Chương 1670: [1568] – Y07.068 – Shadows In Arisa VIII

The evening brought forth a gentle glow to the large estate of the paper merchants, that which levied itself among the grand noble families of Arisa, though they themselves did not possess such fine blood, but their coin was no less rich. It was but one of many within the family's possession, the stone features caressed by gold, the path caressed by gold, the main manor caressed by the large dome, expansive, like a second sky.

The paths were covered in greenery, that which did not grow too large, but soft fields of flowers, bushes like buttons on a kameez, and those adorned in the simple attire of such a fine manor, the embroidery betraying they were those who worked for the paper merchants. The guards wore cloaks of tan, those with black thread which denoted their affiliation, each standing tall as the prettiest of poppies.

'Oh,' Tamil thought.

'That kind of gift...'

"Did you know?" Adam began, only to realise he was about to let slip a great secret.

"This present is from myself and my wife, a Mo and a Ray."

"Thank you!" The girl's eyes twinkled, for a dagger was an appropriate weapon for a little girl like her, in five or so years. However, the fact it tingled with magic was most important to the girl, who wished to reach for it, but a servant quickly plucked the box, to be placed within the vault.

'A heavy gift,' Aliya thought, secretly motioning to a servant, whispering something lightly into their ear, sending them away. She hadn't expected the half elf to immediately bring out the gift, for shouldn't the dessert come last?

"We have also prepared a few gifts." Thankfully, Aliya was prepared enough to deal with someone who brought such anxiety to the land, and a servant quickly approached, much to their chagrin, for though only a handful of Iyrmen had appeared, slightly fewer than they expected, they weren't just the young Iyrmen who may find themselves dying too swiftly to an Aswadian blade, but the kind who have found themselves breaking many of such Aswadians before retiring.

The box was small, the plush pillow within even smaller, the vial diminutive in comparison, and the drop within the vial was only as much as a teaspoon.

"It is a Vial of Giant Strength, of the more common variety," Aliya stated, instantly causing two of the children's eyes to sparkle with greed, each sitting up taller. A green hand suddenly pounced upon a larger hand, and thus, the girl leaned in slightly, causing the monstrous figure to turn his head.

"Do you need it?" Adam asked.

"I want it, daddy..." Jirot pouted slightly, her eyes wide, for though he was a monster, she had tamed him so long ago. Adam, taken aback by her sudden sweetness, straightened up, for certainly, this Jirot of his, was most dangerous. Yet, as he peeked down at the girl, he let out a soft sigh.

"Daddy can get you another potion like this, it's no problem."

"Really?"

"Instead of a potion, should I ask uncle Morkarai for something?" Tamil's eyes suddenly darted towards his wife, his eyes widening slightly, meanwhile Aliya remained completely stone faced, for she was certain the half elf had mentioned he was quite friendly with one of the Princes of the Fire Giants, but for his children to know him as uncle was... The spice of fortune filled the air, along with the feast the merchants had prepared.

"My favourite book is..." Jirot reached up to think deeply, furrowing her brows, for how many books did she possess, and how many had she read?

"Of coas, there is one book which is the greatest of all."

"Which book is that?"

"The Book of Mother Soza, of coas." The girl's words were so matter of fact, even Tamil winced as the heaviness, yet as the girl side eyed her mother, to see if she was listening, she leaned in to whisper.

"I really love the Tales of Flame Brand, though." The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Tamil's throat flexed, and as the girl tapped her nose knowingly and winked, he stifled the tears in the corners of his eyes, doing his best not to embarrass his wife.

"Are the tariffs particularly harsh for paper?" Vonda asked.

"It is a silver per bundle, but the paper from Zuhdi Ejirate is a beht per bundle, which hurts more than even the gold per bundle of Aswabayad." Aliya was wiped her lips with her handkerchief, the woman brushing along her brow lightly, a signal for one of the servants.

