Chapter 2: Before Lead Fell from His Guns, and Tears from his Face.

Cort stood, towering over the three of them, looking down at them with great disgust. Even though Roland and his friends where still in their early teens age had played no big role in why Cort stood over them like a giant. Cort was a mountain of a man, at least 7'3 feet tall and weighing at least 360 pounds (mostly Muscle but plenty of fat to go with it). Roland and Alan both thought Cort must have been even taller when he was younger (as impossibly tall Cort was, he looked just as impossibly old…though he was 'only' 58 years old) but visualizing such things was way beyond Roland's limited imagination, its extent of witch was what an opponent might bring to a fight. Cort's face looked like the bark of an old hard tree bark carved by rocks, his wrinkled face looked like a tan blanket wrapped in Sandra Wrap. His eyes where as blue as the sky was on a clear day…but they always looked like they contained some horrible storm that looked like it could sweep everyone away at any moment, and his wild white hair stood on top his like a snow white cloud. Needless to say it wasn't a pleasant feeling to have Cort stand over you, peering down at you like judge, jury and executer all rolled into one.

"Your lucky that you three have a class that you can't miss, or I'd take the time out of my day, to show there are more consequences to failing to command a hawk in battle, than a few scrapes and bruises. You have forgotten the face of your Father's you fools." Spoke Cort flatly, looking at David the hawk in the corner of his eyes as he said so. The so called "scrapes" where large slashes that had they been done to there fingers, rather than then their and bodies, would have ripped them clean off and an a missing earlobe (Cuthbert's to be specific) . The "bruises" included a sprained wrist, and a few broken fingers

Roland Deschain, Alain Johns, and Cuthbert Allgodd had all failed to call and bait or rather fetch the large brown hawk…let alone sic it on the targets that Cort had set out for them. Though Alain thought Cort wanted them to fail this test, like many before, hence why he made it so fucking hard, something witch Roland and Cuthbert constantly scuffed at (though it was actually dead on, he always that the pains of failure where better teachers than success). At the same time Cort did, Roland's eyes quickly glanced at David, and then he brought their attention back to Cort's old weathered face. Roland and his friends bowed forgiveness and quickly got the hell out of there.

As they ran to class Cuthbert couldn't help to sneer "I thought you said that you tamed David. Maybe that's the name of your left hand." With that Cuthbert took has left hand, put it on the outside of crotch of his pants and made a gesture as if he where grabbing a small pole and quickly moving back and forth. He also made mocking, exaggerated cries of passion."

To this both Alain and Roland laughed. Roland was one who knew how to take a joke. But after a short chuckle Roland replied curtly. "Of course some of us would rather do that, then fuck our sister's cunt like you would." With that they all bowled over with laughter (after Cuthbert jumped on Roland back and wrestled him to the ground) Roland would later reflect expect for the night he meet Susan, these where the happiest days of his life, A life that would quickly go down the drain. Roland quickly threw Cuthbert of him and accidently into a water bin for horses , witch brought on a whole fit of laughter

Alain was the first to break from his laughter looking around the nearly deserted city, one that on weekends and weeknights bustled with activity, and remembered about class. "Come on you guys we have class remember. Its riddle day too, if we're late, even if we win the fucking thing, we won't be able to come home early." Every two weeks between History and Physics, or Terrain Biology and Tactics of Gilead Gunslingers a riddle contest. If a student was able to win the contest they got to have a half day for the rest of the week. Teachers and gunslinger's alike thought that riddling was a good indictor of "being able to see behind the corner" a trait that should be encouraged among Gunslingers. Alain was of course concerned because he was very good at Riddling, and won about half the contests, while Roland had only gotten to the final round only once. His teacher said it was because Roland lacked imagination, while his father said it was because he was hard headed. Roland thought they where both right. Roland quickly stopped and headed back towards class with his friends

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Roland could barely believe it, neither could Alain or Cuthbert, or James the teacher for that matter, Roland had one the riddling contest. Roland schedule hardly offered much time to goof off or play as other children had. Though from a noble family, one descended from Eld himself, his father rarely gave him any spending money, so that shot out having a early lunch or going to see a play, musicians, or performers. So Roland decided to head home, to take a bath and take a nap before beginning his school work.

When Roland finally reached his house, (it was more like an over blown palace then say a house. It even to Roland seem to stretch out to infinity. It was glowing golden brown color. It shone so brightly sometimes it looked like it was the sun. It had a dozens of pillars holding up the over extending roof witch held gargoyles that looked like demons might find in the mind of madmen and angles that must appear to saints. The stairs leading up to there seemed to go on for infinity as well rather to there grand nature more like a staircase to heaven itself Outside of it there was an acre of Apple trees and Orange trees along witch large bushes trimmed (sometimes with aid by Marten's magic) to look like dragons, tigers, lions, hawks, gates, horses, and even men with thousands of flowers of every variety spread every way . In the Middle of it stood a tall 250 ft Marble statute of Arthur Eld and his mighty steed he was holding Excalibur, and pointing towards the heavens, as if he where challenging the gods them selves to a duel.

