Chương 1688: [1585] – Y07.085 – A Man of Silvers X

It was under the swaying banners, the shade of the green trees within the port city, the scent of kafa wafting through the air. It was Arisa. He was adorned in blood, a red turban, a red shalwar, even his shoes were red, though at his waist he wore a white sash, and at his side he wore a sabre. He did not wear the martial grey, not yet of that world, though the pair standing on either side of him wore cream, a grey scarf around their waists, along with a pair of steel sabres.

'To think I would need to humour the daughters of merchants,' Maharan thought, his mouth souring from the taste of terrible company, though the kafa itself was exquisite, his glance glanced around the finely adorned workers, each whose feet were swift and stable, their hands quick and able.

"My, my, the typical fellows from the Confederacy are so rough and harsh, but you are so refined!" the young woman said, adorned in cream, her scarf pink, with white flowers. Her skin was lightly darkened, not by toiling under the sky, but of those from the north and west of Arisa, her eyes bright, though not with the brightness of a sharp steel, but of a silver spoon. Her curious lips were painted scarlet, her nails gleaming the same.

"We are a rough and harsh people, we who have inherited the will of the Shen of Shens," Maharan replied, disdain a venom upon his tongue, sipping the kafa lightly to cleanse his mouth of this conversation.

"Is there a need for something like that?" Ekrin half whimpered, glancing aside towards Yasha, fluttering her lashes.

"Your friend is so impolite."

"He is blunt," Yasha replied simply, also enjoying her kafa, though ordered another round of desserts.

"Not everyone can have the luxury of education," the last called, adorned in cream, her scarf the colour of dusk, her eyes and nails twilight, her lips smirking with silver, the gentlest of smirks, the kind which would aggravate any reasonable fellow, but Maharan, whose stress remained heavy upon his shoulders, did not fall for the woman's wicked words. Thankfully, however, there were two fine young men nearby, so the woman poured a small cup of wine for each, holding out the pair.

"…"

"Shouldn't you drink if a pretty woman pours you a drink?" Nehir asked, her beautiful smile kind, especially to the likes of these two young men, each Experts.

"We cannot drink while we are on duty," the twins replied.

"You are on duty?"

"We are to protect Maharan."

"It seems our companion is even greater than I imagined?" Nehir teased.

"I am someone with no name at this time," Maharan replied.

"You are both so fortunate," Nehir said, letting out a defeated sigh.

"It is we who are still required to study, to work hard for our coin, but through your luck, you are able to receive such great fortunes." Maharan's eyes slowly shifted to the side, meeting Yasha's gaze, the pair exchanging a look. Truly, it was complicated to be born within a wealthy family. Yes, certainly, it was much simpler to toil the land with one's hands, for the sake of the wealthy, earning silvers, while raising their wealth by golds. Yasha stared down at her tea, noting the red.

She closed her eyes, soothing her heart from the annoyance of the elite's complaints, speaking of paying far too much in tax, with their full bellies. The woman inhaled deeply. In Arisa, smelling the hibiscus, she longed for Arisa. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It was this Arisa in which a particular fool allowed silvers to slip through his fingers, and within the hill, he followed his wife, who held onto the long case which held the fine blade of rubicule, much to the half elf's chagrin. As she approached a particular table, in which the older man sat, drinking the tea of defeat, he opened his eyes to find the pair approaching him, and swiftly stood, this man whose skin was like almond, and wrinkled like almond.

"Noorshukhur," Azim said, smiling politely towards the pair.

"Mother's Blessings," Vonda replied, holding out the case for the old man.

"I have brought a gift." Adam blinked.

"Shukhur, a gift from a Ray? I am blessed in this life," Azim said, pausing but a moment, though he swiftly accepted the case, much to the half elf's ire, except if he had refused, the old man was certain a fiery fury would slip through the half elf. Mahershala glanced between the Ray and the merchant and then to the half elf, who had even ignored him to send word using another worker, but had not ignored him when he had assisted with bringing the items.

