House of Rok

Chapter One: the Beginning of the Road

A fist flew and hit the other young man in the eye. In response the other teenager jabbed his opponent in the stomach, followed by massive blow to the side of the head. A guard just sat and watched for a moment, it wasn't until the original attacker knocked the other young man on the ground and started kicking him that the guard interfered with the fighting. The guard, supporting a sinister grin, pulled out his sword. He raised it up to the older looking boys, "God damned scum, all of you Rentry are. Sometimes I wonder why we even shed blood, none of you fool scum ever seems to take in or even want purifications. Get out of my site, now."

Both of the bloodied teenagers stood up, with a short bow they said, "Yes, Master Savior." Then the teenagers took off in separate directions, both feeling extremely lucky. As they were, the mildest fractions of the law often resulted in death. Public display of violence by two or more Rentry males' average penalty was hours of torture followed by a long drawn out execution. Purification through pain.

Such were the ways of the Saviors; better and less corrupt then the wicked Rentry ways of the past. The dark skin short Saviors crossed from the rich lands across the Ria Mountains, to liberate a backwards and evil society created by the deluded kings and nobles of the past. This glorious event happened fifteen years before hand. Rentaria was truly a better place now.

The Saviors ran the schools, most of the history of Rentaria wasn't taught in them. With simple reasons, said the Saviors, to save the children from the past atrocities of their ancestor's evil past. The kid that started the fighting tried to remember what it was like, but the more he concentrated the more his chest tingled. Without any luck he tried to stopped thinking about it.

The young man kicked a rock, no one could tell him about their past. Older people weren't allowed to talk about, they mostly mumbled what happen was over and they couldn't change anything. They were scared of the Saviors; laws prevented them from talking about it. However, the young man wasn't about to allow those depressing thoughts take over his happiness. He just got away with a serious crime, but he wouldn't celebrate like the rest of his peers by getting drunk or going to a whorehouse.

Those simple bodily pleasures weren't for him, he always thought of it as poisoning his body. Those thoughts often made him even more hated by his peers, like he was acting better then them. When added to the fact that his father was an important man to the old wicked ways of the Rentry people, made him despised and hated by all of the other people beyond comprehension.

His father helped the corrupt, evil, tyrannical people rule. For his father's crime he was forced to wear a shirt with big black characters sewn onto them. No Rentry was allowed to read, but he was told that it was his family name: Rok. He could only wonder what horrendous crimes his father committed that would make his son be looked down on by an entire country.

However, he was treated as kindly as all people with characters on there back. Very badly. Often times he was beaten to near death by peasants, Saviors, traders and everyone else just for having the cursed characters on his back. After all, it was because of his father that the perfect Saviors had to sacrifice self and life in order to help save the Retry people from themselves. For this reason young Rok concluded that he deserved this fate.

Sometimes after a beating a drunk Savior guard would say nice thing to him. They'd mostly talk about the old war and say good things about his father. Saying that his father was brilliant and was a great man. But no Rentry was great, ever, the guard must've been trying to cheer him up. No Rentry was great, none. The man must've had too much ale that night.

The teenager touched his chest, where he was punched. He felt a cold medallion, it was cursed. Cursed with the devil's luck, but besides his father's ring it was all he had from his family. Extraordinary things happened to him that must've happen through the medallion, once he was caught in a burning building. The ceiling above him started caving in and suddenly the flames parted, he walked through and was safe. Another incident occurred when he was roughhousing with another young boy and he flew out of the castle's window. From four levels up, he met the ground and got right back up. Uninjured and perfectly fine, just a lucky fall.

Many odd things seemed to go wherever he did. This scared him and everyone else, so he just secluded himself from everyone. Something inside of him, burning with desire, told him that he was supposed to do many great and wondrous things before he took his last breathe. With this thought, his subconscious applauded him with a loud growl. He hadn't eaten in a day or three.

So he went on pillaging for food, as he rounded a corner he ran straight into a guard. Getting levelled by the armour clad warrior, a swordsmen for the Saviors. With a growl the swordsmen pulled his sword from the sheath and barked, "How dare you get in the way of a Savior? Kneel, rebel, kneel now. Make your amend with your fool god Renicle and prepare for your execution." The swordsmen swung the sword down and hit young Rok in the ribs with the flat side of his sword. Leaving two deep gashes. "I said kneel, how can your generation become even more dumber. Now!"

Obediently Rok got on his knees and touched his forehead on the ground. Praying that the swordsmen were only doing a mock execution, like all soldiers liked to do to scare the young Rentry people. The sword rose and then Rok felt wind on his neck, followed by a loud clank.

A tall dark skin man growled, "Stand down soldier."

"Yes sir," squealed the swordsmen as he put his sword in it's sheath and stood up right, arms straight, chin up and feet no more then shoulder width apart. The Saviors stance it was commonly called.

The tall dark man that could only be an officer looked at the pitiful figure in front of him. "What is your name?"

"My name is Sren, Sren Rok," said Sren as he looked at the officers feet. Getting ready to curl up in a ball in case he'd start getting kicked.

The officer looked at the swordsmen and said, "Thank that it has any good abilities? Probably not. Might as well ask anyways, do you have any hobbies? Interests, perhaps any skills."

"Not really, I can butcher a goat well and that's all. I'm sorry," answered Sren in shame.

"Butcher? What the hell does that mean again? Something about warrior, I think. Oh well, he can be the Goatwarrior," the officer muttered under his breath in his native language. "Oh well, it is time for the Rentry to redeem themselves. I've received orders to form a few regiments of a militia comprised of Rentry. You've just become apart of the Rentry Militia, Sren Rok. If you're anything like your father was at the Battle of the Last Pass or the Battle of Blueville you will be a superb warrior."

"My father? You knew my father, tell me about him!"

"Captain Rok was larger than even me. Swordsmen, take this boy to the Rentry Militia training ground."