Canon In My Life [Mature content and strong language later on]

[MRPolo13]

This series of stories are mature and neither I, nor the server, take any responsibility for insult you may take from it, since you have read this warning. Violent and sexual content may and will likely occur, therefore I request that if you feel you do not wish to read something on the lines of, looking for better example, Game of Thrones, you do not read these stories, especially following a warning I will disclose when things start getting ugly.
To quote George RR Martin, author of Game of Thrones;
"I can describe an axe entering a human skull in great explicit detail and no one will blink twice at it. I provide a similar description, just as detailed, of a penis entering a vagina, and I get letters about it and people swearing off. To my mind this is kind of frustrating, it’s madness. Ultimately, in the history of [the] world, penises entering vaginas have given a lot of people a lot of pleasure; axes entering skulls, well, not so much."
While my aim is not to write in half as much detail, be aware that this whole warning has its reason. The story will get ugly, you have been warned.

In My Mother's House

I was sitting outside in the back garden. We had a big house. One of the biggest in Port Silver. I sometimes wondered if the king himself had a smaller house. Probably.
From inside there was a pleased sound of my dearest mummy. She was a good person. She was always so happy before Uncle came by, but I wondered why she'd cry whenever he left.
This time was the same. Uncle left after couple of hours and I entered the house again from the back - I wasn't allowed to see Uncle. Dearest mummy said that Uncle was a nice man, but that I couldn't meet him. She said it was better for me that way. Weird, because uncle always made dearest mummy cry.
One day I asked if I should beat Uncle up, since he made mummy cry all the time. She smiled through her tears, then hugged me, saying that she didn't cry because of him. I didn't ask after that. I concluded that adults are strange.
"Mummy?" I peeked inside, as I had the tendency to do. She looked at me and smiled lightly, her eyes red from tears, which made small craters in her make-up. She gestured for me to come closer and I ran up to hug her. She kissed my forehead and I could smell the perfume she wore. I remember that perfume, it smelt nice, of wild forests in a summer.
"There you are, my little demon," she said and smiled slightly wider. "How are your friends?"
"They are fine mummy. Jack said he wants to run his own inn, like the big one in ugly district," I giggled at the concept of Fat Jack selling beer. "And I learnt a new word!"
"Oh?" She looked at me curiously, the signs of crying gone.
"Yes. It's- uhh... Isolation!" I smiled proudly, then like a machine I repeated the meaning. "It means staying away from everyone and everything."
Mummy smiled, although with clear sadness in eyes, and hugged me tighter.

The next days followed as normal. That was until mummy fell ill.
A lot of doctors came to see her, to help her, but nothing worked. She was plagued is what one of the doctors said. They'd find a magical specialist. I was really excited about meeting a wizard, but also quite scared about mummy. She said she was fine, but her cheekbones showed more than before and she was pale. Her usually beautiful light blue eyes were now surrounded by a sea of yellow and red, and her perfect black hair was littered with white strands.
The last thing she said was "Be strong, my son, be strong... You'll be the greatest one day."
She died after four days, in complete agony. I closed myself to the world. She was the only world I had. Mummy loved me and I loved her. I stayed in her room and didn't eat or drink for the whole of first day. The second day I was forced to drink by the doctor who stayed with me. I was a big boy, but not big enough to watch her die... The third day a man came.
It was the biggest, most muscly man I ever saw. He stood as tall as a mountain, at least to what I thought was a mountain back then. He wore a rich, dark green robe with red finishing and a small black hawk made of leather stitched onto the silk. He smiled, small wrinkles of laughter appearing around his penetrative brown eyes. The dark brown hair was neatly cut, as was the trimmed beard that surrounded his mouth but not his cheeks. I couldn't help but notice a huge to me sword hanging by his side. I saw weapons before, but never so beautiful.
"You must be Albareth..." the man said.

 

[bettemus99]

I swear, once I get SAI working, I will draw to this. I swear on my glasses.

