Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG
[1277] – Y06.177 – The Mountain of Gold IV

"Nano, you are telling me there are people daddy cannot defeat?” Jirot asked, raising her brow incredulously towards her greatmother. 

“There are many, especially those within Aswadasad,” Gangak confirmed, while Jirot placed down her cup of milk, crossing her arms. “I am not joking.”

“Nano, how can you be so jealous of my daddy? You are too old for this now.” Jirot tutted at her greatmother, whose jaw tensed, her brows furrowed, all the while fought off the laughter as she had fought off wyverns as a young woman. 

However, the old geezer beside her howled with laughter. 

“My Jirot! You are right!” the old one armed Iyrman exclaimed, reaching over to pinch his greatdaughter’s cheek. “How can she say such things? She is too old to speak with such jealousy, such envy, of my grandson!”

“Your father cannot defeat everyone in the world,” Gangak informed the girl.

“Yet,” Jirot corrected, inhaling sharply, her eyes judging her greatmother. 

Gangak could see the girl was beginning to grow upset, and though she looked so adorable when she was angry, or when she was sad, her heart could not take it in that moment. “You are right, of course, my Jirot.”

Jirot let out a small sigh of relief, glad her greatmother could see reason, but of course she did, for she was so beautiful and so wise, this greatmother of hers. “Some days you are sillier than me, nano.”

“No one is as silly as you, my Jigak.”

Jirot huffed, crossing her arms as she closed her eyes and faced the side, only to peek open an eye towards her greatmother, meeting her gaze. The girl smirked, falling into a cackle. 

“Jagak, here,” Gangak called, holding a spoonful of porridge for the boy, the little Jarot leaning in to eat from her spoon. “Since your father is in Aswadasad, should I tell you of some of the great warriors who make their home within the capital?”

“Yes!” Little Jarot beamed up towards his greatmother, who had apparently spent some of her younger days within the capital.

“There is the Radiant Sword Dragon,” Gangak said. “She is retired now, but she is a half dragon, a half gold dragon.”

The children each gasped, even the likes of the triplets, and even Larot peeked an eye open towards the old woman. 

“Yes! That is right!” Gangak smiled wider. “Some say she is Lady Jaeryael’s daughter, but that is not true. Kal Glory of Dahabal. Dahabal, is one of the many shortened names for the capital, Jabal Adh Dahab.”

“Ahm Dunes is from Jabal Adh Aswad,” Jirot said, informing her siblings. “Jabal means mountain. Aswad means black. Dahab means gold.”

Gangak furrowed her brows. “How do you know this?”

“How?” the old Jarot asked. “My greatdaughter is a genius!”

Jirot sat up taller, a sweet smile upon her lips as she soaked in the praise, allowing her greatfather to ruffle her hair. “I read it in the books, and now that I have seen it, it is in my head. It is because I am my mother’s daughter.”

Once Gangak was done chuckling, and nuzzling her greatdaughter, she continued to speak of the Radiant Sword Dragon. 

“Is the Radiant Sword Dragon like the Poison Sword Dragon?” Jirot asked. “I like the Poison Sword Dragon, she is so lovely.”

“The previous Poison Sword Dragon?” Gangak asked. “Ash?”

“Dawn,” Otkan corrected.

“Previous?” Jirot asked. “There is a new Poison Sword Dragon?”

“He was the Poison Sword Dragon before I went to Aswadasad.”

“Aw!” Jirot pouted. “I liked Dawn so much!”

“I wonder why,” Gangak mused aloud, reaching over to pinch the girl’s cheek, who glanced aside guiltily.

Larot felt a hand upon his cheek, and the young toddler opening his mouth, allowing Jazool to feed him. However, his thoughts remained upon the knowledge that golden dragons were allowing their spawn to roam freely in the land.

‘The Concord must still be in place, but…’ Larot let out a soft sigh. ‘How many millennia should we expect peace?’

“Will Bael become the Lightning Sword Dragon?” Jirot asked.

“Bael is not a half dragon,” the old Jarot replied. 

“He is not?” Jirot furrowed his brows.

“It is likely he is a dragon in disguise,” Gangak informed.

