Chương 1712: [1609] – Y07.109 – A New Dawn IV

"Your great grandchildren are so adorable," Afraz admitted, the old man sipping the kafa lightly, the taste of the sweetness dancing along his tongue.

"They must be so, since they are my great grandchildren, and the children of my grandson, who is also adorable," Gangak replied, pouring more kafa for the pair of them, the pair warming up with the sweet milky beverage, for their bones were so old, and the evening brought a great chill even in noonval.

"He is as adorable as he is powerful?" Afraz joked, chuckling to himself.

"He is more adorable than he is powerful," Gangak stated firmly, but then her lips formed a gentle crescent, "but he is powerful too." Afraz let out a soft sigh, holding onto his cup, staring into the liquid, the shadow of the cup overwhelming the lightness of the sweet drink.

"Is his gourd full of kafa?"

"Milk."

"Hmm," Afraz replied, sipping his kafa, and after the moment of silent passed, he looked up towards the old woman, taking in her appearance once more. It had been many years, but the woman, who had almost reached Grandmaster the last they saw one another, had gained a greater sharpness, though it had been tempered through a time spent under shadows. Gangak had thought to poke fun at him, but seeing him this way wounded her heart.

"Konarot, the eldest, is well behaved. She is like Jirot, though causes less trouble."

"Does she cause no trouble, or just less trouble?" Gangak smiled, and as she made to speak, she recalled back to the little Konarot who was so vicious.

"Konarot has, once, caused a greater trouble than her younger sister."

"It must have been quite the trouble," Afraz mused.

"It was almost as much as her father," Gangak joked, though perhaps it was greater than even her own father?

"Oho? That much?"

"Do you wish to hear of it? A secret of the Iyr?"

"I am an old man now, so such secrets, even if they kill me, it would not be a shame to hear them." Gangak chuckled, and with that, she accepted a pour from the old Aswadian before her, a man who was so different than the man she had spent a previous generation alongside, spilling blood, watching the stars, and even crossing steel.

"You have yet to take an apprentice?" Gangak asked, leaning back within her chair, creaking under her steel.

"No."

"Would you consider it now?"

"Are you asking?"

"If I am?"

"I would hear it."

"If you do not wish to, it is your choice, but your swordplay, it was comforting to see, and my great granddaughter, I am sure it would be nice for her to see it too." Afraz let out a soft sigh, staring at the steam rising from his cup, and then closed his eyes. He thought back to a time long ago, a time forgotten by many, a time remembered only by old fools, and even then, he barely remembered it after all the drinking.

It was a time when steel sung so sweetly, a time when he thought the world, though unfair, was still just. How wonderful had it been? The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. To see Flame Brand's swift ascent had only brought the rumours to life, that the twentieth century was going to be an unprecedented time.

It was a time with names like Undying, Flame Brand, Drakebane, Deathhand, Wildheart, and so many others, Scholar Muh, Radiant Blade, Weal and Woe Sabres, Two Finger Demon, and even the Aldishmen, they had their King's Sword, the Knight of Death, and so many others, but it was only those names one could remember. It was that kind of time, a time full of promise. How brutal it had been. Flame Brand's ascent had ended as swiftly as it had begun. She, who had been forced away, exiled from the land.

She could have made a name for herself in Aldland, but she retired early, as early as her cousin, and thus their names began to fade. For those names they recall, from Flame Brand to the Two Finger Demon, there were dozens who should have reached this height, even he, the Drake of the Hill, had been named such due to his rapid rise, and yet how many others had he known? How many had defeated even he? Yet, what happened to them all?

They were not killed because they arrogantly fought a creature too powerful for them, they had died, almost all of them, through treachery. The ignoble treachery known as the nobility, the dishonourable treachery known as the honourable, the uncivilised treachery known as the civilised. Flame Brand, forced away by the combination of many Orders after dashing away so many of their hopes, all because she was red, horned, and better with a blade than any of them.

He opened his eyes, staring at the sweet drink, sipping it lightly, the cool drink slipping across his tongue.

"If you are uncertain, join us."

"Are you not upon such a journey?"

"We are, but I will invite you, for..." Gangak smiled, it was that kind of smile that reignited hope within the old man's heart, for the boy buried deep within him, and perhaps, for the young man who once watched the stars with her, something more.

"You have recognised Duteous, but you have not recognised his nephew, of even his nephew's son, and though you see my grandson, you have not seen his brother, and..."

"Is it enough?"

"We are too old, but your swordplay should exist when the Gak family's name rises up once more," Gangak said, speaking words no Gak should speak, especially not so openly, and especially not to anyone who was not an Iyrman. Afraz suddenly straightened, sober as a monk, though continued to sober, for the words had cut deep into him. His eyes remained entirely focused upon the woman before him.

'It is not up to I, Afraz,' Gangak had said all those years ago.

'My eldest brother, he is too meek. My younger brother, Rangak, he will be able to rise too, but it is not enough, just us two. However, if I am able to carve my name in this generation, it will be enough for the hearts of my children, the hearts of my grandchildren, the hearts of my great grandchildren. To them, I must leave my tale, so they may inherit the task set by our ancestors.'

'You should aim for the peak!' Afraz, the fool, had called.

'You are an Iyrman! If you were a devilkin, they would have stopped you, but you can do it, in this sacred land of sun and gold!'

'You are lucky you are so handsome,' Gangak teased, though she looked towards the expansive sky.

'If I can return with my grandmother's sword, it is enough. It is with that blade, we will see it...'

'The rise of the Gak family?'

'Do not speak it allowed, or you will curse us,' Gangak joked, though she had reached for her blade. 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. Afraz stared at the blade, a blade he had never seen before, but he was certain he knew the blade.

As Afraz stared at it, his eyes trailed upwards towards Gangak, who held a smile which would curse the Gaks for the next century.

"My grandson is so great, even the great paper merchants in Arisa wish to court him, and thus they had gifted this blade," Gangak said, and though it was not won through blood, it was won through name.

"This blade came to me not because of my grandson, but of my great grandchildren, my Jigak, my Jagak, for not even the Rot family can refuse my words and thoughts when it comes to those children." Afraz was certain there was something greater to her words, but he did not wish to ask for the secrets, for the woman's eyes remained bright, and as his eyes fell upon the sword once more, Afraz remained silent, still, slipping into his thoughts once more.

Searing Silver Sun, once wielded by Bangak, the woman's grandmother during the last century, the century in which the two had made their names. It was she, Bangak, who was barely an Expert, but she had stepped out for that was the Fate of the Gak family, to step out as Experts, to claw their way for the crumbs of the world, and it was she who Gangak had spoken of only once by name even to he, and considering the tone in which she had spoken of her grandmother, Afraz never asked more about her.

"What are you thinking about so deeply?"

"How strong is your cousin?"

"Jarot? He is a Grandmaster."

"He, as a Grandmaster, defeated the Full Moon, who is a Paragon?"

"Yes." Afraz let out a soft sigh.

"He really is a monster."