Chương 1733: [1630] – Y07.130 – To Gold Mountain V

"It's all your fault," the half elf claimed, a sudden realisation within his eyes, his mouth forming a tiny circle.

"What is?" Mulrot asked, her heart throbbing, but she forced away the chill, because the half elf was too kind to mention that.

"When I fight and disrespect them, I get that from you!" Mulrot held the half elf's gaze, and considering his words, a soft smile appeared on her lips, reaching all the way to her eyes.

"Daddy, how can you say such words?" Jirot gasped, furrowing her eyes into a glare.

"Did this father of yours speak a lie?" The girl slowly turned her head, her eyes darting from her father to her greatmother.

"No…" The old Jarot remained silent, though he wished to claim his grandson himself, however, considering how much trouble he had caused, did he need to speak so highly of himself? Once the tales were spoken, the group made their way to sleep, allowing all those who had listened to the tales to dream of what they had heard, and considering what nonsense they had spoken, their dreams would be alight with such inspiration.

That evening, Jirot claimed her grandmother, so the little Jarot, too, claimed his grandmother, while little Karot stared up at his greatfather, who let out a soft sigh and picked him up with ease, and because he had two arms, he picked up his little Kirot too, and because his neck was so thick, his eldest greatdaughter could climb upon his back. Adam was going to step away with his wife when a chonky hand claimed his, and the girl's eyes glared towards the half elf.

The half elf, understanding his predicament, surrendered with ease, while little Lanarot peeked towards Vonda, who smiled, accepting the girl's affection. Pam blinked. She ignored her husband's gaze, though without Lanarot… It was in the morning when the groups began to say their greetings, while Faizal approached the half elf, and peeking down at his children for a moment, he reached into his pack, and revealed a pair of gloves formed of some kind of silver snakeskin.

"As you are my friend's grandson, I should spoil you."

"There is no need for something like that," the half elf assured, though the old man held out the snakeskin gloves to him.

"I am not so cheap I cannot at least spoil you in this way," Fast Fist Faizal said, handing the gloves to the half elf.

"These snakeskin gloves provide some protection for one's hands, they can even resist fire itself."

"Thank you, akh al'jid," the half elf replied, accepting the gloves from his granduncle, peeking up at the fellow who held such apprehension within his eyes.

"Akh al'jid, if you require any magical weapons, I will offer you some magical weapons for cheap, so if you find yourself near Red Oak, come to the Front Iyr and we will eagerly host you."

"Aha, thank you, betta, thank you, and perhaps in the future I will accept your request, but tomorrow we make westward."

"Oh? Is it business you can speak of?"

"A request of an old friend, no more, no less."

"If you need any help, let me know, ahm, because I'm not so cheap that I can't help out my akh al'jid." Faizal chuckled, the kind of chuckle that was full of exhaustion from being unable to sleep well in the night, consumed by a great thought which struck deep into his heart, of a world that had crumbled so easily over the course of a single day, and the fellow left, clasping his hands behind his back. His heart ached. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Betta, please don't bully any more of my friends like this again," Afraz called. Adam's eyes slowly trailed to the side, towards Afraz, who met his gaze and faltered for a moment, for the half elf's gaze was full of trouble, the kind of trouble that was not like the trouble of his daughter, but the trouble of his grandfather. What had happened last night for him to change? Then he noticed how tired the half elf appeared, and then the restedfulness of the chonky Amal.

'Ah.' Before they stepped out, Adam approached the group, though mostly towards one particular figure. Pale, handsome, wincing.

"How are you doing, ahm?" Adam asked.

"I am doing well," Boy replied.

"I wanted to apologise for my rudeness in yesterday's bout."

"What rudeness?" Boy replied, flashing an awkward smile, for he knew what kind of fellow the half elf was, and if he was apologising, his life wasn't going to be long.

"I…" Adam began, pausing a long moment.

"I shouldn't have treated you that way. I should have fought you seriously like a proper warrior."

"Did you not fight me seriously?"

"I did, but I meant, I shouldn't have been so…" Adam tried to find the words, but as he did, he furrowed his brows in thought.

"I just mean that I shouldn't have been so blatantly rude, and I should have fought you with the proper respect. I used some of my greatest abilities to face you, that much you can be certain."

"Then that was all that I needed to hear, for if you fought me with great might, then I cannot complain, but I will accept your apology, so do not worry your heart," Boy assured.

"Thank you. Also, I wanted to say that you were really cool, with how you undid your bow and then it formed that kind of bowblade, you called it?"

"It is my speciality," Boy replied.

"I was taught the way of the bow by my ahms and ailas, those who raised me, for there were few who enjoyed to wield it, but to make sure I did not die when one approached, I also learnt how to wield the bowblade."

"It's really cool."

"To use the word cool to I, an Aswadi, am I too pale?"

"Haha! I didn't mean it like that!" The half elf laughed, his lips forming a wide grin, though his eyes revealed the pain of the accusation.

"It's a phrase that just means, uh, awesome? Something that is amazing."

"Has the slang of the younger generation changed? During my time, we called something like that hot."

"I guess that's also a way to describe something, but it also means beautiful, doesn't it?"

"I suppose one could use it that way." Boy smiled.

"Thank you again, ahm, and, also, if you come to the business, even just for a chat, if we have any special arrows, we'll gift you a few."

"If you require my bow in the future, call for me, and I will allow you to hire it for but the Aldishman's silvers, and not the Aswadi's gold." Adam laughed once more, raising a hand to thank him, and with that the groups began their journeys away.

"It is a good thing you did not cause trouble," Mulrot stated, though as Jirot turned to look to see who she was talking to, it was not exactly the expected fellow, though considering it for a moment, he was not someone that wasn't unexpected.

"We will need to speak in the future, but what am I to do when her lover came at me with the intent to kill?" Marmak replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"You should have shown her mercy."

"Mulrot, if you wish for me to draw my blade, you only need to ask politely, and I will swing my blade on you."

"I would like to see you try," Mulrot replied, glaring at the fellow, who let out an awkward sigh.

"If I didn't kill her, she would have killed me. The Weeping Sword of the Forest was no ordinary warrior, I still have nightmares of her blade." Mulrot let out a huff, but let it go, meanwhile Jirot reached out to pat Marmak's shoulder gently. Finally, the group settled within their carriages and began their journey to the capital. The half elf stared out the window, watching the hills pass by, all the while taken by his thoughts. He couldn't believe he was so rude to someone like Boy.

Even if he was young brat, a fool of a man, he should have only treated someone annoying that rudely. His eyes slowly trailed to the side, towards the little girl who was reading an Aswadian tale, translating it to the Aldish tongue as she read the tale, sometimes even gasping before she translated the words.

'Seriously, what am I doing?' The half elf rubbed his eyes, and as little Jarot reached up to his father's collar, the half elf stared down at his son. A moment passed and the two exchanged gentle smiles.

'My son is always so lovely to me…'

"Daddy, I want to buy uthur in the capital," the boy said, peeking up at his father with such innocence.

"If my son wants to buy uthur, he can buy uthur!" the half elf declared, tensing up lightly, and as he grinned wide, he tempered his cringe with his thoughts.

'Don't go too far! I can spoil him, but I can't be cringe!' Little Jarot smiled, resting his head against his father's chest, not quite understanding the inner crisis the half elf was going through.