[1747] – Y07.247 – Training Out Hearts VII

“Daddy, I do not use magic, I am a Rage Dancer!” Jarot finally gasped.

“This allows you to use Tricks, Guidance, and Stabilise, so you can make pretty magic for mummy, and even if you are a Rage Dancer, are you not mummy’s and daddy’s son first?”

Jarot blinked. The boy flushed, smiling gently. “Yes…”

“Exactly, exactly, so you can use magic like this.” Adam picked up his son, feeling how light he was compared to his sister, and planted a gentle kiss upon his son’s soft cheek.

Little Jarot hugged his father tightly, and as he did, a shadow loomed over the pair.

“I have been patient enough,” the one whose name was also Jarot, said.

“Jarot, your babo has endured his patience, so you must treat him well, okay?”

“Okay!” Little Jarot waddled over to his greatfather, who lifted him up with ease. Jirot side eyed him for a long moment, but eventually shuffled towards her greatfather, who ruffled her hair, picking her up with ease too.

“My Jirot, my Jarot, you are so big, even this greatfather of yours struggles to lift you up!” Old Jarot exclaimed, his grin wide, causing his greatchildren to cackle. The old Iyrman held them close to his chest, burying them in a mountain of muscle. His heart throbbed. ‘Tarot! You brat! When will you return? My greatchildren, how will they be able to bully you if they forget your face?’

Dunes smiled as the children accepted the uthur he had bought for them. The children sniffing the fragrances lightly, and they allowed him to apply it along their necks, the children surrendering their napes to their ahm, who watched over them so well.

“Papo! Papo!” Jirot called, rushing to her papo, revealing the side of her neck. “Do I smell good?”

“You smell good,” Jurot assured, for she smelled of a cedar, and he also brushed little Jarot’s hair, sniffing his neck lightly too, causing the boy to smile.

“Daddy, do I smell good?”

“You smell of trouble,” Adam replied, “and cedar.”

Jirot smirked.

Jaygak watched over the children, having found an excuse to visit them, but she would need to return soon. However, as the Elder, it was still somewhat awkward to give gifts, but since she was still a new Elder, she was able to make some mistakes, regardless if they were blatant.

As the children were born on the seventh, they were able to enjoy the full day of attention from their families, including the business members, who they visited, including a set of triplets, and yet…

“Where is papo Bael?”

“Ah, well, I hear that during duskval especially, he needed to rest,” Adam said, as the girl pouted. “It seems you’ll have to bully him hard.”

“It is okay, since papo Bael burnt his Spark, and he has not healed,” Jirot said, letting out a soft sigh.

“Hmm?” Adam blinked, watching his daughter saunter away.

As the children enjoyed their day, with their mother feeding them from her fingers, and Jirot held her ring out threateningly to her father, having used the magic to clean his clothes, in the most menacing way possible, a large mass of Iyrmen approached the front Iyr. They were adorned in their typical attire, though they all wore heavy cloaks of the same design, pure black, save for the white thread, and the hoods were a dark grey.

‘What the…’ Adam thought.

A few broke off from the group, and it was he, the man who wore a particular tattoo, that of the bottom half of a blue semi circle flanked by green hollowed squares on either side, the same as the bald Iyrman with a thick beard that cut off at his chest.

“Oh ho? Who are these handsome children who are so big?”

“Baba Gofev, you sure have some guts…”

“I was going to make the same joke…” Tamfev smiled. “Except, how can I confuse you for anyone else, when you are so troublesome, my Jirot?”

“As long as you know…” Jirot hugged Tamfev, and little Jarot did too, the pair trying to pull the man down, but he lifted them up with ease. “Look, baba, I can do this!”

“Hmm?” Tamfev blinked, and there, upon the corner of his hem, the tattoo of his family glowed. “Oh? You can cast magic?”

“Yes!”

“What took you so long?”

“Baba, have I shown you too much mercy?”

“Ah, sorry, my Jirot, sorry.” Tamfev turned to Jarot, raising a brow towards the boy, who smirked, and the pair cackled together.

“Daddy, daddy, he, mm, daddy gift Jarot and I this ring.”

“Me and Jarot.”

“Okay, baba, if you make one more mistake, I will think you are not as wise as the Fevs any more.”

“You must admit this baba of yours is so funny.”

“Actually, daddy, this year, he has been so funny.”

“He has?”

“Yes.”

“Your daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Your daddy, my grandnephew.”

“Yes.”

Tamfev furrowed his brows.

“I do not know how,” the girl admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

“It is no wonder we must step out, if even your father has become so funny.”

Jirot covered her lips with her hand, but they could all hear her snicker, and as she and her brother fell into laughter, Tamfev placed them down allowing them to meet the others who were about to step out.

“You are stepping out?” Malfev asked.

“It has been requested,” Tamfev replied.

Malfev spied up all those who were moving out with his son. Indeed, for they were at minimum Experts, but many were Masters, and there were a handful of Grandmasters too. Eighty or so Experts, or those on the way to Masters, and those who numbered Masters but were not yet Grandmasters numbered ten, and then those who were Grandmasters or greater also numbered ten.

A hundred or so, not exactly, for it seemed the Iyr allowed a few others to bolster their ranks, so they were not going out as a formal company, but rather, a rough company.

“Are there other cloaks prepared?”

“A few,” Tamfev confirmed, that was to say, at least another hundred, and perhaps more.

‘Should I step out?’ Malfev thought, and yet he thought of the children. He would not do so, not while their hearts were so wounded.

“I was going to ask aunt,” Tamfev said, reading his father’s face.

“It may be best…”

“Are you worried?”

“The Reavers are powerful.”

“The Iyr will remain in charge of us.”

“Ah? Ah. We did send out a company previously…” Malfev had forgotten, but it was their responsibility due to the treaty with the Aldishmen. He wondered if they had tried to punish that particular company.‘ Ah, Storm Boar had stepped out too to lead them…’

Storm Boar, who was the one who loved battle as much as even the Mad Dog, but was on friendly terms with the Aldishmen, for it was he who had slain beasts upon beasts, and had even managed to ingratiate himself with a great many Vice Commanders, and even the various Commanders of Aldland.

Although, all understood if the Aldish had wished to fight him, they would need to risk quite a few, for Storm Boar was a Paragon, and would, perhaps, one day take the role of one of the Ten Paragons.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Ok since I got a new patron I'll need to post up a few more double chapters sometime next week.