“You should take good care of your health,” Sonarot said, drinking some tea in the corner. She was opposite the newly awakened pair of young men, who were currently brushing their teeth.

Adam glanced her way, nodding his head slowly. “I should?” he replied, cautiously, unsure of what she was trying to do.

“Jurot, why don’t you take Adam with you to train?” Sonarot smiled at her son.

“Yes, mother,” Jurot replied, nodding his head.

Adam had spent almost a week within the Iyr and he hadn’t been training, which meant he’d be growing rusty. A blade unused was not a useful blade.

“Alright,” Adam replied, grabbing the small stick with some plant fibres tied to it, placing it down.

The Iyrmen brushed their teeth using such an item, and had a small cream which they applied to their teeth before they brushed their teeth with their contraption. It was quite sour and bitter, but it made Adam’s teeth feel as good as new. ‘This thing is more effective than toothpaste back home.’

Once he was done brushing his teeth, he followed Jurot around back to the courtyard, where there were already a few other Iyrmen, a few of which Adam recognised.

There was another with the trio of Iyrmen he had seen around Jurot, an orcish Iyrman. As Adam eyed up the pattern on the orc’s forehead, he realised it was familiar, extremely so.

“Let me introduce you,” Jurot said, motioning a hand to a handsome, bronze skinned Iyrman. “This is Amokan. The Kan family is one of the oldest families within the Iyr. They have had two Chiefs lead the Iyr.”

Amokan had long, dark hair which fell to his upper back, a square jaw which was freshly shaved. At his side was a shortsword, though Adam noted most Iyrmen carried secondary weapons within the Iyr, so he wasn’t sure if it was the Iyrman’s family weapon.

Amokan shook Adam’s forearm with a strong grip, nodding his head in greeting. “I have heard many things of you, son of Fate.”

“I’m afraid I have yet to have the pleasure,” Adam replied back. “Two Chiefs, huh? That’s quite a feat from one family.”

“I hear you are strong,” the orcish Iyrman cut in, staring at Adam. He wanted to get right to business. He was near bald, save for a short strip of hair above the top of his skull, with a shortsword at his side.

“Strong is a relative term,” Adam replied, unsure of how to respond to the orc. He wanted to get the glare away from him, seeing how eager the orc was to fight.

The orcish Iyrman narrowed his eyes. “I am Timojin, son of Tijin.”

“Adam, son of Fate,” he replied, shaking Timojin’s forearm. “I recognise your name. Are you Zijin’s nephew?”

“Elder Zijin,” Timojin stressed, “is my uncle, yes.”

“Right, sorry,” Adam coughed. “Elder Zijin.” Adam nodded his head. He’d need to keep in mind all the titles, for it wasn’t good to disrespect Iyrmen, even if accidentally.

“Kitool, daughter of Citool,” a pretty Iyrman said, bowing her head slightly. Her head was shaved at the sides, towards the top of her head, which was cut fairly short. She wore fairly simple clothing, marked with her family’s patterns on the hems, and carried at her back a staff. She bowed her head in greeting.

“That’s not confusing at all,” Adam replied, chuckling slightly. He noted the harsher way she pronounced her own name, assuming that they were two different names.

Intelligence Check

D20 + 3 = 13 (10)

“Kitool? Kitool. Ool.” Adam said aloud, trying to remember why that name sounded so familiar.

“She is the grandniece of Shaool,” Jurot said, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Shaool?” Adam replied, trying to recall the name. How many Iyrmen had he met? She wasn’t one of the few who came with him to the Iyr. Then his brows raised upwards quickly. “Oh! Shaool!” Adam’s head snapped to Kitool, full of shock.

“I have heard you have met my grandaunt,” Kitool said, smiling slightly, but quickly dropping it.

“We did,” Adam replied, recalling the woman who had appeared suddenly from the trees behind him. He shuddered.

Kitool’s lips twitched into another smile, and she bowed her head slightly. “My grandaunt makes sure the borders of the Iyr remain safe. It is my honour to be her grandniece.”

“I hear she’s extremely powerful.”

Kitool’s lips kept twitching, but it was obvious she was trying to not let it get to her. “I hear the same.” Even as the woman’s grandniece, Kitool barely knew about the elder woman’s recent tales.

“Stop being so humble,” the devilkin woman beside her said, elbowing Kitool. “I’m Jaygak! I hear you’re an armoured warrior like me.” She was a little shorter than Adam, but well built. At her side was a shortsword too.

“That’s right,” Adam replied, noting how refreshing Jaygak was. “Though, I can use magic too.”

“I heard.” Jaygak narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m jealous. I grew up sickly for the first few years of my life so I wasn’t able to study or grow properly, so I learnt to wield weapons and armour instead.” She sighed, crossing her arms. At her side was a shortsword too.

"Everyone has their own path in life," Kitool said, placing a hand on Jaygak’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but there’s no shame in wearing armour.” Adam nodded his head, understanding her pain. “I’m going to try and buy, or smith, some better armour for myself.”

“Weapons, armour, magic, smithing, enchanting,” Jaygak said, shaking her head. “Are you trying to show off?”

Adam nodded his head. “Of course.” He glanced between the Iyrmen. “You’re all Iyrmen, born from legendary warrior. Even the weakest of Iyrmen could give a trained guard from the cities and towns a run for their money.”

