The hot noonval su down against Jarot’s body, though the geream cooled his body. He sat at the bank, staring at his refle and the stones beh the water, whietimes unfocused his face. He heard the geeps of another approach him. The elder Iyrman sat away from most of the younger Iyrmen who were wading through a deeper part of the river further aside.

  The tall, thin Iyrman sat beside Jarot, pulling off a gourd from his chest, it to his one armed panion. Jarot let out a grunt in response as thanks, accepting the gourd. Rajin remained silent, staring off into the sky as he listeo the Iyrmen nearby chatting away without a worry in the world.

  “It is days like these I recall the noonvals of youth,” Jarot said. “The fields of green which I once rushed through as a boy. The noonval festivals when Bck Boar and Blood Hound wrestled. The blood of Aldishmen I used to soak within.”

  “…” Rajin remained silent, allowing Jarot to tinue.

  “I feel it. The itch of battle. It grows stronger, but I o longer scratch it.” Jarot sighed. “It is a good day for a fight.”

  “How is y?”

  “I feel it too,” Jarot firmed. “The ghostly sensation of where I should step. The feeling of the stream against the invisible leg I no longer possess.” He reached to his stub, rubbing it gently. “I am slower now. I ot pnt my feet firmly into the earth. My swings do not cut through the air to tear steel apart. It is worse than when I gave up my arm.”

  Rajin pulled the cork off his gourd, sipping the fruit wine, which was only slightly alcoholic, due to how early it was in the day. “It is a good story.”

  Jarot winced. He narrowed his eyes slightly, rubbing his knee again. He had faced against Lord Shama with wild abando, such wild abando, a sneak attack from the Blood Knight took his leg. Otkan ehe Blood Knight to keep him at bay, but by then, it was already over. Lord Shama, who had caused such utter destru and chaos, was able to retreat with the Blood Knight easily.

  The fight was over, but more importantly, it had not eo lose his life in a fight, that was more than fine, but for the fight not to end with a clear victor, for the fight not to cim his life? How could Jarot live to face his grandchildren, or his greatchildren?

  Jarot reached down for the gourd, feeling its fiure against his thumb. His thoughts fell to Otkan, who had paid the price for his return, a price too heavy for his heart to bear.

  “…” Rajin remained silent, quietly sipping at his wine.

  “Hisbik?” Jarot asked, eyeing up the small flower resting over Rajin’s ear.

  “Kifted it to me.”

  Jarot inhaled deeply. “Was it a gift to me?”

  “The girl ha to me…” Rajin he redness which filled Jarot, the old man’s rage flooding through his entire body.

  “It is because my greatdaughter is so kind, of course,” Jarot stated, hiding his growl within his throat.

  “Yes.”

  Jarot spshed more water against himself before slipping his leg through the hold for his new leg, before pulling up the suspenders around his shoulders. He had found the suspenders helped him keep his bance, distributing more of the pressure around his waist and shoulders rather than his right leg. Of the two legs the Blood Knight had taken, the right was the worst to take.

  “Babo!” came the shout, the little girl charging over to the old man, with her twin brother in tow. “Look! Fower!” She showed off the white flower within her hair, pressing it down with her hand, hiding most of it from her greatfather.

  “My greatdaughter, you are so cute,” Jarot said, bending his left leg to half squat to pet her head gently.

  “Caeh full, babo, caeh full,” the girl said, bowing her head lightly.

  “I am always careful with you, yes?”

  “No.” The girl smirked up towards her greatfather, before cag. Little Jarot also cackled, quietening when his greatfather pat his head too.

  “Did you-,” the older Jarot began, before Konarot held up a flower. Jarot looked to Rajin, smirking at the old maoo, was getting his own flower.

  “Babo,” Konarot asked, tilting her head slightly.

  Jarot he girl was the only o to be wearing a flower. “Where is your flower?”

  “Here,” Konarot said, before she parted her hair slightly, waiting expetly. “Babo, please put in my hair.”

  “…” Jarot took the flower aly pced it within her hair, allowing her silver hair to around the flower’s stem, keeping it in pbsp;

  “Thank you.”

