Omen: 4, 10

Adam awoke early in the morning, staring at the ceiling.

‘Couldn’t I have enchanted something else with that 14 from yesterday?’

He trained with the other Iyrmen, running along the courtyard, weightlifting with rocks, before they bathed and returned to the estate for breakfast.

Sonarot fed Lanarot with a clay spoon, the girl barely managing to keep the food inside her mouth rather than outside around her lips.

“Hey, Jurot,” Adam whispered, taking a sip of water to calm down the heat against his tongue.

“Yes?”

“Lanarot is eating soft foods using a spoon,” Adam said.

Jurot nodded.

“Why don’t you make her a wooden spoon?”

“We have clay spoons,” the Iyrman said. “There is no need to make another spoon.”

“Yes, but the clay spoon wasn’t made by you, was it?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you make one? That way your sister will use something you’ve made for her. Doesn’t that mean she will grow well because she’s eating from something you made?”

Jurot remained silent for a long while, eating the spicy bean dish which Jogak had made.

Recently he had felt something off about his heart whenever he held his sister. The thought of his little sister using a spoon that he had made, growing up well because of him…

Adam’s words had taken root deep within his heart.

“I will make one,” Jurot said.

Adam smiled, glad that Jurot had accepted. ‘He’s still hesitant about helping his baby sister. I wonder if the Iyrmen don’t really form attachments to their children or younger siblings personally?’

Adam recalled how Jaygak treated Raygak, with how she would bully the boy. Jurot would also treat Turot well, and he would often help the boy whenever help was needed.

‘Is it just because she’s too young that he doesn’t understand?’

There were no computers or mobile phones in the Iyr, so Adam had more time to play with Lanarot without something more fun calling him.

Sonarot couldn’t help but smile at Jurot, who was deep in thought about how he wanted to make the spoon.

She hadn’t expected Jurot would ever think about something like that.

After breakfast, Adam made his way out, making his way to a number of other estates, carrying with him the pack of gifts, his generosity having made quite the dent in the number of gifts he still held.

“Who are you?” an Oricsh Iyrman asked.

“Adam, son of Fate,” Adam said, noting the woman’s tattoos. A red cross with yellow hollow ovals. “You must be a Var.”

“That is right,” the Orcish Iyrman said, smiling down at the Half Elf. “Then you must be the son of Fate.”

“I’m glad you’ve heard of me.”

“Are you here to see Okvar?”

“If he’s around, but I have another matter to deal with.”

“He is around.” The Iyrman guided Adam around to Okvar, who was currently leaning back in his chair, snoozing quietly.

As the Iyrman approached, Okvar opened his eyes to stare at them, his gaze then falling onto the Half Elf, recognition taking over the annoyance of being awoken from such a lovely nap.

“Morning Okvar, I hope I didn’t bother anything too important.”

“You did not,” the Iyrman said, standing to greet Adam properly. “Have you come to speak with me?”

“Not particularly,” Adam said.

The Iyrman beside him threw a look to Adam, as though she had been betrayed.

“I just came here to say thank you for your help with Aunt.”

“There is no need for thanks, son of Fate.” Okvar smiled, understanding why Adam felt as though he needed to come. He was someone from outside the Iyr, and he was unaware of their ways.

‘No, that is not true,’ the Iyrman thought. ‘Adam is a Nephew of the Iyr.’ Okvar needed to be careful to treat him like a Nephew of the Iyr and not a Guest of the Iyr.

“I came here to give gifts to the children,” Adam said. “I recently returned from an adventure.”

“I am glad to hear you returned from the adventure safely.”

“Yeah, I managed to slay two Dragons.”

Okvar stared at him.

“I’ll ask Jurot if he is able to tell the tale, he’d be much better,” Adam said. “I need to find the other families too, and I’ll set a date and time later, if it isn’t an issue.”

“That is quite the introduction of a tale.”

“What can I say?” Adam flashed a smile. “Now you’re interested in the tale and the children will be eager to hear it.”

Okvar nodded. “Very well. I hope you have brought gifts for all the children, otherwise the others will cry.”

