Chương 1672: [1570] – Y07.070 – Shadows In Arisa X

'It is by Noor's Will I was able to come into such a blade recently,' the old merchant thought. How much had he spent? Was it just one or two hundred gold? No. It was thousands, thousands upon thousands, enough to curse a man into thinking he had worked hard, with his soft hands, to be so lucky. It was enough coin which would require the average man to save every copper which slipped into his fingers for a decade, and perhaps that had been such a cheap price to pay.

'Father gifted away such a sword...' Aliya thought. It had been a blade which the old man had thought to place as a centre piece within the home, and though he pretended as though he had received it recently, he had gained it some time ago.

'Betti, this sword was once wielded by an Iyrman. She was an Expert, perhaps greater, but her name is not the kind most would remember. We could return it to the Iyr, but what can the Iyr gift to us in exchange? It is I, your great grandfather, who is able to place this sword upon the mantle!'

The little Riham, barely a toddler, smiled and squealed, before asking her great grandfather to play with her dolls, rather than to play with the magical sword her great grandfather had managed to procure through the curse of thinking, with his soft hands, he had worked so hard.

As the purple sky darkened, the half elf peeked over to his grandmother, who held the sword against her breast, with Jirot clutching at the handle of the blade tightly, as if to make sure her greatmother did not drop it, not that she would, for her greatmother was as strong as she was wise, wise as she was beautiful, and was she not as beautiful as even her own mother?

"Just how amazing is that sword for you to be holding it even half as possessively as you hold my adorable daughter?"

"It is not even half as powerful as the axe at your side," Gangak replied, narrowing her eyes to her grandson who dared to pick a fight, and even Jirot furrowed her brows with annoyance, opening her mouth to grumble, but she sighed, for she should not fall for her father's foolishness.

"Ah…" Adam slowly nodded his head.

'I guess it's important because it's a Gak sword they lost…'

"I am so glad I am mummy's daughter," Jirot said, reaching up to her forehead, rubbing it gently, looking up to her greatmother, with a deep worry.

"Dear, a man's mind is his castle," the half elf replied.

"You shouldn't enter so easily..." The long sigh betrayed the girl's thoughts.

"Whose sword was it?" the fool of a half elf finally asked. Jirot's head snapped to her father, brows raised in surprise.

'Oh ho! Daddy is so wise?'

"Jirot, am I not the wisest, since I married your mother?" Jirot, who could have returned her father's banter, blinked.

"Oh yeah." It was from a time long before her greatchildren, before her grandchildren, before her children, a time where everything seemed so better, when she was but a girl who knew no better.

"I do not love you in the slightest!" Gangak declared.

"Do you think I love you?" Bangak replied, towards the tiny form of Gangak, who held up her fists, ready to brawl.

"I do not care!"

"Once I return, I will sort you out, you brat."

"Once you return, I will beat you senseless, then we will see if you can speak the words!" Gangak threw a punch, but her grandmother was far swifter, for she was not a toddler, and caught her hand, lifting the girl up by her forearms. Gangak grunted, swinging lightly, and as she aimed a kick at the woman, she expertly, for she was greater than an Expert, blocked the girl's kicks with her knees, and tossed her away.

"Perhaps if you train daily, when I return, if you are able to defeat me, I will gift you this blade of mine," Bangak teased, revealing the sword. 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. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Bangak's children, each in their late twenties, glanced up towards their mother in hope she would return swiftly, but the woman laughed, reaching up a hand, making her way out. Though she was barely above an Expert, it was her heart, so full of fire, which caused her to step away. Yes, for she was the hope of the generation before, and the generation after, save perhaps the one known as Gangak. It was the last time Gangak had seen her grandmother, for even when they brought her body back… It was raining that day.

"My grandmother?" Gangak replied, her eyes suddenly narrowing.

"I do not care!"

"Gangak! You must see her off to Hel!"

"No! I refuse!" Gangak declared, ready to punch and scream her way out, causing her father and mother to falter, until she sauntered off.

"Tangak, come…" their father said, letting out an awkward sigh. For truly, their grandmother's will had skipped his generation, and had grown even more furiously within their daughter. It was at that time when another had held that name.

"Did you fight with Gangak again?" Jirot asked, glaring down at her troublesome grandson, who had not calmed even after the birth of his younger brother.

