Chương 1566: [1474] – Y06.374 – Adam the Father IV

It was a beautiful tavern, the kind where drinks were coppers, meals a silver, but more than enough to cause one's stomach to burst. The tavern was settled near the docks, but within the city proper, where sailors, if they so wished, could travel for a cheap enough drink and meal, and those who lived nearby, unable to spend much time within the two or three beht inns, spent their evenings losing their silver to food, coppers to dice.

It was wooden, rebuilt every generation, with a garden that was not quite the vibrant green of the taverns and inns found further within. The salty smell, that of the sweat of hard workers, that of the scent of the sea they brought, and the scent of the sea which continued to impose even this far from the port, and the scent of the salty food filled the tavern, so full of those who were brutish, poor, and brutish and poor.

Though this place was typically quite rowdy, to the point that even Copper Sword Ali needed to take watch during the evenings, the tavern was quieter than usual, a curious event, for he was here.

"Ahm, don't be shy!" declared a fool who would have found himself losing all his silver, as well as his tongue, if he wasn't sitting beside that man.

"My pockets are heavy, so we should spend while we can!"

"Then I will order the most delicious drink, for my nephew is treating me," the Bear of the Mountains, Zayan, replied, raising hand towards one of the workers, adorned in their beige shalwar, the men with plain turbans, the women with plain scarves.

"Arisian Red, kal?"

"Since my nephew is treating me, it must be Arisian Red!" Zayan cackled, grabbing one of the meat pastries, which most would eat in three bites, tossing it into his mouth, chewing it with such passion, one might have thought he was a professional at eating such large meals. Copper Sword eyed up the group, the half elf, the Iyrman, the Black Lion…

The glass bottle was long, thin, wrapped a single red string around its neck, and though Adam wasn't certain if it was Arisian, it was certainly red, the liquid like blood as Zayan poured it into the various cups to share with his new friends.

"I don't really drink," Adam admitted.

"You must, Mo, it is one hundred gold a bottle!" Zayan chuckled, though pulled back the bottle of wine.

"Oh? I guess I probably should have a sip then." Adam sipped the wine, which tasted sweet, fruity, and like wine, he supposed. He was certain there were notes of this and that, but Adam didn't drink much, the warmth of the alcohol easing his mind.

"I didn't expect you to be so strong, nephew," the Bear of the Mountains admitted, for Adam's words, if true, had revealed a great strength within him, though he was rather young.

"I get that a lot."

"You will get yourself killed speaking so arrogantly."

"I get that a lot too."

"To be able to defeat the Roaming Steel Sword without using a weapon, I would not have expected it."

"Ah, well, when it comes to someone like that, if I lose against him, I won't be able to ever return to the Iyr." Zayan grinned wide, laughing when he realised what the half elf meant.

"I see! I should expect as much as someone who was able to face a Vice Commander! It seems as though you and I are of similar strengths?"

"Who is to say?"

"How is it I have not heard of you?"

"I'm not allowed to talk about who I've defeated, because then I might actually die." Adam bit into his meat pie, staring up at the older man, who burst out in laughter once more, causing others to quieten down.

"That axe of yours, is it magical?" Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"Yes, quite. What about your sword?"

"It is. It is a Greater weapon."

"Ah? I expected it to be Greater Enhanced, considering that you are so strong, your are a Grandmaster, of all things, and you work for a merchant group which seems to be quite wealthy."

"Sometimes it is not about wealth, but opportunity," Zayan admitted.

"Such a blade, perhaps one day I could wield it, but it is not simple to acquire one."

"Ah, well, once our business settles down, after all the Reaver business, perhaps you could make an order?"

"I could not afford it, though I will consider asking the Lady!" Zayan laughed once more, his teeth wide, slightly yellowed by tea and smoke, though he had long given it up. Adam smiled too, sipping his water, allowing Zayan to consider his words a joke. After all, tomorrow he would show them all. The arena was large, made of sandy stone, an oblong that stretched the arena. Three towers loomed over the arena from one side, where the wealthier patrons could separate themselves from the riff raff.

