webnovel

Aldridge: Book of Knight

In a world consumed by chaos, war, and corruption, where factions, criminal syndicates, countries, and religious groups battle endlessly for power, an unlikely hero emerges - Rushia, an innocent child with grand dreams of becoming a knight. Rushia's journey begins as a naive girl living in a small border town, obsessed with the romanticized tales of chivalry and heroism from her bedtime stories. While the world around her descends into darkness, her perspective remains pure and bright, driven by the simple desire to experience the adventurous life of a knight like the ones she admires. Unbeknownst to herself, Rushia's acts of kindness, selflessness, and bravery begin to shift the delicate balance of power in human society. Though she holds no noble intentions of protecting others, her name becomes legendary, inspiring awe and adoration in many, while instilling fear in her enemies. Despite the immense impact she has on the world stage, Rushia remains blissfully unaware of the weight she carries. In her mind, she is simply living out a grand and exciting quest, reveling in the thrill of adventure and the "coolness" of being a knight. As her renown grows and the chaos of the world rages on, Rushia's perspective never wavers from that of a wide-eyed child lost in a world of fantasy and innocence. She inadvertently becomes a beacon of hope and a symbol of courage, while maintaining a childlike glee in her perceived role as a storybook hero.

OnlyCat · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
8 Chs

The bright and gloom

On a rainy afternoon, Rey stormed into the hunter's guild hall, boots echoing heavily on the worn wooden floor. His eyes narrowed with rigid determination as he approached the main room where the grizzled guild master Rodoro waited. 

Rodoro was a massive bear of a man who seemed carved from oak itself. His broad shoulders and muscular build spoke to decades spent on perilous hunts. Thick white hair tumbled over a face etched with lines of experience, framing a neatly trimmed matching mustache. His hands were gnarled and scarred, bearing the evidence of countless battles.

"Mr. Rodoro," Rey said, barely able to contain the thinly veiled anger in his voice. His mystic robes swirled as he came to a halt before the imposing guild leader.

"Rey, please, sit," Rodoro replied evenly, gesturing to a simple wooden chair nearby. His deep voice was as smooth as river stones. "You seem distraught."

"Distraught?" Rey snapped. "How can I not be after learning of your guild's total failure?" 

He remained standing rigidly, refusing the offered seat. "You assured me your finest trackers would find that missing child. But days have passed with no word, no progress at all!"

Rodoro leaned back, tucking his hands together patiently. "Rey, you must understand the treacherous nature of this forest. It conceals many desolate places, twisting paths that can easily lead one astray."

"That is no excuse!" Rey's voice rose angrily. "You claim expertise in these wilds, yet achieved nothing. That child's blood is on your hunters' hands!"

Rodoro drew in a calming breath. "My friends, with no trail or clues to follow, it is like searching for a single raindrop in a storm. The chances of finding a sign grow slimmer by the day."

"Enough of your philosophizing!" Rey shouted, slamming his palm down on the nearby table. The impact shook the various maps and hunting tools spread across the surface.

"Your guild gave me assurances. Yet despite all your boasts, a mere girl eludes you while she likely perishes alone and afraid," he spat. 

Rodoro slowly rose from his chair. "Rey, please, you must compose yourself..."

"Save your breath, you decrepit fool!" Rey growled, whirling around in frustration. He stalked towards the hall's exit, robes flaring out behind him.

Pausing at the door, he turned his head back slightly. "If your pathetic hunters cannot succeed, then I will find the girl myself, one way or another." With that final angry declaration, he stormed out into the hazy afternoon light.

***

Rain drummed steadily against the rocky overhang, the only sound in the gloomy forest. Rushia peered out from her shelter, drawing her soaked dress tightly around her slim form in an attempt to keep warm. She shivered as a chill breeze gusted by.

The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on Rushia's innocent mind. The woods no longer felt welcoming and filled with adventure, but ominous and threatening. Shadows twisted between the trees while raindrops pattered unceasingly. A pervasive gloom seemed to envelop everything.

Rushia glanced anxiously around at the darkened forest. Every snapping twig and rustling leaf made her jump. Her eyes darted about, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched by unseen things. 

"I-I don't like being scared, p-please make it disappear," she said out loud in a quavering voice. 

Her monologue was answered by an unexpected voice, low and monotone. It seemed to emanate from inside her own head rather than the dreary woods.

"Understood. Increasing fear tolerance."

Rushia froze, eyes wide. "Who's there?" she cried, clutching her wooden stick tightly. 

But no answer came from her surroundings. Instead, Rushia felt a subtle internal shift. The irrational fears and rising panic inexplicably faded, replaced by an eerie calm. Her pounding heart slowed and the tightness in her chest eased.

She looked around at the shadowed pines, waiting for the feeling of dread to return. But nothing sparked any anxiety. Rushia could sense the gloomy atmosphere, yet it no longer bothered her.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" she murmured, touching her chest in wonder. Was she under some kind of enchantment that banished fear? She tried to picture terrifying monsters leaping out but could only feel detached bemusement.

"Hmm, Hello? Mr. Voice? Are you still there?" Rushia asked, focussing internally.

"Affirmative," the odd monotone voice responded from inside her own head. Ah, he is there, Rushia thought.

"Who are you exactly? And how are you in my head?" she asked, endlessly curious as all children her age tend to be. 

"I do not know," the voice flatly stated.

Rushia furrowed her brow. "What do you mean you don't know? Don't you have a body and a home?"

"Negative," it responded succinctly. 

