Chapter 79: Interlude XIII – Boren, Legends and Escapes

The Prince of Darf was walking through the hallways of the palace once more feeling restless. His training session had paid dividends and then some. For some reason though, Fenwin the old codger had stopped him from pushing further. Why did he stop me? I could have got to 63%! He had been in the earth chamber for a week straight. Hunger and thirst had been forgotten and that room felt like home. It was so incredible and made him feel like he could do anything. Why had he been stopped? Fenwin wouldn’t let me do anything fun! Boren pouted at the thought.

Okay, so he had come out the room tired and hunger and thirsty, perhaps he had lost a few kilos in the process, the time in the room did not remove the need for sustenance. But still he could have gotten to that after improving his affinity…right?

 

After some of the irritation and anger had subsided…and he had eaten something and drank something…he had been on the verge of starvation. He had realised the error of his decision. There would be time enough to increase his affinity. But until then it would be difficult for him to control the urge to re-enter the room and resume his affinity training.

 

In all honesty he had entered the room on a whim when he had remembered the feeling of being in the room one boring afternoon when his political tutors had droned on and on about the customs of the neighbouring countries on their continent. He would need to learn them eventually, Boren knew that but he couldn’t help but find it so boring! The tutors made it sound like the most mundane thing in the world. Boren normally would have enjoyed learning about other customs but not from the confines of a stuffy classroom. He wanted to meet people and talk to them and walk in their shoes for a while, that was the real way to understand someone! Father had taught him as much, so why he insisted on this style of teaching Boren would never understand.

 

That feeling had stayed with him since entering the room. He had that feeling of being home and comfortable, the only one of the four rooms that had felt that way. It was like being in his mother’s embrace; his mother was a warm and kind woman to her children, ruthless with others. Boren had seen the ruthless side of her when he had snuck out of the palace once and the guards had no seen his leave. Boren didn’t want to think of the poor guards that had been on duty when it happened. He hoped it would never happen again. She worried about him. Briefly Boren thought of his eldest sibling, Darthmoor, he had been out of the palace for some time now, making allegiances with the neighbouring countries and keeping their trade deals strong. His other siblings were similarly doing so in all four lands. Only Boren was left at home, poor sick Boren; can’t do anything or he might get hurt. It was a bitter thought.

 

Continuing along the corridor Boren realised that he had not been paying attention to where he was going. He found himself at the sparring grounds. A source of great anxiety for him from when he had tried to master the sword. Not just the sword though, in a vain attempt to get him aquainted with at least some form of melee weapon he had tried everything under the sun, the hammer, spear, staff and great sword he should not even have bothered with in hindsight. Why do they categorise the spear and staff separately, they are pole-arms, one with a pointy end and one not… The club, sword and axe had been slightly less embarrassing but not my much. Final the daggers and unarmed had been the place where he had found something that in a last ditch situation might actually be of some use to him. It was going to hard for regardless. What kind of prince couldn’t even wield a weapon? Daggers were the weapons of thieves and would find their home more in Pravwell that Brewyn. Fist fighting? Hardly worth mentioning, maybe if he was a dock brawler. Otherwise there was not much use for those Skills.

 

It was better than nothing though and Boren had taken to trying daggers and fist fighting training as a way to strengthen his weakened body. But it was one step forward, two steps back. Every time he tried to strengthen his body he would get sick.

 

He knew what the problem with him was, the adults wouldn’t give him a clear answer but he knew. It was something to do with his negative luck stat, no one had ever seen it and no one could give him any answers as to why his luck was that way when everyone else either had a positive value or didn’t have the stat at all. It was frustrating beyond reason knowing the problem was and not having any answers given to him. He had resigned himself to the fact that no one had any answers for him.

 

He would need to look for them himself.

 

Frustration had been welling up in Boren, he couldn’t grow as a mage, he couldn’t fight in melee and he wasn’t any good with a ranged weapon. What could he do? A prince had to be both warrior and scholar, didn’t he? Can’t fight, can’t negotiate, rubbish luck was bad news all round, was there any part of life where luck didn’t play a role? Boren considered, he was a prince; perhaps that could be considered all the luck he was to be allotted in life. This was it and he had used it all up in getting this noble birth. That was the end of it. 

 

Sneaking out of the palace he had seen some of the common folk, while they had comfortable lives it was not the same as his own. He had had the finest tutors, the most renowned weapons masters and experts in each field to teach him. He should consider himself lucky…but he couldn’t. Right there in the bottom of his core stats, staring at him like a cancer was his negative luck. It was greater than ever and he couldn’t to a thing about it.

 

It was all so confusing, all too much. Boren stalked out onto the practice field, melee weapons training was taking place in one section and ranged in another, archers losing arrow after arrow at a row of targets. Big burly men facing off with each other with all manner of weapons, Boren stalked through them all, the cacophony of metal gradually dimmed and then stopped as one and all looked to the young prince who rarely came to this part of the palace. It was well known what had happened here.

