Chapter 2 - Chapter One
Submitted July 20, 2005 Updated April 25, 2007 Status Incomplete | The epic story of Hero and his quest to define true power.
Category:
Fantasy » Misc. Fantasy |
Chapter 2 - Chapter One
Chapter 2 - Chapter One
Chapter One
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Enter Ross: an Arrogant Child with High Potential
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(A boy stands alone in the hall. The boy is short and young, probably no older than twelve. His hair is spiky and blue. He wears a brown headband across his forehead and is dressed in light cloth, most likely to increase his mobility. Underneath the cloth, however, is heavy chain mail. It is most likely worn for training purposes. The hall itself is elegant. There are various pots and portraits decorating the hall. A tall man enters the hall and approaches the youth. He is dressed fully in plating. Only his face is visible. The plating is rusty and covered in dents and dirt. It is silver colored with gold lining the rims of each plate. He has short, blue hair. It is messy and appears as though it hasn't been combed in ages. He also has lots of facial hair. This man is the Mage General, Lord Pent. He just arrived back from the war. He begins to walk toward the youth. They begin to stare at each other. There is a long pause, as though they each know what the other is thinking.)
???:
I'm not weak like you. I am striving to perfect my skill. Isn't that good enough for you? I don't need any cheap parlor tricks to defeat anyone in combat!
Pent:
Now boy, you are my legacy. If you even hope to one-day hold the title of Mage General, you need to at least KNOW some combat magic!
???:
What if I don't want to be Mage General? I don't have to be like you. What if I want to be a mercenary? Hell, Guy can always succeed you. Why does it have to be me?
Pent:
You know very well that Guy is still far too young to take arms. It has to be you. It isn't like you are not fully capable of doing the job. I have never seen anyone at your age handle a blade with such skill. If you could only learn a few...
???:
Spells? No, I refuse to learn any form of magic.
Pent:
Ross, tell me boy. Why do you hold such a grudge against the arcane arts?
Ross:
Magic does not show the true strength of a person. Besides, knowing magic will only dull my blade.
Pent:
You truly do enjoy handling a sword, don't you Ross?
Ross:
Yes, I do. And I do not wish to be known as a Mage General. I want to be a Swordmaster. True heroes use swords. Any fool can chant a spell.
Pent:
Even if that were true, all soldiers of Renais are required to know how to use numerous different types of weapons, including magic. That is why I got you a tutor who will train you how to use basic magic. Who knows, maybe you will grow to like it.
(Ross looks down to the ground, as though pained by the idea.)
Ross:
I don't even want to be a soldier. However, if I hope to be stronger, then maybe I do need a taste of real combat.
Pent:
That's the spirit! Go to sleep and rest well. Your training begins tomorrow.
Ross:
Alright, take it easy pops.
Pent:
Good night, boy.
(Ross enters his bedroom and falls asleep. Once asleep, a mysterious figure greets Pent. He is dressed in leather hides, most likely a royal scout. He has black hair and appears rather young, perhaps eighteen.)
Messenger:
How are you, my lord?
Pent:
I am fine. I assume you are here for the usual message. I feel it in the air. You have no need to tell me, I am a warrior at heart. I smelt the putrid stench of blood long before you even arrived. It has been a long war, hasn't it?
Messenger:
Yes it has, my lord. How is your son doing? You are getting old, I don't believe you will be able to fight much longer.
Pent:
I know. I am weary of the battlefield. I am aware that I am Mage General and not God. I hope to one day lay my sword down and hand it to my son so he can secure our families future. However, he is arrogant and wishes to waste his life as a two-bit mercenary. Maybe with time he will understand the blight of our country and decide to do the right thing and take my place in the battlefield.
Messenger:
We do hope so, my lord. The king wishes you to arrive at the capital in one week. It is urgent.
Pent:
I am aware how dire the situation is.
Messenger:
Then I have no more to tell you.
Pent:
Thank you.
Messenger:
My pleasure.
(The messenger leaves the castle. Pent goes to bed along with his wife, who is already asleep. A storm begins to form outside. Ross awakens to the sound of thunder. His room is not the best place in the castle. It is dull, with only a lone, weathered bed and an old dresser to hold his clothes. There is also a sword rack, with numerous blades holding each spot on the rack. The only appeal the room has is a lone window with a clear view of the eastern sky.)