Roland ran through it all just wanting to clean his wounds and take a nap. When he finally got in he ran to the top of the staircase and to the Bathing room. The halls of course deserted as they always this time of year. Nearly all the servants had left with his father, when he left for the Quarterly Afflation meeting. All the while he thought he heard soft cries and a creaking sound, but simply dismissed it and put it at the back of his mind.

The Bathing Room was more of a hot spring then a conventional bath. It too had a statue of Eld and his men around it, but also a bronze and sliver human sized one of his second favorite Giggy, Emily in the middle, as this room was created in her honor. Even as he bathed from here Roland heard the soft cries. And began to wonder where they came from, and quickly got out and dressed. The cries seemed to have stopped but he knew where they where coming from the second floor near the living quarters.

Roland normally wouldn't have cared to go and look, but curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of him today. Roland descended the staircase hoping down to the second floor, and as he did he saw a tall familiar figure ascending them. It was wearing an open shirt, sloppy put on, and wore denim jeans. His shoulders where broad and his skin was impossibly bronze. His dusty blond hair hung loose and long, almost reaching his chest. Although he was tall, Roland thought he was only tall as Roland (who despite only being 14 stood an impressive 6 feet) It was the shirt that that him off (it had an emblem of the hawk like his fathers.) and the casual wear in general that threw Roland off.. He offered a cold smile to Roland. It was Marten Broadcloack the court magician, or as most referred to him around the court, The Man In Black

"Hile Gunslinger, excuse me your Mother Karen, was kind enough to give me permission to use your Bathing Room" The Man In Black said as if it took all his might not to breaking into laughter. His face quivering and blushing, like that of a school boy's who had just insulted an instructor, and now found the man in front of him none the wiser. With that he gave a sarcastic bow, placing one hand on his chest and one above him towards Roland as if he were offering his hand. Roland who was calm at this point shoved passed The Man in Black and ran toward his parent's bedroom. His train of thought lead to dangerous freighting territories that up until a moment ago would have never thought of in his life. But the sick feeling in his stomach told him that those thought s where true, that they where dead on. He ran, he ran harder than he had than in his entire life, and knew his suspicions where right.

His parents smelled of sweat and another stink Roland couldn't place his nose on. His mother was trying to put on her night gown but seemed in a daze. She turned to Roland, as if she had just heard him bolting down the stairs. There were tears in her eyes. "Roland….Rol…Roland can you hold on a minute I'm getting dressed. It was then he saw the mark on her neck. His eyes turned back to the staircase and sure enough Marten was looking back, beaming at Roland as if he had told Roland the world funniest joke. Roland's eyes turned into slights like that of a snake',s than as big as saucers.

"You bastard" he bellowed as he charged toward Marten like a bull, arms spread out like fan. Marten just stepped to the side as Roland charged at him, and threw an hand at the back of his head. Roland to the other side of second floor went flying, he bite his tongue and could taste the blood coming out his mouth.
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Roland left the palace shortly after that, very shortly after that. Roland knew what he was going to do next was as good as suicide. But his father was many things, one of witch WASN'T a fool. If his father wasn't man enough to kill that bastard Roland would do it. And do it happily. A Grim smile formed around Roland's face. One fit for Old Man Spilt Foot himself. One fit for Death himself.

He had to get guns though first. He had to become a gunslinger first. He knew what the Man in Black really wanted even at that age. Something only he and his father had a right to. He would destroy them through her he supposed. It didn't matter that Bastard had to die.

Roland wandered down the so called the dirty side of Anno, the Whore's side of it at least. The buildings on the far east there where a mixture new and old. Somewhere well kept and like elegant places of business, some weren't. Some of them had paint (usually white, red, brown) chipping off the sides. Making them look like corpses whose flesh was rotting and peeling off. Other had so much dirt knocked on them they looked like they had been hit by a blizzard followed by a sandstorm. He didn't care about that as much as the smell, a mixture of sweat, beer, the stink that follows that follows sex, bad meat, and even blood. Even those thoughts he removed from his head. He couldn't care….if he did it would get him killed. He and his friends had snuck into this part of town plenty of times. They had even followed, though there really was no need. Everyone knew where he went once his day was done. Before he went to the Whore's, he went to the same bar. Bar K, the 'tamest' part of the Whore district.

Roland entered quietley as one would expect a ghost. He saw
Cort drinking at the bar, appearing not to notice Rolnad, but Roland knew better.

"Cort, I call you bondsman" Roland yelled, and even before he finshed Cort towered in front of him.

"Aye, what do you want?"

"Today You teach me no more bondsman, today I teach you. Today, I step up to equal footing to my father and stand a top of you. Today I come to earn my guns"