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Acolyte
Chapter 1 - Could Be a King

Chapter 1 - Could Be a King

Edmund twists and turns in his sleep. Sweat drips from his body and a heat engulfs him. He was not sick when he lay his head, but now, something serious seemed to afflict him. Like a beacon in the night, the fae began to gather around him and fill his body. Unconscious, Edmund struggles, but the fae would not let go of their possession.

In his dazed struggle, a vivid dream came upon him…

Edmund looks around him. There was a fog all around, obscuring his vision. Where am I? Edmund wonders. Step by step, Edmund walks forward. Something ahead seemed to be pulling him closer, and his body creeps forward with hesitation. There was something ahead that caused Edmund to feel fear, deep in his bones. Something that made Edmund feel… It made him feel like an ant in a great world of giants and winged beasts; the wrong gust of wind could be the end of him.

But still… Edmund could only draw closer. The fog began to separate, and before Edmund appeared a throne, and on that throne was a man. He had a big bristly beard, unkempt like his grey hair, which flowed freely. The man had the gaze and demeanor of a gruff warrior. Edmund could immediately tell; this was not a man who had carried any hesitation in him, his aura was commanding and his gait carried authority.

Edmund did the first thing that came to mind, he bent his knees and knelt on the ground. Then he bowed. “Edmund greets you, master.” He says with his face to the ground.

The grey-bearded man casually waves a hand. “Rise, child. Stand as you should stand in life.” He says as his breath stirs up the wind.

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Edmund furrows his brows. What does that mean… He wonders as he slowly stands. Edmund continues to bow his head, and, like a prisoner awaiting judgement from a king, he waits; waits for whatever brought him here.

“The fae… Have called upon me to speak on their behalf. You, child, are not living up to your potential. They feel as if you can be greater, that you can be more. When you were born, they saw who you could be and they were delighted. ‘A hero has come upon this world!’ They cried out. But alas, the boy you have grown to be has disappointed them. ‘Where is his martial spirit?’ They wonder. ‘Where is his gravity?’” The grey-bearded man says, as his purple-robes lined with gold flutters from the sound of his voice.

Edmund continued to keep his head down and remained silent. He had no idea what this was about and he would rather not do anything to offend this man.

“‘He sows his seeds and toils in the garden, he kneads dough for bread to eat! Why does he not command the plants to grow and for fat-bellied boars to bear their stomachs to him? He could be a king and he acts like a pauper!’ This is what they cried out to me.” The grey-bearded man continues to say.

A red blush appears on Edmund’s face. Oh man, that’s so embarrassing. He couldn’t help but think with shame.

A glass of wine appears in the grey-bearded man’s hands and he swirls it around before taking a sip. “So they’ve asked me to intervene. They asked me to teach you. To be a hero and to be a man. As such, from this day forth, you will be my acolyte in the world, serving my will and achieving my goals. That is your fate until the fae find you worthy. And remember my child, your worth does not always lay where you think it would…” The man says.

Suddenly, Edmund’s vision grows hazy and the fog began to gather once more; then, like a bird that was kicked out of the nest, he felt himself dropping, falling further and further until…

Edmund’s spirit once more falls back to his body and the fae scatter like mice before a prowling cat. Edmund inhales a large breath and opens his eyes, his heartbeat racing and his pulse beating like a drum. He continues to breathe as much air as he could gather, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, until he calms himself.

Edmund collapses back onto the bed, sweat staining his clothes and his bed. Breath after heavy breath, Edmund continues to breath, letting the exhaustion overcome him. Edmund closes his eyes, his brows furrowed inwards, as he gathers his thoughts. What the hell was that? He asks himself.