‘How many years has it been?’ King Merryweather thought. ‘Five? Six? Just what has happened in that time?’

  Standing before King Merryweather was not just any Iyrman, but an Iyrman he had faced once before. The memories of fag the Iyrman had returo the King in an instant, though it had taken a half moment due to how different he looked. When he was still barely a boy, he had impressed the King with his great tenacity, and greater than his tenacity, his great strength.

  “Allow me to stop this, Jurot, son of Surot, and I will ensure no harm es to your brother.”

  Jurot remaianding tall in front of the wall known as King Merryweather. King Merryweather, who was a legend among legends, surpassing even his own grandfather’s fame. The old man had made a name for himself long before Jarot, and had tio make a name for himself. Harold Merryweather, once referred to as Sir Merry, was the one.

  He was the one.

  Who else could stand up for his age old foe of Aswadasad?

  Who else could draw their bde against their liege?

  Who else could split Aldnd, the Aldnd, in two, and cim the title of King?

  It could only be King Harold Merryweather, the greatest King’s Sword to date.

  Except, Jurot was the ooo. There was no one else who could cim the title grao Jurot, a title even the King had aowledged.

  “I am… Uncle Jurot.”

  King Merryweather could feel the weight of those words press upon him. Standing before the King was no lohe baby faced Jurot, who had only been an Expert. The King wasn’t sure how powerful Jurot was, but if he had to take a guess, he would pce his strength around the level of a Grandmaster. Even he o be wary of Grandmasters, though he had reached the level of a Paragon long before the young man before him had been born.

  Last time they had met, Merryweather held particur thoughts. Thoughts of deying the fight, not wishing to bully his junior. This time, however, he had no liberty to hold such thoughts. The Jurot before him today held a simir gaze as back then, he who had wao face the King’s Sword. It would have been a dream to defeat Sir Merry, which had almost bee a reality because his axe was just that vicious. This time, Jurot had anoal, not for the story of wanting to face the King, but for the sake of living.

  ‘What a scary young man.’ It was a thought he had back then, but it was especially true today.

  “I hope you five me, Jurot.” The King’s bde shook violently with thunder, and he swung the bde downwards.

  Royce watched from the sideline, glued to the rematch between Jurot and his friend. ‘Are you really going to hold back this time? Didn’t I warn you?‘

  ‘Five rounds.’

  Jurot had that thought too, even as the bde, full of thunderous might struck his shield, while the rage began to fill him. The bde had not glowed blue and purple, meaning he had a ce. Jurot was strong, and his greatest ability was to take on almost all of the elements in his rage. This time, the King probably hadn’t expected to face against Iyrmen, so perhaps he didn’t have that particur spell prepared? Even if Jurot had takehuo his body without his rage, he still had a ce.

  Five rounds.

  Everyos lucky on twenty rounds.

  Jurot was an Expert, so he could strike twice as much as the average warrior, so that would bring it down to on ten rounds.

  Jurot was a Rage Dancer, and could throw all caution to the wind, so he could get lucky in five rounds.

  ‘Five rounds, Jurot. With average luck, I probably survive for five rounds against them both. I just o kill them in five rounds, and it’ll be okay. Five rounds, that’s my limit.’

  As thunder exploded against his shield, and out of it towards the King’s Sword, for Jurot wasn’t holding back even the slightest, the knowledge that he only needed five rounds spurred him forward. He could already feel the weight of King Merryweather’s bde against him, but he could still fight. His limit was also only five rounds against such a being.

  Jurot could feel the magic of his shield, but it was the intense magic of his axe that spurred him forward.

  PhantomRequires AttuYou gain a +2 bonus to attad damage rolls made with this on.Deals 1D6 sshing and 1D6 psychic damage. store up to 3 charges. 1D3 charges are regai dawn, or by expending Mana whilst holding the axe, at a rate of one Mana per charge. Charges only be spent when holding the on, but require no a.Spend 1 charge or more tain 3D6 health for each charge spent.On a hit, spend 1 charge or more to deal 3D6 psychic damage for each charge spent.

  In five rounds, if he struck at least half the time, he could at least cause the King to think twice about fag his brother.

  However.

  In five rounds, if he could just mao get lucky once, just once, he could cause the King to retreat.

  He just o get lucky once.

  2D6

  That’s how much Phantom usually dealt, equivalent to a greatsword.

  5D6

  That’s how much Jurot usually dealt with each blow of Phantom against most other beings.

  11D6

  That’s how much Phantom could deal if Jurot expended all his charges at once.

  Today, however, Jurot was only going to expend his charges all at once, but only under a certain dition.

  Misfortune had cimed the Iyrman this year. Not just once, but twice.

