The Lonely Adventurer - Prologue

Have you ever noticed that kid in class that always seems to be by himself? That loner who you’ve only probably ever asked to borrow a pen from once or twice, I'm sure you’ve seen this guy. The guy who you repeatedly have this conversation with,

“Hey man have you got a pen?”

“Yeah”

“Thanks”

Those are the only words you’ll ever exchange with him in your entire school life, even getting a reply is a miracle, and often you might just get a pen thrown to you. That one loner at school, not the guy who pretends to be loner and eventually opens up to people – he hates that guy. Not even that nerdy kid in the movies who ends up saving the day by some god given miracle – come on! Really? Especially not the one popular kid who thinks he’s got “problems” – he dropkicks those guys in his sleep.

No no no, not those guys. I'm talking about him – Francis Magalone.

The difference between Francis and those guys was that he wasn’t lonely, no way. He just didn’t need other people, specifically to interact with them unless he needed to. It’s not that he hated people (which he does) he just preferred solitude; I mean he had enough on his plate without knowing other people’s problems.

Francis was a repeating year 12 student at a local college just outside of London in the middle of nowhere, that's kind of like repeating the 11th grade if your American, he failed miserably last year and had no other choice but repeat the year under the threat of being sent to his homeland and being forced to join the army because he, in his father’s words, “Will finally be doing something useful with your life.” Either that or work in one of his grandfathers farms back home, apparently a farmer and a soldier are the only things Francis is capable of being. All in all, not much was expected of him.

Francis sighed, the thought of leaving heavy in his mind. The only person Francis would never lie to was himself, he wasn’t a particularly bright boy but he was far from being stupid although he was definitely lazy, and he knew this. He had tried to change himself before, he really did try but Francis just couldn’t be bothered with real life. The only time he ever worked hard was when he played games, and he wasn’t ashamed of this fact at all. To be honest if he had friends he’d most likely brag. Ever since he could hold a controller all he had ever done was play games. Even his earliest childhood memory was a dark screen with a small yellow face eating bright dots as it ran from ghosts, and as games evolved so did he. Francis loved all games, from first player shooting games to real time strategy games, but nothing would make Francis’ blood boil like a good RPG and he’s played them all. He moved from one game to another, from console to console until there was a breakthrough in the gaming world, until finally technologies had developed so far that it had given birth to a virtual reality gaming system. To Francis this was the greatest event in his life, the number of opportunities this presented. Francis was doubtful he would ever be this happy again.

From the depths of all the new virtual reality games that came into existence, one stood above them all as majestic as its name – Royal Road. Literally the king of virtual gaming, was THE Role Playing game. You would have to be lost in a desert or some god forsaken wasteland if you didn’t play this game. Children, mothers and fathers even the elderly played this game. The beauty of Royal Road was that it wasn’t just limited to gamers, absolutely everyone played the game, well everyone apart from Francis. After failing his first year at college, his father had enrolled him at a college near his aunts place just outside modern civilisation as Francis would call it, a place where the previously pampered brat had been cut from his source of income - his father. Francis had no money so no gaming, he could always get a job but didn’t I say he was lazy?

It had only been 4 weeks in real life that he’d spent grinding and having adventures on the Central Continent before his exam results came and ruined everything. It only took a day for his Dad to find a new college and to banish him to the middle of nowhere. Poor old Francis, Francis thought to himself. He would be 18 soon and if he didn’t pass his exams this year only Hell awaited him in some distant country.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

As Francis walked into his last lesson for the day, the thought of having to till his grandfathers land or going through hell’s training with the army depressed him making him look more of a loner than he usually would. He sat down on the table furthest back with a door a few tables on his right and the window at arm’s length on his left, he slumped and let his head rest on the table beneath. Usually no one noticed his eerie figure glide past the students and rest on his seat, however today was slightly different. It took Francis moments to realise the boy in front of him was talking to him and was now pretty angry he’d been ignored, although Francis couldn’t care less, he continued to ignore him. What followed was a string of verbal abuse Francis was familiar with, you see being a loner came with its downsides and he was used to it but out here in the countryside his light brown skin and slightly squinted eyes made him more of a target than usual. Francis had been in fights before; even though he didn’t always win he never left the other person without a scratch either.

Amidst the shouts of abuse, Francis heard his teacher Mr. Squall on the school phone. Mr. Squall was a short stocky man who would sweat more than the average person and also looked like he faced abuse in his younger years and he certainly hated fighting in his classroom, but he could never do anything about it himself, so If he was on the phone it meant reinforcements were coming. Just as Francis predicted the headteacher came barging through the door,

“You. My office now,” Mr. Aveling said in a calm but stern voice.

“But it wasn’t me! He started it! You know he’s just a reject right? Even his family didn’t want him!” said the boy in front.

“Be quiet child I wasn’t talking to you. Francis come with me” Mr. Aveling adding volume to his voice.

Francis looked up from his table bewildered, “ What?”

The headteacher’s office was neat, too clean for a man Francis thought, and the smell of coffee was heavy in the air. As Francis opened his mouth to speak Mr. Aveling waved his hand and simply said, “We’re waiting.”

Half an hour had gone by before his aunt opened the door. Francis' aunt was a nice person; she had treated Francis like her own child even though she was still young to have any teenagers of her own. She always smiled when she saw him, and he'd never forget that. That's why when she came in, face paler than usual, her nose red and her cheeks flushed, with no makeup on, Francis' face grew serious. She began to speak as if she had to force the words out of her throat.

“Francis it’s your father...” she managed to say before losing the strength to stand and began to sob silently.

***

It was the night after his father’s funeral; Francis lay in his old bed staring at the ceiling. London’s welcome wasn’t as warm as Francis imagined it would be when he left. The past few days were a blur, he remembered leaving his aunt in the headteacher's office and he remembered getting to his London home on the same day, not knowing or caring how. After that all he could remember were half-hearted condolences from people in black.

Francis thought about his future, everything from how he would make money from now on to should he really join the army or be a farmer like his dad thought. Francis laughed to himself and thought, “My father was an idiot. A bloody idiot.”

“You idiot” Francis silently cursed as he sobbed himself to unconsciousness.

Francis opened his eyes slowly, still laying on his bed he noticed a familiar shape sat in the corner of his room, searching a way to escape the sadness he walked towards the capsule.

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