Chương 1545: [1454] – Y06.354 – The Future IX

The music brought the rainy season to an end, the last purple days of duskval greeting the Iyr. The children wore their fine clothing, adorned in the colours of their families, their foreheads dabbed with paints to mimic their families tattoos, save for the children who were not Iyrmen.

"You punks, who gave you permission to be so cute?" Adam asked, planting kisses atop his children's heads, his affectionate blanketing his children as he pulled them all close.

'So cringe,' Jirot thought, though she knew not to speak the words aloud, for it was not the time to speak such words. Her father's heart ached, and she enjoyed the affection. The festival was in full swing, many of the Iyrmen having crafted the lanterns days before, gifting them to the various families to light. The stalls stood all around, the clash of scents filling the air, coaxing all further within. The businessfolk, too, accepted the festivities, each eager to enjoy what the Iyr had set for them.

They were not working much this year, assisting now and again with the Iyr's tasks, also assisting in farming, but they enjoyed much more free time, and for this week, they were allowed to enjoy themselves for the full extent of the festival. As the music breezed through the air, a family found themselves to one side, holding flatbreads full of meat and vegetables, while some held those who held flatbreads full of meats and vegetables.

Lanarot bit into the flatbread, chewing the meat lightly, glancing aside to Amal, who chewed lightly on some softly boiled meat and vegetables, eating each piece of food individually.

"Amalrot, is it yummy?" Amal turned to see the girl, blinking towards her, until she opened her mouth reflexively as she brought a piece of her own flatbread to her lips, spices of the meat flavouring the bread, the tiny toddler eating it eagerly.

"Kako, are you comfortable?" Jirot asked, placing a hand upon her aunt's knee.

"Yes," Pam replied, smiling warmly at the girl, who glanced around to see if her aunt had a drink, noting the cup, climbing up to the side to see if there was water in it, and seeing there was, she pulled away to check upon her mother.

"Jirot, have you eaten?" Vonda asked, as though she hadn't personally fed the girl.

"Oof! I'm stuffed!" Jirot reached down to her stomach, which bulged slightly from how much she had eaten to that point.

"I cannot eat even a single bite, a single morsel, a single succulent morsel, except for potatoes and dessert."

"Then you can't eat a single morsel, but you can eat a single succulent morsel?" Adam asked.

"Depends on how succulent," the girl mused, for she was one of the greatest philosophers within the Iyr, as all children were.

"What?" Inakan gasped.

"You have a mother?"

"Yes," her mother replied.

"How can you have a mother? You are a mother!" The girl declared, holding out her whole hand as her niece would when she was at her wit's end.

"It is your grandmother."

"Grandmother is a grandmother, not a mother!"

"She is your grandmother, because she is the mother of your mother."

"You are just joking, mother?"

"No, I am not."

"This does not make any sense, no sense at all, how can this be?" Inakan replied, taking a bite of her flatbread, reaching up to her forehead, though her father stopped her, for her hand was full of bits of food. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"I have a mother too."

"Yes, father, of course."

"I have a father too."

"You! You are going too far now! Are you hearing me? Too far!" Adam held a straight face, biting into a particularly spicy pepper to keep himself from laughing, though it caused him to cough violently instead.

"Grandfather, are you mother's mother too?" Gurot asked.

"Are you teasing me?" the old Jarot asked. Gurot blinked.

"You are not?"

"I am not."

"I knew it!"

"I am her father." Gurot narrowed his eyes towards his grandfather, looking at him the same way his niece sometimes would, the boy returning to his flatbread wrap.

"I am your mother's father, and your grandmother is your mother's mother."

"Grandfather, you are so old now, you must rest more."

"You are lucky you are so adorable, you brat," Jarot said, leaning down to kiss the boy's temple lightly, while Gurot returned to eating his wrap.

"What? It is true?" Inakan asked, staring up at her cousin.

"It is," Adam replied.

