Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

Arturur's Journey


This is a novel that takes place on a world much like Earth called Alastair. The setting has both Victorian and modern elements. All characters are damons: Humanoid people with pointy ears, fangs, claws, and commonly spiky hair.

Part of the Doctor Arturur series. Arturur's Journey is the rewritten version of the original series, collected together into one novel. It begins some months before the events of The War of Nobles.



(IN PROGRESS)


Pronunciations

Damon (DAY-MUHN)
Alysius (UH-LEE-SEE-UHS)
Arturur (AR-CHUR-ER)
Ashimi (UH-SHEE-MEE)
Asterterkin (AHS-TER-TER-KIN)
Dende (DIN-DAY)
Osgulliov (AWS-GUHL-LEE-UHV)
Rayon (RAY-AWN)
Sasawich (SAW-SUH-WICH)
Yagrius (YAY-GREE-UHS)


Previous in the Series

Arturur's Destiny

Next in the Series

The War of Nobles


Complete List of Books in the Doctor Arturur Series

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

Table of Contents

Prologue
Chapter 1: Soul of Sapphire
Chapter 2

To be continued...

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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Prologue

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

The world of Alastair is home to a human-like species known as the damon. Damons have pointy ears, fangs, claws, and commonly the men have spiky hair. They have pale skin and dusty blue eyes, do not deteriorate with age, and are watched over by powerful gods who protect them from all danger. While damons experience death, they live for thousands of years without fear of a premature end. The younger damons are cut off from each other, residing in their own private regions, while the far older and more psychologically mature damons live together in harmony. The setting is a combination of the comforts of the Victorian age, and the scientific marvels of modern inventions, with a broad, never ending source of futuristic technologies.

Arturur is a psychologist with severe, low-functioning autism. Despite that he is powerfully disabled, the young damon is still capable of colourful speech, in-depth psychological analysis, and stress-free work. He is both restrictively childish and amazingly mature. All of his life, he has struggled to understand verbal and body language, while speaking very little and being almost totally confined to communication through text. Arturur is extremely mentally fragile, having very poor life skills, and must be taken care of by everyone around him. However, he tries to be as independent as possible, finding meaning and purpose as a fundamental psychologist, a profession known by the title of "Doctor". Supported by family and friends, Arturur is able to work under intense supervision. Yet his autism is so crippling that he often finds himself highly confused and terribly sensitive to the environment. Mental breakdown for him is normal. But the people in his life are always by his side and ready to think for him when needed.

Ever since he was born, Arturur has lived in the little fishing village known as Wendell. A great palace rests within its territory, one of the greatest structures in the world. Here dwells Jamal, King of the Peasants, with his wife, children, grandchildren, and the rest of his family. Unable to live with his own people for mysterious reasons, Arturur has been raised by Jamal and his wife, Jacqueline, as his adoptive grandparents.

For the past several years, Arturur has finally been learning about communication to the extent of actually becoming truly verbal. At twenty-seven, he is at last able to talk a little like normal people, but his abilities are greatly limited. While his words are as beautiful as his typing, he lacks full understanding of language. Frequently, he says the wrong things at the wrong times. He doesn't understand all words and is terrible at metaphors. People must keep repeating themselves, and even then it is tough for Arturur to absorb. And that is only the beginning of his problems.

After twenty-seven long years, Arturur returns to his home town of Sairanof, the place where he was born. Sairanof is one of many villages in the farthest western region of the kingdom—The kingdom including the ruling nation of Warren and all of the other countries in the world of Alastair, which are all controlled by Warren. In this village, there lives the royalty, nobility, and the other most powerful inhabitants of Alastair. Vikram Castle is here, and is shared by the royalty and all of the nobility. Arturur is completely new to this land and its people, and must find some way to adapt to his alien surroundings and all the many colourful characters that have just entered his life.

The Headmaster's Illness... a crippling psychological condition, is what has kept Arturur away from home for so long. Everyone in Warren is a psychologist, and an academic in general. It was feared that a younger Arturur could not handle being raised in such an environment. It was believed that he would deteriorate into great mental instability so horrible that he would find it unbearable. And so he was adopted into Jamal's family, to be kept in Wendell until he was considered to have outgrown the risk.

