“Hello,” Adam said, awkwardly. He was staring at the extended family of the Rot, many of whom he had only met once or twice before. There was also an Iyrman who held a baby, one who was youhan even Lanarot. The baby was carried in one arm, half of the babe within the rge pocket of the Iyrman’s top.

  ‘Why are there so many people here?’ Adam wasn’t that close with most of them, and had expected only a handful of Iyrmen to be iate, sidering there was work to be done.

  “You’ve finally e,” Jarot said, motioning a hand for Adam to e with his one good arm. Churot was beside him as he almost always was, the young teen staring at Adam with a bnk look.

  “I didn’t expect to see so many people,” Adam admitted, stepping up to the old Iyrman to shake his hand, only to find Jarot ruffling his hair instead.

  “Why are you ag so shy to yrandfather?” Jarot asked, still ruffling Adam’s hair, chug lightly.

  “Whose my grandfather?” Adam replied, pulling his head back, staring at the old man with the very same bnk look Churot had given to him. “What’s with all the people?”

  “We are here to celebrate both of my grandsons’ birthdays,” Jarot replied, simply. “Even if Jurot is not here, you accept the celebrations and gifts on his behalf.”

  “Is that how that works?” Adam was still not wholly used to the way of the Iyrmen, even after spending months with them.

  “Normally we would not make such a party for a man who has turned een, but si is your first birthday in the Iyr, how we miss it?” Jarot replied, simply, befreeting Sir Vonda. The Priest of Life had been io the party too, si was her birthday, and she was both a Priest of Life and a member of the Order of Life’s Rose.

  “Right,” Adam said, trying not to sound embarrassed. “I should introduce myself then.”

  “They will e to you as we celebrate,” Jarot informed, motioning Adam and Sir Vonda to take a seat at a table nearby. “Turot, e,” the old man called, ruffling the boy’s hair.

  Turot smiled as his hair was ruffled, before he he look on his grandfather’s face. He quickly darted away, but returned with a shield which was metal pted. It was about the size of Adam’s torso, and it was a deep red, the colour of fresh blood.

  “What is this?” Adam asked as Turot stepped towards him with the shield in hand.

  “It is my gift,” Turot said, standing a little taller. “It was given to me by grandfather when I was born.” He held it out to Adam.

  Adam stared down at the shield, not daring to take it. “A red shield?” Something about it seemed familiar.

  “It was the same shield I used when I was ye,” Jarot said.

  ‘Oh,’ Adam thought. ‘Right. I remember now.’ He recalled hoarty in one of the towns had hemselves after the shield they had seen.

  “Turot has decided to gift it to you.”

  ‘Isn’t that rude?’ Adam thought. “ I accept this?”

  Turot’s eyes seemed to be filled with great pride. “Yes,” the boy said, firmly. “You are strong, Cousin Adam. You always ent axes, and they are very good, but you have not ented your shield.” He hahe shield to Adam. “Our family uses the axe and shield.”

  “Right,” Adam said, taking the shield from the young boy. He uood the point, even if Turot was uo verbalise it properly. The Rot family’s ohe axe and shield, and though Adam had given up using a sword, he sometimes only used an axe and emphasised the ohe shield.

  The tch was quite sturdy, and he could feel the leather against his arm. It felt slightly lighter than he expected, so assumed the metal was quite thihe wood aher. The sun shone down against the shield’s metal, and for a moment Adam though it was made of bloodsteel, same as the scale that Damokan had given to him earlier in the day. Yet, it seemed far more familiar than bloodsteel.

  “Is this… crimsonsteel?” Adam asked, tentatively.

  “It is,” Jarot replied, nodding his head. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve worked it before,” Adam said.

  “When you returned,” Jarot said, nodding his head. He remembered how excited Jurot had been when he had worked with red oak.

  Adam nodded, unstrapping the shield from his arm. “Thank you, Turot.” Adam ruffled the boy’s hair. “What a great Cousin I have.”

  Turot’s nostrils fred as he smiled, nodding his head. “Yes,” he replied, simply, causing Adam to ugh. He then shuffled over to Sir Vonda, holding out a small scale made of wood for her.

  “Sihis is Turot’s gift, I hope that you have gotten me something si’s my first birthday in the Iyr, old man,” Adam said, looking at the one armed Iyrman as he pced his shield to the side.

  “This grandfather of yours has the best gift,” Jarot said, his eyes holding the most pyful look. “I will return to you your Phantom.”

  Adam stared at Jarot, raising his brows in surprise. ‘Are y to kill me?’ Adam raised a hand up to him. “I refuse.” He made a motion with his hand as though he ushing the gift away from him, though Phantom was o be seen.