  The old Jarot smirked towards Rajin, for of course his greatdaughter would ask for him to pce the flower within her hair.

  Rajin narrowed his eyes just a hair’s width. “It is a good day for a fight.”

  Indeed, it was a good day for a fight.

  ‘What is he doing here?’ Sir William thought, his eyes glued to the Iyrman who had appeared.

  He was tall and strongly built, wearing heavy furs of grey over his more attire, trasting with his dark eyes and hair, which fell down towards his shoulders. At his side was ahe same axe which caused William’s head to throb. On his forehead was a tattoo, a pattern of blue diamonds, and at the tre of his forehead, a single blue circle. The Iyrman also carried a rge sack, which carried half of what was requested, and upon his back y a crimson shield.

  The Baron’s eyes remained glued to one of the figures which had appeared alongside the Iyrman who had taken the previous tour by storm. She was a woman in her fifties, tall and thinly build, like a pencil. Her long white hair was tied up ly, her thin bck gsses, no doubt magically ented, held pierg hazel eyes which judged all those before her. She wore robes of deep purple, the white trim so , as though they had been washed only moments ago, untainted by the yellows of sweat or time.

  Minister Floreriver.

  “Are you doing well, Sir Vonda?” Dunes asked, noting how the young woman rexed upon seeing them arrive.

  Vonda bowed her head gently in response. For a moment, she struggled to push through with her words. “I am well, Manager Dunes.”

  Dunes smiled, his eyes falling across the nobles ahead of him. A Baron, a Baroness, and a knight. Not just any knight, but a knight who had e across them previously. The positions seemed rather awkward too, for Vonda was certainly standing in opposition to the rest of her family. ‘Let us hope this be dealt with ly.’

  “Minister Florehe Baron began, keeping his voieutral. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

  The Minister pushed her gsses up with her ring finger, her lips f a slight smile. “Baron Barthold Eastke.”

  “…” The Baron bowed his head gently, before his eyes fell to Sir William and then to the young man who began to don… purple armour?

  “Jurot, correct?” Sir William called, approag the young Iyrman, who stood with his arms crossed.

  Jurot nodded. “William of the Thunder Riders.”

  “It’s Sir William now,” the young man replied, reag out to shake the Iyrman’s forearm. “I didn’t expeeet you like this again.”

  Jurot nodded, shaking the knight’s forearm. “You will face my brother?”

  “I will be fag…” Sir William paused, his eyes falling to the young man donning… purple armour?

  Purple armour.

  Puthral.

  Sir William had fought in the martial se of the tour, for the warriors who did not use magic, like Jurot and himself. Kitool’s presence was awkward, due to the fact she was not quite like other warriors, though did ly use magic. However, he had personally e across Jurot, who had been a wall he couldn’t overe. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t overe Jurot, it was that Jurot was a vicious wall who had pletely crushed him.

  However, the young knight recalled anure who had made a name for himself during the tour. He was a young man adorned in purple who had gone against Fming Hyena of the Golden Savages a him. He the up against the Golden Savage herself, Vasera. Vasera, who had no doubt forfeited her matches in order to allow the future King’s Sword and her cousin to gain reition for themselves, the same with this young man.

  However, what was even more shocked, was the fact that he had beaten both Sir Roseia and Sir Karra, before surrendering to them. It wasn’t that the young man had beaten them, he had beaten them in the same way Jurot had beaten him.

  Orike.

  One kill.

  Purple Adam.

  The Baron watched as Adam uned the scarf around his head. ‘A leaf ear?’

  “I had heard you held the blood of fae,” Sir William said.

  Adam pulled the helmet onto his head, before he strapped Strong Shield onto his left arm. “Sir William…”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to know that this matter is just business,” Adam began, pulling up his axe, stretg out his arm to prepare him.

  “Of course.”

  “However, I have to admit, I take great pleasure iing up nobles, so I have to apologise for the fun I’m about to have.”

  Dunes let out a soft sigh. ‘If you’re saying something that stupid…’

  Vonda smiled from behind her scarf.

  You know it's good when Adam says something stupid to nobles.