Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

John remained deep in thought as he trekked through the market district, meanwhile Garaeth and Owaen held onto his hands, as Tristaen held his father’s neck, though he was tied to the man. However, while he was still reeling from the shock of meeting Adam, the soldier was also reeling from the shock. The Silver Fate Squad assisted in escorting the soldier and the ten others who worked as guards, and their families, through the market. 

‘He’s the Mad Dog’s grandson?’ Esther thought, which was unbelievable, but if it was true, then it would make everything else seem far more believable. ‘The Mad Dog is the same as all those other men too? The Undying? Jarot the Kid? Bloody Jarot? That’s unbelievable too!’

‘It is pretty weird that I talked about all that and then did this, right?’ Adam thought. ‘Still, I’m being sincere, and I did pretty much admit why, so…’ 

As the various potential guards stepped through the market, eyeing up the various stalls, they were still uncertain. It all felt like a trap, Adam offering to pay for whatever they wanted, even to the point the Iyrmen leaned in to whisper into his ear, and he stated there was a limit of ten gold for each of them, well over a hundred gold for the eleven. 

“Adam, they feel uncomfortable with how excessive you are,” Jurot warned.

“Yeah, I gathered.” Adam reached up to rub his forehead. “I should have held back a little… a lot?”

“A lot,” Jurot agreed. 

‘Damn it.’

Jurot approached John, who showed his triplets a smoothed figure of a boat, carved by wood. It was not the wood which coaxed the Iyrman forward, for it was typical wood, and the craftsmanship was barely acceptable, but it was because there had been a question upon Jurot’s mind. 

“Do your children like to play with wooden toys?” Jurot asked, though it was not his question, but he could feel the stress rise in the father as he approached. 

“They do,” John replied. 

“My son likes to play with them too, but he offers them to his cousin often, and she plays with them as he watches.”

“Does he offer them, or does she take them?” John joked.

“Most of the time it is offered, sometimes it is taken, but they hug and make up,” Jurot replied, and though he was the Mad Dog’s grandson, not even he could dare to face against the likes of his niece.

John had no idea his joke would have revealed such a face from the Iyrman, who seemed almost human in that moment. ‘He’s a father too.’

“They play with the toys I make the most,” Jurot admitted, doing his best to hide his pride, which was not so difficult, though he did tense up more than he wished. “As a boy I learned such from the Iyr. I crafted many objects from wood. Mother keeps them safe.”

John could sense the pride brimming from the Iyrman, though he had tried to hide it, and as he spoke, the Iyrman stood a little taller with each word, his ears turning a little redder with each memory. 

“I was born and raised in the Iyr. I do not know what it means to work in the way of the Florian. You work for coin, we work for our families. You are beaten, abused, for silvers. We are beaten, abused, for the Iyr. You will work fifty years, if you are lucky, and earn enough to pass on a pouch of silver. I will work for fifty years, and earn enough to pass on a pouch of gold.”

“You are surrounded by death, Iyrman.”

“Not even the dragons can escape Death,” Jurot replied. “When you die, you, John, will become an Expert. You may die a Master, a Grandmaster, a Paragon. You can do it because you are special. How many Florians will reach such a height? If there are one hundred Florians who I pass within he city, one may become an Expert, and if they are lucky, a Master, luckier still, a Grandmaster, luckier than any other Florian? A Paragon. I cannot understand that.”

“We are a simple folk, who live simple lives.”

“Within the Iyr, when I pass one hundred Iyrmen, one, two, three, four, or five, may not become an Expert because they will die too young, one because they are ill. If an Iyrman reaches forty years of age, all but one in one hundred will become Experts.”

John swallowed. He had heard the rumours of the Iyrmen, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the Iyr had survived beside Aldland for thousands of years, and that in each battle, the Iyrmen fight like beasts, and all those who fight alongside them may fear them, but often times that fear is tempered by respect. Though the last few years have been a dark mark upon the Iyr, indeed, only the Iyrmen could walk into a meeting of the Orders and cause such a mess. Indeed, only the Iyrmen could face the likes of the Order of High Garden and deal with their great warriors. However, could such a place exist? Where all those, by the age of forty, could become Experts? 

That was impossible. 

“I am the same age as my brother, twenty four. Kitool is the same age, and so is Jaygak, our companion who had travelled with us. Each of us are Masters.”

John’s face surrendered into alarm. “Masters?”

