noveltune [1137] – Y06.037 – Doubt II
[1137] – Y06.037 – Doubt II
[1137] – Y06.037 – Doubt II
“Huu...” Konarot’s tail drooped, her body filling with a warmth, but not the kind of warmth that came from her father’s affection, but the kind of warmth of a noonval day which caused her to tire out too quickly. A hand ruffled her hair, causing the girl to bow her head and she quickly fixed her hair so she could see her father once more.
“Watch carefully,” Jaygak said, her eyes falling down to her father, who wore Fresh Snow Zephyr at his side. ‘I didn’t need to say it since you’re so smart, but...’
Kirot’s eyes remained glued to the scene, the girl completely focused upon her father, who looked so small from this far away, and for some reason, looked even smaller in that moment.
‘Daddy,’ Karot thought, his eyes also falling upon his father. He pouted slightly, but the girl at his side made him unable to pout.
“What they saying?” Jirot whispered loudly.
Mulrot’s eyes had swayed slightly, from her greatson, to her husband, and seeing how Baztam had slapped the side of the one armed Iyrman’s shoulder, it no doubt meant the Chief had said he would give up Adam. “Jirot?”
“Nano?” the girl called, reaching up a hand to hold her greatmother’s hand.
“How strong is your father?”
Jirot furrowed her brows, before smirking at her greatmother, as though it were obvious how strong her father was.
‘The strongest,’ little Jarot thought, clenching his fists slightly. ‘Daddy! You are the strongest!’
‘Here I thought you would remain so... Iyrly. You Iyrmen, you are always so difficult when you do not have to be.’ The Countess rushed with relief, her shoulders no longer burdened by the insanity of the Iyr, but its great wisdom which had allowed it to exist for millennia beside the grand dragon that was Aldland. “The Iyr has no need to worry, for I am certain justice will be dispensed.”
Iromin held out a finger, pointing it towards a particular figure, and as he spoke, he pointed to each individual. “Sir Juge Cherrytree. Sir Louis Rubybeech. Sir Ethan Cherryash. Sir Tobias Carminewood. Sir Chloe Crimsonash. Sir Robin Scarletwood. Sir Merrick Crimsonbranch.”
“...”
“...”
Baztam raised his brows at Jarot, whose tension gave way like a rushing river, replaced quickly by the excitement which grew among the Iyrmen. The other Iyrmen remained silent too, but the shift was noticeable, for though they had arrived so relaxed, not expecting a fight. As Adam was offered, many of the Iyrmen tensed up, but as the Chief pointed out the particular figures, they went from one form of tension to another.
The girl’s silver eyed had pierced deep into Jogak’s heart. She had carried the longsword all the way to him, the sheathed blade resting between her elbows, her tail having swayed behind her shyly.
‘Baba, you are Gak. You must use a sword.’
Jogak wanted to mention he already had a sword, but how could he refuse his Konarot, who was not quite as mean with her affection as Jirot, but who could deny that their Konarot was not so sweet of heart? ‘You do not need to worry, Konarot. You may use a sword too, you have no need to worry of that.’
“May Baktu watch over your blade, Countess.” Iromin bowed his head lightly, reaching a hand out to Adam’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, his eyes threatening each of the Oakguard, before he turned and led the Iyrmen away. ‘...’
‘Ho?’ Baztam thought, sharing a look with the Chief, who let out a sigh that meant he had almost allowed them to have their fun. ‘You almost went that far?’
‘Holy!’ Adam thought, following after the Chief sheepishly, the half elf not daring to look back. As they approached the fort, the Chief stopped, holding out a hand to stop the half elf, while the others continued towards the fort.
Iromin led the half elf to the Iyr’s land proper, across the river, their shadows cast long towards the fort and the village behind them. His aides flanked the bridge, allowing the Chief to remain alone with the half elf, though their eyes remained glued to the fool of a father.
Adam swallowed, wanting to thank the Chief, but he understood he should remain quiet for a short while at least. Then, the seconds continued to pass. The silence upon the air grew heavier, and the awkwardness filled the half elf. “Thank you, Chief.”
Iromin remained staring ahead of himself, the sun prickling his skin, while his eyes took in the sight of the hills and the trees, and he stared at the mountains ahead, the mountain which held his home.
“There is much we plant in the Iyr,” Iromin began. “The Iyr bears grains which build our bodies. The Iyr bears delicious fruits which build our hearts. The Iyr bears more, for in the Iyr, we plant even emotions, the seeds of rage, grief, joy, pleasure, duty.”
Adam remained silent, for the Chief continued to stare at the Iyr, seeing his own version of the Iyr, the Iyr he grew up with, which was so similar and yet so different to the Iyr Adam knew.
“There is one seed we cannot allow to take root,” Iromin said, before his eyes turned to Adam. “It is the most insidious killer, more dangerous than even you, Adam.”
“What is it?”
“When your children look at you, do you see it?”
“What?”
Iromin turned to look back to the mountain. “When the Order of High Garden came to us, I had no plans to war with Aldland. Today, when the Countess spoke to us, there was a moment. I could feel their gazes. You felt it too, did you not? They looked upon their mothers, their fathers, their aunts, their uncles, their sisters, their brothers, their cousins. Their gazes were upon me too, the Chief. They do not know it, what it means. Chief. They know what a mother is, what a brother is, but a Chief?”
Adam watched as the Chief sighed, and he realised why the Chief was speaking this way, but he was too afraid to confirm his thoughts.
“When I...” Iromin fell silent again, and before the half elf, he could see Iromin, not as the Chief, not as an Iyrman, but a mortal. “When I look into their eyes, I can see it.”
“...”
“It is doubt, Adam,” Iromin whispered. “Doubt.”
The Countess is lucky she rolled well.