He wasn't sure if the half elf was trying to offend him, or if he truly cared for his assistance.

"I wish you a good day," Vonda said, and with that, she turned, waited a moment for her husband to turn, and allowed him to lead the way.

'It was such a nice sword,' the half elf thought, the heat of annoyance rising further, for the auction house hadn't allowed him to speak with anyone on such short notice, which only annoyed him slightly, but for his wife to give up such a fine weapon to that old man…

"We stole away two great treasures from him," Vonda reminded the half elf.

"We did?"

"The Twin Steel Sabres," Vonda decided to state more overtly, for her husband was touched by the madness of nuisances.

"Hm…" The half elf's lips formed a wide smirk.

"I suppose we have to show some mercy?"

"If you continue to sound like a villain, I will tell Jirot."

"I think this time…"

"…" Vonda's lips formed a gentle pout, since her husband was right.

"I will tell little Karot."

"I deeply apologise," the half elf replied, for there was no way he could wound his son's gentle heart in such a manner.

"You are right, my dear. It is best to clear away whatever grudges we possess, and if they cause an issue in the future, I can just beat them lightly." Vonda sighed, wanting to reprimand him, but Mahershala was still following them, within ear shot.

"I will remember your promise to only beat them lightly."

'Ah,' the half elf thought, having trapped himself.

"Darling, if you fli-,""I will tell Jirot."

'It's all your fault for flirting with me in public!' the half elf cried internally, but he dared not speak the words. The pair returned to the original district in which the rest of their companions gathered, mostly Iyrmen. The half elf's eyes scanned across the merchants for a moment, and then to the wall, in which a large number of weapons displayed proudly, like medals, and the half elf turned to Mahershala.

"Mahershala, I would like to procure all the weapons," the half elf said, motioning towards a half dozen blades hanging upon the wall, each forged of a gemsteel, glittering blues, half dark, half light, sprinkled across the steel, that of azuricule, each worth at least two and half thousands silvers.

"It is my pleasure, Mo," Mahershala replied, and within his heart, he had not once doubted the half elf, not even onc-"Oh, and, I really like all those silversteel daggers, so if you can, at least another… let's say a dozen of those?" Adam said, his eyes darting to the side, finding the beautiful crimson of bloodsteel, almost pointing at it, but he blinked, for who used such a sabre?

"By any chance, do you have, uh, the steel that's, what do you call it?"

"Stormsteel," Jurot said.

"Is that the one with lightning?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, that's the one, if you have something of stormsteel, a dagger, a sabre, a blade, whatever," the half elf said, far too casually, as though he could truly spend this much silver, matching the oppression of Merchant Mohammed himself.

"How did you know what he was asking for?" Pam whispered.

"He saw the blues of the azuricule and thought of how it looked like lightning upon steel, and thus wished to procure stormsteel too," Jurot replied simply. Pam blinked. Huh? Was her husband a genius?

"When my wife can read me it feels good, but when you do it, I feel like an idiot," the half elf admitted. Jurot remained silent.

"Jurot, say it."

"…"

"Say it."

"I cannot speak a lie." Vonda couldn't help but think the half elf deserved it after how much trouble he had caused at the auction house.

"Brother, you cannot bully brother like this," Lanarot said, placing her hands upon her hips, huffing.

"Brother Adam is trying his best."

"Okay, okay, I feel like the bullying is getting out of hand, and Lanarot, I'm not trying my best at all."

"You are not?" Lanarot gasped, tilting her head in shock, her eyes wide. She turned to look towards her mother, and then back to her brother.

"Lanarot, do you really think I'm stupid?"

"…"

"Don't say it," the half elf said.

"I cannot speak a lie." Mohammed's lips remained taut, though his heart fell at ease, and seeing the sight, he didn't feel too bad losing various items to the half elf.