Jarot lay between the pair of goblins, who were twitching beside him, each staring his way. He cooed towards them, reaching around to tickle their exposed cheeks and noses. They returned with their small gurgles, falling silent in shock when they felt his snow covered finger against his cheek, before they returned to gurgling noisily towards him.

Out of anyone, Jarot was the one who spent the most time with the twins. He spent hours daily with them, reading story after story to them. He spoke of the tales of his ancestors, those they were named after, sometimes slipping them his own stories, with a cheekiness as though he were slipping them rum.

Elder Zijin stared at the trio, his hands crossed behind his back. Seeing Jarot wearing the typical attire of the Iyrmen all while laying in the snow reminded him that the Rot family was truly built differently than other Iyrmen.

Upon feeling the unsightly gaze, Jarot sat up, allowing the pair of children to stare at his back while it provided them shade. Jarot remained silent, his eyes glued to the Elder’s.

“I will be taking Jarot and Jirot,” Elder Zijin said.

‘Now you have come for them?’ Jarot thought. “Without your blade?”

“I am hoping it does not come to that.”

“You will not take them.” Jarot remained sitting, and though his axe was not at his side, it was not that far away, resting against the side of the estate.

“The Great Elders have asked for the children,” Zijin said, trying to invoke the status of the Great Elders for this matter to go smoothly.

Jarot’s neck tensed, his jaws clenched. “You will not take them.” These were the words he had used in front of the triplets back then too. Unfortunately, they were in the shared family estate, so he could not cut into the desk with his axe.

Elder Zijin sighed. He hadn’t spent much time thinking about how to get Jarot to give up the children, for it was an impossible task. Jarot was still wild for an Iyrman, and though his heart was heavy due to the loss of his son, he was still the same Jarot as back then.

“Why is it that you have come to me, the greatfather of these children, and not the father?” Jarot accused, his eyes dark.

The accusation struck Zijin harshly. Jarot had rubbed salt into the wound which he had made previously when he had spoken such terrible words to the Elder last time. It was a difficult position for Elder Zijin to be in, since Jarot was not under his authority, but the authority of the Great Elders. The Great Elder had not decided to step forward, as Jarot had not pushed them to act yet.

“Tell the Great Elders if they wish to shame the Iyr, I will not be complicit, and these innocent children of my Rot family will not be sacrificed for their games,” Jarot warned.

Jirot cooed quietly, but Jarot remained sitting, glaring up at the Elder. Even as she began to cry, Jarot did not move. It was only when the Elder was out of sight that Jarot returned back to his greatdaughter.

“Little Jirot, why are you crying?” Jarot asked, scooping her up to his chest, coddling her within his arm. He rubbed her stomach, gently rocking her against him as the girl continued to screech and cry, eventually causing baby Jarot to cry too. Jarot reached out with his stub, and for a moment, he felt the ghostly sensation of his hand again. He sighed, calling for one of his nieces to assist him.

Adam plucked a Thread of Fate, annoyed that he rolled extremely poorly.

“He will not give the children up?” Iromin asked, sitting at his gazebo, with tea and snacks at the ready.

Elder Zijin bowed his head. “He will not.”

Iromin remained silent for a long while. He was tasked with testing Adam, to see if he was truly worthy of the Iyr’s faith. The easiest way to test him was to use his children against him. However, that came with quite a downside for the Great Elder, who couldn’t help but think that taking Adam’s children from him would have led to something utterly disastrous.

The Chief sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I will deal with this matter.” He gave a nod to Zijin, allowing the Elder to leave.

Zijin stepped away quickly, not wanting to refuse the Chief’s fortune. He, too, understood what the Chief had figured out. Regardless of how much Adam respected, and feared, the Iyr, it was unmatched by how much he doted on his children.

‘His children should not have been within the Iyr’s sights,’ Iromin eventually thought. There was something in his heart which told him that if they would have done something to Adam’s children, it would have set forward a chain of events which would have led to them losing such a great asset.

