Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20180430230012/@comment-7262318-20180507013248

(DID SOMEBODY SAY PIIIIIE?!)

Kjoren fell into the dirt, tired and beaten. He had fought hard and long but he was no match. He never was. Though he tried and went as far as his little heart could handle, but it was never enough. Torus had his boot on his chest again, and the fight was over.

“You really should just give up before hand,” Torus laughed, increasing the pressure on his chest. “These things tend to end the same way each time, you know?”

“Get… Off!” Kjoren wailed, pushing hard on the foot. To no avail.

“Do you give up?” Torus asked. “Or are you planning on doing something?”

Kjoren continued to push, but the foot would simply not budge. He hit it a few times but that only encouraged Torus to keep pushing down. Had it not been for Nulfrun coming in and pulling Torus away, it felt as if he was going to put his foot all the way through Kjoren’s body.

“That is enough!” Nulfrun cried, setting Torus down. The boy started heading back towards Kjoren, only for Nulfrun to start yelling curses and scolding him. “He is beaten. You have no reason to continue on.”

“He didn’t quit, though,” Torus pointed out. “He’s still going, isn’t he?”

“Begone, boy. If I have to bring your father out here, I doubt he would be as forgiving as I am.

Torus weighed his options here. Despite not believing he had won this battle, a fight with his father was something he knew he would not win. So, he simply bowed his head, and ran back inside the house, to take refuge in his room.

Nulfrun slowly pulled Kjoren up to his feet. “Did he hurt you?” He asked, which was a dumb question. Kjoren’s face and shoulders were bruised up, with many cuts aligning his arms.

“A little…” Kjoren wheezed. Nulfrun sighed and hoisted the boy up to carry him.

“Come… lets go find your father.”

Though he was too tired to do so now, he would have protested. Kjoren never liked having to stand before his father, even less so in such a state. It would be akin to a court hearing, but what could he say to defend himself? He had fought, he lost, and here he was.

Nulfrun carried him through the halls, past all the shiny trophies and souvenirs that his family had collected over the years. Nulfrun had a whole hour dedicated each week to making sure that each one was clean of dust and scuffs. Father had always told him, that was too much work to dump into a bunch of relics, but Nulfrun would not be deterred. That was one thing no one could deny about him, he was the workhorse of this house.

“Why were you two fighting, hm?” The old nord asked.

“He challenged,” Kjoren whispered.

“And you took it, knowing full well what he intended to do? Goodness boy, do you not learn?”

“I didn’t want to look weak…”

“Picking your battles does not a weak man make. Torus needs to learn that. It’ll kill him when he comes toe to toe with someone bigger than him,” Nulfrun murmured. “You know why he challenges you all the time? He knows he’ll win. You’re smaller. Younger, and wea-… Not as physically strong.”

Kjoren frowned. His eyes started to well up. “I think he’d fight me anyways, Nulf.”

On that note, he was silent. “Just… try to avoid him.”

“We live in the same house.”

“Sometimes the best course of action isn’t easy,” Nulfrun shrugged.

Soon enough, the two walked through a set of doors and into the meeting hall. In the center of the room was a giant, circular table, where father conducted most of his business meetings. In fact, he was in the middle of one right now. When Kjoren saw the 3 other noblemen in the room, his heart sank. Interrupting one of these meetings was something he most certainly did not want to do. But here they were. Nulfrun was too gutsy, sometimes.

“Nulfrun, what is the… Oh lord,” He could hear his father talking. “What happened to him?”

“That child down the street again. Blindsided him. I pried him off, but not before… this happened,” Nulfrun said. The child down the street, that was the name they had for Torus when speaking in front of company. Easier to blame an obscure bully for the troubles than explain how violent the son of Ulren was becoming.

The man himself sighed and turned to his colleagues. “Gentlemen, this meeting is over. I will be in contact.”

They nodded to each other and excused themselves from the room, whispering amongst themselves as they did so. Ulren quietly shut the door behind them.

“This… this cannot go on. You know that,” Nulfrun folded his arms.

Ulren kept his hands on the door, his head hung low.

“How long are you going to let Torus do this, Ulren? If not for your boy’s sake, do it at least for your reputation. The commoners would have a field day with this story should they learn how violent Torus is…”

Again, there was no answer from Ulren.

“Are you comfortable with letting that meathead beat your boy into Oblivion?!” Nulfrun snapped.

