Chương 1609: [1514] – Y07.014 – A World of Trouble IV

"I know your father has upset you, but I hope you are willing to forgive him, for his heart still aches," Vonda said, holding her twins upon her lap, the younger twin cuddled up to her bosom, while the other sat upon her lap, having finished reading the chapter.

"My heart aches too, mummy."

"I know, but your father is still recovering from his illness."

"Why is he always working if he is ill?"

"It is part of his illness."

"Then he should stop."

"It is difficult, hence why it is an illness."

"Why?"

"It is hard to explain," Vonda admitted, brushing the girl's curly hair gently, the girl's amber eyes sparkling curiously towards her mother.

"Will you do me this favour?"

"Of coas, mummy, of coas," Jirot promised, pouting slightly, for how could her father's heart ache? What a silly boy! It was at that time, to the east, upon the border, where the knightly woman approached the pair of Iyrmen, one by the name of Tanagek, the other by the name of Chosen.

"Sir Dunnock!" Chosen called, grinning wide, eager to accept her company.

"How may we be of service?"

"I see you are close with young Jurot," the woman began, noting their tattoos.

"He is my cousin," Tanagek stated.

"We grew up together," Chosen added. The woman's eyes then took them within her sights, trying to recall if she had seen them there.

"I recall another pair, a handsome bronze skinned man, and a… handsome grey skinned man."

"You speak of Amokan and Timojin," Chosen said, smiling wide, though it did not reach his eyes. The woman understood why they had suddenly soured, realising they had perhaps been too busy at the time, they may not have been within the Iyr at the time, and thus missed the time?

"Noting your tattoos, I am under the impression you are both related to the one known as Duteous, and the one known as Bloodblade?"

"I am Tanagek, and Duteous is my granduncle."

"I am Chosen, and they are both our granduncles," Chosen corrected, causing even Tanagek to gently bow his head.

"It seems that Iyr is blessed with so many talents," Sir Dunnock said, her thoughts evident upon her face, for coming across a pair who were related to such monsters, each able to clash against her, no, perhaps even defeat her, and they were both related?

"It is our honour to hear that from you, Sir Dunnock," Chosen replied, grinning wide.

"We can only feel pride at your kind words," Tanagek added.

"I assume your dreams are also grand?" Chosen elbowed Tanagek, his lips forming an even wider grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I intend to take my granduncle's role within the…" Tanagek began.

"I intent to follow my granduncle's footsteps and take my place among one of the Ten Pragons."

"A lofty goal, though I am certain you are one to be able to reach such a height," the woman admitted, noting the look within his eyes, the kind that was so self assured, she couldn't help but feel as though he could do it.

"What of you, young Chosen?" This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"My goal is to keep my friend, Tana here, humble. Whether I am within the Ten Paragons or not, it matters not." Tanagek could feel it. Within his heart, the annoyance stirred, though he buried it, for it was best to take out vengeance under the beauty of the stars. Sir Dunnock smiled, a smile which reached further than her eyes, far towards her heart. With a pair like this, she would need not to worry of the bulwark that was the Iyr.

"What a wonderful goal." Sir Dunnock had originally wished to ask about Jurot, but having spoken with them, she realised her thoughts had been wasted, for of course such monsters existed, it was the Iyr, after all.

Yet, here, within these walls, so grand, the walls which had been put up within the last few years, this place which was new, and yet was sturdier than even her Order, she couldn't help but think about how low her Order had fallen, the Order which once possessed the greatest of honours, and yet were only spoken in whispers, if spoken at all, and caused most to blink as they did their best to recall what her Order was.

'If not for the Iyr, our Order would have long fallen extinct, lost to time,' Sir Dunnock thought, her heart aching. Yet, they followed their Oaths dutifully, and hoped that their secret tasks were still important enough to cause others to assist them.

'The Reavers seem to be such good fortune for us, though they ravage the lands. I can only be thankful they have caused little trouble for the commonfolk.' It wasn't long before he finally arrived. He was tall, and yet small, his presence both full of a greatness and a meekness, but one thing was for certain, he did not hide his annoyance upon his face. The half elf inhaled sharply, and then the annoyance slipped away, though not before the Order had seen it.

Then, as he stepped forward, he paused a moment, and suddenly his eyes were full of a fire once more. Sir Dunnock remained silent.

"What is all this, Executive?" Sir Dunnock asked a minute later, for though the half elf had been brimming with annoyance, she wasn't entirely sure how she should take the scene before her.

"What do you mean?" Adam asked, his eyes narrowed, daring her to continue.

"We only requested a pair of Greater weapons."

"Ah?" Adam reached up to the side of his neck, his eyes still narrowed, as though he wished to draw his axe.

"I see? Well, I have brought them, and they are so heavy to carry, so you may as well take them with you." As the Iyrmen placed down the sets of full plate, one for each of them, several boxes awaited them, each carrying a Greater weapon, along with smaller boxes, each with Basic daggers, enchanted by his wife, so surely they should appreciate them, shouldn't they? He would beat them appropriately so they appreciated the wonderful gifts from his wife. Then there was the chest.

It was quite the chest, roughly the size of a head, easily able to carry a thousand coins, in her estimations. It was quite a well made chest too, the craftsman no doubt well skilled considering the designs engraved upon the lid of the chest. Jurot and Adam exchanged a look, and Adam winked, while Jurot's ears turned slightly red.

The young Iyrman crossed his arms, glad his chest was used for something like this, though he wouldn't have minded if the half elf had used it to keep a precious stone Damrot had gifted to him either, for both were truly worthy of great pride.

"There's only about five thousand gold in the chest, so don't go spending it all on one place, and it's also meant for you to split it between yourselves. Yourselves, and the other Sirs." The woman blinked, for if there was five thousand gold, didn't that mean he was not only refunding every copper they had spent, but gifting them a thousand gold plus all of these items? The woman let out a soft sigh, burying the greed within her heart.

"I am uncertain if we can accept this generosity."

"The gold was brought from various sources, like that of the Iyr, the business, my own family, including my wife, even my children, who are thankful you did not make a grave mistake." It was for only an instant when the half elf's voice had shifted, barely noticeable, partly because they had all felt it, the urge to kill, wash over them for a moment. Indeed, for this young half elf, though the tattoos on his forehead were unlike those of the typical Iyrmen, was also a grandson of the Mad Dog.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"What?" Adam asked after a long moment of silence, seeing the expectation within the woman's eyes.

"Is there a request you have for us?"

"A request?" Adam asked, blinking, furrowing her brows. It was then he realised what she meant, for certainly he had gifted all this to them for some other scheme. The half elf remained silent for a moment, then reached up to his chin.

"I suppose I can't really ask that?"

"What is it?" Sir Dunnock asked tentatively.

"I was going to ask you to save some Reavers for us, but I can't be so rude, since the Order of the Wings is the kind of Order which deals with such grand threats, and not little children, isn't that right, Sir Dunnock?" Adam asked, daring to be rude, but as he asked, with his eyes closed, his mouth forming a smile which creased his face, and his heart, those around could feel it. Yes. He was truly a grandson of the Mad Dog.

"It is right," Sir Dunnock replied sadly. Adam let out a small sigh, feeling the eyes of the nearby Iyrmen, who were glad he hadn't gone any further.

"I suppose I should just be glad that I was able to show off to my wife."

'Isn't his epithet Crazy Father?'