Chương 1674: [1572] – Y07.072 – A Man of Gold II

A pair of twins remained on guard at the entrance of the kafabayt, and a half dragon kept an eye upon another entrance, although it was not they who brought many eyes on them. The small army of Iyrmen caused many to keep a wide berth, save for the fact the kafabayt informed all that a wealthy patron was paying for cups of the warm and sweet kafa, which caused many to step closer, accept a pour of kafa, and then scurry away.

The wealthy patron sipped his kafa lightly, enjoying the silence with his wife, who finished her kafa, and then cut into a piece of her dessert, gulab jamun, formed of milk solids reduced to the consistency of a soft dough, covered in coconut flakes.

"Is it difficult?" she asked, taking a bite of the sweet delicacy.

"What?"

"For almost seven years we've asked you to..." The half elf remained quiet for a long moment, until realising his wife's implication, and he smiled, glancing aside towards his children, one of whom refused the dessert even from his sister's fingers, causing the girl to huff, but she rubbed his cheek, and just this once, like every time, forgave the boy.

"I know if I go too far, you'll stop me." It was his wife's smile which eased his heart, though he was uncertain if he could promise his wife much more than this. It was he, a man born within a certain country, one which espoused such great civility, which grew within his heart the reluctance to kill, and yet in these lands, was refined the same civility, of which it was just when he drew his steel, for he was he, and thus if he was to draw his steel, then it was just.

It was due to the Iyr's current task which brought the weight to his words, but the woman brought up a piece of the dessert to his lips, and once more, the half elf was certain this dessert was the most delicious, that which was at the end of his wife's fingers. He had begun to chain himself for her sake, to the Iyr, especially that tongue of his, but this time...

"What kind of storm do you intend to kick up?"

"Darling..."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to..." Adam chuckled, flashing a wide smile, the kind that held a certain mischief, which reached even his eyes.

"I'm her father too, you know?"

"..."

"Please protect me from her wrath..."

"I will see what I can do." Indeed, for when it came to steel, how many could dare to clash against this fool of a half elf, this fool of a husband, this fool of a father? When it came to money, however, he would need to find out that the world was bigger than he thought. Vonda hoped he would not take it to heart, though he was still quite rich, but he was but a man who had made his wealth in half a decade, while there were families who had built up their wealth over generations.

It was during the week the half elf continued to spoil his wife, eating out for every meal, along with his family, taking his children to try all manner of Aswadian foods, from rice of one colour, to rice of a thousand colours, to the curries of beige, to the curries of vibrant reds, to drinks formed of sweetness, to those formed of sourness.

Thankfully, little Jarot bit slightly into each meal, sometimes just a grain of rice, and other times a half teaspoonful, but the boy tried, for his father would only press upon him droplets every so often, and would not press him further, and each time the fool would shower his son praise, as though the boy had conquered the world.

Mulrot's eyes remained completely focused on her husband at this time, and thankfully, Gangak and Malfev, too, kept an eye on the Iyrman, who ate lightly, though consumed his fury for dessert, yet he remained silent. It had been a miracle he hadn't killed anyone, since it was Jarot.

Though they joked Jirot was trouble, though they joked Adam was trouble, even with how many times the half elf had almost gotten himself killed, it was his grandfather who had earned several nicknames in the span of months, purely due to his rampage across Aldland. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The Iyrman remained, simmering on his rage, consuming his fury for dessert, and he wrestled his bloodthirst, though it clung to the surface.

"Babo, you must try it," Jirot said, with no idea how close the old man was to snapping someone's neck with a single hand, though it was that same hand which brushed the girl's hair, especially after she brought the cup to his lips, feeding her greatfather. The Iyrman seemed a half step away from being consumed by his Rage Fever, but it would dare not consume him while his greatchildren were within arm's reach. It was during this time when Jurot also took his wife on a date.

Spice tickled their lungs, the colourful clothing scintillated their eyes, the flavours danced along their tongue.

"The spice is a little..." Pam admitted, covering her mouth as she chewed slowly, glad the bread was so bland, otherwise the curry would have burned her tongue with flavour.

