Chapter 22: Chapter 22: The competition, part 1

Chapter 22: The competition, part 1

Every twenty years, the teens of the land are entered into a competition to proclaim the next king, which has only one rule. Survive.

Survive against what?

A dragon.

"If you run away now, they can't catch you," Marianna told her son, as she stuffed his clothes inside a bottomless bag. How she wished that she could hide him inside. Yet, she knew he would die if she forced him inside. That said, he was a tough nut to crack.

"I like my chances, mom," Damian said, lazing on the chair by the table. "I know all about dragons. Besides, don't you want for your son to be king?"

"Foolish boy! Just get packing already. The guards will come to collect you any minute now," as if summoned, there was knocking on the door. Marianna threw the bottomless bag into her son's arms, and ushered him towards the back door. "If anyone asks me, then I will tell them you died of the pox just yesterday. Go, spare me a funeral with a closed casket, you foolish boy."

"But I didn't die, mother," Damian was beginning to sound annoyed. He wondered why his mother was so insistent. The person outside the front door knocked again. Marianna managed to tug her son out, and then shoved him onto the street.

"Go, and may you be lucky in life," Damian could see the tears in her eyes. He guessed she would be a convincing mourner.

Now, he was before a dilemma. Does he run off? No, he could not. He wanted to be king, and badly.

Marianna had always done her best by him. But without a father, Damian didn't have many chances. His father, Davos, had died from the pox when Damian had been little.

A part of the rebellious teen wanted to go to the front, and give himself away. Yet, he knew he had to be smarter than that. He would enter the competition, but first, he would go to the hag in the forest for something to protect him from the dragon fire.

And so, Damian Gray walked the streets of Naris, the biggest port in the rebuild Florifel, with his head bowed. He wasn't very knowledgeable about the bright murals, left behind by a race hunted down to extinction.

He only knew that there was only one king in the nation, and he was a puppet to the Demon Lord Alek. Or, shouldn't he be a Dark Lord, seeing as he used to be an Ultimate Hero of Fate? Hm, no time to stick to the semantics.

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And so, the young teen managed to pass through the gates, while the guards were changing, and then made his way through the forest. He could hear a wolf's howl in the distance, which made him hasten his steps. The last thing he wanted, was to become wolf chow.

The hut was… made out of a mushroom. The cap was red with dots, so, Damian knew for a fact that this was the place. He went to the door, and then knocked on it three times. He just hoped that the hag won't turn him into a frog, just because of the late hour.

"What do you want, you pimple faced little boy?" Came the raspy voice from the window.

"Noble witch, I came in here for…" Damian began, but the witch scrunched up her nose at him.

"You want something, eh? You twats always want something. A person can't live in their mushroom, without some teen coming along with demands! The nerve," Damian could see that she was waving her cane at him. He did his best to present her with his most charming smile.

"Noble witch, my plea is sincere. I just want to survive the great battle with the dragon, Gornitrix! Surely, you will not send me away? That will be as good as leaving me to die from dragon fire?" Damian asked, making sure to play to her mercy.

"Do I look like an Arch master to you? Just who told you, that I can do shit about dragon fire? Now, if you really want to participate in that meat grinder, which is still being held only as a population control stop gate, then you have better chances asking the Coffee Table of Magical Knowledge. Now, get lost!" The hag slammed the window shut, and then turned off the lights. Yet, Damian could see her lingering by the window.

Defeated, he decided to reflect on himself. Just how badly did he want to be a king? To rise above his humble beginning. From a fatherless child, to the father of the nation? Surely, his life will become easier, then.

With sure steps, he began to walk towards the capital of Florifel, New Dawn. It was a silly name, but if he got Sir Reginald, the aged squirrel sage, to vouch for him before the dark lord/demon lord, then he could probably speak with the coffee table.

Damian giggled when he reflected on his thoughts. What a strange world it was, where one had to seek a coffee table for knowledge. Now, how did the legend go? Don't eat the apples or the radishes? Well, he could get it right, he was certain.

   Damian won't be the first to go to such lengths, to take down Gornitrix. Yet, something in his speech managed to touch into the cold and hopeless heart of the once brave sir knight.

 Alek is a jealous creature these days. His spirit bent and twisted, as much as his brain, he only thinks about how to gain more power, and land. In Damian, he sees a competitor. And that never ends well.

That said, it all lays on the decision of the eccentric three-man possessed Coffee Table of Magical Knowledge. Which is ruled by Demon Lord Barton with an iron fist. Will he give Damian a second chance? Or, will he keep on supporting Alek, who has served him fatefully, for the past 3,000 years? 

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