Chương 1457: [1366] - Y06.266 - Confrontation I

The Vestmaster, who had changed since Dunes had left westward, eyed up the pair upon the next morning. She was a short woman, as thin as a pencil, wearing large round glasses, which she shifted between her finger and thumb, judging the pair. Her skin was dark, darkened further by the decades under the sun. She wore a scarf, neatly folded around her head, not allowing even a sliver of hair to peek through.

She wore her heavy vestments over her body, so slim was she that Adam wasn't sure if she was wearing armour beneath her vestments, though the blade at her side revealed she was still ready and able to fight. Noting Dunes' eyes, the woman sighed, eventually relenting to their wishes, though the gems the half elf offered certainly helped. Meanwhile, the Priest was glad the half elf had all but forgotten the fact that a dragon slumbered slightly northward, deep within the mountains.

While within the Order, the Iyrmen enjoyed themselves, sparring against various warriors, from those who were officially members, to those who were considered guest disciples, though each were well trained and eager to face the Iyrmen.

'This is…' One of the warriors panted, for he was in his mid twenties, and yet he had been defeated by the Iyrman. It was not a big deal to lose to an Iyrman, but since he had been the third to face him, after the Iyrman had already defeated two, it seemed as though the Iyrman wasn't just aiming for their warriors, but their pride, their hope. Jurot stretched his neck, feeling the sweat of battle seeping through his clothing, grey and loose, provided by the Order.

'Should I fight another? Two?' Kitool had also faced against a pair of warriors, though due to the fact she was not able to shrug off as many blows as her companion, she ended the bouts at a reasonable two, though she was still able to fight. The warriors held more hope when they came across Tanagek and Chosen, yet even they could face at least one of their warriors with ease.

While Chosen could easily handle a second, Tanagek found such held greater difficulty, though if he had requested a rest between bouts, he would have also managed to deal with two of their Experts.

'What is the meaning of this?' the young woman thought, having challenged one of the other businessfolk within their midst, those without a tattoo upon their forehead. The young woman somehow even managing to claim dominion over the domain of archery.

'They don't use bows…' Brittany assumed, the young woman having done her best to humour the member of Black Mountain. Jonn had thought about stepping forward, but he buried the competitive spirit within his heart, while the young father, John, thought if he should ask for a spar, since it was a good experience. Yasha thought against doing so, partly because so much trouble had surrounded the group, and she didn't want to add to the trouble, nor ask for greater trouble to befall them.

Those who held greater positions were glad the Iyrmen were willing to distract their youth, for there was much to be done, from discussing who should take the position of Malawi, the Fariq of Black Mountain, to those who would assist Kal Lani upon her journey.

'I should keep it a secret that we shall allow her to accompany the group with Mo Dunes alone,' Adilnur thought. Ashmir accepted all those who wished to speak with him, wondering if he should step forward to assist Dunes, but it seemed the group were a little too busy to deal with that.

'Is it best to strike now? Should they wait until they have gained greater favour?' The greatest question had still yet to be resolved, and though it would have been best before the Malawi had stepped down, it had all happened so fast. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Ah. Would it have been best to complete the task with that Malawi?

"Kal Ashmir, how may I assist you?" Adilnur asked, already feeling the stress of the title of Malawi upon his shoulders, greater so since he was only a temporary figure. Part of the stress came from the fact he could cause a great deal of trouble if he wished, and he should do so, before allowing another to take his place and pick up the pieces. Ashmir stared down at the cup of tea, the Acting Malawi accepting a conversation with him.

He didn't even mention how busy he was, nor did he place a timer upon the conversation, for he was once held the position of the Mustashalur of Black Mountain, and the one who wished to speak with him was the Lion King, a name known only second to the Shen across Aswadasad.

"My son wishes to join the business of the United Kindom," Ashmir said, staring down at the tea, finding the word still awkward to say.

"I hope you take it into consideration." Considering the familiar threads, Adilnur assumed he was talking about Dunes, the Acting Malawi reaching up to brush his beard.

"I will consider it deeply." The short, near silent meeting ending without much fanfare. Ashmir was certain he did all he could without stepping upon Dunes' pride, and so left it all to Fate. If somehow, after all that was affecting Black Mountain at the time, Dunes was unable to join the United Kindom, then that was that. As Ashmir returned, he came across a scene he was certain he never imagined.

"Absolutely not!" The half elf stated firmly.

"It would be best," Jurot replied equally as firmly.

'Are they about to fight?' Ashmir thought, noting how tense the half elf was.

"Of all the people to betray me like this, to think it would be you, Jurot, my own brother!" Jurot's heart winced at the words, even if the half elf meant it as a joke. At the very least, he assumed the half elf had meant them as a joke, although in this situation…

"If anyone's going to adopt Amal, it's going to be me!" Adam almost exclaimed, refusing Jurot's suggestion.

"It is best I adopt her, since she holds Pam's stature!"

"Firstly, that's weird, secondly, absolutely not! Her name, Amal, literally means hope, and since my wife is a Ray of Life's Rose, doesn't it seem like it's Fate for her to be my daughter?" Jurot thought for a long moment since the logic was sound, except, wasn't Amal adorably chonky? She should be Jurot's daughter, since he would raise her well into a Rage Dancer, for certainly with her height and build, she could manage to become among the greatest. Also, she was cute.

"Since neither of you are able to agree, I will adopt her," called a gentle voice. Adam blinked, turning to face her.

"Et tu, Kitool?"

'Is that all he thinks about?' Uli thought. The half elf was a simple enough fellow, being a fool, ridiculously strong, and he adored children, all three of these made up the half elf almost wholly. There must have been more to him? Ah.

'He is a husband too…'

"I won't have it," the half elf said, holding out his arms.

"Amal, come to me. Let's show everyone who you like the most." Persuasion Check D20 + 8 = 26 Jurot was pretty sure Amal wouldn't go to the half elf, though as the girl waddled towards him, he stared down at her.

'…' Adam blinked, surprised as the girl held up her arms, the half elf squatting, grunting lightly as he lifted the girl up, holding her up against his chest. His eyes scanned between Jurot to Kitool, but the half elf shrugged, as Amal rested her head against his neck. The half elf flushed lightly, smiling to himself, feeling the warmth of the joy filling his heart. Unfortunately, moments later, the girl reached out towards the old man, who plucked the girl from Adam's arms.

'You know what? That's fine.' The half elf let out another satisfied sigh, clasping his hands behind his back. Dunes was thankful that the entire Order was so busy with their own matters to deal with him, deciding against broaching the subject. As the days passed, the group deciding to leave upon the start of the next week, they enjoyed their time relaxing within the Order.

'Should I go pray again?' Adam thought, recalling how strange the mysterious Divine had felt to him.

'I should probably keep my head out of trouble.' Naqokan's eyes fell upon Uwajin, who remained napping lightly to one side, though the young woman woke up with a start. Her eyes fell upon the warrior who had entered the Order just moments ago, a man who had retired long ago, though he carried upon his back a large blade, one that was more like a giant slab of bone, for it was that kind of blade.

He was old, almost ancient, and considering his appearance, attire, his arms, Uwajin assumed it was the father of Gamila, who her grandfather had killed.