Chương 1690: [1587] – Y07.087 – A Man of Heart II

So big. The glimmering orbs stared up towards their father. His chin, his eyes, his shoulders, full of the exaggerated swagger of an Iyrly teen. Their eyes were only a touch upwards, but today their father seemed taller than the peaks of the Iyr's mountain, taller than the sky above them, and taller than even the rays from the greatest star of all, their mother.

"Lanarot, tell them," the halved elf said. Lanarot blinked.

"Tell them how manly these brothers of yours are."

"Oh!" Lanarot gasped, suddenly straightening up.

"Okay!"

"No!" Jirot declared, staring up towards the halved elf's eyes, pointing towards him with a grievous finger.

"You are my brother!"

"I am?"

"You are small, so you are my brother!" Jirot said, her eyes almost at eye level with the halved elf, who came up to his wife's navel in this moment. Adam blinked, noting the battlement glistening upon his children's eyes.

"I guess you're right."

"I was short first, so I am your elder sister!"

"That makes sense." Jirot stormed up to her diminutive father, wrapping her arms around him, trapping him within her loving embrace, and with a firm kiss atop his head, she brushed his hair.

"Come! We must sit and listen to the tale, okay?"

"Okay," the half elf replied, allowing his daughter to grab his hand, her hand even bigger than his own at this time, following after her to the nearby table. He blinked at the chair before him, glancing aside to his daughter, grabbed him by the side and tried to pick him up, assisting him onto the chair, and once he was settled, he stared over the table, noting how big the world had suddenly become.

'Has the world always been this big?' Rushad side eyed Shawkat, whose eyes were also questioning, but noting the confusion within even the Fariq Thanwi's eyes, Shawkat realised it was simply so. Adam was Adam.

"Papa, we are going to snack, so you must wash your hands first," Jirot said, dipping her hands into the basin, then clasped the soap firmly within her hands.

"This is how you must wash your hands. First you rinse. Then you must use the soap, this soap is the best, it smells like honey, and it is so soft, so soft, and then you must rub your hands together in the water, like this, okay?"

"Okay."

"Oh my gosh!" Jirot gasped, her mouth forming a tiny circle.

"My papa is so smart! You are mummy's son, indeed, certainly, of coas!"

"Of course," the halved elf replied.

"Of coas," Jirot confirmed. Konarot blinked. She turned to look towards Kirot, the pair blinking together, then they looked to Karot, whose brows remained furrowed in intense concentration. A wave of joy fell across their faces, and they began to wash their hands.

"Oh no," little Jarot whispered to his greatfather, who had claimed the boy.

"What is wrong?" old Jarot replied.

"Daddy is funny!" the boy declared, delivered with dire despair. The old Jarot pulled the boy to his chest, his eyes threatening to tear up, and for once, he tried not to slip into his fury to calm himself, while tears streamed down his face.

"You are your father's son!" The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Mulrot claimed Jirot, since Gangak had claimed her all day, meanwhile the old woman looked towards the halved elf, who was currently drying off his hands within a cloth.

"Hoi!" Adam called as he was suddenly picked up, blinking, turning to look towards his grandmother.

"What a cute greatson I have," Gangak said, her eyes sparkling, planting the halved elf upon his lap.

'How the turn tables turn tabled,' Adam thought, staring out at the large world from atop his grandmother's lap. However, did they think he wasn't prepared? He wasn't. Not even in the slightest, as the halved elf turned as red as his grandmother. It was this Adam the girl spoke of, sitting up taller as she spoke of how girly their aunt was, defeating even their father and their papo, but then speaking of her brothers, and how manly Jurot had been for the sake of their kako.

"Papo!" Jirot called, reaching out a hand towards the old man, though he would be unable to steal her away from her nano.

"You are so manly, papo! So manly!" Jurot's lips twitched slightly, sitting up taller.

"What about me?"

"You are so boyly, papa, so boyly." Adam blinked.

"Am I a handsome boy?"

