Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG
Interlude: Business and Festivities

Interlude: Business and Festivities

The Manager double checked the ledgers, noting the silver and gold which flowed through the business. Though the United Kindom had greater reserves than what he wrote down, he was still calculating it based off of a conservative estimate for the reserves, and a liberal estimate of the expenses. It was this week, however, which required an even greater amount of coin to spend.

'How is it that I teased Adam about working so much and now I'm working all through the festival?' Dunes smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair as he closed his eyes, thinking of his family within the Iyr. ‘Are you causing trouble by crawling? Since you’re your mother’s daughter?’

Dunes felt his body tense up as he thought of how the cringe had slipped into his thoughts so easily. He let out a long, aching sigh, hearing the gentle, muffled, thrum of music outside the estate. It wasn’t that far, near the camp fire, where the businessfolk gathered. There were few Iyrmen who were celebrating that day, roughly one third of the Iyrmen who had arrived, while the last two thirds remained on watch.

The candle burned lightly, some of the many items procured by the various Executives on their journeys, all accounted for within his book. The candle gently flickered in the silence of the room, the dim light providing a dim warmth upon the Aswadian’s skin. Though the festivities continued, Dunes remained within his estate, his thoughts keeping him company.

A knock at the door broke his attention.

“Who is it?” Dunes asked.

“Jonn,” the half elf replied.

“Come in, Lead.”

Jonn opened the door, the gentle light flickering off his breastplate, and he stepped within the estate of the Manager. He wore his trusty blade upon his back, while another blade dangled at his side. He approached the Manager, and placed down a small clay pot of grain wine, as well as a pair of cups.

“As the highest ranking member on duty, I cannot.”

“Lead Fred is on duty today,” Jonn stated simply.

“I am to lead, for the example.”

“I will inform Executive Adam.”

Dunes let out a defeated sigh, before untying the string around the skin, removing it and the lid of the pot, before pouring the pair the alcohol. Thankfully, it had been watered down, and the cups Jonn had brought were small, so even if the pair drank a few cups, they would still keep their wits about them.

Dunes eyed up the half elf in his breastplate, then his eyes fell to the weapon upon the Lead’s back. It was a Greater Enhanced weapon like his own, and from what he recalled, it was quite powerful. It held the ability to strike true easier, something quite invaluable for a figure like Jonn, but it was the other enchantment which truly defined the weapon.

“I met Adam five years ago,” Dunes said, pouring the pair more grain wine. “Then, we met a short while later. You have known Adam and I for the same time.”

“…”

Dunes held Jonn’s gaze, the Priest thinking upon his words. “If there was one half elf within this group I should replace myself a friend to, it should have been you. You and I, we both joined our Orders in a similar manner. You are Aldish, Florian, you do not know the warmth that is Aswadian loyalty, and so we met.”

“From a certain point of view.”

“We both hold a similar position within the business, and within Adam’s circle of companions. I, a Manager, and you a Lead. I, a friend, and you, his most loyal aide.”

“…”

“Your position is a noble one, for I have sworn myself to Lady Arya, but is it so different?”

“From a certain point of view,” Jonn repeated.

“Our armours, well made. Our weapons, Greater Enhanced, both with great abilities to strike true. Both, foreign in the eyes of the Aldish. We have lived a life so similar, and yet so different.”

Jonn fell into thought for a moment, feeling the alcohol slip into him. He lived his days only one at a time, with little thought for the future. He needed to complete his tasks, that’s why he woke up every morning. He thought of the past rarely, keeping himself too busy.

“I am grateful for this life of mine, but what of you, Lead Jonn?”

“I am.”

Dunes smiled slightly, nodding his head. He raised his cup, bowing his head lightly, before sipping his wine. He swallowed it, feeling the warmth of the alcohol within him. “When will you marry?”

“…”

The businessfolk enjoyed their grain wine, the children enjoying their porridges full of milk, their platters of fruit, and the wrestling of the guards and Iyrmen, as well as the Iyrmen’s tales. Today was Nirot’s turn, and the businessfolk remained eager to listen. Most had only heard the tale, while Rick and the other farmer guards, and the porter guards, each had lived to see the tale.

Even now, they could recall the ground shaking from the giant pythons. They recalled the Iyrmen, so unafraid of death. It was said that Rick and the others were about as strong as the Silver Fate Squad, but they didn’t believe it one bit. There was a vast difference between themselves and the Iyrmen, and that was that Rick wanted to live to see tomorrow, while the Iyrmen wanted to kill as many as they could before they fell.

