[1546] – Y07.046 – Arisa I
The countless ships scattered across the sea, small boats each filling their space with fish atop fishes, while a rather large and impressive galley floated its way to the beautiful ship, that under the command of a Captain Alaen, tinged now by the purple of dusk. The Mulazim upon the galley, adorned in his pristine scale, hopped onto the ship, with a nimbleness one might not have expected, though he was in his fifties, his hair almost pure white, though his face lacked wrinkles. His skin was as dark as obsidian, his eyes bright with delight, and the blade at his side gleamed under the dawnval sun, for the sun, did it not shine brightly over Aswadasad?
“Shukhur, how I welcome the fine guests, those of Captain Alaen and his company, and the company he keeps, of the Iyrmen, who are always welcome in Arisa, our humble capital,” the Mulazim said, a smile upon his lips that threatened to blind them. It was this Mulazim the Faro had sent, for this Mulazim understood, the fellow greeting the Iyrmen respectfully, the importance of the soldiers keeping their blades sheathed, no matter the cost.
Marmak almost stepped forward, much to the dismay of the soldiers waiting upon the galley, however, Shagek placed a hand upon his shoulder, for if this old fool stepped forward, certainly the Aswadians would misunderstand, and even if that increases the chance of misfortune by a fraction of a fraction, that fraction was far too large.
“Of course, it is our honour to also greet the Mo and Ka of Jabal Adh Aswad, and the Sword of the Lady.” The Mulazim bowed his head respectfully to the young Kal Lani, though only an appropriate amount, for he was still a child of Lord Noor.
“Mulazim, thank you for your kind welcome,” Korin said, his smile almost matching the delight upon the Mulazim’s face.
As the Mulazim and those of Black Mountain spoke, the Iyrmen sent forward Karmin, the one eyed Iyrman who wielded a greatblade upon his back, the kind that was not of the Min family. Thankfully, due to his relation to the Chief, Karmin was able to oppress, and reassure, the Mulazim appropriately, allowing them to sail towards Arisa, with the escort of the military, and the giant dragon turtle who continued to sail along the side of the ship which held the children of the Iyr.
The city sprawled across the horizon, the buildings flowing out like a wave across the land, the hilly terrain hiding much of the expansive city behind from the sea. The giant docks held near countless ships, many more dotting the sea like bustling ants, but while the ships imposed upon their sight, a wall ready to slaughter anyone about to sneeze the wrong way, the docks themselves melted into the rest of the city, but not before the large cliffs, which separated the dock to the city proper, each mounted with large crossbows and ballistae, ready to fend off any army, or troublemakers, but not those of the Iyr, for certainly they would bring death from the land.
Standing at the docks, a half dozen figures stood, awaiting for the ship, and as the Iyrmen stepped onto the docks, two stepped forward to greet them, each a separate company. Though they were close to the Shen and his family, the Black Lions allowed the other to step forward, for this was the land of the Faro, and it would not do to overstep.
He was tall, wide, and carried a pair of blades on his back that would make lesser warriors falter to even wield. His armour was forged of darker steel, aged by battle, the details lost to warriors who had dared to come across the faris. His cloak was heavy, barely shifting even as he strode towards the group. He was a warrior among warriors, but this time he was but a gazelle approaching a pride of lions.
“Asaym, Iyrmen,” Kal Fadi called, greeting them with a great respect, even as his eyes held a particular Iyrman’s gaze. It was he, Kal Fadi, who did not shirk away from such a gaze. It had been a long time since they had last clashed, though if rumours were to be believed, and Kal Fadi was inclined to believe them, he still stood no chance.
Marmak, meanwhile, tilted his head, and after a moment, smiled playfully.
“Walay, Kal,” Karmin called, taking the faris’ attention, for certainly he was one the faris could not ignore.
“It is our hope your travels were safe,” Kal Fadi said, speaking with a humbleness one might not have expected, for he was the blade of the Faro, her personal guard, her most trusted aide, and the Sabres of Dusk, a man who even the venerable Radiant Blade would think twice before clashing with.
However, even as someone like the Radiant Blade would think twice, the Iyrmen before him did not need to, not just one or two, but at least a dozen, from those older than the Kal, to those younger, even the likes of the young man who he had met previously, and yet, this time, surrounded by his elders, he dared to hold such a look.