“Though we must keep such a secret,” Otkan stated firmly, noting the mischievous look within the girl’s eyes. “We must, since we are Iyrmen.”

Jirot sat up a little taller. “I understand! I will keep it a secret!”

As Gangak continued to speak of the tale of the various Sword Dragons, nicknames given to half dragons, almost always each who had reached greater than a Grandmaster, if not a Paragon, though sometimes the names changed depending on the weapon one used, the girl’s father came under the heavy might of the one known as the Poison Sword Dragon, wielding the large greatsword, Big Leaf. 

It was hot. 

One might have expected as such, for it was Aswadasad. 

The sun beat upon the hills, all above them all. The boy opened his eyes, yawning lightly, before rolling over towards his father, who nuzzled at his stomach, causing him to giggle and squeal, before he sat up, feeling the sun against his dark skin. 

“Are you awake?” the large green dragon asked, shifting up onto his talons, slowly drawing away from the boy, who wore a pair of shorts. 

“Yes!” the boy replied, shaking his head as he tried to force himself awake. 

The green dragon nipped at the boy’s shorts and flung him towards the nearby lake, allowing the boy to bathe and swim early in the morning, before he leapt within the lake himself, finding his son at the bottom, the boy eyeing up the swords he was not allowed to play with, but which seemed to be tightly gripped within his hand. The pair exchanged a look, and a moment later the boy was drying off within the air as his father carried him to one of the many nearby villages, dropping him upon his bottom, the dragon eyeing up all the humans. 

“You will need to watch over him for a week while I slumber,” the dragon stated, shaking his entire body, flicking water across them all, before he leapt up and flew away to a nearby hill in order to return back to his slumber. Humans may be able to run on a night’s sleep, but if he didn’t nap for at least a week, he remained irritable, and that sort of thing was for his brother to the west. 

The boy stared up towards the villages, standing tall and wide, though he was still young, even by human standards. 

“Young Lord, shall we play?” the Rais asked, flashing a warm, motherly smile towards the boy, who, if they harmed, would lead to the deaths of their entire families. 

“I want to swim.”

“Swimming is more difficult for us, since we do not take to water like you,” the Rais said. 

“Poison cakes?” the boy asked, pouting slightly. 

“We did not gather much poison…”

The boy closed his eyes, sniffling lightly. Before he made to cry, however, the woman picked him up, and carried him away. The boy stared up at her curiously as she took him to the top of the hill, deciding she may as well teach him swordplay to keep him quiet. 

“I may not be as great as the Sword of the Forest or the Emerald Blade, but this Rais has caused a mess in her day,” the old woman said. “I was as beautiful as I was strong.”

“Then you must be so strong,” the boy said, recalling what his father had taught him.

The Rais glanced aside with a smirk. “You are your father’s son.”

The boy enjoyed his time within the village, the days passing by, until finally she appeared. The boy gasped, charging the woman, who held out her arms. 

“Sister!”

“Did the villagers bully you?” the woman asked, her skin a deep bronze, her green scales dulled with age and battle, adorned in the tree bark armour which her father loved to craft, and upon her back she wore a beautifully simple blade, more like a slab of iron upon a stick. Her green eyes were full of affection. 

“There were no poison cakes!” the boy cried aloud, pouting. 

“I will make you some,” the sister assured, brushing along the boy’s cheek. She turned and motioned a hand towards her companion, who seemingly appeared from nowhere. “I brought a friend!”

He was a human man, or so it appeared, for he smelled like nothing, and he held no presence, so one might have thought he was no man at all. He was more Aldish in appearance, ghost white skin, eyes of the clear sky, sun kissed hair, like those of the Western Dukes of Aldland. He wore curious clothing, all black save for his white shirt. A small flat cap atop his head, a tie, a short coat, simple trousers and leather shoes. He also carried a cane, and though it was so hot, he did not appear to sweat in the slightest, so he certainly wasn’t Aldish.

“George, tell my brother about the portals,” the sister said, taking her brother aside, George following them away to the top of the mountain, all the while the rest of the villagers didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, certain they had something important to attend to. 

“Wow,” the boy gasped. “Between worlds?”

“I do.”

“So you are in our world now?”

