Everworld Knights

Chapter Seven: Glory unto the King.

The victory against the Solarian, Uhmtep, was short lived. Roland knew that he would soon have to get back into the pit, he was new here and would have to prove himself greatly before anyone would consider him a true contender in this world. He woke up that morning, the sun rising over the horizon, and made his way to a tree, he sat beneath it, a book between his fingers.

His mind was empty, clear and void of thought, all apart from what he read in the book. A fiction, one that Ryland once suggested, involving a father who was killed and the boy went on a journey of revenge and self-discovery. He wondered if Ryland would ever show the brave audacity that the boy from this book did.

Roland hoped not.

For these Northmen were savages unlike any he’d seen before. Their culture was almost reminiscent of the human tribes that were scattered across Everworld, but they were a warring nation of inhuman indecency and triumph over the weak. Roland knew that they would not hesitate in killing his child or forcing him, too, into the work pits where he would fight for his life in a journey that would turn him against his old ways.

Roland knew his own resolve was strong. He knew that he would come through this without much trauma, but that was due to years of fighting for his king. Seeing battle; knowing the bloodlust that came with the hunt and the fight. He knew that it was a life that Ryland would never have accepted had he not wanted to impress his father so badly.

So he sat and read his book with little knowledge of the outside world, with the camp around him sleeping, waiting for the break of the morning before they too, would wake and fight to prepare for their own battles. Survival was key in this world and when given the freedom to merely live in a camp and occasionally fight, it would be easy to grow weak, tired and frail.

Minutes turned to hours, with Roland slowly cutting away at the book. He seldom took the time to read in his own life and it was a welcomed experience. When finally he rose his head from the pages, all across the field, men stood with their wooden swords. Grunts and groans went by unnoticed in this time, for he sat in the human section of the camp. In the far distance, the elves practiced their magic, which had been limited due to a force field sprung across the slave camp. Dwarves, orcs and more all prepared for the next battle, not knowing when it would come.

Roland found this a bonus more than anything else. A way to learn how to stand and fight when needed, not lazing about until it was your turn. Always being prepared was an important part of being a warrior. Knowing that no matter when an attack came, your body was in it’s prime, your mind was cast in strength and power, and there was nothing that would deter you from your success.

This was similar to the training he got from his Everworld masters. He was taught how to stand and fight for himself. To defend his king and his realm.

“Roland,” Someone shouted, turning his head to face the noise Roland saw it was Josef Kuhr. Another human that had been thrown into the slavery camp and one that he’d shared a few late evenings drinking mead with. It was his closest thing to a friend. One that very closely resembled Mason, to him. Not in physicality, but mentally. He was tenacious, with piercing blue eyes that had their own softness which seemed to get away with everything, a strong jawline, pointed nose and long top hair, shorter sides.

“Josef.” Roland replied, “What can I help you with?”

“Not much,” Joe fell beside Roland, a rolled cigarette between his fingers, “I just thought we could chat.”

“Yes. I believe that a chat may be in order. I was inspecting the camp and I have a few questions.” Roland said.

“Sure?” Josef had been in the camp longer than most. His fighting days were long over, due to an injury that would have had him executed had he not had those two wide eyes. So he knew more than he would ever let on, more about this camp and more about the entire Northman civilization.

“Tell me about the camp. Do we ever fight on another?” Roland asked.

“Rarely. The camps are sectioned off to stand and fight together rather than one another. It’s only when, and this hasn’t happened in a good few years since the Northman camp had boomed into superiority over the rest of the land’s fighting camps, there aren’t enough warriors that show up to die that we fight one another. Why?” Joe placed the cigarette in his mouth and took a puff, holding out to Roland who took a drag.

“Because I want to train them. I want us all to fight like Everworld Knights. We stand and train in separate camps, but I watch how all these men fail and how all of them would die if they were placed against me. I’d prefer it if they did not stand to face defeat if we are meant to grow together.” Roland smirked, puffing on the cigarette again before handing it back.

“There’s a lot of racial tension between the camps though, I’m not sure if anyone would go for it. Obviously, we’re all slaves here, but the outside world still had its influences before we were thrown into this camp. I don’t think you’ll get the opportunity to get away with something like that unless you were really diligent, after all, the Everworld Knights were exactly what stood against these people in the first place, were they not?” Josef raised a fair point, but Roland shrugged it off.

“If they’re not comfortable with standing beside me, I’ll make them do so…”