Chương 1769: [1666] – Y07.166 – A Man of Steel VI

The sun bore upon them heavily, beating them with their rays, but with his hat overflowing with a scarf, and their scarves, the sun was unable to impose so heavily.

It was they who stepped through the land of sun and gold, the warm air swarming around their shalwar, which fluttered for freedom, as the sand swept through the land, basking it in a golden haze, the scent of a thousand woods in the air, tempered by the musk of labour, and the noise accompanied them like a ghost, though to the half elf, the noise, more so than the smell, was comfortable.

"What would you like to buy?" Adam asked, reaching down to rub the top of the girl's head, her scarf hiding away her hair.

"Mm…" Lanarot's tone was full of consideration, tinged by uncertainty.

"This big brother will spoil you, and since we're in the capital, and we'll be doing quite some business with the Amira, you can show me just a little bit of mercy."

"Just a little bit?"

"Just a little bit."

"Okay, okay." Lanarot waddled her way towards a market stall, finding all manner of pottery awaiting her greedy gaze, the girl rubbing her chin.

"Noorshukhur, a handsome little lady for my humble stall?" The merchant was a teen adorned in cream, her scarf pink, with a scattering of white flowers, and over her shoulders she wore a long black cloth which fell from shoulder to ankle as she sat, though to her waist as she stood, turning some of her small cups so the girl could see her cups.

"I am not a little Lady, I am a child of the Iyr," Lanarot declared, only then causing the teen to look up towards the woman adorned in a shalwar, a scarf, and a tattoo upon her forehead.

"I have come to spend my brother's gold, for he is so rich, almost as rich as he is handsome."

"Almost," Adam confirmed, his lips twitching into the most playful smile. He peeked down at all the cups.

"How many do you wish to buy?" Lanarot, completely ignoring the stress upon the merchant's face, beamed towards the cups, but instead of focusing too hard, she waved her hand all across the cups.

"All of them."

"All of them?" Adam asked.

"All of them." Lanarot held her brother's gaze, expectant, as though daring him to disappoint her.

"I suppose since we have so many people we must give gifts to, we should buy many, but the merchant must also sell to some to others who must be so excited to buy his wares, otherwise they will be upset, so let us buy only half, and you may buy some more things from other merchants, okay?"

"Brother, you believe yourself so wise?"

"I am my wife's husband." Lanarot held the half elf within her gaze, and as she made to speak, she realised quickly she could not deny his words, and so turned her head.

"I do not like it when you are able to speak so well, brother."

"When it comes to steel, I am unable to defeat you, but I am my daughter's father, so I must be decent with my words."

"Baktushukhur, what I can say?" Lanarot replied, reaching up to her forehead.

"My sister would like to buy half of the cups," Adam said in Aswadic, motioning a hand towards the cups casually.

"Half the cups, Mo?" the merchant replied, suddenly sitting up taller upon hearing the words in her tongue.

"Half the cups, young miss."

"As you say, Mo. I shall call for a porter."

"Please." The teen worked with a swiftness, calling for a porter, a middle aged man who did not seem phased in the slightest by the Iyrmen. His beard was salted white, his clothing long and loose, cream, a black vest over his chest, his collar and sleeves a similar black, like others who assisted some of the market goers. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Oh, an Iyrman?" mused an Aswadian fellow. He was older, his beard falling to his chest, adorned in light chain over cream shalwar, a grey turban atop his head. He carried a sabre and a scimitar at his side.

"What is she doing?" the younger woman, in her forties or so, replied, adorned in cream, with a grey scarf, and a colourful piece of cloth over her shoulders.

"She is close with the half elf it seems," the older man said, noting the way the half elf's eyes fell to him, and he smiled, reaching up a hand to greet him, though paused as a pair appeared, emerging from the nearby shadows. Both wore shalwar, although that was to be expected, turbans of grey, and each carried silver sabres at their side. They were each equally as handsome, their skin the colour of oak, their eyes the colour of leaves, their lips painted with a threat.

Mulrot had asked them to come along, and though they were smart enough to know they were under the command of the half elf, knowing she was his grandmother, the two were wise enough to understand they must obey her words.