Arturur... Crowned Prince of Warren and Alastair. Only son of the King.

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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Chapter 1
Soul of Sapphire

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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The building was huge and vast, with lots of open spaces, and many, many hallways and many, many doors. There was so much going on, people everywhere, everyone trying to get even just a glimpse of the young man who was being lead through by another, older man. Soldiers stood in their way, pushed them back, kept the walkways open. But they didn't always succeed, trying as hard as they could to shove people out of their path. It was noisy, crowded, and downright frightening. The young man couldn't think fast enough to absorb his surroundings. It was all happening so quickly. Pixies popping up here, pixies popping up there. Vampires desperately trying to control the completely out of control situation.

And there was one man who acted as if he could conquer all, who growled at the other damons with intense ferocity and vainly tried to aggress them into submission. One man who was terrifying enough to make them listen if only for a fleeting moment. While even he could not ultimately stop the others, it was comforting to the young man with him that he at least attempted. The thought was enough to make the young man feel even just a little better.

Eventually, the pair made it passed all the joyous activity, and entered a maze of hallways that the older man knew would be safe. He let go of the young man's hand, and he turned around to get a look at him. The older man had, had a deadly serious expression on his face, angered that the other people had been allowed to be here right now, but his expression had softened into one of supreme happiness. And it was definitely a wonderful day.

He laughed, thoroughly contented in every way. Then he said something odd. "How many pixies does it take to open a door?”

The young man was confused by the joke. "I have no idea." He didn't feel well, and he really didn't want to start hearing a string of tiresome jokes. He had already been warned that his grandfather joked no matter what was happening or how terrible the circumstances.

"Zero." Replied the older man, with a bright smile.

"Why zero?" Asked the younger one, nervously. He had no clue where this was going.

"Because it's already open." His voice was clear and calm despite the emotional roller coaster that he was on.

The young man failed to see the symbolic significance of what his grandfather had just said. And so he said nothing.

“How about something funny to do with the Yellow Building?” Asked the older man, cheerfully.

"I don't really like jokes about this place." Mumbled his grandson, turning away.

"Well, you are a pixie and everything." He insisted, as if that meant something. "It's just... so nice to meet you... for the first time." His voice cracked at the end, barely able to contain his own excitement and the pain that came with it.

The young man was not sure what to say. "Yes... it is." He was so overwhelmed, it was like the world was spinning.

"You'll like it here at Jensen." Assured his grandfather, which was the official name for the Yellow Building.

"Why is it called the Yellow Building?" Wondered the young man. It sounded strange to him.

His grandfather was not slow to respond. "Because it's very... well... yellow." The older man shrugged his shoulders, not wishing to get into the complexity of the issue, which initially didn't seem so complex. In actuality, it was a very hard thing to answer.

The older man thought to himself for a minute, the two standing still and silent, and then he couldn't help but ask. "What was your previous psychological experience before... you came..." He couldn't say the word "home", so he didn't and thought of something else. "to Warren?"

The young man was quiet, then, "I was a ward doctor. Pretty much. I did other things too, but... that was a big part of my career and always has been... Working with the sickest... I have done simpler things, but... I just... I don't feel like talking about this right now... Can we please change the subject?" A worrisome amount of time had passed since his arrival and still the younger man had been able to stay calm regardless of the circumstances. The older man had no idea why he didn't just burst.

However, talking with him still made his grandfather happy. "Well, then you'll do very well here. Pixies seem to be most happy when working in wards." His last sentence confused the young man, but he simply dismissed it as some kind of humour.

And all his grandfather did was smile.

The young man's name was Arturur, and his grandfather was "Granpa Pooky" to no one else but him. There had never been a person that had been allowed to call the older man by that nickname, and now—After all those long years—he could finally hear someone say it. He had always wondered what it would be like to be called by the name of an animal that he utterly despised. Pookies were mean, nasty pixie creatures, animals that had tortured Arturur's grandfather for the entire length of his life. Of course, animals were soulless and they couldn't talk, but the cartoon adaptation of the animal was traditionally done in a way that aggravated the old man to no end.

Or at least he was old compared to Arturur. Damons lived for thousands of years.

