Chương 1661: [1563] – Y07.063 – Shadows In Arisa III

"Since you're hosting, how about I pay for your meal, and if you drink, I'll buy a bottle of fine wine?"

"There is no need-," Tamil began, although was swiftly interrupted by his wife.

"Thank you, Mo. I hope you enjoy the meal with your children. It was wonderful to see you all, and I hope we can speak more thoroughly in the evening."

"Ah, right." Adam reached into his pocket, feeling the cool touch of metal, though he paused.

"Ah! Haha! I don't need to give this now, I'll bring a proper gift for you in the evening!"

"Your thoughts kind enough."

"My thoughts?" Adam chuckled, though waved at little Riham, his eyes falling upon his children who had remained silent as air.

'Oh. Oops.' Yet there was another, small of build, large of heart, the girl holding a smile of satisfaction. Yes, even though Lanarot hadn't understood what they had spoken about, she understood the dark atmosphere.

'Let them try!' the girl thought, certain there was something about fighting, but what could they do, for they were Iyrmen?

'What kind of gift will he bring?' Tamil thought. As the fellow thought of the gift the half elf would bring to them, another passed along a gift. Within the garden, surrounded by a handful of guards, the Faro sat, adorned in plain attire, for her guest was such that she would need to show her modesty, for sitting opposite her was a young woman, with tan skin, bright eyes, the lower half of her face lightened by the kiss of fire.

"What a wonderful gift," Lady al-Yasin said. The box itself was finely made, slim and long, engraved just a hair's depth by the hand of an expert, rather, a Master. It held a soft cushion within, and wrapped within silk, a sword that was truly beautiful, as though formed by magic. It was a sword forged of fine steel, the Arisian Seal of Courage, a sword within a diamond in front of a cross, was engraved upon the almost silver blade.

The Arisian Seal of Courage was such, a beautiful symbol, which meant whatever beautiful statement the Faro could propagandise during their reign. The guard was small, but engraved beautifully with all manner of Aswadic letters, elongated as the style of the fine southerners known as the Aswadians, either side holding a different word, one for the many names of Noor, and the other for the many names of Lady Arya.

"I wished to thank you for taking such good care of my husband," Vonda said, half a joke, holding the older woman's gaze, who could see the brightness on the surface of the young woman's eyes. It was she who was Ray Vonda, the youngest Ray, but also a Ray that was closely aligned with the Iyr. It was not the Iyr, however, the Faro surmised, she was close with, exactly, and it was also not because she was married to her husband as to why she remained within the Iyr, but who her husband was. Then there was the other.

Alladi Sara, who cut into the small cake ahead of her. Her parents were Peysh, but she was also someone of Black Mountain, who no one could deny, for through centuries, perhaps millennia, they were considered a great force, in some eras, the greatest. The young devilkin held a sharp edge to her too, just like Vonda, and considering who they seemed to be close with, each fools in their own right, yet impressive, it was no wonder the pair were so close.

'For them to surrender one of their daughters to Black Mountain…' The Faro could only assume their motives, for not even she was able to find out why. However. The Faro's eyes slowly swayed towards the older woman, who was twice as wide as any of them, bulging muscles straining her clothing, a pair of axes at her side, at the ready to hunt, and under the scrutiny of both Kal Fadi, and Kal Nadia, each Grandmasters, and yet their presence together was barely enough to contain the heavy aura of this old woman.

'I thought you were not here to threaten me?' As the Faro dealt with such a battlefield over lunch, another battle raged over lunch. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I told you," the middle aged man grumbled, the kind who had been born in comfort, his teeth too white, his beard too crisp, his clothing too neat.

"You did," the middle aged man opposite him, the kind who had been born in comfort, his eyes too calm, his hands soft, his words civilised, replied.

"You make your bed with those damned northerners, and the city goes downhill," he said, reaching up to brush along his thick, neatly trimmed beard.

"In the Capital? What else can you expect, such a city full of degeneracy? In our Arisa? Our beautiful Arisa? Our Arisa who cries for us?"

"What are you going to do about it?" the other replied, sipping his tea lightly, hiding his smile behind the rim of the cup.

"Do you think I can do nothing?"

"I do think thusly."

"You watch your mouth."

"You watch your mother."

"I will backhand each of your sons, then I will back-," the fellow said, only to pause, for his companion had raised his brows.

