Chapter 630: Honored Guests (Part Two)
The whispers of the crowd grew louder as they watched the standoff between the short, grey-bearded man from the Horned Clan and the giant Tuscan warrior. A few tables away, a few veteran soldiers even began to place bets with many favoring the old man.
Looking down at the cluster of diminutive figures and hearing the whispers of the crowd, Ipiktok couldn’t help but laugh at himself for the position he found himself in. If he wanted to, he could easily crush all four members of Heila’s family with a single swat of his massive hand, and even if the old man was one of the greatest swordsmen to ever live, he had little reason to fear for his life. But in truth, he bore no hostility toward the Willow Whip’s family.
He’d given his word to follow her after she spared him and his men in the arena and in the days that followed, he’d never once regretted that decision. Even though she had passed command of his soldiers over to Commander Savis for the duration of the upcoming war, he could only respect her for choosing to place him and his men where they could do the most good, rather than clinging to them and using them as some kind of ostentatious personal guard.
Now that he saw the Willow Witch’s grandfather staring him down with nothing but a sword that was no longer than the palm of his hand, Ipiktok felt like he finally understood a piece of where his mistress’s strength came from.
"Ha!" Ipiktok laughed loudly. "Blood runs true indeed," he thundered, retrieving his tankard with his long, flexible trunk and raising it as though he were offering a toast. "Sit, sit. Be welcome," he said warmly, much to the disappointment of the members of the crowd who had begun to wager on the outcome of a confrontation between the two men. "My men and I are still alive because of your granddaughter’s mercy, mister...?" Ipiktok asked, trailing off and raising an eyebrow at the grey-bearded man.
"His name is Achim," Old Nan said warmly from the opposite side of the family. "And whatever you do, Captain Ipiktok," she warned, shaking a finger at the looming Tuscan before pointing her finger at Heila’s grandfather. "Don’t praise this fool. He’ll take every compliment like it’s a solemn truth carved in oak, and he’ll have you believing it’s all true before you finish your second cup of wine."
"Nan, you wound me," Achim said, giving the old woman a deep bow. "I’m an old man now. All I have left are old stories. You wouldn’t begrudge me even those, would you?"
"You know, I thought you were dead," Nan said, giving the distinguished-looking man an evaluating look. "You could have visited when the war ended," she said sourly, even though her face wore a gentle smile.
"I didn’t die," Achim said, pulling out a chair for his wife to take a seat next to Old Nan. "I retired. My little ones had little ones! How could I keep traipsing around the outlying villages when I had my very own grandchildren to watch running about? My darling Lorena would never have forgiven me for leaving them all to her, and family always comes first. It’s the same for you, isn’t it, Nan?"
"Smooth talker," Old Nan chuckled. "You haven’t changed a bit."
"Mister Achim, Mister Kaisen," Ritchel said in a voice that was pure and strong despite his apparent frailty. "You have my deepest gratitude for teaching Lady Heila to prioritize family and value mercy. If not for her friendship with my son, I doubt she’d have ordered the Thistle Witch to spare my life."