 

[MRPolo13]

On The Captain's Ship

The man I met was my father, the person I up until now knew as "Uncle". His name was Polo - or Lord Polo. I thought that was quite a peasant name, and voiced my opinion. He chuckled and replied that he did indeed come from the lower casts, but earned the title and the rank of one of the most powerful lords in the South. I didn't know that nobility could be earned, but father said that it was so.
We took a large ship with a silver hawk decorating the sails and sailed off to his castle. My mum's body was burnt and the ashes were spread in the sea, as she wanted to. My father's kinsmen, some of whom knew my mum, paid their respects. They saluted her and the big guns on the ship fired fifteen times, once for each of the gods. I learnt that from my mum... she taught me so much.
I found it weird how I adapted. On one hand my mum was the only thing I ever had. On the other hand, I was eight, and I considered myself old enough to be able to take it. My father told me from now on he'll be bringing me up, out of necessity more than anything. He said he never wanted to, but promised Elenor, my mother, that he'd do his best to bring me up should anything happen to her.
I was never loved by anyone other than my mother. Even my friends found me awkward and preferred staying away. I understood this, because I myself thought I was quite different - locked inside of my own life. I liked it this way. It felt good to be isolated.
Every morning the captain would walk out onto the deck. He was an aging man with large white sideburns and little remains of hair on his head. One of his eyes was slightly white and his voice was a screech. He would come out onto the deck and shout out orders to the sailors.
My father told me a lot on that journey. He'd talk about how he met my mother, a poorer merchant's daughter, and how he'd have fallen in love with her. He told me how she became pregnant at the age of seventeen, and how he bought her the big house I grown up in. He told me that he couldn't marry her because of both personal and political reasons, although at the time I understood little of what both concepts were.

"Pirates!" the captain shouted.
I opened my eyes to see my father pull the mail shirt over his head and buckle a large leather belt. He attached the scabbard with the sword I saw earlier onto what looked like a second, diagonal belt and drew his sword then walked up onto the deck.
"Release the broadside!" the captain screamed loudy. I heard a thundering sound spread from above me, moving from back of the ship towards the front. I jumped up and ran upstairs to see sailors load more shots into the cannons.
I ran further up, before bumping into my father's kinsman. The large man whom I knew as Reysond looked down at me through his Nasal helm.
"What are you doing up here, boy?" he asked.
"A-I... w-wanted to see... what was happening, sir," I babbled out. I could feel my cheeks going red, but before the soldier could say anything else we were hit by cannons and the man fell over.
I jumped over him and ran up to the top deck, only to see the pirates board our ship. My father cut one down with a single strike across the throat. One of his soldiers, Drius, stabbed through another pirate before he could strike my dad from behind. There was no time for thanking, as one of the pirates pierced through Drius's heart with a large steel crossbow. The bolt went through where the heart was and stuck out of the other side, covered in internal liquids.
Our cannons fired off again and I was deafened for a moment, watching everything in blurred confusion. My father killed a woman with a simple strike, her head flying off into the sea. Before falling unconscious, I could see the face of the pirate captain - an angry-looking blonde woman who seemed to be screaming out orders. I can't remember what happened after.

 

[MRPolo13]

In Marograd

I opened my eyes about three hours later. My first reaction was to vomit into a bucket someone put beside the bed. After five minutes of emptying what was left of my stomach I looked around the ship.
The holes that pirate cannons made were now patched over with planks and tar. I was in the cabin I slept before. Judging by the holes if I was to stay here I'd have gotten blown away. My father was sitting on the opposite side. My eyes were quite used to the darkness by then.
"Glad to see you awake," the man said. "The pirates killed three men, lost five themselves... Bastards killed Drius. He was a good man."
My father sighed and got up.
"I suggest you get onto the deck. We'll be in Marograd shortly."
I nodded then put on my clothes before walking up to the deck. The morning was warm despite the small bodies of clouds. The sloop was lazily cutting through gentle waves in the very slight wind, and in the distance I could see land. What was before me was something far greater than our house in Port Silver. The cold rows of perfectly alined stones created walls which proudly stood as tall as mountains. On each side were guard towers, each comparable to double the size of our house. Small dots stood upon them, and I could guess they were men.
The front of the castle was littered with small, medium and large houses. Mostly wooden, with stone foundations and thatched roofs. The keep enclosed by the walls watched carefully over its nearest fiefs, and we were welcomed by fishermen which were just going out to start their daily routine.
My father stood proudly beside me with a smile.
"This is Marograd, one of the biggest fortresses separating the Northern Kingdoms from the Great Dunes," he smirked and looked at me. "All that you see up as far the horizon, and much further, belongs to me, and someday will belong to you."
I looked up at him in awe, but he seemed to be already lost in daydreams, where I soon followed.