"Arturur..." The name was bitter sweet to Granpa Pooky. He had longed for twenty-seven years to call his grandson by his name. "I really... I feel really sorry for you. I... really, really wish that none of this had ever happened... You know, I... I don't believe in the Headmaster's Illness. I know that previous headmasters have... gone insane, but—"

"That's enough." Arturur stopped him from saying more, firmly setting a boundary on the topic.

Granpa Pooky was wise enough to know that Arturur could not handle that conversation right now. He even felt a little stupid for bringing it up so quickly. He had just met him, right then, right before they had reached that hallway. Arturur had been brought into Jensen by a group of people that he knew the boy had never met previously. He could only imagine just how traumatizing it was to be lead around by complete strangers, especially after Arturur had lived his whole life with peasants. The people of Warren were so different compared to the ones they ruled over, and there was a strong stigma associated with the small group of Warren natives that had been sent to live with King Jamal.

King.

It left a bad taste in their mouth.

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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##########

Arturur's mind had been violently upheaved and thrown into a new world of new people and new cultures and new environments and... well, it was all just so new!

The young man was a white pixie, a type of damon that was closely related to the xavier pixie and the pink pixie. You could even compare him to the pixie animal known as the pooky... as long as you didn't do it in front of his grandfather—Being called "Granpa Pooky" was already maddening enough. Arturur was very tall at maximum height; had long, thick spikes of white hair; piercing dusty blue eyes; and his face was shaped into the perfect image of mischief and mayhem. Like all white pixies, Arturur was a doctor, and, like all doctors, he wore a long, white coat. His turtle neck and trousers were also white, and he had on knee-high, black boots. Arturur was absolutely rigid and had the straightest back that anyone had ever seen. He was shockingly still and calm, his demeanour constantly reminding everyone that he was the only white pixie that was a soldier, except for his grandfather on his mother's side. Nothing seemed to faze him. It was as if he didn't have any emotions. But that didn't fool anyone. Everyone knew what he was really feeling deep inside of himself. Everyone knew that he was simply struggling to survive. An entirely new world... that was what he was in.

Currently, he was in a break room, and that was really funny to him. Of all the places they could have taken this baffled and hurting man, and they took him to a vending machine. Perhaps soda really did have all the answers in the world. Or perhaps this was just the best they could do. Arturur had no idea. His mind was shot. All of his feelings were locked up inside of him, deeply buried where nothing could touch them, even the loving face of Granpa Pooky. Even the overwhelming presence of the seemingly countless pixies that had been showing up left and right. Even the images of the vampire soldiers protecting him from the excited masses. He was like a stone. Not ice for his heart was warm. But solid rock. Defensive and lost and confused. And the pain in him was terrible. It was all that he could do to keep it from surging to the surface.

Granpa Pooky was there with him, his eyes always on him, even when he took a drink. The old man had taken a straw and put it in his soda. That way, he never had to stop watching him. Like rain battering the treetops, like wind blowing through the leaves, like thunder erupting in the sky. His emotions were things that he could not hide. He was not like his suffering grandson. He just let out his feelings in a different way than others. He kept humour by his side as if it was his oldest and dearest friend. The world had proven to him many times that having an optimistic personality was always best. Even now in the wake of his grandson's return home.

Arturur's grandfather was a pink pixie, and his name was Sasawich. He was very tall, but shorter than Arturur. He had short pink hair, a smiling face, and kind eyes. The old man could be quite ferocious, but right now all he was thinking about was the well being of one little boy—Arturur may have been an adult, but his mind was that of a highly educated and surprisingly witty child. Sasawich knew this very well. Everyone did, even before he was born. And the pink pixie had powerful instincts, which was actually a hallmark of his personality. Sasawich was one tough son of a bitch. Oh, he was nice. Funny. Lovable. But again he could be quite ferocious. And as he lovingly watched his grandson's every movement, the tranquillity would have been swiftly broken if anyone else walked into that room and disturbed the troubled young man he was possessively guarding. Sasawich was a very strong and commanding psychologist if he had to be. And he could be the most terrifying person you ever met.