"It is quite hot," Jurot admitted, sweating slightly. Pam dipped her flatbread, soft as a cloud, into the curry, and as she stared into her husband's eyes.

"Yes?"

"I, too, am strong," Jurot stated firmly, even though he was sweating, his skin pale, and yet the cup of milk remained untouched.

"I know..." Jurot understood he wasn't meant to be talking about that, but he had to tell her first, so when he stepped forward, when he was going to show off to his wife, his sisters, his nieces and nephews, she would not be surprised. Soon. Near Arisa, there was...

It was that week in which they enjoyed Arisa, its smells, sights, and its sweets, especially the sweets, especially one girl, who clutched upon her brother's sleeve tightly, leaning in to suck the hard sweet from atop the stick, popping off for air each time, the girl panting, only for her brother to slip the lollipop into her mouth, and as he kissed her forehead, he reminded the girl she was allowed to breathe while sucking on the sweet. Amalrot blinked.

'I stressed so much about them, but it seems like the kids are at ease...' the half elf thought, looking out to his twins, who were exploring through the festival, and with how many guards surrounded them, one might have thought they were the Shen's children.

'Is it because it's their ahm's homeland?' The half elf remained vaguely near the children, although did split off for a moment now and again, scooping his sisters away.

"Lanarot."

"Brother."

"Do you think I only have one or two gold coins?" Adam whispered, leaning in to nuzzle the girl's nose.

"Spend as much as you want!"

"Yes!" Lanarot beamed, ready to spend her brother's coin as though she were his first daughter.

"Amalrot…" Amalrot's head snapped to her brother, the girl clutching his collar tighter.

"Nom nom?" Amalrot smirked.

"Brother, I want this!" Lanarot declared, pointing at the longsword which remained proudly displayed behind the merchant, with a guard as its own sword, although the guard eyed up the Iyrman behind them, as well as the one who seemed so familiar, and yet they weren't able to place the Aswadian.

"How much?" Adam asked.

"The blade is known as the Winding River Sword, smithed by the hands of a great smith from far east," the merchant explained, before raising his old, wrinkled hand, revealing all five fingers, though his pinky was half missing.

"Five hundred gold, Mo."

"Oh? Is it that kind of sword?" the half elf asked, for the sword was beautiful, that much was for certain, the silver guard seemingly latching onto the sheath, the sheath and handle blue, the pommel matching the guard, and as the merchant drew the sword but a thumb's length, revealed the blade held the etching of a winding river.

"May I?" Adam asked. The merchant, having lived a long life, knew not to refuse, handing the sword over, while Adam handed an even greater treasure away, but only for a moment. The half elf drew the sword, and as he swung it once in front of him, feeling the lightness of blade, understood it was that kind of blade indeed.

"My sister, buying a sword..." Adam began, before the old Jarot could complain, since he seemed to be ready to snap the guard's neck.

"Have I corrupted her?"

"It's a surprise!"

"Oh? A surprise?" Adam mused.

"For who?"

"It's a surprise." Lanarot narrowed her eyes, her lips a smirk, for she was her grandfather's granddaughter, her brother's sister, her niece's aunt.

"Fine, fine, but you can only buy a little more, because otherwise this brother of yours will get into trouble," the half elf explained, sheathing the sword, then reaching into his cloak, as though he really kept a gem worth five hundred gold within it, before taking out a gem worth five hundred gold.

"I'll give you another five hundred gold to spend."

"So cheap!" Adam winced at the accusation, for truly, only his sister could bully him like this.

"That's because, at the auction…" Lanarot side eyed her brother, crossing her arms.

"This brother of yours needs to put some people in their place!" Lanarot peeked towards her brother, then sighed.

"Brother, since you are going to be manly, I will show mercy. I only want this sword and… a nice axe for my little sister! I will pay for it, because I am rich!"

"Let me spoil you, my sister!" Adam picked her up and kissed her cheek, all the while the merchant stared at the gem, for it was certainly worth five hundred gold, and its authenticity was all but confirmed since he walked with an Iyrman, or what appeared to be, three Iyrmen, for two may have been children, but they held such an audacity.

'Noorhabi!' the merchant thought, for even the nobles did not behave so ridiculously.