“Bite your tongue!” Ulren finally shot back. “Don’t talk about either of my children in such a manner, do you understand me?”

“If that’s what it takes to wake you up and make you see the situation at hand, then I have no other choice, Ulren. I cannot begin to count the amount of times I’ve had to cut your meetings short because I’ve found Torus causing trouble and Kjoren hear bearing the brunt of it, or getting dragged along on whatever stupid trouble-causing adventure that Torus has decided to go on.”

“I realize that,” Ulren said. “You’re dismissed.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get a straight answer from you.”

Ulren glared at his man servant. Though he often talked too much and was as stubborn as a mule, Ulren had tremendous respect for the old man. He had served this house before Ulren was even born to this world. He had seen a lot, and he knew a lot. He was valued in this house, much more than the average servant.

The head of the house turned his attention to his battered son, who was sitting in a chair that was far too big for him. It furthered his anxiety, as the entire room now felt much larger to him. As if he was sitting amongst giants, tiny and afraid.

Ulren knelt to look his son in the eyes. “What happened.”

“We fought, and I lost.”

“Why were you fighting?”

“He asked.”

“Asked to fight you?”

“Yes.”

“And you took him up on it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kjoren looked sheepishly away from his father.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Why?”

“I didn’t… want to look weak.”

“So you caved into his demands? That sounds very weak to me, son.”

Now that it was put that way, Kjoren only felt worse about situation. Tears began to well up in the young boy’s face as the feeling of failure truly began to weigh down on his little heart.

“Ulren…” Nulfrun started.

“I dismissed you, didn’t I?”

Nulfrun balled up his fists and cried “Fine! Do what you have to do then! Please, tell him how you’re going to let this continue because you’re busy fondling the Jarl’s manhood to do anything. I will be getting a drink,”

“Close the door on your way out,” Ulren said, unphased by the outburst. The door was slammed shut.

“Can I go, please?” Kjoren whimpered, now that the one person in his corner was gone.

“Why do you think he asks you to fight, Kjor?”

“Uhm… N-Nulfrun thinks-“

“I don’t care what Nulfrun thinks!” Ulren cut him off, rather harshly. “I asked you what you think. What’s going through your head?”

“I, uh…” Kjoren gulped. “I don’t… I don’t, think he… likes me.”

Ulren frowned, looking agitated. “You mean to tell me, that you have continuously accepted this beating each and every time he has asked for a fight, which he asks because he hates you, because you believe that not accepting this is going to make you look weak. Is that the story we’re going with?”

At that point, he started to cry. A few drops streamed down his face and he put his head into his palms and cried. He put his head into his palms and simply wanted to disappear.

Ulren let him cry for a moment, before he embraced him. Kjoren hugged tightly onto his father, weeping silently into his shoulder.

“Strength, son, isn’t measured in who can beat who with their fists. That’s something you both don’t seem to realize.”

“I know…”

“No, you don’t,” Ulren said, sternly. “If you knew that, we wouldn’t be here.”

He broke off the hug so he could address his son face to face. “He doesn’t hate you, Kjoren. That much, I know.”

“Then why does… why does he keep doing this?”

“Because you keep letting him,” Kjoren said. “He’s a child of battle. The thrill of it, the glory of it. I see it in him, when I take him to the Arena. He’s told me his dreams of being a soldier one day.”

Ulren simply shrugged. “You’re enabling that thrill, accepting these challenges. He knows you won’t deny him his fun. That’s why he always asks you.”

Kjoren frowned at the accusation.

“Now… I don’t mean that to sound mean, like this all your fault. But you’re growing up, Kjoren. You’re not a baby anymore, and I don’t want to fight your battles for you. This,” He gestured to the bruises on Kjoren. “This is something, that you must take into your own hands and fix yourself.”

“How?”

“You will talk to him. You will work this out with him. You will confess what you have confessed to me. And you will sort this out, as individuals. You will muster up the nerve to say no, on your own.”

Kjoren did not have a moment to protest as his father scooped him up and said “First, we have to get you healed up.”

They exited the chamber, with Kjoren asking. “You think he’ll listen to me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. This is your struggle, not mine,” Ulren said. “It is time for Kjoren Silver-Blood to resolve his own matters. Understand?”

“Understood,” Kjoren said.

Ulren nodded. “I love you, son.”

“I love you too,” Kjoren said faintly. He felt a little better.

---

Alvoran strode up to Graicus's side. "Do you think he knew we'd be coming? The vampire, I mean..."