Novel Bin
[1002] – Y05.002 – Dangerous II
[1002] – Y05.002 – Dangerous II
'Damn,' Adam thought, feeling the pressure of the Grand Duchess, and her heavily armoured guards, Sir Wick and Sir Grover. 'What did I do this time?'
"Drink!" the Grand Duchess commanded, her dark grey eyes glaring at the group. Her hair, white, like fresh snow, fell down her shoulders. Her wrinkles streaked her face with time, like falling grains of sand in an hourglass.
The Iyrmen drank their tea without worry, while Lucy peeked at the liquid for a moment, before cautiously sipping it. Mara wanted to speak up, but she decided against it, sipping the tea. Adam, of course, drank without a moment of hesitation, with only half a thought of poison.
'I've got enough Health to deal with most poisons.'
Constitution Save
D20 + 7 = 17 (10)
Adam hissed slightly, feeling the chill of the tea. He blinked towards the Grand Duchess, wondering when she had decided to betray him like this. 'So this is the real ice tea?'
"I wanted to thank you personally for watching over my great granddaughter," Grand Duchess Aeda began, raising her hand, and a servant emerged from the shadows. He held a chest, and gently placed it upon the table, the group hearing the jingle within.
Jurot narrowed his eyes towards the wooden chest, made up of whiteoak of the North. His eyes darted up to meet the Grand Duchess' gaze, though her eyes were closed as she sipped her tea. '...'
“It was a pleasure,” Adam replied, before throwing a look to Kitool.
“I have sent parcels of dragon bone to the Guild under the name of your party, enough to craft a weapon or two, and some fragments which you can gift to your siblings and children.”
“Thank you very much,” Adam replied, sitting up a little taller, smiling wide. ‘Nice.’
“Did you have any other requests before you leave?”
“Well…” Adam glanced towards Sir Grover and his glave. “If you’re willing, I was interested in returning the glave to the Iyr.”
“What is your offer?”
“I’m not sure what would be acceptable, since the weapon is such a great weapon, and holds sentimental value to a family within the Iyr.”
“What relation do you have to the Bak family?”
“None, I think.”
“Why are you so interested in returning the glave?” Aeda asked, certain he was just a sentimental fool, but confirming it was always a good idea.
“I just thought it would be a nice gesture to the Bak family.”
The Grand Duchess sipped her tea, falling into thought for a moment. “If you come with an acceptable offer, I will naturally accept.”
“I’m not so familiar with how much I should offer, so what do you guys think?”
“You wish to procure a Greater Enhanced weapon, and we wish to procure a Greater Enhanced weapon,” Jurot replied. “It is a fair trade.”
“It is heavily weighted in your favour,” Grand Duchess Aeda said.
“It is not.”
“To craft a weapon for our family is a great honour.”
“To receive a weapon from our Enchanter is a great honour.”
“Can it be compared?”
“This time we allowed your direct descendant to draw against our Wraith,” Jurot replied, sitting tall and proud, and with the arrogance afforded to him by his grandfather.
The Grand Duchess’ eyes darkened as she held the young man’s gaze.
“I understand my brother’s words, but at the same time, I don’t want there to be any hard feelings,” Adam said, feeling his hairs stand on end. “I appreciate you entertaining our offers, so allow me to add onto my brother’s offer. We’ll also add three Basic weapons.”
“One Greater Enhanced weapon for a Greater Enhanced weapon is acceptable,” the Grand Duchess said. “Consider it my respect for the Iyr.”
“Thank you for your grace, Your Grace.” Adam’s lips twitched slightly.
“Lady Ada and Sir Roseia will soon head southward,” the Grand Duchess said, causing Adam to shudder slightly.
‘No…’
“Will you be heading to East Port?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Then you should escort my great granddaughter, and Sir Roseia, to East Port. I will deal with the matters of transportation.”
“…”
“Thank you,” Jurot said, though feeling the anxiousness emanate from his brother.
‘Damn it! Why did it have to be her?’
The group remained with the Grand Duchess, Lucy and Mara both remaining deathly silent while the Iyrmen spoke of their tales to her, before she sent them away with biscuits and a small box of tea.
“Jaygak,” the Grand Duchess called as the group prepared to leave. “Since you are the most dependable, take this box to Peter.”
“The Ram?”
“I’m sure you know where he lives.”
Jaygak nodded, feeling the woman’s wrinkled hand upon hers. “Okay.”
