Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Say aah,” Adam said, spooning the cake into Amal’s mouth, the girl accepting the cake eagerly, her eyes wide in shock from how delicious it was. She stared at the spoon for a moment, willing more to appear, until the half elf scooped more from the nearby tray. “Oh? You like it, do you?”

Amal replied by continuing to devour the cake eagerly from his spoon, chewing the cake so delightfully, allowing the half elf to feed her as much as he could until the cake ran out, that was to say, Adam sneakily pushed the rest away so that he didn’t accidentally poison her with all the delicious cake.

“Don’t you forget who fed you this cake, alright? If you become my daughter I’ll give you so many magical items and all the cake you can eat, healthily, that is to say, a little bit of cake, not too much, alright?” Adam whispered against her ear, holding up the cup of milk, which the girl grabbed with her chubby hands and slurped noisily from. ‘Oh! Amal! You’re too cute!’

Amal lay against the half elf, satisfied from all the food. Adam could feel the girl against him, almost as heavy as his toddlers, the girl’s hands upon her tummy. She melted against the half elf in the stupor of dessert, gently groaning in satisfaction every few moments.

“You’re telling me,” Adam said, lifting the girl up slightly, so she was on his chest, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head.

Jurot’s eyes fell to the pair, for though he could cause the girl to sleep so easily, Adam held greater ability to adore the child. ‘If Adam adopts Amal, she will know little trouble…’

Jurot’s thoughts then fell to Kitool, who had slipped away to pay the gem so the guards could begin watching over the business. ‘How should we introduce him to the world?’

“You know, Dunes,” Adam began, placing the dummy into Amal’s mouth, allowing her to suckle against it and to nap. “Once the three years are up…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think we should get a squire for Kal Lani? A young lady who could assist, perhaps two, and then a couple of young men as well. We could train them all into Experts over the course of about three years, and then when they return, the barbershop and the neighbour could have four Experts in their employ?”

“It is a good idea, but we have too many with us and our carriages,” Dunes said, recalling how cramped the carriages were already becoming, and they were travelling quite slowly even with the carriages. If they had an additional carriage they could have moved swiftly through the land, perhaps even two carriages, but with a single warhorse pulling the carriages, they moved at a pretty slow pace.

“Yeah, that’s a good point…” Adam let out a soft sigh. “Isn’t there a place we can buy some magical carriages or steeds or anything?”

“In the far east.”

“Aw, man,” Adam grumbled, frowning. “Then how about just one or two? I mean, we’re going to have Korin join us soon, Kal Korin, soon, and he’ll be able to summon a steed, we can grab another carriage on the way.”

“If you wish for it, I will not refuse.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

Dunes remained silent for a long moment before a small smile encroached on his lips. “If you wish for it, I will not refuse.”

“Alright, fine, fine, I’ll just ask for the one and then the next time we swing by we’ll take a few more?” Adam offered, raising his brows innocently to Dunes.

“Very well.”

“Four Experts should be enough once the years pass, then we won’t have to worry about the others, although…” Adam thought about how much power they would possess, and how likely they may use that power against their own people. ‘Oh man…’

“Why are you so eager to train so many into such a position?” Dunes asked, noting the pattern. He had done the same for so many figures, from the likes of Nobby, for obvious reasons, but also Rick and his cohort.

“I mean, it’s the only way, right?” Adam replied.

“The only way for what?”

“To protect oneself from tyranny.” Adam spoke the words so casually it struck Dunes, who narrowed his eyes in thought, tilting his head.

“Is it?”

“It is.”

Dunes considered Adam’s words for a long moment, reaching up to his moustache, which had been trimmed and lined that day, feeling it prickle his finger tip. “There is one lesson I was taught as a boy, and I continued to learn it as the years passed, while within the Order, outside as well. When you wield a blade, you feel something. When you swing a blade easily through the air, there is that sensation that runs through one’s heart. The feeling one may describe as unstoppable. You feel so strong. You feel you can do as you please. You feel as though you can kill a man with a blade so easily. You feel as though you cannot be killed so easily. That feeling that takes your heart, it may lead you to take fights you cannot win.”

“Yeah, you have to use the power responsibly, with great power comes great responsibility,” the half elf replied, doing his best not to crack a smile from his reference.

“As you say,” Dunes said, his thoughts falling upon his words, recalling times when even he felt so drunk on power as a youth.

Adam considered Dunes’ position, for he was a member of Black Mountain, with some oppression from the land, so he was slightly surprised by Dunes’ reaction to his words, but then again, he was raised by militaristic pseudo nobles, so commoners gaining greater power wasn’t entirely desirable. ‘I guess there is a way that we do it a bad way, where we train them and don’t work on their heart. Baktu take me if I bring more nobles into this world.’

Brittany had finished with her evening training, Laygak having joined her, all the while Sokikez hung around nearby, keeping an eye on Maharan. The young woman thought about asking Sokikez for pointers, but after recalling how the woman was probably a Paragon, she decided against it. ‘She must have better things to do than to train some village girl…’

Mork yawned, sipping away at his cold milk, having felt the yearning to train, but once he saw the others shoot their bows, he decided against ruining their concentration.

“No kafa?” Tork asked, dropping down opposite his twin brother, having brought three cups, one full of hot kafa, another of the pink tea, and the last of cold milk.

“It keeps me up.”

“At least the milk cools yer bones,” Tork joked.

Mork smiled, shrugging his shoulders, sipping the cold milk slowly. He leaned back and stretched it out, feeling the cracks within his body.

Tork stretched his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders, trying to warm up his body, for a different kind of chill had taken his bones.

“Are they…”

“Mhmm,” Tork replied, smiling knowingly.

Mork glanced aside, noting the looks from the various figures around them, almost all of them upon his grey skinned brother. Whether it was Aldland or Aswadasad, white or black, grey was seen the same. “We will leave soon.”

“Ahr boss works us hard,” Tork agreed.

“We need to show the Southerners,” Mork joked, a slow smile encroaching across his lips.

Tork chuckled, finishing his kafa, before sipping the pink tea lightly, cooling his tongue with the cold milk. “I was…”

“Yes?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” Tork said, shaking his head lightly.

“Is there something you cannot say to your brother?” Mork teased.

“I was…” Tork began, rubbing his chin lightly, noting the others glancing his way still, each leaning in to whisper one thing or another between one another. “I was just thinking, the South isn’t that bad…”

“What happened to you, T?” Mork joked, reaching over to push the cold milk closer to his brother.

“Ah’ve grown soft!”

“I won’t disagree with you.”

Tork reached over, ready to punch his brother, who pulled back away from him with a gentle chuckle. “Watch what ya say.”

Mork continued to chuckle, before motioning his head to his brother’s side. “How is the blade treating you?”

“Aye, well, no reason to use it yet, but tis good,” Tork admitted, reaching down to feel the gentle tingle of magic running through his arm.

“Not yet,” Mork said.

“Aye, not yet,” Tork agreed, unsure if he was glad for it, or if he preferred it another way.

“Should I pray you are able to use it?”

“Ahm am able ta use it, but… perhaps this year ah should take it a little easy?”

Mork shook his head, but smile wider. “Let us pray together then, for knowing our Executive…”

Tork snorted, shrugging his shoulders. “Aye. If trouble comes, trouble comes.”

PATREON LINK

If trouble comes, trouble comes.