The central tower, the largest, was currently occupied by the wealthiest of merchants, the highest of nobles, and of course, the most honoured of guests.

"Faro, it seems you have brought quite a few great warriors," the Fariq said, a man whose skin was almost golden, his eyes a deep green, almost like emeralds, his smile as white as pearls, his hair, now white with age, tied in five rows.

He was adorned in his full plate, that of a beautiful steel, passed down through the generations of the Order, now to him, Idris, the Amber Blade, carrying the titular blade at his side, while the others he had brought wore blades that were almost as beautiful, and almost as powerful.

"It is certainly a wonderful showing," the Faro admitted, for so far, all those she had hired, those of Expert and higher, had defeated the various warriors of the Amber Blades one after another, though the figures the Order had brought certainly weren't the most talented of each generation, due to the Reavers. However, the figures he had brought along with him, the Fariq Thanwi, were not any simple figures.

Zayan, the Bear of the Mountains, slightly diminutive from their distance, still overwhelmed the figure before him, Kal Amina, who was a decade his junior, yet no weaker, for she had taken the rank of Fariq Thanwi at a young age.

She was of average height, of seemingly average build, but as she drew her blade, slightly too long for her form, it was not just a simple woman with a simple blade, but a trained killer, whose blade was eager to draw blood, the kind that many could not survive, though thankfully, Zayan was called the Bear of the Mountains, so he could survive.

Survive he did, but covered in blood from the lacerations of her deadly blade, the cheering crowd drowning out his panting, his weak voice of respectful gratitude, while the woman raised her hands together in respect. If she had been a half moment later, the bout certainly would have gone a different way, but thankfully she had managed to strike first, and with quite a heavy blow, before the rage could set within him, all the while her magics slipped through his anger.

'I did not expect the Bear of the Mountains to fall so easily,' the Faro thought, praising the Amber Blade vocally, though her mind was partly occupied, since the pair were about to step forward. He stood tall, though slightly hunched. His hair was still thick, though cut short, his goatee sharply pointed, like a thick dagger, his moustache pulled at an angle like a pair of blades, his dark eyes sparkling.

He wore his armour well, well worn that it was, engraved with all manner of Aswadic designs, the calligraphy that was a singular word that meant more than just the word. At his side he wore a blade, like his armour, passed down through the Order, once, many decades ago, wielded by his mentor, now wielded by him.

It was he, Kalim, the second strongest Fariq Thanwi who stood within the arena, stronger than Kal Amina, one of the few figures who could at least clash with their Fariq, not just a simple Grandmaster, that much was for certain.

"Noorshukhur, noorshukhur," Kalim said, smiling a smile that held no lack of delight.

"What a handsome nephew who steps towards me this day."

"I have to be this handsome, since you are so handsome, ahm," Adam replied back, smiling warmly in return, though he remained on edge, for the old man was still a stranger.

"My Fariq spoke that the Faro had a peculiar request, that a certain young man, handsome so he is, wished to face against the strongest of the Amber Blades for this tournament, though I hope you will forgive us, for the Fariq participating within the tournament would be an injustice, so please compromise and allow me to draw my blade in his stead."

"Ahm, what is there to forgive, as long as you do not bully me too much," Adam replied, chuckling lightly.

"Shukhur, shall we prepare?"

"I am ready, ahm," Adam said, ignoring the crowd, which would soon erupt in cheers upon their bout, so he hoped. As the pair drew their weapons, the half elf could only think about how he could not lose.

'I am sorry, young man, but the Fariq has requested I do not hold back against you, for the rumours must be confirmed.' The old man, who was born alongside many great legends, drew his blade, wielding it in both hands, for though he was old, lean, he could still wield such a blade, but as did, his heartbeat increased but a step forward. Faces flashed within Adam's mind. The faces were of those he adored most, those with pale skin and silver scales, those with green faces and amber eyes.

Except, the darkness in their eyes, the darkness painted across their faces, he did not wish to see.

'There can be no doubt.' Battle Order D20 + 1 = 8 (7)