Rick’s eyes fell upon Nirot, a young woman much younger than himself. By all accounts, the young woman should be dead. She fought a giant python, completely by herself. Yes, her companions had fought pythons near, pythons who could easily swallow any of them whole, but the woman had fought the giant python completely by herself, the other Iyrmen hadn’t so much as glared at the python.

The young woman had fought for so long, and her weapons had almost given up before her body, which still carried the marks of facing the python. Nirot pointed to the marks of her body to prove her tale, the scar against her thigh, the venom against her shoulder, and some of the businessfolk still couldn’t believe.

Then they recalled her grandfather, and suddenly, it was more than believable.

Did her grandfather possess such a great story at her age?

Even overshadowed as she was, born within the Rot family, especially to that Mad Dog, the young woman claimed a tale of her own, and none could deny it.

She had, whilst living for only two decades, defeated a giant python by herself. Not even her compatriots had managed such a feat, and though they were each terrifying in their own way, with the weakest able to at least clash, if not outright defeat, the likes of Rick, who was roughly a decade older.

Rick’s eyes then darted to his side, towards the pair of young women, who were about Nirot’s age when he had met the Iyrman, and close to the age the young woman had managed to ink her name into the Iyr’s history books. The twins sat opposite, listening intently to their cousin’s tale, no doubt having heard it a dozen times already, and yet so mesmerised.

Rick recalled the words Jurot had once said about the girls.

‘They are golden children too,’ he had said casually, showing off his cousins. ‘Their potential is the same as Nirot and mine.’

Rick had asked the most obvious question at the time, and even now, he was surprised at the answer.

‘They do not wish to worry their father.’

Even Iyrmen could hold such thoughts?

Rick still wasn’t sure if Iyrmen were like them, normal people, or if there was something the Divine did to them to make them different. For a moment, he thought about all the madness he had seen in the last few years. ‘I should buy a magical weapon.’

As he thought of the dangers, his eyes fell to a particular pair within the business.

“Do you have any stories of Aswa…” Bael paused for a moment, recalling its current name, “dasad?”

“…”

“You should humour me if you’re going to keep me within your sights.”

Bilal remained silent.

Bael glanced to the side, towards the dark skinned children, and those with red skin and tiny horns. They continued to eat the food, enjoying the various meals on offer, even if they were blander than what they were used to.

“Noorshakar,” Omer said, the boy bringing the meat to his lips with his fingers, chewing it off the bone. “The Iyr, is not bad. I always say it. This meat? Eh, is fine. Kal Korin cooks much better, noorshakar.”

“We must tell Manager Dunes to ask for spices,” Ali said, also eating the meat off the bone. “It is noonval, it should be hot, the weather and the food.”

“Noorshakar,” Omer agreed.

Jasmine, too, hoped for some spice within her meals. Dunes had procured a little for the start of the festival, but it had long run out, for the Aldish had also wished to eat the spicy food, for some reason. He hadn’t expected the hardiness, or foolishness, of Aldish farmers. She glanced aside, towards her companion who was covered head to toe in black clothing, covering every bit of him, with four blades, two at his side, two crossed upon his back. Her eyes glanced to Bael, who relaxed in the business not a stone’s throw away, who was probably a dragon in disguise, or a half dragon, had understood what Siten was.

Cobra eyed up the pair from the walls, taking a moment to make sure Bael, Bilal, Jasmine, and Siten were still around. She would need to inform someone if either of them disappeared, though she was mostly focused on Jasmine, who Manager Dunes had placed a special focus upon. Her eyes then fell to her siblings, including the girl she had only met the previous year, Adam somehow returning with another child, but surprisingly, did not adopt her as his own.

While Gimon checked upon the plants, he almost bumped into the other old man, and the reason why he didn’t bump into the old man was because the old man was one of them. “Pardons.”

“It is no issue, Gimon,” Kamrot replied, the old Iyrman bowing his head lightly, his thin hair shifting so easily in the wind, though he refused to cut it. “The plants are growing well.”

“So they is,” Gimon replied, smiling slightly.

“The plants grow within the Iyr’s soil, but it is your care which allows them to bloom so well,” Kamrot said, smiling warmly towards the old man.

Gimon bowed his head, watching as the old man continued to walk away. Gimon’s hair began to relax once more as the Iyrman stepped away, as though they were of similar ages, the Iyrman was a great warrior, for he was old, and an Iyrman, and therefore was at least an Expert.

Except, he was also the Mad Dog’s cousin.