The Grand Duchess watched as they left, taking in the sight of their backs. “Did you learn anything?”
“No,” Adda admitted.
“Who are Jurot’s relations?”
“The Mad Dog and Duteous Dogek are his closest relations.”
“Kitool?”
“Shaool.”
“Jaygak?”
“Flame Brand.”
“What are the relations between Jaygak and Peter the Ram?”
The young woman recalled it vaguely. “She said one of her family members knew The Ram.”
“How?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Her great grandfather once faced against Peter the Ram in a tournament, and often came to watch our tournaments.”
‘Right?’
“Do you understand?”
“I do not.”
“I can see now that I can’t die yet,” the old woman said, huffing out. “Who is the weakest within the group?”
“Jaygak?”
“Jaygak informed me that among her companions, she was the weakest. Even within the Iyr, she is considered only average at best. Average at best, and yet she defeated Sir Roseia?” Aeda turned to her great granddaughter. “Do you understand now?”
“The Iyr is dangerous?” Adda replied.
“We must treat it that way. Allies, perhaps, but that is only as long as we do not point our blades towards them.”
‘Why would we point our blades towards them?’
“How can I die when that fool is King?” Aeda almost growled, causing even the Princess to raise her brows in alarm. “You need to think since I can’t depend on your father, the fool that he is, just like the King.” She reached over to rub the young woman’s back. She continued to fight off the cold that threatened to invade her old bones.
‘I don’t get why she showed them so much favour,’ Adda thought. ‘Giving them the glave was a little too much. If the other families find out, what will they think?’
“You have to keep them in mind. Adam, Lucy, and Mara too. Their cousins, Amokan and Timojin, are also making a name for themselves. You have to keep them in mind for the future.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Taygak too.”
“Taygak?” Adda asked, blinking slightly. ‘The girl’s cousin?’
The Grand Duchess had noted the compliments the group had given to Taygak, who was the oldest of the children. However, it was the speech in which she was mentioned that had cemented the young Iyrman’s name into the Grand Duchess’ mind.
Meanwhile, Fate’s Golden made their way through North Amber, from the large estate of the Blacksnows, through the long winding roads within the mountain town.
“We should check with the smiths,” Adam said.
“Okay,” Jurot replied.
‘I should check the sword too,’ Adam thought, his thoughts then falling to Jaygak.
Jaygak made her way to the outskirts of the Black Snow’s estate, though still spotted the various guards, some whom kept an eye on the Iyrman. She approached the stone building, knocking on the wooden door. She spotted the mark etched into the stone door frame, that which had been marked by an Iyrman’s hand many years ago.
“What?” called the old, raspy voice from within.
“Peter the Ram, I am Jaygak! I have brought tea from the Grand Duchess.” She heard a grunt, the start of an argument, then unhurried steps, accompanied by a cane striking the floor.
Tall and lean, speckled with time. He swam within heavy furs, his hands within thick gloves. His dark eyes, mostly unfocused, fell upon Jaygak’s red skin, and her tattoos, a red x in the centre of her forehead, with three yellow tilted kites emanating from each side.
“Ha. Yes. Jaygak.” The old man smiled, revealing a yellowed smile, and his pale gums. “Come in. Come in.”
Jaygak smiled, bowing her head to Peter, and then to his servant, a young teen, who went to go brew some tea. The room within was warm, with a fireplace in the corner crackling away. The room within was bare, save for the many books lined upon the desk and the shelf to one side. Three doors quarantined the rest of the house from Jaygak.
“Gak. Gak. I remember,” Peter said, dropping down to his seat with some effort, before sinking into it. “I remember.”
Jaygak smiled slightly, brimming with pride. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“No. No. Others? They intrude. You? I wanted. To meet. You.” The old man’s breaths came laboured, though his voice was strong, holding only the hint of a rasp. “Jaygak. Jay. Gak.” He nodded his head approvingly. “Your fight. Sir Roseia. Great fight.”
“Thank you,” Jaygak’s lips continued to twitch into a wider smile. “It’s my honour to meet you.”
“Ha!” The old man laughed, almost hacking. “Honour? Me?”
“I heard tales of you when I was a girl,” Jaygak said. “Greatfather spoke of you often.”
“He was. Great.” Peter smiled wider. “Shame. We only fought. Few times.”
“Greatfather said the same.” Jaygak smiled even wider, upon the fact she could show off to the others by meeting Peter the Ram without them.
Jaygak getting the flowers she deserves, finally.