 

“What are you all doing standing around! You think this is break time you sorry lot! Get back to it or I will take this wastage of time out of your hides!” Weapons Master Lori Kvar raised her voice and screamed at the standing men and women around her. She had quite a low voice for a woman, came in handy when she was screaming at them all. “I said GET BACK TO TRAINING, DAMN YOU!” That got them moving. With a start all of the noises of metal and swish of arrow resumed as if it have never stopped. Lori watched on to make sure they all did as told before turning to the fast approaching prince.

 

The young prince; lost in this own thoughts had not even noticed the reaction of the people around him. He just continued to move forward with only a vague idea of destination. I just want to hit something, he thought. The thought came unbidden and surprised him. He had never been one to hit things to get out his frustration but it was a measure of the day that this was the only thing he could think of that would be of any satisfaction. “Weapon’s Master Lori, I need to hit something!” he spoke clearly without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation. This is why his legs had carried him here and now that he was here the words spilled from him like a broken dam.

 

Weapon Master looked at him and gave him a curt nod. Handing him a small axe she pointed him to a circle of straw dummies that were mounted on wooden stakes, designed to take a beating. There was nothing special about the axe, nothing that would separate it from any other axe that was used in the woods. To Boren it felt like it bore on him the Weight of all his weaknesses, all of his doubts and worries and misery, they were all in the metallic blade of that axe. It was a little too heavy to carry comfortably to he swung it up onto his shoulder. A few trainees turned to watch the small lithe boy with the axe almost the size of his body. Their partners quickly took advantage of the distraction to land a few hits before they came to their senses and retaliated.

 

The prince continued to plod along axe over his shoulder, eyes filled with determination and focus. Today he would defeat his weaknesses; they would no longer hold power over him. He would rule them and grind them into the dust in his wake.

 

Approaching the first of the dummies in the circle, a man made of straw and sack cloth. Eyes a nose and mouth crudely drawn on the semblance of a head that was straw stuffed into a smaller sack and fitted to the top. He had twenty companions that looked equally bedraggled.

 

Placing one hand at the knob of the handle and the other at the shoulder, he raised the weapon above his head. Silent in his movement he brought it down with both his power and that of gravity to embed it deep in the wood of the post that held the dummy up. He had cleaved straight through the straw head and into the wood beneath. He stared up at the dummy for a moment before working the axe head free and resetting it on other shoulder. Again, raise, swing and thunk, into the wood, splintering it slightly.

 

Again he reset on his first shoulder. Raise, swing and splinter. Rinse and repeat, again and again. Boren thought of all the times he had come here and failed, all the times he had worked with one weapon or another and his father had looked at him with pity in his eyes. His mother… thunk…brothers…thunk…sisters…thunk. No one made jokes…thunk…no one mocked him…thunk. They all pitied him…thunk…poor…thunk…weak…thunk…snivelling…THUNK…Boren…THUNK. A large crack sounded and the stake was ripped from the ground and torn apart by unseen hands.

 

Boren was broken out of his dazed state by the sound and saw that the top half of the stake was splintered already by his axe; the rest was reduced to kindling as he unconsciously brought his powerful earth magic to bear. This was his power, this is what he knew and this is was he could do if his put his mind to it. Wood was off trees and trees were of the earth. He could connect the dots with that. He stared at the splinters around him, the axe in his hand poised to strike again. He dropped it to the ground with another dull thud. He was matted with sweat, it had squeezed out of every single one of his pore and his shirt and trousers which had been a light brown to begin with were now the colour of mud. His hair stuck to his head from the exertion and hand tight and raw from the rubbing of the wood and the jarring of the blows. He hadn’t even felt it until now. His eyes rolled up in to the back of his head and he collapsed to his knees before falling face first into the mud littered with piece of wood.

 

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“Get him to his room, it looks like it is just exhaustion but we need to be sure!”

 

“Understood Master…immediately.”

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“And get Marasa to have a look at him to make sure he is alright!”

 

“Yes….understood….”

 

The voices were in and out of focus, Boren groaned and tried to sit upright, why was everything on fire? His arms, legs everything was burning like he had been cooked over a white hot flame for a few hours. He couldn’t open his eyes. Why can’t I open my eyes!? What is happening to me? Strong hands lifted him and started moving him somewhere. His consciousness faded.

 

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Boren awoke with a start in familiar surroundings, his room and his bed. He groaned at the pain in his arms and legs as he tried to sit up.

 

“Boren! Don’t you dare move! You hear me?” Marasa’s no nonsense voice did not hiding her worry very well.

“What happened? Boren croaked out before Marasa brought a cup of water to his lips and gentle lifted his head. Her voice was not so gentle though.

 

“You over did it! That’s what happened! You know that you need to build up to that kind of activity! You can’t just go from zero to hero in a single session, especially when you have been ill recently!”

 

Marasa’s red face was comical in comparison to her gentle touch. Worrying about him and chastising him at the same time was not an easy task to achieve. She was doing admirably.

 

“I’ve always been ill recently. When has there been a time when I haven’t been ill recently?” Boren whispered after a few sips of water moistened his throat. “I was so angry, frustrated…” His eyes downcast and cheeks reddened dejected. He would not accept that this was his lot in life. If he needed to keep pushing himself he would do it. He would not live his live as this weak pathetic boy. His brothers and sisters had started training from age six. He was already nine.