“That might not be the issue you have,” Adam said, smirking slightly.

Okvar hadn’t understood, not until his youngest son looked up at him, reaching for the second Dragon scale tentatively.

Okvar stared at the Half Elf. “You have brought multiple gifts?”

“I have.”

“Dragon scales too?”

“Yes.”

Okvar stared at the Half Elf long and hard. “Dragon scales are worth a lot of gold.”

“How much gold?”

“Each Dragon scale is worth at least its weight in gold.”

“They don’t weigh that much,” Adam said.

“Even the least valuable Dragon scale is worth at least a gold coin.”

Adam whistled. “That’s not too shabby.”

“These scales you have gifted, though small, are of at least average quality. Are you certain you wish to gift them?”

“Yes,” Adam said.

Okvar bowed his head. “Make sure you all thank Adam for the gifts properly.”

The same situation arose at the estate with the Nuus, the Oojs, the Wirs and the Jyns.

He didn’t know most of the people he had spoken to since those he had left with seemed to be busy with other matters.

“Oh, it is you, Adam,” Rokat said, sharpening her glaive.

“It is me,” Adam said, nodding his head towards the beautiful Devilkin Iyrman.

“I have heard that you had slain two Dragons.”

“You’ve heard?”

“I have,” Rokat said. “My sister had spoken to me of the matter after checking up on the girl, Lanarot?”

“Ah,” Adam said. “She checked up on her?”

“It was a few days ago, when the Dragon Queen appeared.”

“Ah, Entalia? I didn’t see her that day.”

“I believe you were enchanting.”

“That would make sense,” Adam said. “She checked up on Lanarot?”

“A check up for the girl’s health.”

“Did she say if Lanarot was healthy?”

“If there is cause for concern, then the girl’s mother would know.”

“Right, makes sense.”

“Why have you come?”

Adam raised his pack, which was much lighter now. “Gifts.”

Adam handed out the gifts, going through the same hullaballoo as he had.

“What is with all the commotion?” Lokat asked, returning to the estate as she stared at the children all chattering between one another, arms full of gifts.

“Hello,” Adam said, smiling at Lokat.

“It is you, the Nephew of the Rot family.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Adam replied.

“I had not expected to meet you so soon,” Lokat said.

“What can I say?” Adam replied. “I like to show up into people’s lives like a whirlwind.” Adam glanced up towards the sky. “Not quite as predictable as this storm.”

“It is thanks to the predictability of the storm that we are able to deal with it,” Lokat said.

Adam wasn’t sure if it was a threat. “How do you mean?”

“It is thanks to the predictability of the storm that we are able to place the barriers required so the Iyr does not flood during the stormy weather.”

Adam stared at her. “Oh,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t think about that.”

Lokat nodded. “Is there something you required?”

“No,” Adam said. “I have given my gifts and now I shall leave.”

“Gifts?” Lokat asked.

“Yeah, I returned from my adventures and wanted to say thanks for the last time.”

Lokat bowed her head slowly, her thoughts pacing quickly. ‘Is he trying to earn our favour?’ Adam knew about her relationship with Elder Peace, and so perhaps he was trying to earn their favour to become closer with the Great Elder? ‘A mistake on his part.’

Adam smiled towards her. “I’ll find out when Jurot is free to tell the tale, so see you.”

Lokat nodded her head.

With that, Adam had finished with all the gifts he had wanted to give out, he returned back to the estate as the rain fell.

He remained with the others, speaking with the party, as well as Jonn and Brittany. They were beginning to get used to the Iyr, though they were still astonished by all the people here.

‘I should probably enchant some when I have a decent Omen,’ Adam thought. ‘Otherwise we’ll get sick of talking to each other.’

He played with Lanarot, this time slapping away on a drum as the thunder rumbled. She had found it didn’t taste very good.

Jurot blew the dust off of his spoon, staring at it. He had been carving away quietly for hours since Adam and he had last spoken.

“Nice spoon,” Adam said, noting how the bottom of the spoon had been carved into the shape of a dragon, though it was still smooth.

“Yes,” Jurot said. “It is.”