‘We will need to settle with other children.’ Iromin reached for his snacks, biting into them, chewing lightly.

And thus Fate was forever changed.

Omen: 5, 20

‘Hooo!’ Adam thought, smiling to himself. ‘Nice.’

“Papa,” Lanarot called, holding up her brush towards the Half Elf.

“You want me to brush?”

“Mmm,” the girl replied, climbing up onto his lap, holding up the brush still.

Adam smiled, taking the brush from her. He brushed her hair, listening to her morning babbling, speaking her mind to him, all the while Adam replied to her nonsense.

Adam decided against training due to the snow, but did not skip shaving. He lathered his jaw and went to work with the razor the Iyr had provided him with. He could feel how close it went to his skin, taking his time to make sure he didn’t cut himself.

Once he was clean shaven, Adam spent time with Jirot and Jarot while they were still awake. He cuddled each of them and spoke to them, tickling their cheeks. “Daddy didn’t give you permission to be this cute, did he?” Adam asked, planting a soft kiss on their foreheads.

“They are growing well,” Jarot said, sipping the hot soup that morning. “They will be able to eat solid food soon.”

“Really?” Adam asked. He felt it was too soon for them, for they were barely older than a couple of months.

Jarot nodded, sipping more of his soup, before reaching up to rub baby Jarot’s forehead. “You are eating well.”

“Of course he’s eating well, he’s such a good boy,” Adam said. “You too, my lovely Jirot.” Adam tickled the girl’s nose, causing her to gurgle with delight.

Konarot eventually climbed onto Adam’s lap, holding her bottle of milk with both hands as she drunk from it. She lay back against her father’s chest, cuddling up against him. Kirot and Karot both remained with their nana, who had coaxed them with fish which had been torn apart and mixed with vegetables. The girl looked up towards her father, as if to check he was still there, before looking up ahead towards the sky, drinking from her bottle slowly.

Adam brushed her hair with one hand, his other hand wrapped around her stomach. ‘Right. I’m a dad.’ There were times when Adam would suddenly realised he was a father, the shock sinking through him. Konarot looked back up at him, feeling how he had tensed up for a moment, but she returned back to her drinking when he smiled at her.

Adam plucked a Thread of Fate, and thus Fate was forever changed.

When he returned to the estate, he raised his brow, wondering what the Prince of Flames was doing here. He was settled beside Jarot, looking over the twins.

“Lord Morkarai,” Adam said, before taking a moment to realise the title. “Shouldn’t it be Prince Morkarai?”

“There are no Princes in the Iyr,” Morkarai said. “Even I am only a Lord within the Iyr.”

“Oh?” Adam replied, wondering what that meant, but he decided against prodding more. “How are you?”

“I am well.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“You as well,” Morkarai said, motioning a hand to a seat opposite them.

Adam sat down, picking up Jirot into his arms, who cooed quietly. He brushed her forehead gently with his thumb, holding the back of her head carefully.

Morkarai exchanged a look with Jarot for a moment, before he smiled. “I have enjoyed my time within the Iyr, but I have begun to miss home.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, nodding his head. What he wouldn’t do to have a proper shower and to watch some telly. “It do be that way.”

Morkarai tilted his head slightly. “I miss the heat of the volcanoes, the smell of the food, and the…” Morkarai paused. “No, the women here are properly rugged too.”

Adam stifled a chuckle, though he let slip a smile. “Well, there are some crazy beautiful Iyrmen here. You should see the Kan family. It’s utterly unfair, I say.”

Jarot nodded his head to punctuate the thought.

Morkarai bowed his head, giving the point to Adam. “I’ve a thought in my mind, if you would take no offence.”

Adam cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “Don’t stand on ceremony, Lord Morkarai. I wouldn’t dare to take offence at what you say. Well, that’s a lie, but you know what I mean.”

Morakrai chuckled lightly. “I have thought to offer you a position as a Hill Lord, Adam.”

“A what?”