Ross:
It sure is violent out there. It is a bad omen. Tomorrow doesn't seem too good...
(He looks down on the ground and realizes that his sword fell. He picks it up and falls back to sleep.)
--------------------
Enter Ross: an Arrogant Child with High Potential
--------------------
(A boy stands alone in the hall. The boy is short and young, probably no older than twelve. His hair is spiky and blue. He wears a brown headband across his forehead and is dressed in light cloth, most likely to increase his mobility. Underneath the cloth, however, is heavy chain mail. It is most likely worn for training purposes. The hall itself is elegant. There are various pots and portraits decorating the hall. A tall man enters the hall and approaches the youth. He is dressed fully in plating. Only his face is visible. The plating is rusty and covered in dents and dirt. It is silver colored with gold lining the rims of each plate. He has short, blue hair. It is messy and appears as though it hasn't been combed in ages. He also has lots of facial hair. This man is the Mage General, Lord Pent. He just arrived back from the war. He begins to walk toward the youth. They begin to stare at each other. There is a long pause, as though they each know what the other is thinking.)
???:
I'm not weak like you. I am striving to perfect my skill. Isn't that good enough for you? I don't need any cheap parlor tricks to defeat anyone in combat!
Pent:
Now boy, you are my legacy. If you even hope to one-day hold the title of Mage General, you need to at least KNOW some combat magic!
???:
What if I don't want to be Mage General? I don't have to be like you. What if I want to be a mercenary? Hell, Guy can always succeed you. Why does it have to be me?
Pent:
You know very well that Guy is still far too young to take arms. It has to be you. It isn't like you are not fully capable of doing the job. I have never seen anyone at your age handle a blade with such skill. If you could only learn a few...
???:
Spells? No, I refuse to learn any form of magic.
Pent:
Ross, tell me boy. Why do you hold such a grudge against the arcane arts?
Ross:
Magic does not show the true strength of a person. Besides, knowing magic will only dull my blade.
Pent:
You truly do enjoy handling a sword, don't you Ross?
Ross:
Yes, I do. And I do not wish to be known as a Mage General. I want to be a Swordmaster. True heroes use swords. Any fool can chant a spell.
Pent:
Even if that were true, all soldiers of Renais are required to know how to use numerous different types of weapons, including magic. That is why I got you a tutor who will train you how to use basic magic. Who knows, maybe you will grow to like it.
(Ross looks down to the ground, as though pained by the idea.)
Ross:
I don't even want to be a soldier. However, if I hope to be stronger, then maybe I do need a taste of real combat.
Pent:
That's the spirit! Go to sleep and rest well. Your training begins tomorrow.
Ross:
Alright, take it easy pops.
Pent:
Good night, boy.
(Ross enters his bedroom and falls asleep. Once asleep, a mysterious figure greets Pent. He is dressed in leather hides, most likely a royal scout. He has black hair and appears rather young, perhaps eighteen.)
Messenger:
How are you, my lord?
Pent:
I am fine. I assume you are here for the usual message. I feel it in the air. You have no need to tell me, I am a warrior at heart. I smelt the putrid stench of blood long before you even arrived. It has been a long war, hasn't it?
Messenger:
Yes it has, my lord. How is your son doing? You are getting old, I don't believe you will be able to fight much longer.
Pent:
I know. I am weary of the battlefield. I am aware that I am Mage General and not God. I hope to one day lay my sword down and hand it to my son so he can secure our families future. However, he is arrogant and wishes to waste his life as a two-bit mercenary. Maybe with time he will understand the blight of our country and decide to do the right thing and take my place in the battlefield.
Messenger:
We do hope so, my lord. The king wishes you to arrive at the capital in one week. It is urgent.
Pent:
I am aware how dire the situation is.
Messenger:
Then I have no more to tell you.
Pent:
Thank you.
Messenger:
My pleasure.
(The messenger leaves the castle. Pent goes to bed along with his wife, who is already asleep. A storm begins to form outside. Ross awakens to the sound of thunder. His room is not the best place in the castle. It is dull, with only a lone, weathered bed and an old dresser to hold his clothes. There is also a sword rack, with numerous blades holding each spot on the rack. The only appeal the room has is a lone window with a clear view of the eastern sky.)
Ross:
It sure is violent out there. It is a bad omen. Tomorrow doesn't seem too good...
(He looks down on the ground and realizes that his sword fell. He picks it up and falls back to sleep.)
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