“I am, but I am to leave soon,” George admitted. “There were particular tears in the world which…”

The boy blinked.  

“There are bad things which will appear, and it is not the best time for them to arrive,” George said.

“Can you stop them?”

“I suppose it is within my abilities, but I do not have the courage to face against Fate.”

“Oh,” the boy said, nodding his head. “I like your clothes.”

“Thank you,” George replied with a smile. “It was my father’s suit. He worked at MI5.”

The boy blinked. 

“Well…” George cleared his throat. “It’s rather difficult for me to go back home, even with my ease in slipping through Realms, so I am glad I have his suit. It smells so much of him.”

“My dad smells good too.”

“Do you enjoy the smell?”

The boy smiled.

George smiled back. “It’s becoming rather difficult to trick your father’s senses, and I have kept my word, would you agree, miss Dawn?”

“You have,” Dawn replied, rubbing her brother’s back. 

“Then, please,” George said, handing her an object that was silver and black. He clicked the back of it, the silver part, and revealed a tiny sharp point from the black barrel. “This pen was also my father’s.”

The boy returned George’s even brighter smile while his sister signed the contract, which then replicated itself into three papers, one for the woman, one for George, and that was it, because there had definitely only been two papers. 

“Wonderful,” George said, before glancing around, fairly certain there was more than two pieces of paper, but he decided to ignore it, since this was certainly how most around him felt. He picked up a leaf and showed it to the young boy. “This leaf is a little small, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it is little,” the boy confirmed. 

“My father, he would make a coin appear from behind my ear,” George said, focusing upon the leaf. “Allow me to show you a different trick.”

The boy remained still as George tickled his ear with the leaf, causing him to giggle, but as the man pulled away, within his hand was no longer a leaf, but a large sword he was holding as though it were as light as a feather. “Not quite as impressive as I wanted it to be, but from what I gather in this world, it should be a decent greatsword.”

The boy’s mouth formed a tiny circle, his eyes darting to his elder sister. 

“A gift to remember me by, though, I suppose it is a little big. No matter, you’ll grow into it.” The man smiled, taking off his hat to reveal his thinning blonde hair, before he bowed and began to saunter off, whistling a little ditty to himself now that he had gotten what he needed from this world, and had planted all the seeds he needed.

“Sister! Did you see that?” the boy asked.

“I told you!” Dawn laughed, picking up her toddler brother, nuzzling his nose. “Do you see that sword? It’s yours. I was the one to pay for it, even if he did use his magic to make it, so it still counts as my gift!”

“Sister…” The boy hugged the side of her head, pulling her in close. 

A large shadow formed over the pair as the green dragon circled overhead, eyes darting around, nostrils flared, a low growl threatening to explode into a poisonous smoke. “Dawn! What did you do?”

“What? Why is it always my fault? Why don’t you blame Isam?”

“You!” Romoleaf crashed down in front of her, glaring at the young woman who took after her wicked mother. “What did you do?”

“I just bought my brother a sword! Is that so wrong?”

“What is that?” 

“What?” Dawn replied, pretending not to know what her father was talking about. 

“You!” Romoleaf leaned in towards her threateningly. “I knew you were trouble!”

“You were the one who slept with mother, even after knowing who she was,” Dawn accused. 

Romoleaf snarled, before nuzzling his son, who remained embracing his sister awkwardly between them. Romo turned towards the sword, pulling away from it slightly, before inhaling sharply and blasting it with his poisonous smoke. 

“Father…” Isam called with a pout. 

“Do not worry, I’ll return it better than what it gave you!” Romoleaf nuzzled his son’s belly, causing the boy to laugh, before flinging the sword away with a slap of his tail, and flying over to spend far too long blasting it with poison, and marinating it within the poison of his swamp, until Isam was of age. 

Isam awoke with a start, reaching out to choke the Priest, the warmth filling his entire body, and the Malawi smiled politely down towards him as the half dragon choked out Mo. Though she smiled politely, the anxiety upon her face remained, not because the half dragon was choking a Priest to death, which would force the temple to kill the Poison Sword Dragon, but because of the situation which led to the Poison Sword Dragon to choke the Priest. 

No wonder Jirot likes Dawn so much.