As silly as it was, Arturur's first glimpse of Warren was this building. He had seen nothing else since arriving. He had not been in Warren for long. And this building was considered the headquarters of all psychology, the name of this place being Jensen. Arturur had more than just heard about it. He had been told story after story about it. However, nothing he was ever told was very descriptive, so that being here was still one hell of a surprise. The Yellow Building... it was where Arturur would work for the rest of his life. He was supposed to be in charge of Jensen, as the Head of Psychology, known by the title of Jedediah. But he had just got here, and his ascending through the ranks had not yet begun.

The young doctor was not just a psychologist. He was a headmaster and a priest as well. Head of not just psychology, but education and religion too. Arturur was the Crowned Prince of Warren and Alastair, his father the King. Throughout all of the land, told about in countless legends long before his birth, Arturur was... "The Last Prince". And everyone wanted to see him and talk to him and witness his power for their own eyes. Everyone in the world. But right now, Warren was finally getting to see him for themselves. Jealously, the eager subjects from the other countries would have to wait. Even the oldest damons who lived apart from the younger inhabitants of Alastair were overcome with envy.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" Suddenly asked the voice of Sasawich.

Arturur was quick to attention. He had been absorbed in other things. The two were sitting at one of several tables in the break room.

"I don't think I follow you." Arturur didn't understand his question.

Granpa Pooky was careful and thoughtful. He repeated himself, except in a different way. "The stupidest mistake that you ever made. The dumbest folly of your career. The thing that made you the most embarrassed..." His voice trailed off, then, "You know, normal life."

Arturur stared at this man, long and hard. What an absurd thing to ask him. Why did he even want to know?

"The worst thing I've ever done..." He began, anyway. "was to unintentionally sacrifice one of my friends... for my arrogance." It was a dark, mysterious thing to say.

Granpa Pooky wasn't sure how to take that, but it sounded serious. He knew that Arturur had answered him honestly. "You're such a strange one." He said, finally. His expression was one of bewilderment.

"You're the one who asked." Asserted Arturur, looking down at the table then.

Sasawich was not an easy person to dismiss. "You shouldn't answer a question with a riddle." He wasn't angry. He just simply did not want Arturur to turn their first meeting into a bad memory.

Arturur became slightly irritated. "I'm not." He insisted.

"When someone meets a person for the very first time in their life..." Started the pink pixie. "they expect to hear nothing but crying. However... you clearly don't cry." It puzzled him. "There's something wrong with you..." He believed. "you've got a hole in your heart... Did your friend really deserve so much of your misery?" He shook his head then. "You know, you're not supposed to take care of people. You're the weakest of all of us. You're—"

"I'm a person like anyone else." The words sounded fierce, an angry snap. "I have feelings. I can't always restrain them." His eyes bore deeply into his grandfather's, then he turned away again, except this time he faced the side.

Granpa Pooky understood. He really did. But then he was a grandpa, for the first time in his life, and when you meet your grandpa for the first time in your life, he always has something to say to you.

"You're weak." He declared. "And there's nothing wrong with that."

Arturur did not like being referred to as a weakling. "You'll see soon enough that, that description of me is very technical." The young man was clearly frustrated with his grandfather's wisdom. He detested being brushed aside.

"Who is this friend?" Wondered Granpa Pooky.

Arturur said nothing. Then he got up from his seat, and went over to one of the vending machines. He got a chocolate bar, almost decided to sit at another table, and then realized that he was best off where he had been before. The white pixie reclaimed his chair. His grandfather remained silent, allowing the room to be cleared of bad feelings. It took some time.

He decided not to ask him again. Clearly, the wound was still raw. Sasawich had made a mistake. He had simply assumed that because Arturur had mentioned the event that, that meant it was no longer a painful issue. Once more, he had witnessed that Arturur was unnaturally in control of his own emotions. The boy was indeed a very powerful psychologist. Something that normally would have taken months or even years to fully display itself had instead been spelled out within the first hour of meeting him. This was obviously no ordinary child.

"Was Craig with you?" Granpa Pooky decided to pick what seemed to him to be an easier topic.

"No." Replied his grandson. Then he went back to eating his candy.

"When did you last see him?" Wondered the old man.

Still eating, then, "It's been a while." He said.

"How long?" Emphasized Sasawich.

Arturur looked him in the eyes, studying them. "I don't know... I don't feel good." Then he broke eye contact and looked away again.

