noveltune [1078] – Y05.078 – No Justice II
[1078] – Y05.078 – No Justice II
[1078] – Y05.078 – No Justice II
“So, this is the Mad Dog I have heard so much about?” the woman in breastplate asked, wearing her amulet, that of a red blade pointed downwards within a circle. She also carried at her side a well made blade, one that was no doubt tinted pink or red. She was pretty, the scar across the side of cheek only adding to her rugged beauty, while her short hair curled over her ears, which were studded with silver.
‘Mad Dog?’ the other thought, also wearing a breastplate, and wearing a familiar amulet they had seen a few days ago, that of a sun within a flower. He was plain faced, and if not for the tattoo of a sun upon his chin, he would have seemed like any John in a city.
“Careful with your tone, Sir Iris, for there are few Iyrmen I would rather have at my side than the Mad Dog,” Kris said. “If not for him, perhaps you would not see me this day.”
Jarot inhaled sharply, almost grinding his teeth, as his eyes darted to the side, towards Sir Iris. His eyes remained focused, like a tiger who had spotted a lion within his territory, though for a moment, they held something else.
Was he a boy who had been admonished?
“You did not tell me about his wooden leg,” Sir Iris said, eyeing up the Iyrman, though she saw how he stood, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
“He lost his leg in the civil war against the Blood Knight,” Kris stated, clearing his throat lightly, before smiling towards the Iyrmen before him. “Fate has brought us together it seems, for-,”
“You should lower your gaze,” the voice, gentle as a feather, called to them. “Was your previous Grand Commander not also crippled?”
Iris’ eyes darted to the Iyrman with grey skin, who wore a large greatsword upon his back, and a glare within his eyes. “Who might you be?”
“You should ask Sir Maxwell who I am.”
“Unfortunately for me, the Keeper of the Blades remains within the capital, mister...”
“Rajin.”
“Rajin?” the woman replied, narrowing her eyes slightly. ‘Who in the Damnation is that?’
“Grandfather fought Sir Maxwell in his youth,” Timojin said. “He is known as the Bearded Dragon.”
“You are the Bearded Dragon?” Iris asked, suddenly straightening up, her eyes suddenly glued to his. She was certain she had heard the name before. ‘Was it not...’
“How is his arm?” Rajin asked.
“Cold,” the woman replied, still holding the Iyrman’s gaze.
‘Bearded Dragon?’ Sir Hugo thought, glancing between the Mad Dog and the Bearded Dragon. There was no coincidence that the pair appeared together, Sir Hugo was certain of it, considering how many tales they had both earned a generation ago. The Mad Dog, who had taken his best friend’s eye, and Rajin, who had fought figures who were now Vice Commanders, if not Grand Commanders, of the various Orders gathered here today. He thought of the other Iyrman who had come to the gathering, including the two Great Elders, who were also active during that time. ‘The Iyr is taking the threat seriously if they have brought so many great warriors.’
“You will never guess who I spoke to earlier this year,” Kris said, smiling a smile that almost killed him. “I met Flame Blade as I made my way to the gathering.”
“Hmm,” Jarot grinned wider, baring his teeth to the Vice Commander. “It is a shame it is the fifth year, or the Blades would have made an appearance here! It would have been your great fortune!”
“Right...” Kris replied, smiling awkwardly, feeling a hostility from the Iyrman’s words. “Shall I leave you to go and greet your-,”
Kris saw Jarot lick his lips, the old man chewing on his thoughts, far more unnerving than he had been a few years ago. ‘Did losing his leg bring him such pain?’
“After some time, coddling against my chest, who can dare say they are my greatchildren’s favourite babo?” Jarot laughed once more, a laugh full of such delight, though quickly his eyes filled with his wildness again. “They adore me, and I? I adore them. I adore them, Vice Commander.”
“I’m sure.”
“What of you?” Jarot asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Where is she, that... apprentice of yours? Melinda, yes?”
Kris smiled, motioning a hand to one of the nearby women who had sat with the other warriors, playing dice in the rain, and drinking lightly. “Sir Melinda, come and meet the Mad Dog. It’s a shame that you hadn’t met last time, but fighting side by side against the Reavers? I’m certain it is a greater honour than facing against our old brothers and sisters.”
Melinda stood, bowing her head lightly, the woman in her early thirties or so, adorned in breastplate over a light chain, carrying a blade at her side, and an amulet that denoted her Order. “I have heard a great many stories of your exploits, Mad Dog. Your courage in facing against Lord Asa has spread through our Order, and your tale of killing the Azure Terror has spread further.”
The nearby figures threw looks towards the older Iyrman, he who had one arm and one leg.
He killed the Azure Terror?
Suddenly, his erratic behaviour made much more sense, since he was strong enough to be that mad.
“I did!” Jarot licked his lips again, tasting the light rain that matted his hair. “He killed my son, my daughter, and my grandson. So I killed him by my two hands.” Jarot blinked, staring down at his scarred hand, clenching it into a fist, warming it up for what was to come. “I did what I had to, as a father. The Iyr did not deny me my rights.”
“Of course,” Kris said, seeing the look from Jarot’s eyes, which caused a chill to run through his spine. “Every father should gain his vengeance, especially against such wicked beasts.”
“Aye,” Jarot growled, feeling the rage stir deeper within him, spreading through his old bones, warming his body. “Those who kill children are no better than wicked beasts.”
Standing beside Melinda, Martha narrowed her eyes towards the figure in the purple armour, then his brother, and finally the red skinned figures nearby, one of whom had caught her gaze. ‘Aren’t they...’
Kris narrowed his eyes slightly. His instincts told him something was amiss, but he wasn’t quite sure, and he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the old Iyrman who he had fought beside during the civil war.
“My Jarot. My Jirot. I love them so much. I wish to teach my Jarot our ways, but he is too soft, and I... am too weak. My Jirot? She is fierce. I am too weak to her, for she bullies me so viciously, though she is only four.” The tears slipped down the side of his cheeks. “I have more greatsons. Another is Larot. Quiet. Well behaved. He was born later, after the war.”
“Perhaps you can tell me about him over dinner?” Kris offered, flashing a charming smile towards the Iyrman.
“No,” Jarot almost growled, his neck pulsing, his smile causing him to bare his fangs. “I wish to ask you one thing, Vice Commander. I told you so much about my greatchildren. I told you how much I adored them. So why did you do it?”
Kris furrowed his brows. “Do what, Mad Dog?”
“Why did you kill them?” Jarot’s voice shook, and the rage threatened to overwhelm him.
“Excuse me?”
At least he finally mentioned Larot.