“Lead Fred,” Kamrot called, noting the young Aldishman upon the walls. He leapt up to the wall, hoisting himself up, groaning quietly as his bones cracked, and the old man stretched. “You are not enjoying the festival?”

“I’m on duty today.”

Kamrot smiled, though Fred noted, even through the darkness, the grief within the old man’s face.

The pair stood on the wall, taking in the sight of the lands over the river.

“I heard that you recently killed a wyvern and brought its body back,” Fred said.

“Four or five years ago,” Kamrot replied. “The Iyr had need of its body.”

“Why-,” Fred asked, before quickly tensing up, “did you, I mean, why are you here at the business? I don’t mean no disrespect, I just meant, you’re so strong, but you’re here at the business, instead of making a name for yourself, or at the Iyr, enjoying your retirement.”

Kamrot stared out at the lands, realising Fred had let down his guard, and had awkwardly tried to save himself. “Do you know why I do not cut my hair?”

“No,” Fred replied, glad he had changed the topic of conversation.

“When I was younger, a man, my hair fell to my shoulders. My wife, she liked my hair long, so I keep my hair long. My wife, she was stronger than me, but she said she wanted me to keep healthy, to keep my axe sharp. Sometimes I will go out to wet my axe, for the Iyr, for my wife.”

Fred slowly nodded, replaceing the air awkward, since the old man was still grieving over his wife’s death. Fred was fairly certain she had been considered a Grandmaster, though wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. After all, to have multiple Grandmasters in a family was scary, though if it was the Rot family, he supposed that it could be true. Except, he was pretty sure the Mad Dog’s younger brother had been one too, and he was certain Adam had talked about Mad Dog’s youngest brother, who had apparently gone to train to become a Grandmaster too.

‘The Iyr is so scary!’

“You have a nice blade at your side,” Kamrot said. “Why do you draw it.”

“I draw it for the business.”

“Is it your home?” Kamrot asked.

Fred frowned, staring out at the dark lands beyond. ‘Home?’

“Fifteen years,” Kamrot said.

Fred closed his eyes, tensing up slightly.

“Fifteen years you lost your home, and I lost my son,” Kamrot said.

“In the Massacre?”

“My son was one of the three hundred.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was difficult to lose my wife, but a child? My heart still aches this day, but I know he died a good death, because I see you standing here, before me, standing tall and proud.”

Fred glanced aside, his eyes wide, unsure of how to take the old man’s sentiments. He had no idea that the King had sent Kamrot’s son to death. “I’m sorry.”

Kamrot smiled slightly, allowing the young man his awkwardness. “The Order of the Thousand Hunts is blooming brightly this generation. You must be glad.”

“I am…”

“Do not forget why they are so powerful, and why the Iyr is so powerful. They have sworn their Oaths, and we have sworn ours. You, too, must replaceing something which allows you to draw your blade freely.”

Fred slowly bowed his head. ‘Something which allows me to draw my blade freely?’

Fred fell into his thoughts. About how he met a member of the Thousand Hunts, who had been kicked out during the time of Rock Hill. How he met Adam, under similar circumstances as Jonn, not long after. Though Adam, he had met with two people who had lost their families to the Massacre, one way or another.

It was almost like Fate.

“Granduncle!” Haytam called, her voice threatening. She hoisted herself up with ease upon the walls, her large blade jangling upon her back. She had short black hair, and a pair of scars across her face, one from her ear to her neck, and another claw mark across her cheek, which narrowly missed her eye. “You should return, I will take your place.”

“I wished to-,”

“I will tell grandfather to speak with you,” the young woman warned, causing the old man to sigh, before he began to shuffle away, leaving the pair alone.

‘Tam, wasn’t it?’ Fred thought, eyeing up the woman once more, recalling she was related to Nirot through her father’s side. ‘They said her grandfather, or her granduncle, used to adventure with the Chief.’

“Why are you here?” Haytam asked, her voice threatening, but Fred had found out she always spoke in such a way. She reminded him a lot of the Iyrmen who always spoke seriously and harshly.

“I’m on duty.”

“Okay,” the woman replied, before crossing her arms, staring out into the distance. She was shorter than the average Iyrman, which only amplified the muscles she had forged through the Iyr’s training. The greatsword upon her back was slightly too large for her, so Fred thought.

The pair stood in silence, watching guarding over the business, allowing Mork and Tork to drink peacefully into the night, while Jane went to bed early, her thoughts upon the teen Iyrmen’s tales, and just how ridiculous the Iyrmen were.

Gasp! Minor characters getting screen time? In our fatherhood simulator?