The Iyrmen narrowed their eyes.

“Why would we run for their money?” Jaygak asked.

“It’s a saying. It means that you…” Adam paused, trying to figure out how to word it. “You would be a challenge for them.”

“Ah,” the Iyrmen replied in unison, nodding their heads with approving gazes.

“Not all of we Iyrmen are so talented,” Jaygak said, looking to the others. “Not everyone can be as strong as Timojin.”

“How did you learn to smith and enchant?” Kitool asked, trying to stop Jaygak from her self deprecation, leaning in to Adam, curious.

“In the same way you’re all lucky to be born in the Iyr, I was lucky to be born in a certain place, which gave me the opportunity to gain all these skills.” Adam did his best not to lie, but it was difficult.

“Is your home far?” Kitool asked.

“It no longer exists,” Adam said. “Nor do my family.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“I’ll find my family one day,” Adam said, smiling. “I’ll get married and have a few hundred children.” He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I wish you a thousand children,” Kitool said.

“Ah, that was the saying.”

“If you are truly strong, then it would not be difficult to live such a life in the Iyr.”

Adam coughed. “Excuse me?”

“If you are strong, it would be easy to gain the attention of Iyrmen.”

‘Is she hitting on me?’ Adam glanced aside. “I’m sure.”

“Are you willing to spar?” Amokan asked, not wanting to hear about this love life nonsense.

“I don’t want to,” Adam replied back to the handsome Iyrman. “I’m just a poor little wizard.”

“Your muscles are as large as mine,” Timojin grunted.

“I carry really heavy books,” Adam replied, casually.

“You don’t wish to spar?” Jurot asked. He had been denied as well, and was hoping he’d be able to spar with Adam.

“I need to build up my strength again. Enchanting was difficult for my mind, but it wasn’t good for my body.” Adam tried to find any excuse not to spar.

“Then let us train,” Amokan said. “You may witness our spars.”

“I want to train too!” Turot exclaimed from afar, quickly stomping his way over to them.

“You should train with the others,” Jurot said. “Our training will be too harsh.”

Turot stared up at Jurot with a frown on his face. “I want to train with Adam.”

“If Adam allows you to train with him, you can.”

“Sure,” Adam replied, seeing the hopeful gaze of the youngster. It shone far too brightly. “I’ll need to take it easy today anyway since I haven’t trained in some time.”

Turot smiled wide and joined Adam as they began to train, excited to join the older few. He threw a look back to the other children, a smug smile on his face.

Athletics Check

D20 + 5 = 21 (16)

They ran several laps around the courtyard, starting off at a jog before sprinting. Eventually they grabbed the few rocks in the corner, carrying them around to the opposite side and dropped them down.

Turot didn’t grab the rocks, instead carrying a pack full of stuffs.

They also squat and leapt upwards, training their legs and leaping abilities, as that would always be useful.

The Iyrmen finally grabbed their various weapons to swing them close to a hundred times, with Turot using a club which was fairly light to practise swinging like an axe.

They ran once again before stretching. Once they had finished their workout, Timojin and Amokan volunteered to spar one another that day.

Timojin and Amokan both wielded greatswords, which seemed to be a popular weapon in the Iyr.

“I hear you use a longsword,” Jaygak said as the pair readied themselves for sparring.

“I do,” Adam replied, “though I can use any weapon.”

“A longsword isn’t bad,” she said, resting her arm between the hilt of her sword and her thigh.

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?”

Jaygak smiled. “It is.”

“Begin!” Jurot declared, cutting off their bonding.

Amokan and Timojin both roared, eagerly ready to face one another. The pair met in harsh battle, their steel thundering together.

“I didn’t expect them to fight so seriously,” Adam said, blinking at them. They seemed to want to kill another.

“They’re always like that,” Jaygak said. “They’ve been fighting each other since they were little boys.”

Amokan swiped across where Timojin’s head was, who ducked and swung wildly backwards, causing Amokan to leap over Timojin’s swipe.

“Why do they have such a rivalry?” Adam watched as they tried to kill one another.

“Amokan’s goal is to become Chief of the Iyr,” Jaygak said. “It just so happens that Timojin wishes for the same.”

“How many children wish to grow up to be the Chief?” Adam asked, feeling as though it would be a popular goal.

Turot and the other children cheered and gasped at the spar. Though they were used to it, they still enjoyed the fight.

“Children?” Jaygak paused to think for a long moment as the pair battled. “At least half. How many at our age? Ten or twenty.”

“So few?”

Amokan managed to catch a heavy swing, though he slid backwards from the heavy blow.

“Being Chief is something not everyone can do, but there are also those who wish to be one of the Great Elders.”

Amokan barely managed to dodge a wild swing, and he thrust forward against Timojin’s side, only to barely clatter off the man’s muscular side. Timojin brought his greatsword down, aiming to split the man’s head in half.

Adam stood taller, his heart pounding wildly. His body wanted to move forward, but he was too shocked to move.

The greatsword stopped a finger’s width from cutting into Amokan’s head, causing his long hair to float, as Timojin’s muscles strained furiously to keep the blade at bay.

Adam let out a sigh of relief, staring at the pair of Iyrmen. “I’m really glad I didn’t spar now.”