, you cannot see?" Jirot joked.

"Perhaps I am so old?" Jarot reached down to caress her cheek tenderly.

"My Jarot, will you eat from my fingers today?"

"Okay, babo," the boy replied, squirming shyly under his greatfather's tender gaze, causing the old man to lift him up and pulled the boy to his chest. The boy could feel such a warmth emanating from the old man, not thinking even slightest about the sea of blood his greatfather had left within his wake.

"Virot, Damrot, you must eat well, okay?" Jirot called, the girl's finger pointed like a dagger.

"Okeh," Virot replied, sticking a fork into her potato, before almost spooning the innards of the potato out, biting into it. She chewed on the potato lightly, picking up a carrot disc and bit into the crunchy vegetable. Damrot was already in the middle of eating, but the boy nodded his head, pushing the bits of potato skin into his mouth.

"Xarot, Monarot…" Jirot called out, before noting the pair were dutifully drinking from their mothers, though the pair glanced aside towards the girl.

"You both eat so well!"

"Kaka, salya," Damrot called, pointing to the banana discs to one side. The girl half climbed onto the table, standing upon her chair as she pushed the plate gently towards the boy.

"Use your fork, your fork." The boy had reached for a slice with his hand, but he looked down at the side, staring at where his fork usually was, but couldn't find it.

"Kaka, gone?" Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"In the potato."

"Ock!" Damrot slapped his forehead, getting bits of food and saliva all over, but not noticing as he grabbed his fork and stabbed it into the banana disc. As he brought the banana to his lips, he paused, slightly to allow Konarot to wipe his head clean with a damp cloth, allowing the boy to eat.

"What do you say to kaka?" Jirot asked, her brows raised expectantly. The boy tapped his chin and motioned towards Konarot, who smiled, her tail swaying behind her, the group continuing to eat.

'My greatchildren are too cute,' Jarot thought.

'My greatchildren are too cute,' Malfev thought, daring to think of them as his own, but he supposed, since they were his sister's greatchildren, weren't they his own too? He caught Konarot's eyes, the girl having smelled his scent, and the old man waved.

"I returned so late?"

"A busy day?" Mulrot asked, slicing more apples for the children, eyeing the man up.

"I wanted to check a greater area today," Malfev admitted.

"One in three days?"

"I may do so again tomorrow," Malfev replied, reaching up to brush his beard.

"There are no Reavers sighted, but now and again, I will come across a deer."

"If you slay so many this year…"

"Churot will manage it."

"Do you want me to beat you?" Jarot growled.

"My grandson is already working so hard!"

"I should go visit him tomorrow, no, I will ask for him to come here in the Front Iyr, since the Front Iyr requires his skills too," Malfev mused, narrowing his eyes to the old man. Jarot pulled back slightly.

"You are my wife's brother, wise as you are." Malfev wondered if he should take a few years off to train in order to beat the fool senseless. Then his eyes fell upon the Mad Dog once more, how sharp his features had become, from losing weight, but not the kind that came with wasting away, his one arm slightly thicker, his eyes also far more focused.

'No, I may need a decade…' Mulrot could see how deeply her elder brother was thinking, but she understood why his heart was beating with such excitement. The Jarot that had died when he had gone to face Forgryn had slowly resurrected. It was perhaps too late for the Mad Dog to reach the Peak, but someone like him didn't need to reach the Peak to make others quake.

Even one armed and one legged, there were few Iyrmen who were so terrifying to face, even if he was weaker than another Iyrmen, one may choose to face against the likes of the stronger Iyrman purely not to face the beast before her. The Iyr was brim with such excitement, but elsewhere, the air hung heavy with anticipation, for the figures of the Order eyed up the group, a group filled with such great warriors, one might have thought they were one of the Order's own Peak Estates.

No, even this group was greater than any of their Peak Estates, since they possessed two Paragons. Except, there was one figure which drew the most gazes from the group.

"Should we send word to…"

"Let Dunes deal with it."

"What about Anka?"

"Someone needs to escort her back home to…" The figure then glanced down towards Amal, who was wrapped around Anka.

"I think she's in charge of watching over the child, so…" The guards weren't sure whose child the devilkin was, for she was definitely not an Iyrman, except…

"She's built like an Iyrman's dream, so…"

"She's no Iyrman," the other whispered.

"They wouldn't let an outsider watch over one of their own."

"Not an outsider, we're Black Mountain."

"You're right…"

"Tanagek," Jurot called.

"You may step forward." Kitool glanced aside to Jurot for a moment, catching his gaze, but bowed her head. If he was going to invoke Tanagek immediately, then it meant they weren't going to leave Adam's Fate to chance. As Tanagek stepped forward, he stopped, as a figure approached, adorned in full plate, a cape of long black billowing behind her as she marched towards the group. At her side she wore a blade of black, not obsidicule, nor another gemsteel, but that forged by the hands of a long dead dwarf.

"You damn ahmuk! I expected this from Amira, but how much trouble will you cause me?"

'Ah,' Adam thought, realising who this was. As the heavily armoured figure took off her helmet, she revealed a face aged by time, short white hair aged by grief, and eyes full of affection as she reached over almost to strike Dunes across his face, but grabbed him by the back of his head, drawing him into a deep embrace.

"Kal," Dunes replied, allowing the woman to pull his head against her steely bosom, and after an embarrassingly long time, she pat his shoulders, grabbing them hard, the young man wincing.

"How are you?"

"How am I? You should know!" She ruffled his hair a little too roughly, before her eyes snapped to the others around. Though the Black Lion stood near the half elf in a certain manner, she approached him, holding out a hand to greet him.

"Kal?" Uli did not shake her hand, instead he undid his faceplate to reveal his face to her.

"Kal Samra, how do you fare?"

"Uli? What are you doing here?"

"I am here to watch over the group," Uli admitted, shaking the woman's hand. Samra narrowed her eyes slightly, before her eyes darted around towards the rest of the group.

'I thought…' As their gazes met, Adam noted the realisation within the woman's eyes.

'Oh, come on! I haven't even done anything yet!' Adam's body tensed as the woman drew her blade, and aimed her blade towards him. As she chanted the words for magic, the half elf realised she wasn't joking.