Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Last they had met, Adam had looked so different. Certainly, he had been a broken man, and a broken man stood before her this day, but the eyes of both men, full of pain and rage, in the past, now, and in the future, she had no doubt, but this time there was something else. There was a difference within this young man, a father, who stood before her, so unlike the pieces of a man, a father, he was almost a year and a half ago. The intense pressure he gave off even pressed upon her shoulders, she, who was a member of the Order of the Wings, so unlike many of the Orders across the land.

“I have come to speak to you of a matter,” the woman began, swallowing lightly, holding his harsh gaze.

“What is it?” Adam replied, almost bluntly.

The woman opened her mouth, and though she should have spoken the matter, she paused. A moment passed, a silence that was louder than she had expected. “How are you?”

Adam’s brows twitched slightly. “I am fine.”

“How are your children?”

“They’re…” The silence which followed was even louder.

“I hope your wife is well.”

Adam bowed his head, though said no more, and seeing the woman let out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t sure if he was happy she had mentioned his family, or annoyed.

“We wish to procure Greater weapons from you, if you are so willing.”

“I will consider it.”

“I wish to ask, how much are such weapons? At a time such as this, I understand it is difficult to procure them for a typical price, and I will not look poorly upon spending additional sums of coin, although, if you are able to consider our Order, and what we have done for this land for generations past, for generations forward, I hope we are able to come to an agreeable sum.”

Adam inhaled deeply, calming his heart, his eyes darting to the sight, where he saw a few Iyrmen giving him a look. “Sir Dunnock, I, as always, have a great respect for you, your Order, your companions. You have come to speak with me personally of this matter, and I am honoured you have considered me so deeply. Of course, if you wish to procure Greater weapons, they are a sum of two thousand gold for you and yours, out of respect for you, your Order, all that you have done previously, and all that you will do, I have no doubt.”

Sir Dunnock hadn’t expected him to show them so much favour, but she was glad he had calmed himself, the woman bowing her head respectfully. How cheap was pride when it came to their task? “If that is the case, I would like to procure two Greater weapons, a greatsword and a glaive, if you are willing.”

“If I may ask, what happened to your armours?” Adam asked, noting how a few of her companions were no longer adorned within full plate as he had last seen.

“The skirmishes against the Reavers damaged our armour greatly, and thus we needed to procure other sets, and, once the Reavers are forced away, we shall replenish our armours, over the course of many years.” Sir Dunnock spoke matter of factly, for although she was a member of the Order of the Wings, unlike other Orders, it was difficult to live such a life, living so stringently with their Oaths in mind.

“The Order has already stepped in to deal with them?” Adam asked, having not realised they had already gone to the battlefield, though he supposed it made sense since they had been an issue for a short while now.

“Many of our companions have stepped forward to assist, for if not for this matter, what matter would our Order step forward to assist with?” Sir Dunnock replied, since of all the Orders across the many lands, their Order was one of the very few which was genuinely neutral, more neutral than even most which claimed to be, and they had paid the price for it.

“If I can take your measurements, I believe we may have some plate armour that could fit you, with some minor adjustments.”

“Unfortunately, at this time, we are only able to afford the magical weapons required to push back the Reavers.”

“Why are you talking about payment, Sir Dunnock?”

The woman blinked.

“It was you, yourself, who did not obstruct my justice.” The half elf smiled.

“Justice?” one of her companions called. “Or vengeance?”

Sir Dunnock cleared her throat lightly, recalling the half elf’s attention, holding his gaze. “I was informed that… last year, he stepped here.”

“So he did.”

“It is said the Iyr committed a grave sin and betrayed those who stepped onto their land, luring them with false sense of securities, leading to the demise of many great warriors, many of whom could even bring me to a draw, some who even I, Sir Dunnock, of the Order of the Wings, could suggest to claim victory against.”

“What do you believe, Sir Dunnock, of the Order of the Wings?” Adam asked, holding the woman’s gaze, his own now neutral, but the kind of neutral that was far more dangerous than outright hostility.

“I believe they lost their lives seeking justice, a justice which they should not have coveted.”

“Justice?” Adam mused, smiling playfully. “Or vengeance?”

The woman remained silent.

“A greatsword and a glaive, although, for someone like yourself, though we don’t typically offer it, we can offer shields, if that would assist you.”

“Our Oaths shield us,” the woman replied simply.

“Alright, well, I’ll see if we already have any weapons at the business already, though I doubt it. I’ll also take your measurements and see if we have any armour that could fit you. Are you willing to wait for a couple of weeks? We may be able to settle everything then.”

“We intend to leave by the end of the month,” Sir Dunnock confirmed, bowing her head lightly.

The half elf returned a bow of his head, inhaling sharply, about to make a comment, but he thought better of it. He turned, only to see another Iyrman, instantly freezing in place.

He was an older man, with long hair dyed red, streaks of aged white breaking up the redness. He was clean shaven, with a strong jaw, a wide, flat nose, and small eyes. He was fairly lean for an older man, and walked with the floating grace of a butterfly. The old man was dressed in the finest of silks, black like starless night, with golden thread which darted all along the hem, the thread forming some kind of pattern. At his side was a longsword, a fusion of bone and metal.

“Sir Dunnock,” the Iyrman called.

“Chief Iromin,” Sir Dunnock replied.

“It is always an honour,” Iromin, Chief of the Iyr, one of the Great Elders of the Iyr, said.

“The honour is hours,” Sir Dunnock, one of the Order of the Wings, assured. “We apologise for imposing.”

“The Order of the Wings is no stranger to we of the Iyr,” the Chief said, before half turning to the side. “Baztam, please escort our guests to their quarters and prepare tea.”

Adam raised his brows, his eyes darting towards Baztam. He was an Iyrman who was quite short, with long white hair, green eyes, and carried a large greatsword upon his back, one he was currently thinking of drawing.

Sir Dunnock, noting the Chief wished to speak with the half elf, smiled, bowing her head and accepting the offer of escort, following the shorter Baztam to the quarters offered by the Iyrmen.

“What did I do this time?” Adam asked.

Iromin reached into his robes and placed an amulet upon his neck, and then slipped a ring off of his finger, offer it to the half elf.

“I apologise, Chief, but I am already taken.”

“Remain…” The Chief paused, blinking towards the half elf, realising perhaps he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. “I shall remain by your side and you greet the guest.”

“Another one?” Adam asked.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t I popular today!” the half elf declared, letting out a chuckle, a wide smile forming on his lips. “Who?”

“…”

Meanwhile, Baztam brought Sir Dunnock and her companions to one of the quarters within the fortress. He huffed, barging away the moment they were at their quarters.

“Is that…” the young heir whispered.

“It is,” Sir Dunnock replied simply, recalling the last time they had seen one another. It had been almost a year and a half ago, the last time he had seen the half elf, and had seen one of the many monsters of the Iyr. She watched the greatsword shift from side to side with every step, with the understanding that though she was Sir Dunnock of the Order of the Wings, quite a powerful figure across Aldland, and though she was considered between a Grandmaster and a Paragon, Baztam was the kind of figure who glared at the likes of Fifth Blade Jessica.

“Do you recall?” another whispered. “There was that fellow who also wielded a blade like his.”

“I remember,” Sir Dunnock whispered.