Kal Fadi may have misunderstood it as the arrogance of youth, only to find whose hand the young Iyrman was holding, the girl’s eyes beaming up towards him, and the Kal dismissed his thoughts, his pride, his fearlessness.
“It is in no small part thanks to Great Urkina, our travels have remained safe, and those of the Grand Sapphire Pavilion Ship.”
The Kal’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and now that the greetings had passed by, and the great blessings, he excused himself to speak with Great Urkina, allowing the other figure to step forward.
He stood tall and proud, with long black hair, braids which then loosened at his shoulders, his beard longer than last they had seen, hiding away his lips, his skin almost as black as obsidian, his striking hazel eyes glaring at the half elf. The Black Lion wore full plate, as dark as death, his breastplate fashioned with countless engravings in Aswadic, and over his shoulders, a long black cape, embroidered with golden thread. At his side, he wore a dark blade, formed of jeticule, black, save for the silver engravings across the hilt, a cross which tapered towards the end of the three sides, the fourth melting into the handle. It was no doubt magical, for certainly the figure did not wield a simple jeticule blade, not when his helmet, fashioned into a lion’s face, was silver with golden trim around the eyes.
“Noor bless you,” Kal Uli greeted. “I am glad to see you have arrived safely.”
“It is good to see you again, Kal,” Sonarot said, greeting the Black Lion, for he was no stranger, not when he had spied upon her darling children, and had, without a second thought, relayed back all to the Mother of Lions. “I see you are well, and I hope the Mustashalur is well, too.”
“Shukhur, we are all blessed with good health,” Kal Uli replied, and though he had prepared himself, for he had once more come across that particular half elf, he hadn’t managed to prepare himself to come under the gaze of so many Iyrmen, many he had met with the previous year, but that was upon the Iyr’s land, not when they were upon an outing with so many children.
“Good evening, Kal,” called a child, the little girl holding up a thumbs up, the confidence within her eyes unmatched by the other children, for she was their aunt.
“Good evening, young Lanarot.”
“Have you been well?”
“I have been well, and I hope you have been well?”
“Yes!” Lanarot declared. “Cousin Tanagek and cousin Chosen, they fought so well, but then, um, we sailed for many days, and there was little fighting…”
It was that disappointment which terrified the Kal, especially since the lack of fighting was probably the only reason why the Iyrmen seemed as relaxed as they were, in which they were not at all relaxed, but not quite so eager to spill blood to prove a point.
“I shall take my leave,” the silver scaled half dragon, who was certainly a dragon, said, greeting the Iyrmen, and after they handed over another pouch, he bowed his head ever so lightly, and stepped away, feeling the gaze of the triplets after him.
For some strange reason, the triplets had been eyeing him up for the entire journey, but he thought little of it, except their tails moved strangely. However, his curiosity would not be the death of him.
“Kal Uli!” the half elf half exclaimed. “I hope we didn’t make you wait long!”
“I recently arrived,” Kal Uli said, meaning he had arrived at the start of the previous month, before the half elf had sent word.
“I see you’ve come with quite a few great warriors,” Adam said, noting how each of them seemed to be ranked similarly to Kal Uli, each wearing helmets with the faces of silver lions, their eyes lined gold.
“Yes,” Kal Uli replied, and, with the Mustashalur’s warning ringing deep within their bones, he turned towards the only figures who could distract the half elf long enough so no trouble would brew. “It is good to see you as well, Ray Vonda.”
“Once more, it is a pleasure,” Ray Vonda replied.
“Noor’s Rays, and the Mother’s Mercy,” Kal Uli said respectfully.
“Noor’s Rays, and the Mother’s Mercy,” Vonda replied, smiling warmly, for there was little chance even the Aswadian’s would speak poorly of the Mother of the Divine.
“It is good to see you too,” Kal Uli said, greeting the twins before their greatparents who held them, the Mad Dog, and Flame Brand, refusing to acknowledge the wicked aura emanating from the Iyrman who now possessed both arms and legs, and could probably kill at least one of the Black Lions if the three fought him all at once.
No, Uli thought, seeing the way the old man instantly relaxed, upon thinking Kal should in fact greet his greatchildren before him. He could certainly kill two of them.
PATREON LINK
Expect a few additional chapters later this month because I have received an influx of new patrons recently!