- Chapter 5: A place I once called home -
There was a time when Kelda used to love Nordberg.
The people, the land, the culture: they were all part of who she was.
This was where she grew up, where she learned how to walk. This was where her mother taught her to speak and laugh and sing; where her father taught her to track, hunt and survive. This was where she learned the ways and traditions of her people, as told through dozens upon dozens of stories and songs by the fire. Here she learned to appreciate hard work and family, the need to work together in order to survive.
Then came midwinter's eve and reminded Kelda of why she could no longer bring herself to love this place like she had in the days of her youth. For as much as she had once loved these people, she never could forgive them for what they had done to the witch-boy: leaving him to die at the hands of the imperial invaders.
For that, she loathed them.
She loathed them for preaching about the importance of family only to sell out one of their own. She loathed them for handing over Nordberg to the empire without so much as a scuffle. She loathed them for turning her beloved hometown into a cage – in which she would have to spend the rest of her days, scrubbing floors and cleaning up food scraps.
It had been almost thirteen years now since the empire took over Nordberg and with each passing winter Kelda found herself more and more frustrated with the townsfolk and their submissive attitude towards the invaders.
Unlike most people in Nordberg, it didn't take long for Kelda to realize that Borius wasn't the conqueror he claimed to be. Far from it! Behind all the fanfare and shiny armour was just a spineless, spoiled man-child who couldn't take jerky from a baby if he tried. Without his legion of imperial guards to back him up the man was as good as useless, which only made it all the more frustrating to see her fellow northerners throw away their pride to grovel at his feet.
If that's how little they cared about their dignity, they deserved to loose it!
Sure, Kelda served under Borius, but only begrudgingly, always defiant.
As much as he would like to think that he had managed to conquer her along with the rest of Nordberg, the truth was far from it. Even after twelve stinking years of living under the imperial banners, she was as keen as ever to see them toppled, along with that horrid-looking statue looming over the town hall. To this day, she remained one of the few people left in Nordberg who held out hope that one day someone would rise up against the imperial invaders and drive them out of Nordberg.
A foolish notion, perhaps. Most people in Nordberg seemed to think so, at least.
Still, Kelda refused to give up. Like her mother and father before her, she was a proud and fierce nordbergian. For better or worse, this was still her home and she would sooner marry a yeti than watch it crumble under the fat fingers of governor Borius. And so she held out. She suffered Borius' dreadful personality, his overbearing attitude, his laughable attempts to seduce her – all for the sake of Nordberg – until the day her patience would finally be rewarded and she could leave it all behind – free, at last.
The armour was heavy. Heavy enough to cripple a lesser man.
"The day has finally come, young master!" Gnarl declared as he circled the room in a dramatic fashion, waiting for the minions to finish their work. "Your training is complete. Now is the time to see if you truly are the Overlord we have been waiting for!"
The witch-boy didn't answer, even as he felt the minions tighten the straps around his limbs, securing the armour to him. He had heard the spiel a thousand times before and he wasn't about to start paying attention now. His mind was on far more important things at the moment: memories of a frozen wasteland he once called home, visions of a girl with curious eyes and a smile that could light up the night.
Would she still be there, he wondered, waiting for him to return? Would she even remember him if she saw him? What did she look like after all these years? Did she still spend her days chasing rabbits and hunting for gnomes? Had she already found someone to share her bed? If so, did he treat her well? Was she happy? Was she safe? And if she was... could he accept that?
"Focus, sire! This is no time for daydreaming!" Gnarl instructed as he paused only to snap his bony fingers at him before resuming his stride.
Disregarding the elder minion, the witch-boy closed his eyes and disappeared back into his own mind. For now, he couldn't care less about the old jabber and his twisted sense of morality. His mind was already made up.
To Gnarl, evil was an ideal: something to strive for, something to uphold.
To him, evil was merely a means to an end – that end being recognition.
Whether through domination or destruction, he would make sure that no one ever looked down on him again! And if conquering the known world and defeating the Empire was what it would take to earn that recognition – so be it!
Author's note: Hello and thank you for reading! I hope you liked the new chapter. As you can see, I haven't forgotten about this story. Far from it! I'm still working on it whenever the mood hits me. I just like to take things at my own pace, that's all. I really appreciate all the reviews you guys have been leaving on the previous chapters. It's always a pleasure to read your thoughts on the story. It's one of the main reasons I publish my stories on here. I try to respond to most reviews, as well, so if you have any thoughts or questions, feel free to leave them here! Until next time! God bless!