We left the men to unload the cargo that was brought to Marograd from Port Silver. I hopped along behind my father who was greeted with both bows and friendly nudges from people of all sorts of wealths. Some faces looked at me angrily, others kindly. I was used to those looks. I lived in Port Silver. Port Silver was a bad place full of nasty people - my mummy said so. She said that one day I would become a great person, and I was on my way there already, living in a beautiful palace with my father.
The houses towered around us as we walked on, quickly getting surrounded by town guards. My father exchanged a couple of quick words with an important-looking person and sometimes stopped to talk with locals either with smiles and jokes or with more serious note. It felt like an age but we finally got past the castle gates and we entered the place I'd live in for years to come...

 

[MRPolo13]

In My Father's Court

"Wake up!" a sudden shout of my teacher - Ulerink - jerked my eyes open. The man stood six feet off the ground with dark brown hair cut through with grey streaks and certain calmness in his eyes, in spite of the sharp tone of voice.
Ulerink, as my father told me, was a man-at-arms during the Wars of Exodus. Father said he proved to be a great warrior who through his courage and intelligence gained knighthood. I didn't ask any more. I didn't need to.
It was late autumn of the first year I spent in Marograd. I arrived in the middle of spring. First couple of weeks were just as I could expect - I learnt the layout of the castle and well as the general layout of the Marograd village. It all seemed so huge and overwhelming at the time, but after those eight or so months that feeling dropped.
Every morning for the past couple of months would be the same. I'd wake up just before sunrise, have servants wash and dress me, then I'd eat breakfast with my teachers. There were two of them. My Master of Knowledge and Master of Arms. Ulerink was my master of arms, while Derial was master of knowledge. In contrast to Ulerink, Derial was a weak old man with a gigantic beard, which was often the only part of his face that could be seen poking out of the deep hood. That and his large, crooked nose. He was a calm man, but gave lashes that were just as strong as Ulerink's, if not stronger.
After breakfast, usually consisting of bread and ham washed down with some ale I'd go to my morning teachings with Derial. He'd teach me everything I needed to know: from peerage of Northern Kingdoms and other nations, through history to religion and numeracy. Later in life him and my father also introduced me to politics.
At around noon I'd go to pay respects to my father and we could spend around an hour together, simply talking. I liked that time. Father was a good, happy man. If he wasn't dealing with business down South or all the way in Port Silver, he'd be in his room looking through papers or riding around inspecting his fiefs. The peasants liked him as he didn't put too much tax burden on them, and his knights were always respectful of his decisions. He was a king in my eyes, and Nether, perhaps he really was a king of his lands.
Afternoon teachings were done with Ulerink. He'd teach me fighting with weapons such as swords, bows and lances; how to ride a horse; general tactics, and resource management. These classes were longer as they required to be more in-depth. In the first months I struggled greatly to keep up with his pace, but his unforgiving attitude, such as threatening not to attend dinner, quickly forced me to catch up. Nevertheless, I sometimes struggled in archery which often followed by lashes, or "rounds" as Ulerink called them. I also fell off my horse once or twice, despite the small size of the pony and its slow pace.
From six in the afternoon until eight I'd have free time, which I would spend either running around the castle or my father's fiefs. In the later years, I also watched the girl servants bathe in the sea... I had to be back before eight though, because then I'd be washed again and dressed, and then I'd attend dinner.