“Masters,” Jurot confirmed, holding out a finger towards one of the triplets, who stared up at him, and as the Iyrman smiled warmly, they shyly withdrew. His smile faded, and the Iyrman took in the gaze of their father once more. “There are few places in the world with such wealth, power, and privilege as the Iyr. In many ways, the United Kindom falls short. Nobby, he was trained because I wished for it. I wished for it, because he held such talents. His talent was greater than mine when we met, and I coveted the chance to train him, because I am an Iyrman, and such is a right afforded to me. It was my brother who afforded me the chance, and though it was the Iyr which facilitated the opportunity to a depth, it was my brother who encouraged me. It was my brother who dealt with the matters of health and the matters of wealth, for these are Florian worries, Aldish worries, but not worries of Iyrmen.”

John felt beaten down by each of the words, but the way the Iyrmen spoke, it was certainly not to belittle him. Still, it felt rough to his heart that an Iyrman spoke ill of his people and culture.

“If one was to join the Iyr, they would need exceptional talent, or they must marry within the Iyr, and that is usually born through exceptional talent. My wife is good at baking, but we married because I…” Jurot’s face turned red, his ears almost boiling with blood, but the Iyrman calmed, utilising the techniques he had been taught, the Iyrman pushed away his embarrassment. “I adored my wife.”

John could hear how difficult it was for the Iyrman to say it, who struggled to speak such sweet words, but could no doubt slay a dragon if his wife asked him to. ‘They really are brothers.’

“I do not know if she wished to marry me at the time, but she named her price to leave the life she knew behind. It is rare for an Iyrman to pay such a price, for someone who is not an Expert, but I would have paid it, if my brother had not. Otherwise, to join the Iyr, one must hold at least the strength of an Expert, or accrue a debt from an Iyrman, or to have such a story, we wish to covet it into our family, we, who drove the dragons away from the nearby lands.”

“It is difficult to join the Iyr,” John said, bowing his head lightly, for that much was obvious enough. 

“In this world, one can gain such power, wealth, and privilege with extreme fortune. To take the eye of the Iyr, the nobility, the military, the clergy. It is difficult. If you are taken in by the Iyr, your needs are taken care of, for while silver and gold rules Floria, blood and steel rules the Iyr. You work, because you feed yourself, your family, and all others within the Iyr, not for coin.” Jurot paused, realising he was beginning to repeat himself, and that he needed to get to his point properly. 

“The Iyr will invest within you if you are born talented, like myself, and Kitool. We were considered among the Golden Children, the children who were among the greatest of their generation, but which child within the Iyr starves? Which child would we allow a Florian to kill, without slaughtering them in kind? Even the elves consider losses when they wish to save their children, for an elf matures over the course of fifty to one hundred years, while humans mature over the course of fifteen to twenty. Within a hundred years, two elves become ten, and two humans becomes two hundred. Within the blink of an eye, the world around the elves had changed.” Jurot’s eyes narrowed slightly as the hair on John’s neck stood on end. 

“In this world, it was true to say that only the Iyr would fight for any its child, for the elves may have the courage to commit such a massacre, but they would never dare to do such to we Iyrmen.”

It was in this moment, John knew that it was true, that this Iyrman before him had clashed with King Merryweather. John didn’t even dare to swallow.

“It is no longer true, though, for within the blink of an eye, the world are the Iyr has changed. In this world, there are now two places which would not allow such a travesty to befall so easily, and they are both found within the Iyr’s borders.” Jurot felt tired speaking so much. ‘He would not understand the gravity from the brevity.’

“The United Kindom?”

Jurot bowed his head, for he had seen it. He had seen his brother act in such a way that suggested he would not allow such a travesty to go unpunished. That was what it meant to be a VIP within the business, and though it had taken a moment for the Iyrman to understand, he realised that the term simply meant to treat a VIP the same one would treat a child of the Iyr in terms of defence.

“It is unbelievable.”

“Yes,” Jurot replied, bowing his head. 

“…”

“I did not mean to speak of such, but we wish to hire you because of your potential.”

“My potential?”

“You could choose to become a typical warrior, but you could also dance with rage, or fight with your inner strength, but there is another option afforded to you since you have met my brother. If you wished, you could train as an Oathsworn.”

‘What?’ 

Esther had been standing nearby, listening to the Iyrman speak so passionately, and while most had minded their own business, every so often someone had stopped by to feel the aura emanating off the Iyrman. She had been slyly listening as she bit into her grilled vegetables, but as Jurot spoke the words, she choked and coughed out in shock. 

Jurot, thank you for your help. I’m sorry about your brother...