"Grandmother!" Jarot called, clenching his fists, standing tall and proud, even with the swollen redness across his face.

"Gangak seemed sad, so I beat it out of her." Jirot ruffled the boy's hair, causing him to cackle with delight.

"What am I going to do with you?" The boy's laughter continued to echo further beyond, as Otkan stared at the sky, glancing aside to Gangak, whose hands were so thick and calloused, for she knew how to count to a thousand, and she would count to the number daily.

"Gangak, should we train?"

"No!" Gangak growled, the swollen purple causing her to look angrier than usual. Another arrived, a boy by the name of Zamool, who brought with him a platter of fruit. Since he was an Ool, he had already began his training into becoming wise, so he decided not to mention the girl's grandmother. That evening, her parents gave up upon trying to bring the girl to bed, for her screaming was causing the others to pause, and once the Gaks stopped trying to make her behave, the girl stopped screaming.

Her mother followed her out, with the understanding she would be tired tomorrow, and, after greeting Jarot's father, who followed his son out of the estate, she sat upon a seat and stared at her daughter, who remained within the centre of the estate. The girl paced from wall to wall, until, finally, she picked up the wooden stick, and began the simple, efficient, deadly play of the Gak family blade.

'Grandmother, are you watching?' Gangak thought, with a rising fury within her tiny heart.

'Since you are too weak, I will do it!' Gangak recalled the shameful memories of old, and she did not repeat the words to her grandson, to her greatchildren.

'Oh,' Adam thought, noticing how solemn Gangak was, for though she spoke so brightly of her grandmother, of her warmth, he noticed she was far more solemn. Taygak, having also listened to the tale upon the woman's return, eyed up the sword. She recognised it, for she had heard of her grandfather's grandmother, who was one of the few Gaks of note recently, though perhaps not outside of the Iyr.

'It seems I can die without regrets, grandmother,' Gangak thought, smiling at the thought of her grandmother's warmth.

"If it was my grandmother, she would be sure you did not misbehave. She did not care for kind or harsh words, and even when I struck her, she would only pin me down, and then she would read me the tales of our family." Jirot flushed lightly.

"I would not trouble your grandmother, nano…" Gangak smiled wide, narrowing her eyes at her greatdaughter, who flushed, looking aside so shyly. Gangak thought about how many times she had even bitten the old woman. Thankfully, like Tangak, they did not seem to hold her behaviour as a child so deep within their hearts.

"It's a beautiful sword."

"It is because of this sword that I stepped out of the Iyr," Gangak admitted.

"I wished to return it to the Iyr, no more, no less."

"You did all that, and made such a name for yourself, and all you wanted to do was to return this sword?" Adam asked, raising his brows in surprise.

"It is someone else, with this sword, who will allow the Gak family to rise."

"...

""Since Taygak already has such a fine sword, it seems we will need to hand it to... Raygak?"

"Yes," Taygak agreed.

"If Raygak loses it, I shall entrust you to retrieve it," Gangak said, smiling warmly towards the teen.

"Yes, grandaunt!" Taygak replied, for though she wished to say Raygak would not lose it, he was not like Saygak, and as an Iyrman, she would not dare to lie. Laygak stared at the sword, and recalled what his granduncle, Rangak, the other great warrior within the Gak family, had said about his grandmother, long before he stepped out to die in the Year of Silence.

'Grandmother was special,' Rangak admitted.

'Special?' a little Laygak, who was only seven or eight at the time, had asked.

'She was not talented in the slightest, but she held that kind of fire within her heart. I have no doubt, should she had been born with my sister's talent, she would have reached the height of the Flame Brand you know. No, she would have surpassed it.' Laygak considered his words. If grandmother had such a talent, then the Gak family would have risen. He sighed.

'Cousin Jaygak, you should have...' Taygak remained quiet for a long moment, before looking towards her grandaunt.

"Raygak. Raygak is strong." Gangak wondered if Jaygak had told even her about Raygak, but she smiled, for anyone with eyes could see the young Raygak was talented. Then, of course, there were the little girls…

'Damn,' Adam thought, looking to the sword.

'It's a small world, huh?' The half elf, the fool that he was, chose to ignore how easily he was being manipulated by the merchants.