"Of coas! You are mummy's son, so you must be handsome!" the girl declared, holding up a piece of cake, for the girl's fingers were clean, as her nana had fed her from her fingers, allowing the girl and the rest of her siblings to feed their new brother.

'Oh,' Rushad thought, somehow having managed to remain to listen to the girl speaking the tale, though it lasted but a few minutes.

'I see.' Amalrot stared ahead, staring towards the figure with his leaf shaped ears, and then as their eyes met, the girl jolted lightly.

"Hello, Amal!" the halved elf called with a smile.

"It's me! Adamrot! I am your nephew so you have to spoil me!" Jirot opened her mouth to speak, but how wise was her brother, for he was right, of coas. Amalrot turned towards her mother, grabbing her collar, then turned back to look towards the smaller halved fae, who was only slightly bigger than her. As the halved fae smiled, she smiled in return, and shyly buried her head within her mother's bosom.

'Wait!' Adam thought, his eyes suddenly growing twice as wide.

'If I'm this small doesn't that mean I can spoil them twice as much?' In this way, the halved elf was a genius. Adam's head snapped towards his wife, who was currently in the middle of talking with Rushad.

'I can ask Vonda to spoil me twice as much too!' In this way, the halved elf was a fool.

"Kal Rushad," called a voice darkly.

"Kal Jurot," Rushad replied.

"I would like to see the sword of the Scarlet Sun," Jurot said, and as he kept the older Aswadian's gaze, he informed the Fariq Thanwi of his intentions.

"Haha! I am more than willing to reveal the sword of the Scarlet Sun to the fine guests here, though I will surrender beforehand to you, Kal Jurot, who is related to the Mad Dog and Butcher Marmak!" Rushad's laughter held no pretence, for under the Iyrman's gaze, he had seen his defeat, for who else could match the conviction of those known as the Iyrmen. Jurot held the older Aswadian's gaze, and bowed his head, for this much was enough.

Little Karot turned to look towards his uncle who had made a fellow like Kal Rushad step back. His eyes sparkled. As Kal Rushad stood, he could feel the countless gazes upon him, each figures he could perhaps only clash against at best, and find himself brutally slaughtered under at worse. His heart pounded. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened.

He stepped within the centre of the Faro's estate, and drew his scarlet blade, which glittered under the afternoon sun, the rays cascading across the surface, distracting the children from his nervousness.

"I hope I do not embarrass myself," Rushad joked, holding his blade loosely within his hand, and with a flourish, tightened his grip.

'To see the swordplay of the Scarlet Sun…' Tonagek thought, his eyes glued to the blade.

"Cho," Mosen called.

"I am watching," Chosen assured, letting out a soft sigh.

"Papa, watch carefully, okay?" Adam blinked.

"The sun rises in the east," Rushad chanted, and he twisted his wrist, flicking the tip of the blade, and like a drill, it pierced through the air, flames dancing through the air, scattering off the sword, causing it to glitter once more, the flames then forming the a sun, which rested in the air a moment, before dissipating into the air. Rushad inhaled sharply, and with that, his blade blurred through the air towards the sky, and it was though he had cut into the sun, the rays scattering through the air.

"The sun ascends towards the heavens!" As the sword pierced the sky, the children's eyes twinkled even brighter than the sword, each letting out soft oohs.

"The sun sets in the west," Rushad chanted, half twisting his torso, swiping towards the left, and with that, his blade almost burst into light, and as he struck towards his left, the light burst across him, revealing the shadow upon his face, his eyes resolute even through the brightness, his conviction protecting him from a sudden onslaught of blinding light, though sweat formed atop his forehead from the effort of wielding such great magic.

"The sun, too, falls low, but I am negligent, and beyond that…" Rushad sheathed his blade, and let slip a sigh, for how long had it been since the sun had… As the Aswadian peeked to the side, he noted the gaze of the children, one who clutched her mother's collar tight, while the others remained bright eyed, almost blindingly so.

"I hope I have not embarrassed myself," the Aswadian said, though his smile revealed his pride, shameless that it was.