"Shukhur, I will show you mercy, my friend, my brother, for the love I bear you."

"I will give your-," the other said, only to stop upon seeing his crispy bearded companion's look.

"It's those bastara of Black Mountain too."

"It is because they show such disdain for Lord Noor so blatantly." Their eyes fell upon such a group of scum, those adorned in fine attire, but their attire, it was grey, revealing their standing among the population. Rapscallions. Ne'er do wells. Degenerates.

"Do you like the fish?" the fool with the leaf shaped ears asked.

"It is delectable," the leaf skinned troublemaker replied.

"Delectable," the fool's companion confirmed, though, at the very least, he was an Aswadi.

"The potatoes, succulent. Shukhur to all those who worked within the logistics of such divine vegetables." Adam placed a hand atop his daughter's head, suddenly his eyes clear, meeting the gaze of his daughter. He narrowed his eyes, full of seriousness for once.

"Are you bullying me?"

"Certainly, father."

"You!" Adam grumbled, pinching her cheek ever so gently.

"I will tell mummy! You think I will not?"

"She will know it is your fault." The half elf blinked, a long blink, to the point he had basically closed his eyes.

'I have to stop her before she grows too powerful.' As their eyes met once more, the girl side eyed her father innocently, sticking her fork within her potato before taking a long, slow bite.

'You…' The half elf then reached down to brush his son's cheek, feeling those soft cheeks, though it was not as soft as his heart. He peeked down to see a single bite of potato missing from the boy's plate, and seeing that, the half elf allowed his son to continue drinking from his magical gourd, which supplied near endless milk. It was only because of his son's innocent eyes that the half elf did not wish to wield his axe.

"Did you eat the cake?" Konarot asked, placing a small piece onto her younger brother's plate.

"Yes," Karot replied.

"Did you drink all your water?" Kirot asked, lifting his cup to see it was almost empty, and so the girl filled it.

'Seeing them behave so sweetly, I should beat you rightly,' Takvar thought, and it was fortunate his brother remained with the rest. Meanwhile, the fool's companion, who was at least Aswadi, motioned his head.

"What?" the other fool, who was at least Aswadi, replied. She raised her brow, sipping her tea lightly, before noticing where her brother was motioning, and after sipping her milk, she suddenly stood.

'Ah.' The two, each born comfortable, eyed up the woman as she approached, though her smile disarmed them, only lightly, so they would say, and after she introduced herself, the pair leapt to their feet, placing a hand upon their chest as they gently bowed their heads, and she smiled, before speaking with the numerous other nearby patrons, each of whom behaved almost as erratically as the first pair.

'The burden of genius,' Korin thought, letting out a soft sigh after sipping his tea. It was then she, Kal Lani of Black Mountain, Sword of the Lady, drew her blade, and revealed the swordplay of Black Mountain. Elif frowned slightly, for though she was in awe of the swordplay, when was she-,"Akawat Elif, has Kal Lani taught you the basics," a particular fool, burdened by genius, asked.

"I am training lightly still," Elif admitted.

"I'll do my best to fight in front of you, so watch carefully, and you should be able to gain great insights," the fool said.

'Is that how that works?' Elif thought, for certainly it didn't, and yet, if the half elf was saying so, certainly it did? Adam smirked playfully.

""Elif, do you know how quickly I can make you an Expert?"

"How quickly, Mo?" Adam raised a single finger.

"..."

"However, at this time, the priority is the children, so you may have to wait a little longer."

"Of course, Mo."

"Of coas," came a whisper, and the little girl sat upright, glancing around.

"In exchange for your patience, I will be sure that once you are an Expert, I will gift you a magical weapon to wield." Adam fixed his daughter's hijab, the girl sitting still as her father did so, and though she made to tease her father, she accepted his nuzzling and decided to show him mercy. Elif blinked.

"Thank you, Mo!"

"Jirot, you have to bully miss Elif lightly, otherwise she will grow too arrogant."

"I will not."

"Why not?"

"Miss Elif is such a good listener when I read the stories."

"Oh?" Adam's lips formed gentle crescents, and thus Elif's Fate was sealed.

"Then I suppose I'll have to give her a few more gifts?"

"You are so wise, daddy." The half elf's lips twitched lightly.

"I suppose this father of yours is so wise?" Elif still wasn't sure if Adam was a crazy mons-, Oh. Right.