Chương 1671: [1569] – Y07.069 – Shadows In Arisa IX

A long beard fell to his chest, dyed orange, adorned in a pale shalwar, though the long robe over his shoulders was kaleidoscope of colour, the kind that was worth at least a hundred gold, but for him, a mere pittance. He was that kind of man, the kind of man who could lose a hundred gold each month for years, and still remain among one of the wealthiest within Arisa.

His skin was paler than the typical Aswadian, a bronze hue, like the Kans, though holding a wealthy handsomeness that came from years of spending gold daily upon the lotions he applied to his skin. At his side, he dared to wear a shortsabre, seemingly formed of silver, though it was not simply mundane silversteel, one assumed. A shadow followed him. Dark skin, black as night, eyes of cloudy grey, a thick beard, peppered with salt.

He wore simple attire, though well made, a turban atop his head, and though he wielded no weapons, his gloves were formed of scale, his armbrands of chain, and he wore a belt of fine silk. Bael peeked an eye open to the warrior, who was acceptable, not a terrible warrior, at least. It was not as many as the capital, but within Arisa there were also a great number of hidden monsters, the kind which made this warrior look like a puppy.

'It was Aswadasad, wasn't it? The place where...' The old man smiled, revealing a joyous smile, for as a merchant, wasn't it best to meet with such fine heroes?

"Shukhur! My family is so blessed! There are so many fine guests indeed!" Shaool bowed her head, towards Baztam's look, in which he had already claimed Bakar, and she had claimed Black Tiger Fist, who was between a Grandmaster and a Paragon.

"I have come to bother the great heroes of the Iyr!" the old man dared to say, but he made the wise decision of approaching the warriors of the Iyr first, reaching out a hand to clasp their forearms one by one. Aliya held her grandfather within her gaze, the old man whose smile seemed far too bright. It should not be as bright as her own eyes, which had managed to grasp onto the rope that was this ridiculous group. Was it dangerous, this cursed gold that currently spoke with little Riham? Of course it was!

'When the waves are crashing, it should be my ship to sail forward!' the old man thought, reaching out his hand towards the little green skinned boy, who had been killed a few years ago, which caused many eyes to fall upon the old man, for though this was his tiger den, he was surrounded by dragons.

"To think I would be able to meet the likes of the great heroes of the Iyr, and so many, in my old age? Shukhur, I am blessed, for it is by Noor's Will, and by Noor's Will, it is the Black Storm who has stepped within my humble home, the Bearded Dragon, and who can deny the Mad Dog, the Ascending Swallow? I must admit, however, I am most excited to meet one hero in particular." The old man clasped the old woman's arm, his eyes sparkling with the result of a merchant's calculation.

"Flame Brand, whose name I cannot dare to forget."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Flame Brand replied, clasping his forearm with a respectable tightness, though his hands lingered for a longer while, the old man smiling wider, before finally pulling back. The old man raised a finger, and beckoned one of the servants who had waited at the archway, holding a long box.

The older servant's movement as though he were gliding upon the air, no doubt taught by the Black Tiger Fist, although was shaped by his own rigidness, which allowed him to take the position as the highest servant beside the patriarch of the family.

"A thousand and one apologies for taking so much time to repay the grace you showed to my cousin," the merchant said, bowing his head.

"I, Mohammed Mahmud, am ashamed, but I hope you will forgive me." This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Gangak narrowed her eyes suspiciously, rather overtly, holding his gaze, the kind which held the gaze of a man who should be cut under her blade.

"I was informed this blade once belonged to a Gak," Mohammed said, allowing the head butler to open up the long case, revealing the blade within. It was long and silver, tinged by brass. The pommel was large and round, the handle long enough for hand and a half to comfortably wield, the swordguard near nonexistent, and the blade a palm wide, engraved with the symbol of a sun, audacious within Aswadasad.

"Searing Silver Sun," Gangak said, letting slip her surprise, suddenly relaxing from her thoughts to cut the merchant down, not that she would have, but it was her heart which was so Iyrmanly. Little Jirot gasped, and the older Jarot, Mulrot, Rajin, and even Baztam, each glanced towards the sword, though the other Iyrmen did not consider the importance of this blade.

'You should not have reacted so deeply,' the Twin Sun and Moon Dragons thought, the Iyrmen who may one day take their place within the Ten Paragons.

"How did the sword come into your possession?" Gangak asked, holding the old man's gaze now, the woman calming her thunderous heart.

"I cannot speak the name, but I hope you will forgive me by accepting the blade."

"It is a gift?"

"Of course," he said, hearing a gentle mutter, pausing a moment, but continuing, "for it is my gratitude."

"I do not recall assisting your family," Gangak replied, tensing up lightly, for how she coveted this blade, and yet could she accept so easily? At this time?

"My nephew married the daughter of one you saved during your time in the military," Mohammed replied, smiling a merchant's smile, for though the woman would have defeated him with steel, he had defeated her with this steel. Gangak stood, reaching out her hands, clasping his hands within her own. It was only right for her to accept this blade, to return it home.

"My family will not forget the courtesy you have shown."

"I hope you will not burden yourself," Mohammed said, though the pair knew he didn't mean that in the slightest, and his bright smile revealed his great victory.

'It must be one hell of a sword...' Adam thought.

"I would like to hear your tale, if you are willing?" Mohammed asked, as the woman bowed her head respectfully towards him, which caused a glare from the few he could not displease.

"Jirot, come, we must speak the tale," Gangak called, and she reached a hand for little Jarot, who instantly betrayed his greatfather, but would he suggest such a thing? He would not dare, for it was his own fault, and yet, for Gangak's sake, he did not misbehave.

"You must drink your milk," the old Mad Dog said, pinching his greatson's cheek lightly.

"Okay..." the boy flushed.

'It is no wonder they are the greatest paper merchants across Aswadasad,' Baztam thought, his eyes darting to Bibak and Vibak, though he shook his head. If the old man had decided to gift such a blade, then it was only the Gak family's fortune, and would the Iyr be so shameless? How many had gained the title of Master or Grandmaster after returning one of the Iyr's weapons, and now that it was a family of such renown, would they refuse to keep their word?

Baztam's eyes then fell to Adam, thinking he should assign another, but he killed the thought, or at this time, it was he who was tasked with a great duty. Adam thought about showing off his triplets, but they were currently listening to the half dragon's tale, the same half dragon who was ignoring Bael's existence. Instead, he ate the food lightly, speaking with Tamil and Riham, while Vonda spoke with Aliya.

Aliya, realising her grandfather had managed to claim the winds of fortune himself, made sure her grandfather understood, it was she who would see the family to mid century, as servants brought all manner of small boxes, each holding daggers formed of all manner of steel, each finely made, and she brought bundles of paper, especially those from the Zuhdi Ejirate, which Ray Vonda adored, along with various fine brushes, paints, inks, pens, and so on.

'Even if you picked his grandmother, I picked his wife,' the woman thought.

"By any chance, if you are staying until the end of the month, there is an auction upon the last two days," Mohammed said, for even in his old age, he must teach his granddaughter there was a sky above the sky.

"It is exclusive, but it is a small matter to invite such fine heroes with us." Adam sat upright, his eyes slowly trailing to meet his wife's. The woman held his gaze for a moment, but relented.

'Do you think I'm not a monster in the matters of silver and gold?' The twins glanced between one another.

'Do they think we are not monsters in the matters of silver and gold?'