Undeterred, Rushia continued her line of questioning. "Do you know why you're in my head then?"

"Negative. I do not possess any knowledge on the matter."

Rushia fell silent, pondering these strange responses. Most adults would have been more suspicious of the lack of information. But the innocent girl simply accepted the mystery.

"Well, do you at least have a name, Mr. Voice?" she asked hopefully.

"Negative," the monotone replied. "I do not have an identifier."

While conversing, a sudden recollection dawned on Rushia. "You know, I struggle to come up with names too. It took me almost 3 weeks to pick 'Murakan' for my sword," she said, glancing at the sodden stick still clutched in her hand.

The sword's name brought thoughts of home and her mother, stirring fresh determination to find her way back. But just then, Rushia's stomach let out a loud rumble. She patted her belly and giggled.

"I could sure go for some berries right now," she said idly.

Then inspiration struck. "That's it! I shall call you Berry!" Rushia declared triumphantly.

"Acknowledged. Identifier now set to Berry," the voice responded.

Rushia smiled, pleased with herself for finding such a fitting name. She no longer felt alone surrounded by the dreary woods and endless rain. With her new companion, the woods seemed far less daunting.

***

Rey's angry footsteps faded into the distance as Rodoro let out a deep, weary sigh. Sinking back into his worn chair, he rubbed his weathered hands across his face in a futile attempt to wipe away the growing fatigue and consternation. 

Although he felt regret about not finding the child, he now has a more urgent matter.

His eyes fell upon the open folder containing the child's search reports, the pages covered in hasty scrawls and map sketches. Skimming through the accounts of his hunters, Rodoro felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach.

"Mutilated creatures...a trail of mutation...broken trees rent by inhuman force," he muttered, eyeing the disconcerting details with concern.

Though Rodoro considered himself a veteran of the frontier wilds, such an anomaly was highly unusual even for the most deadly forests, especially within supposedly safe areas. He had always maintained extensive knowledge of the local flora and fauna through meticulous records and accounts. But these reports spoke of an unknown threat prowling the shadows, leaving only torn corpses and splintered trees in its wake.

Tugging his mustache pensively, Rodoro began poring over old maps and books spread across his table, seeking any insight into what could be responsible. 

After some time researching, a dark suspicion began to form in Rodoro's mind. These pointed to not merely a physical threat, but perhaps a force of primordial chaos and malevolence beyond the material realm. 

"We may face not mere beast nor man, but a spectral entity whose reach seeps into this world," Rodoro said aloud.

Rising from his chair with renewed purpose, Rodoro began making preparations. He would need to assemble a team of expedition with deep expertise beyond wilderness knowledge and combat - consecrated priests well-versed in spectral threats, and knights whose combat power is known to be formidable. 

It was no simple task to organize such a diverse circle, but Rodoro's decades of service had earned him respect and influence, even in the high ranks of society. 

Illuminated only by the flickering light of the magic lamp, Rodoro worked deep into the night. His quill scratched urgently as he drafted commission, letters bearing guild hunter seal. Though growing weary, his resolve never wavered. This looming threat would need to be handled, no matter the cost.

***

Rain continued to drum steadily on the rocky overhang, but its intensity was beginning to wane. Rushia sat huddled beneath the shelter, conversing animatedly with her new internal companion.

"So Mr. Berry, would you like to adventure through the forest with me?" Rushia asked brightly, undeterred by the disembodied voice's monotone responses.

"Affirmative," Berry replied flatly. 

"Oh, splendid!" Rushia grinned, missing the total lack of enthusiasm. "It's lovely to have a fellow companion to quest alongside." 

She paused, a thought occurring to her. "Say, Mr. Berry? Were you the one who made me stop being afraid earlier?"

"Affirmative," Berry stated. 

Suddenly, Rushia shivered violently as a chilly breeze gusted into their shelter. Her wet clothes clung to her, providing little warmth now that she was no longer moving.

"M-Mr. Berry, is there any way you c-could help me not be so cold too?" she asked hopefully through chattering teeth.

"Understood. Lowering temperature sensitivity," Berry responded.

Rushia felt an odd internal shift once more. Though the chill breezes continued to blow, the frigid cold stopped affecting her. She looked down in amazement at her bare feet, no longer numb from exposure.

"Thank you, Mr. Berry!" she exclaimed gratefully. "You do seem to have some handy abilities, even if I am not sure how."

The innocent girl accepted the voice's unexplained powers with nonchalance. She gave no deeper thought to the implications of having her senses and feelings manipulated by the mysterious presence within her.

Rushia giggled as she swished her wooden sword through the air. "Have you considered being my noble squire, Mr. Berry? I could dub you Sir Berry, most loyal of knights!"

"Understood," Berry's voice responded in her mind. 

"Great! From now on, you are Sir Berry, My most loyal knight companion." Rushia said, smiling brightly.

Sunlight was breaking through gaps in the dark clouds overhead. "I do believe the storm is passing! We can resume our heroic journey anon!"

Rushia jumped up, oblivious to the mud and debris now clinging to her dress. She spun in a circle with her arms outstretched. "Isn't it lovely, Mr. Berry? The woods are meant for grand quests once more!"

"Affirmative," Berry agreed flatly.

Giggling merrily, Rushia set off up the trail, splashing through puddles without care. Her dark hair was still soaked and clung in messy strands. Her delicate gown was thoroughly muddied from the day's adventures. But she paid her disheveled state no mind, focused only on the thrill of exploring an imaginary world of chivalry alongside her internal companion.