"Grandmother is mother's mother?"

"Yes."

"Huh? Are you my mother too?"

"No, I'm your cousin." Inakan tried to do the calculations within her head, for there was something she was obviously missing.

"My head hurts, cousin Adam."

"You do not have to think deeply, because you will understand it in the future. Honestly, I thought you understood it before, since I'm pretty sure we mentioned it before."

"Mother's mother is grandmother? Is grandfather father's father?"

"Yes, that's right! Also, you have another grandfather, your mother's father, right?"

"What? How can a mother have a father?"

"That's how it works, Inakan," Adam replied, before realising the awkward question the girl had asked.

"One day your parents will teach you, but that's what it is to be a parent, it's to have children. To be a grandparent, it's for your children to have your children, but sometimes it's also used in other ways."

"Am I your mother, cousin Adam?"

"No, you are my cousin."

"Ah!" Inakan replied, nodding her head.

"That makes sense."

"You don't have to think too hard, my lovely Inakan," Adam said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Alright, should we go watch a fight?"

"Yes!" Lanarot called from nearby.

"Let us go right now! Amalrot, come!"

"I will carry her," Sonarot said.

"I can do it!" Lanarot said, and after six steps, she surrendered her little sister to her mother, suddenly too tired.

"It's one thing to carry Amalrot, it's another to carry her after a meal," Adam joked.

"She is well built," Lanarot said.

"Like a-,""Lanarot, are you bullying me?" Adam asked, his eyes darting to his brother, who was certainly the reason why she would refer to Amalrot in such a way. Fred stood opposite Haytam, who had offered to spar him that day, but he had no idea it would be to an audience of several dozen, perhaps a hundred. He was adorned in his full plate, fingers clasped around his blade, his blade which was good enough for a Duchess, apparently.

Ice Blade, or as George called it, the Ice Dragon Sword, which was far too great of a title for a blade like his, although, it was a Greater Enhanced sword, so he didn't complain.

"You do not need to feel so burdened," Haytam said, the young woman holding the young man within her gaze, as though she were a hawk ready to snatch a mouse from the middle of an open field. She was the kind who had a scar from her ear to her neck, and another of a claw mark across her cheek, which had narrowly missed her eyes. However, the pair of them knew that Fred was an Expert, while Haytam was not. Their clash was brutal, a greatsword against a Greater Enhanced sword.

Fred surged forward, for he understood it was foolishness to hold back against an Iyrman, even one that was considered technically weaker than himself. His blade struck furiously, the ice exploding violently around the woman during a particularly harsh strike. Yet even as his blade struck, it barely nicked the Iyrman, when he would have cleaved another in half, the rage fuelling her own vicious assault.

The ringing of steel ended with Fred looming over the woman, who had fallen unconscious, the sweat pooling under her.

'Even without his magical blade…' Baztam thought, for even if Haytam had fought the fellow with equivalent weapons, Fred held the edge. However, the girl had lasted for quite some time, more than enough time to earn enough honour for such a bout.

"You do not have to worry with a grandniece like that," a one armed, one legged Iyrman said.

"Do you dare to covet her too?"

"I did not covet a fool like your nephew," Jarot said.

"Since my daughter inherited my wild blood, your nephew had no chance."

"Hmph!" Baztam crossed his arms, glaring down towards the young woman, who an Oathsworn of the Iyr brought up and healed.

"You trained them well."

"Them?"

"That son of mine, and that grandniece of yours."

"He is still my nephew, but I did not train him, I only beat him now and again."

"Did you know?"

"I could feel something."

"Why are you two talking about that sort of thing," a voice complained, who held a pair of chonky boys within his arms, to let them meet with their grandfather and granduncle.

"You should be spoiling the children since we have a week off to spoil them!"

"Do you wish to spoil them?" Baztam asked.

"Of course!"

"Then draw your axe, let us spoil them with a show!" Baztam cackled, reaching for his greatsword.