"The price of common paper and the more common books have remained the same, however, those from Zuhdi have increased to compensate." Vonda raised her brow in surprise, for the merchants would take quite the loss, for if an Aswadian bought even a book each month, they would still hundreds of silver monthly, perhaps more, for was it just a thousand or so Aswadians who bought a book? The number of customers would easily reach in the tens of thousands, for this was that kind of merchant family.

If they lost even a copper on each book, how much would that be? A hundred gold monthly?

"I hope tensions will ease soon," Vonda said, deciding against mentioning the Reavers for now, for it was not an appropriate topic of discussion.

"Mo, do you know Scholar Muh?" Riham asked, the girl tilting her head, her scarf cream, but with pale pink petals floating all throughout the cloth.

"Actually, yes," Adam replied.

"I met him last year." The girl blinked, because she wanted to speak of what she knew about him, but her brows raised in surprise, and she continued blinking rapidly.

"Really?"

"Yes. I met his apprentice too, but I forgot her name, but that's a secret between you and I, okay?" The girl flushed slightly, smirking.

"It is not very nice to forget people's names, Mo." Adam was about to retort, when he paused, the half elf reaching to the back of his head.

"This Mo, he's quite strong, but his weakness is names."

"Her name is Yasmin, Mo."

"Oh! That sounds familiar!" The girl reached up to her forehead, shaking her head lightly, causing the half elf to wince, for how could it be that even someone else's daughter was able to bully him too?

'I want to adopt her so bad...' The half elf surrendered, however, for he was fairly certain he would be unable to defeat Tamil, who kept filling up the girl's cups with water, warm milk, and even the pink tea the girl seemed to be on the fifth cup without even noticing, something which even slipped through Jirot's keen gaze. Little Jarot sat upon his greatfather's lap, and though he was comfortable, and the old man would not refuse, it was due to Mulrot, who had orchestrated such a matter.

The intense aura the Iyrman had emanated upon their journey here, resolving himself to spill blood, was kept at bay, much to the health of the other warriors who had gathered, from Sand Viper Sword, to Ten Dagger Beauty, to The Lion Sword of the Mountains. Konarot, Kirot, and Karot all bothered the half dragon, Halah, who was still rather young, but had managed to win one of the local tournaments. She was brass of scale, brass of eyes, brass of tongue, but gold of heart, as she excitedly spoke her tale to them.

Meanwhile, Bakar, who had retired twenty years ago, glared at Baztam, for though he was an old man, and upon death's door, why wouldn't he beat Baztam senseless, whose father had clashed with him when they were both in their youth, and even now, though Baztam had reached the height of a Paragon, it was still after he had done so.

'Trust such merchants to be able to send for someone like the Black Maelstrom,' Baztam thought, holding the old man's gaze. Unfortunately, the children they had brought with them were those particular children, so Bakar couldn't step forward, because as much as he would not hesitate against Baztam, he wasn't a fool to bring the wrath of the Iyr upon his entire bloodline, no matter how many positions in the military they all held.

'Impressive,' Gangak thought, for though Bakar was unexpected, the fact they had managed to invite a handful of Masters on such short notice spoke to their influence within Arisa. Perhaps only the Faro could outmatch them in this regard, though then again, the Faro herself possessed far more warriors than any other family in Northern Aswadasad, and not just the typical Experts, or even the myriad of Masters.

"Excuse me," Ten Dagger Beauty called, managing to work up the courage. She was a woman with dark skin, and wielded a pair of daggers at her side, though many more remained hidden within the sea of cloth she wore, black as the night, her lips painted even blacker, as though she wore the absence of colour upon her lips. However, her teeth were like paper bleached a thousand times.

"Are you... the Iyrman known as Flame Brand?"

"I am," Flame Brand replied.

"Ah!" the woman said, her eyes widening slightly, switching to the tongue of fire.

"My mother, the one who raised me, has a similar complexion, and she told me she once met you upon your journey. She was one of the little village girls who listened to your tale upon your journey within Aswadasad." Flame Brand smiled gently, but before she could speak, he appeared.