  Fate was a cruel mistress, for as the Iyrman had experienced misfortu just once, but twice, on this day, uhe gentle rain of duskval, the Iyrman experienced fortu just once, but twice.

  22D6

  That’s how much damage the Iyrman could deal upon expending all his charges upon a Critical Hit.

  King Merryweather’s mind exploded with pain, the King stumbling backwards, having aken a blow this heavy in this entire life. For a moment, his mi bnk, having fotten where he was, what he was doing, or even who he was.

  26D6 + 20

  In a single round, in two blows, Jurot dealt as much damage as Tonagek had dealt with seven blows against the Viahe differeween the Viander and King Merryweather retty evident, however, as though the Viander remained hag up blood on the ground, uhe depressed gaze of the Iyrman, the King stood tall, his gaze filled with the mercy of the strong. The kind of mercy which meant Jurot could no let so lucky.

  Except Jurot’s gaze had shifted too. It had shifted from surviving for five rounds against the King, to the mercy of his grandfather.

  Lord Marshal Royce let out a sigh, uanding what the King was going through, except the King was lucky today, because as much as Jurot was a terrifying monster, his strength could be uood.

  “You! You’re pretty strong?” called a voice.

  Royce’s eyes fell to the drakken. The wild grin on his face was simir to the audacity of the Iyrmen, though his was far more untamed, more like the crippled Iyrman who caused as much trouble to the Iyr as he did to Aldnd.

  “Are you going to draw your maul?” Bael asked, crag his neck from side to side.

  Royce held Bael’s gaze, uanding he didn’t have the liberty of looking away at this time. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “Lord Marshal Rose?”

  “Lord Marshal Royce,” he corrected.

  ‘Isn’t that what I said?’ Bael thought. ‘Rose? Roise? Royce?’

  “I may be the Lord Marshal in the South, but I’ve still got a Northerner’s pride. No Northerner worth his salt is going to draw his bde today.”

  “I heard you Northerners were strong, though?” Bael asked, grinning wider. “Why are talking like a weakling?”

  “A father has every right to avenge his children!” Lord Royce excimed, managing to catch a time between the rumbling of thunder.

  Bael could feel the mood shift, and while there were those who tio fight, he noted how many of the Aldishmen had shifted their position. It was only about a quarter of the Aldishmen around, those who came from three Orders in particur.

  ‘It feels weird pig a fight with him now…’ The Northern Orders shared the same thoughts.

  “Why do you draw your bde today, Aswadian?” an Oathsworn from the Cherry Bdes asked, holding up his bde, though his voice remained soft ale.

  “If I did not draw my bde today, I will be uo call myself a friend, or a father,” Dunes replied, raising his own bde.

  “I will not apologise for blog your path.”

  “I will not apologise either,” Dunes said, inhaling deeply, feeling the great magic within his sword. Unfortunately for Dunes, he o keep his mind focused on someone else. ‘Five rounds.’

  Thunder’s TriumphRequires AttuYou gain a +2 bonus to attad damage rolls made with this on.Deals 2D6 sshing damage.Three time per day, on a hit, choose to Critical Hit instead.On a Critical Hit, deal 2D6 lightning or thunder damage.

  “Do you speak?” Viander Joshua of the Cherry Bdes asked the figure before him. The figure was rge, taller than himself, and slightly wider. He wielded a gve in hand, but he uood the weight of that gve was unlike any gve he himself had wielded. The tower wearing armour of the night sky remained silent, causing the Viao sigh, and the pair engaged in a terrifying battle.

  Timoji those who held the title of Warriors, his gre causing them to shirk, memories flooding into their minds of having already lost to the Iyrmen. No, what had happeo them could not be called something as gentle as simply losing.

  ‘How annoying. I must step back since I have tusks?’

  “Will you draw your bde?” Amokan asked, gring at the Viander of the Thousand Hunts.

  Viander Harrison narrowed his eyes, feeling his fiwitch to his bde. “I ot step back today.”

  “Good,” Amokan said, gripping his Basihanced bde tight in hand. “This time, I will take an arm for Jaygak!”

  ‘I want to fight too,’ Bael thought, standiween Timojin and Mosen, his arms crossed, feeling the annoyance rising from one side, while Mosen stood within the chaos pletely rexed.

  Timoji his eyes upon Amokan and Jurot, while Mosen watched over Tonagek, having promised t back his tale, and Royce kept his eyes upon the fight between the King and the Iyrman. Bael’s eyes darted to one side, where he could smell the sword, before they finally fell to the fight.

  The one fight which mattered more than any other, and hopefully, with average luck, would only st five rounds.

  Mana: 25 -> 24Spell: ShieldDefence: 25 -> 30

  Health: 122 -> 68Strength SaveD20 + 8 = 23 (15)

  Let's go!