  Jarot narrowed his eyes at his grandson. “Yoing to deny my gift?”

  “I don’t feel like dying any time soon,” Adam replied, letting loose a soft sigh. He had given up Phantom for a reason, and he wasn’t sure how the Great Elders would feel if he accepted Phantom back just like that. ‘They might really kill me if I act up.

  “How they pin if I gift it to you?” Jarot replied, though he uood just how much it would annoy them. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ahe Great Elders.

  “Even if they don’t pin, I think I should stop starting fights with the Iyr. I still don’t have their trust, so I o behave properly.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “That means I ’t take back Phantom, no matter how much I miss my baby.”

  “Then what am I to give you?” Jarot asked. He had half expected Adam to refuse the gift, and though he was ready to fight Adam oter, he uood the limits of his jokes. ‘Just like my grandson,’ he thought, smiling to himself.

  “I do have something in mind,” Adam said, before pausing.

  “What is it?”

  Adam hadn’t paused for dramatic effect. He looked down to the Devilkin Iyrman who always remained by his grandfather’s side, the teen who had lost his life to a Blue Dragon, and the life of his parents too. “I want to teach Churot.”

  Jarot’s brows furrowed, and an unfortable silence passed betweehere were so many things Adam could have asked for, but this was not something the old Iyrman had expected. “What will you teach him?”

  “I’ll teach him magic,” Adam said, causing the nearby Iyrmen to fall silent. Even Sir Vonda fell silent midway through speaking with Turot.

  “You will teach him to bee a Scribe Mage?” Jarot asked, calmly.

  “Yes.”

  Turot’s mother, Mirot, who Adam had beaten up before, exged a look with Sonarot. Sonarot’s eyes revealed that she had no idea what was happeniher, though it didn’t seem like she was too surprised. She was one of five individuals who knew Adam’s story.

  The fact that this was his third life, which was in a world full of magid creatures which did in his first life, and was somewhat familiar to the sed life he had lived, save for the fact that everything was so different, including the Iyr.

  “It is not our way,” Jarot stated, pg his hand on Churot’s back. “The way of the Rot family has always been the axe and shield.”

  “I know,” Adam replied, though he did not back down.

  Jarot did not care that Adam wao teach magiember of the Rot family. However, this was not any member of the Rot family. This was his Churot, who he had looked after sihe day he had been revived.

  “You are a Scribe Mage, Adam,” Jarot grumbled. “Should you not keep such magics secret?”

  There were no Iyrmen Scribe Mages, partly because the Scribe Mages kept their magics secret, and partly because there were so few who actually went out to adventure, so there was almost no way for Iyrmen to procure such magic.

  “If I want to teach him my magic, I’ll teach him my magic,” Adam said. “As long as he wishes for it, I’ll teach it to him.”

  “He will not learn,” Jarot said, firmly. “He will remain in the Iyr and live his life in peace.”

  “He is…” Adam’s throat clogged up, w how far he should take it. Jarot’s face had darkened, and Adam uood why. Jarot still had regrets about his son, who had struggled to grow stronger, before eventually being killed by a Dragon. Even now, the old mated his as.

  “Churot is old enough now,” Adam said. “Aren’t you?” He looking to the boy, the Devilkin teen who had almost always remained with his grandfather.

  There had been two times he had retly been away from his grandfather. Once was when his grandfather went to go face a great oppo. The sed time had been when he had goo speak with Adam the day before. He had e to Adam just as Lanarot had spped him and tried to steal his sandwich.

  “He will not learn,” Jarot said.

  “There’s only so much you coddle the boy, Jarot,” Adam stated, firmly.

  “If I want to coddle him, I will,” Jarot replied. “He is my grandson, it is my right as his grandfather.”

  “Turot is yrandson too, a, he will go out and adventure one day. He’ll fight, and he’ll gaiy of experience, before he eventually returns to stake his cim to bee Elder Peace.”

  Turot puffed up his chest. “I will grow strong.” He nodded his head slowly, assuring his family, and the world.

  “I will not allow it,” Jarot said again.

  “Do you think he’ll be in danger?”

  “There is no need for him to study,” Jarot replied. How could he let the only child of his precious Farot learn how to use magic? Even if he was a Blood Mage, he would not allow it.

  “I want to learn,” Churot said, finally. His voice was like a shadow which had crept into the versation, one which had only darkened Jarot’s heart.

  “I allowed you to seduce my daughter, but not my grandson, Adam,” Jarot said, trolling his shaky voice.

  For a moment, the Half Elf thought about fighting the old man. However, he remembered the first time they had met, and the fact that he had been quite easily beaten, even with quite the powerful bde in hand. ‘I really should have taken Phantom back.’

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