"Oh?" the old Aswadian mused, for he was certain he recognised them, and as he tilted his head, pausing a moment, his eyes suddenly lit up.

"Ah, are you not akh Taj's apprentices, the one they call the Twin Steel Sabres?"

"Noorshukhur, we are they," the pair replied, though it was not as though they did not recognise him either.

"Are you well, ahm?"

"I am well, certainly. My daughter requested I accompany her for her shopping, for it has been too long since I have paid her much attention."

"it has been three years," the woman stated firmly.

"It seems I will empty my pouch today," the man joked, his smile innocent, his eyes clear.

"How did you find yourself within the capital?"

"We are working for the Mo and his business."

"Oh?" The man's eyes snapped to the half elf, who held his gaze, and though he made to speak, the two clashed with their intensity first, and after the moment passed, he smiled.

"Excuse me for interrupting your shopping."

"Father?" the woman called, after they had greeted the Mo and stepped away.

"That child is a child of the Iyr," the man replied, though it was not just because of that, but because of the tattoo upon the half elf's forehead, and the sheer confidence within his eyes, the kind that said that though the half elf did not know who he was, it was not as though he could be defeated by him.

"The woman nearby was no doubt also a Master at least."

"Is reaching the realm of a Master so easy?" the woman asked, she herself an Expert, while her father had stepped into the realm of a Master.

"There are rumours of a particular half elf surrounded by Iyrmen recently…" The man had made the greatest decision, for soon the half elf had taken his sister to a nearby kafabayt, in which he placed down his gleaming gold to order a great many dishes for his sister and grandmother, and for the Twin Steel Sabres.

"Grandmother, if there's anything you want, you have to tell us," Adam said, for though he was a fool, he was wise enough to include Lanarot, for his grandmother would be unable to refuse.

"I will do so," Mulrot assured, and as the food came, she held up a spoonful to her granddaughter's lips, stealing her away from her grandson, but immediately after did the same for her grandson.

"Let me feed you too!" Adam called, scooping some food for his grandmother, and as the flatbread appeared, Lanarot held her brother's gaze, but even she relented, tearing apart the bread, offering it to her brother's lips.

"Are you enjoying the day with your brother and grandmother?" Adam asked.

"Yes!" Lanarot beamed.

"Brother, we must spoil grandmother more!"

"I will spoil you and grandmother often," Adam promised, beaming towards the girl, and he continued to feed her, brushing her cheek tenderly.

"You are in an awkward position so…" Once Lanarot was settled upon her brother's lap, she flushed lightly.

"Brother I cannot feed you like this."

"It's okay! Let me and grandmother feed you like this!"

"Grandmother and I," Lanarot corrected.

"You're spending too much time with Jirot…" Adam planted a firm kiss on the giggling girl's cheeks, and he continued to feed her the bread from his fingers, Murlot doing the same. Adam stared down at his sister, who had grown so big. He recalled when she was so small, and would cry so often, and so well, and even as baby, whenever she saw blood she would raise her fists so excitedly into the air. Adam wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head.

"Lanababy, you know that Jurot and I love you, right?"

"I know, brothers, and I love you too." Lanarot peeked up towards her brother, leaning in to kiss his chin, the girl then offering her half eaten bread, the half elf biting it, accidentally tearing off way too much, and though the girl made to complain, she found her grandmother's hand in front of her, feeding her.

"Bruffa, ah wi' spoi' you thoo."

"Eat first and then speak," Adam said, though once the girl swallowed, he fed her another piece of bread. Mulrot, too smiled, for in this life she was the most fortunate of all grandmothers to have such a tender hearted grandson, and such a dependable granddaughter.

"Brother, if you do not know I love you, I will beat you up," Lanarot threatened, side eyeing her brother.

"It's a good thing I know."

"You are sister's husband after all." Adam gasped.

"I dare to use your spells against you, carter."

"It's Potter."

"Ock! We bought so much pottery today, brother!"

"We?" Lanarot blinked. The girl flushed. In her infinite wisdom, for she was her sister's sister, she bit into the bread to stop talking, for she must eat first and then speak. Adam's heart throbbed lightly. He killed any other thoughts, for right now, his little sister, seven years old, was enjoying a day with her brother, and there was no need to think of the future.