[1768] – Y07.268 – Nightval is Cold VIII

"Why is it that whenever there's trouble, it's always you three?" Jaygak asked, as Old Jarot, Jirot, and Adam each blinked in return, and the young woman smiled to little Jarot, who flushed slightly.

"Did you get the reference?" Adam whispered.

"Of course," Jirot whispered in return, causing her father and brother to echo the words.

"If Adam has requested a spar, then I will grant permission into allowing the Advisor Sword to wear her armour and to wield her sword for the duration of the spar," Jaygak said, and she motioned a hand to one of her aides to retrieve the woman’s armour. "I will entrust you to watch over little Jarot, and for little Jirot, since she is the most troublesome of all, I shall request another."

"Elder, there is no need for you to strike me so personally with your words," Jirot replied, although she remained within her father's arms with a guilty expression.

"If I speak a lie, you may write a complaint," Jaygak replied, and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply in order to refrain from laughing.

Since Jirot was most troublesome of all, another figure approached, and that figure was one of the few who could deal with the likes of the girl, and who just so happened to be someone who could go steel and steel against the likes of Advisor Sword, even if her grandson wouldn't have softened her up during an ill timed rebellion against the Iyr.

"Nano..."

"I see my grandson is about to fight?" Gangak called, reaching out to ruffle her greatdaughter's hair, as a shorter, bald Aswadian appeared, grinning wide towards the girl and boy, reaching out to poke their cheeks.

"I thought, since the Aldishmen wouldn't understand unless I showed them, I should show them first, and then speak my tale."

"You wish to speak your tale?"

"I'll speak a tale that sounds somewhat realistic to them, and have them spread it around, so that way I'll be troubled only lightly, and if someone is going to trouble this grandson of yours, they'll be at least a Grandmaster, and I'll be able to farm them that way."

Gangak narrowed her eyes lightly. "I see, for my grandson, it is true that Grandmasters are delicious meals."

"There are some Grandmasters who I won't be able to defeat, but when it comes to Aldishmen, would I lose to any of their Grandmasters?"

"I see, since they are Aldish?"

"Since they are Aldish," Adam confirmed.

The Mountain Tiger of the North held him within his sights. He was speaking such terrible words for a man who was unarmoured. The Advisor Sword received her armour, donning her steel, which fit like a glove of steel. Her eyes glanced aside, towards the half elf. She narrowed her eyes.

"Excuse me, young man, do you not wish to don your armour?"

"I think, instead, I'll fight you without my armour or my axe, otherwise the Mountain Tiger of the North won't understand," Adam said, and as he spoke, he unbuttoned his coat to reveal his shirt, and then pulled his collar down to reveal his under shirt. "You may confirm I am not wearing any armour, and as much as you might not believe me, I am not trained in the way of my grandfather or my grandmother, I wear heavy armour when I go into battle."

"You should wear your armour, for my steel is sharp."

"I will accept every consequence of not wearing my armour," Adam assured, for she didn't know what he was capable of. However, he thought about how difficult it was to face a Grandmaster, especially someone like her who probably wielded a magical weapon. 'I shouldn't get too cocky...'

The woman drew her sword, and a beautiful sword it was, the kind that would have advised a great number to their deaths.

Adam took his place opposite her within the centre of the complex, with the eyes of countless Iyrmen upon him, those who had not yet seen this Adam fight. They had heard his tales, the true extent of his tales, many of which would remain secret within the Iyr, or at the very least, would not spill out due to their lips.

Seeing the way the half elf stood, the atmosphere shifted.

"Do you wish to bet?" a particular old Iyrman, with a wooden arm and leg, asked.

"Will you bet against your grandson?" an Iyrman called.

"I will bet on my grandson."

A few Iyrmen huffed in response, but a few decided to take the odds, for the half elf, against a Grandmaster, unarmed and unarmoured, would find it to be quite the struggle, especially since he did not wear his various defensive magical items, and he seemed to be only facing her with fist, and limited magic, and, equally as importantly, without his magical shield. They had estimated his great strength to come from his great defence, partly because he said so, but without his armour, and since he was no Rage Dancer, no Martial Monk, he would not be able to minimise her strikes against him.

"I will bet on my daddy!" Jirot declared, holding out a hand. "Five thousand gold."

"Five gold," Gangak said.

"Five hundred gold," Jirot dared to say, though as her greatmother's face came into her vision, the girl flushed. "Five... gold."

"Five gold," Little Jarot said.

"If that is the case, I will rescind my bet, since little Jirot is a genius, and if she will bet upon her father, certainly he will claim victory," an Iyrman said, throwing a look to the other Iyrmen, and as nearby Iyrmen leaned in to whisper, swiftly they also retreated away from the bets.

They could not allow her to think any of them thought her father could lose.

If his other children were here, perhaps, but in front of these two, they could not.

"Oh?" called a voice, approaching towards the twins, and as his eyes trailed towards the half elf and the woman who he vaguely recognised, and upon seeing the Aldishman, he realised it was the Advisor Sword. "Your father is fighting?"

"Ahm, do you wish to bet against me?"

"Are you betting on the Advisor Sword?"

"Of course not!"

"Of course not," Korin and little Jarot echoed. "I see, well, I do not wish to lose my gold, for I do not earn enough."

"I will ask my daddy to pay you more."

"I make enough, just not enough to face against you," Korin joked.

Little Jirot flushed, side eyeing her ahm. "Ahm, you are too charming."

Korin smiled, and as he sat beside Afraz, he reached out a hand to poke Little Jarot on his cheek. "Are you betting on your father?"

"Five gold."

"If you bet a silver, I will..." Korin began, but he sighed. "No, I will gift you a silver instead, because I cannot bet against your father."

"So charming and so wise," Little Jarot said, smirking playfully, causing Korin to smile.

"I will grant you the first move," Advisor Sword said, pointing her sword towards the half elf.

"Thank you," Adam replied, deciding to show a hint of respect, because soon she would understand that his rudeness was merely fact.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

You shouldn't have given him the first move.