 

Marasa’s gaze softened as she continued to get Boren to drink, sip by sip. She could not help but let her brow furrow though as she whispered back to him. “Boren, no one is telling you not to try, you can try as hard as you want but this pushing beyond your current limit is only going to slow your progress in the long run.” She said this with a gentle smile, touching his forehead with the back of her hand to check his temperature.

 

Boren simply smiled at her and nodded minutely. He was resolved to this new course of action. Something had happened when his anger had burst free. With the frustration and pummelling away with the axe he had gained two levels in Axe Wielding. Not only that but he had received a bonus to Strength and Endurance as well where before his strength had been at a measly two, now it had double to four in just one afternoon! That had never happened before. Always he had been told, maintain decorum, and keep your anger in check. Now he found that the exact opposite could get him the results he needed. Where several years of effort had been in vain and not achieved anything in the way of melee Skills, unleashing his rage had succeeded. It was unbelievable, if he not controlled his rage all these years would he have bypass these limitations he thought himself consigned to?

 

He would need to discuss this with his father and mother to understand what this means. Maybe Fenwin would also have some idea. Actually, rather than bothering his mother and father with something this trivial it would be better to speak with Fenwin first. Then take it to his mother if something more was to be discussed.

 

“Boren!” A sharp whip crack of sound from Marasa brought him abruptly out of his spiralling thoughts. “I can see the look in your eyes young man! I know what you are thinking, but whatever gains you have made from this little episode, I assure you that they are not worth this amount of aggravation.”

 

“My strength doubled and so did my endurance. From two to four…was it worth it? I think so…yes, it was most definitely worth every second of exhaustion.” Boren voice was quiet, almost as thought he had spoken out loud by accident. “How is it possible Auntie Marasa? How can it be that in all my years of working to master these weapons I was not able to full manage to wield them but this time I concentrated all my frustration and anger into those blows and suddenly I am able to do something I could never have even imagined before? When Master Lori handed me the axe I didn’t for a second think that I should get a lighter weapon and she knowing what my capability is didn’t give me a dagger or short sword which would have been more suited to me. She handed me an axe. A small axe, granted but still an axe all the same. How did she know?”

 

Marasa whispered almost reluctantly, but she did answer the curious young boy. “The strength of the Berserker, it is not something that is spoken of in civilized society you understand, Boren you must promise me that you will not repeat any of what I am about to tell you.” Marasa gave him a grave look, it was enough to set Boren’s teeth on edge. What could be so forbidden about this that even Marasa is almost afraid to speak of it?

 

Having been assured that Boren understood the seriousness of the situation and conversation she continued quietly. “If you had not stumbled on this yourself I would not be telling you about it but heed my warning…” Here Marasa paused again and looked at Boren. “I, myself, have only heard speak of it. But the Berserker was a Class, just like Prince and Soldier and any other Class with one fundamental difference. They used the power of their negative emotions to gain great power. But that power came at a cost. They had no control over themselves when they shifted into Berserk state. All out attack with no defence and no regard for friend or foe when the emotion took them. Apparently, the story goes that they had different states for different emotions. Rage was similar to what you experienced though to a much greater degree. I am not sure what the other emotions did but they were no better.

 

“For that reason berserker’s always fought alone and many died of their wounds after killing all their foes. That is what the stories say. But there is one more thing that was even worse than them dying of their wounds. It was the long term effect of the Class on those that survived, the toll that all those negative emotions took on the users, eventually whether it was a month, a season, a year or even ten for a rumoured few. Their minds broke under the strain of the hatred, rage and fear. Many turned paranoid or went mad, babbling to themselves or lashing out at those closest to them or even killing their own family.” Marasa said the last very quietly. She had not experienced it herself, thank the Elementals. But she did wonder what those times had been like. The Berserker had been a legendary Class many years ago. Before she had been born, and for good reason. The power had been considered worth the risk.

 

“Boren, I am not tell you think to scare you but I do want you to think hard about this path that you touched on today. Will it lead to power? Yes. But at what cost?” Marasa soothed the boy and lay his head back down on the pillow. “Again, I will tell you not to overexert yourself.”

 

“Thank you Aunt Marasa. I will promise not to go too far.” Boren’s eyes drooped again and he felt sleep coming on. Restful sleep this time after Marasa had done what she could to heal the damage to his muscles. His final thought before he drifted off was that Berserker sounded like it had been built for him, he had excellent emotional control and could call frustration and anger to him in an instant. This could be his path; he would no longer need to be a burden to his father. But he would need to learn more about it and understand how to stop the negative effects from consuming him.

 

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Marasa Brean tucked the corner of the bed sheet in as she gazed at the young prince, a child and yet he has been through so much. Too much for one so young; and now to burden him with this…she would need to keep an eye on him going forward. Even a mouse with no way out would gnaw through its leg for a chance at escape. “Sleep well little mouse.” She whispered.

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