As usual, dinner was a huge thing. Every knight and nobleman who was my father's friend or neighbour was invited, and many of the lesser nobles did attend. As I came downstairs I could see the Great Hall.
To the left of me was the servant table. They'd look at me and smirk lightly, nodding. To the right were the squires, some of whom were very well dressed, while some not so much. In front I'd arrive at the table I'd sit in front of. I sat in my usual spot, to the left of my father, and looked around at the faces.
To my right sat Carlio of the Western Hills. He was a young man with an everlasting tan, dark brown eyes and black curled hair. Often smiling, Carlio was quite a powerful knight, said to have been an extremely capable swordsman, though he rarely used that skill.
Further up sat the Gobful Gorius. He was a Dwarven lord who had control of the Border Mountains, which seperated my father's Fiefs and the Dry Plains, a huge desert. His name wasn't actually Gobful. That was merely a title some of the more powerful lords like my father tended to call him, because of his extremely loud voice which was said to shake the walls of Marograd's keep. His actual name was Gorius Strongteeth, who apparently gained the title from blocking a Greyling blade with his teeth, thus saving the Dwarven king.
Opposite to Gorius sat the Rat. His name was actually Elseriun, but everyone, even himself, more often or not called him rat. He was a very skinny bald man, with a large, slightly crooked nose, making him look very much like the animal his crest wore. Even my father was afraid of the knowledge Rat posessed, however. He was an Eastern Nobleman, who spread his chain of spies from East to West. That was the rumour, at least.
The ever-smiling Uriv sat next to Rat. He was an extremely strong man, who was said to be capable of snapping three horseshoes with the sheer power of his hands. He had short brown hair and a huge moustache, which was always covered in remains of his food.
Porian sat further up. He was a friendly man who was always nice to me. Although a lesser noble, he had very good relations with most local lords, and so could easily make a diplomat if needed.
Ulerink and Derial sat next to each other on the table, and further up were the remaining lesser lords and nobles, altogether often making as many as twenty men sat around the same table.
The food would be served in five courses, and we'd eat and drink, but I'd have to retire at ten to go to sleep.

 

[MRPolo13]

In my Childhood

To think that only two years ago I was merely a child, unexposed to the world that was in front of me. To think that only two years ago my mother was alive and I didn't know who my father was.
"Faster! Close Guard! Mid Guard! You're disgraceful!" Ulerink's words ricocheted in my ears. Two years straight, training with a sword-sized stick. It was heavy at first, but Ulerink's voice built my muscles up better than any training. I also learnt how to use the lance when walking on foot. About a month ago I started using a cart pulled by a servant to find out what a horse feels like. It'd still take months before I got to couch a lance on horseback, but I didn't mind.
My mind was excercised in the morning teachings. I would have to remember what I have learnt the week before off by heart. There were no breaks.
One day, I snapped.
I was ten at the time. I sat on the battlements crying, contemplating whether or not to jump off the wall and end this. I simply couldn't take it any more; the constant shouting mixed in with calmness. The coldness of all people that looked at me. It was all overwhelming.
My father came up and stood beside me. I knew he was approaching, although despite his physique he was an extremely silent walker. He stood beside me and looked at the sea, where I was staring.
"Beautiful sight, this time of year," he said. "The Inner Sea takes hundreds of lives every year, even though it's usually as calm as a summer field."
I slowly turned my head to him. I knew my eyes were swollen from the tears. He looked down at me and placed his hand on my shoulder, smiling.
"Albareth, I know what you're going through is hard. I know you're going through agony," he sighed. "My father died when I was seven. I can hardly remember him. As I recall, he was a blacksmith in a village destroyed by the Corruption."
"So what?" I replied. I wasn't usually that rude to my father. Nether, a thought crossed my mind that he could simply push me off the wall, and suddenly fear struck my heart.
"I had to survive on my own since. Albareth, your teachers are harsh to you, but every evening they report directly to me, telling me how stubborn and intelligent you are. You have the capability of becoming the greatest man in Altera, but you won't achieve it if you don't learn towards it."
I remembered my mother's words. "You'll be the greatest one day." Her voice echoed in my mind, and I bursted out crying again. My father hugged me, which was the most emotional thing I could remember him do. I wrapped my hands as far around him as I could, and we stood there for couple of minutes, before he took me off the wall and got me up on my feet.
"You have this week off your teachings. Use it wisely, since the next time you'll be off will be during the Great Festivals of Harvest," he smirked, and brushed my hair.

That week I spent on nothing much but realising how little I knew on how to relax. It was quite saddening to me. I once could play with whatever I found, but the two years of constant training were such a huge strain on my personality that I turned into someone else. I was still a child at the time, but not even close to the child that left his mother's house at the age of eight. I was the son of a lord now. It didn't matter that I was growing cold. Nothing mattered any more. Only my training. Only my future.

 

[MRPolo13]

With the Cats

Marograd was a large castle with a lot of cats. They were everywhere, some bigger, some smaller. The fact of the matter was, there were probably more cats in Marograd than there were people and dogs put together. In return for food and warm place to stay, the cats removed a large portion of pests in the castle, especially mice and rats. It was a good deal.
Those cats came in all sorts of sizes and colours, but there was one that stood out; the Fat Cat. The Fat Cat was a large, black male cat who was as old as the castle, or even older. The cat was extremely elegant, but no other cat dared to attack it. Even the dogs were afraid of the beast, and there were stories amongst servants about that cat. The most popular story was that the cat's mother belonged to a baker, who didn't want to take care of the nuisance that would be more of the animals. He therefore decided to cook the kittens in an oven, but one of them, initially white, jumped out and slit his throat. The cat's fur turned black in the fire and it one day moved into the castle.
That was, of course, just a legend. The Fat Cat, nevertheless, was a graceful animal that would slowly wander the walls of the castle. He'd be the first to eat when it was meal time, unless he decided otherwise. I liked watching the fat cat.
Then one day the Fat Cat died.
It was a quick death as far as I saw. Nobody seemed to mind, aside from me. I was watching as the servants got rid of the large corpse before it rotted and stunk up the room. I still stayed in the room the cat died in for some time after, thinking about its life, and remembering it. Father said that we all deserved at least a single thought after death, and I did exactly that.

Before the Fat Cat died, the fights between other male cats were rare. It was clear who was the leader and the rest of the cats followed down that path. But after his death the other cats broke out into a fierce war, where no male could feel safe. Day and night there were screams of cats which fought in the courtyard or by Servants' Quarters. No contestant could honestly win, as young and old fought.
In my free time I liked watching those cats. Some were complete brutes, but that didn't give them a definite advantage. There was a small cat that I always liked. I called him Purry. Purry was almost a kitten, born smaller than the rest of the cats. He would often sleep on my bed and I'd always play with him when I had the time. He was mostly white, with some parts of fur ginger and light brown, and some lightly blackened. His fur was also very puffy and soft, which I also liked about him.
Purry seemed smarter than the rest of cats. He would sneak instead of waging wars against the larger cats, and if ever there was an issue he'd use stealth over direct attack. It was rare for Purry to get food as he was smaller and could have easily been pushed away by the other cats, but that didn't dishearten him. I would give the small creature some food every day, taking it either off my own plate or stealing it from the kitchen. Perhaps that's why Purry has grown so fond of me.
Months have passed, and I came to realise that Purry was no longer as small as he used to be. Nor was I, for that matter, my voice starting to sound weird from time to time...
Purry one day left my chamber and started fighting. Months of playing with me and good food have given the cat the strength he needed to gain power over other cats. He knew things other cats did not and could fight against other cats far more effectively. He soon took over the role of the Fat Cat, which was finally met with silence across the castle during night.
I told my father that once, and he simply smiled at me and ruffled my hair. I since could relate to the small cat that has shown me what growing up feels like. I would still see the cat, but he had his problems, and I had mine, such as more and more rigurous training and feelings I had not previously experienced... I was growing up, after all.