"It's all right. My bad." Apologized his grandfather. "I'm going way too fast. I'm sorry. I've never done this before."

And again Arturur said nothing.

For a time, there were no exchanges between the two. Sasawich kept looking at him, but could think of no words to say. Then the old man decided that talking was not best right now. On the other hand, Arturur was completely ignoring him, lost in his chocolate bar, and then lost in his drink. He finished his food, but there seemed to be nothing that would pull the young man away from his dark, lonely moment. The two may have just met, but already the pink pixie was calculating his first impression of the boy. It was shocking. His behaviour. Where was the tortured crying? Where were the irresistible hugs? Where was the emotion? What had Wendell turned his grandson into?

To any sane mind, you would think that Arturur would be a complete wreck. And he was. But he was not showing it. Rational thought would have Arturur completely ravaged by sorrow and unable to hide it. Expectations had him damned to suffer openly. However, reality was totally different. The young doctor was a model of emotional restraint. His psychological abilities must have been very wondrous for his age, as Arturur was breaking all the rules. As every second passed, and every minute ticked away, Sasawich was learning more and more about his magical grandson. This man was tough. This man was out of this world. He was hurting, he knew, and yet his demeanour was one of serenity and calmness. The pink pixie had learned instantaneously that Arturur was definitely a genius at meditation. What a pleasant terror he would be once the situation wasn't so crushing and overwhelming.

And the time went on, and neither of them said anything, and then finally the young Prince became tired and wanted to lay down. Granpa Pooky was jolted out of his daze, and agreed to lead Arturur to a bedroom where he could rest.

And the boy would indeed need all the rest that he could get. For Warren was full of surprises.

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

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##########

Arturur was laying in bed, his back to Granpa Pooky, who sat next to him in a chair. The old man had just met his beloved grandson, and he refused to leave his side. He could only imagine just how terrifying it was for the boy to be suddenly immersed in a convulsion of stark images and bewildering voices. Confusing, lonely, and dreadful thoughts, all rapidly crashing together in his mind. Each person an invitation to the future, a future where he would know and trust them. But at the moment, that invitation was merely a chaotic welcome into an uncertain and frightening present. The young doctor had no idea what was about to happen to him. He didn't even know what his parents looked like or their names. He had never written letters to anyone in Warren, or talked to them over the internet, or received birthday cards when he aged another year. And they had nothing about him either, except for one precious thing, like a beautiful stone always in their pocket, making them feel more secure. And that was his name.

Arturur...

Now, finally at last, he was physically with them, or at least within reach. It would take some more time adjusting to his surroundings, but a meeting with his father was coming closer. A meeting with his mother, despite being farther away, was within grasp as well. Still, coming to know his parents was such a distant appointment... However, he was—Right at this moment—sleeping next to his grandfather. And he had him. He did not have his grandmother. However, he did have one of his family members. It made him rest easier, feel lighter, not so heavy. He was like a contented feather, all the bad feelings in him temporarily without a hold on his mind. While the boy had no understanding of the old man's personality, the truth was impossible to cloak. That was his real grandfather. That was his blood relative. That was Granpa Pooky, the man he had been told all his life was silly and happy and sweet, and would always spoil him with his boundless love.

This man so close to him... was Granpa... Granpa Pooky!

There was something about being around his biological family that made everything feel right. That made him feel warmer in character and more inclined to just drift. Suddenly, academics weren't important any more. Trophies meant nothing, and plagues just glowed softly in some room somewhere where he kept all of his awards. A career was wonderfully meaningless, and the whole construction of his life had become the lightest structure there could ever possibly be. All around him, a place of old, a symbol of an impossible childhood. He was born here, but he was also taken from here. Regardless, the emotions that pulsed through him as he slept were of the gentlest captivity that had ever ensnared him. His mind had finally quieted after twenty-seven long years.

He loved Jamal. He loved Jacqueline. He loved all the people that he had just been forced to abandon. And that meant something. He cared about their feelings, he dreaded their sorrow, he wept for their loneliness. And he felt all the same things too. But that could not change the peace that had finally entered his heart, the calmness that had enveloped him the moment he first set his eyes on Warren. All his burning questions would soon be answered. He would see his father. He would see his mother. He would see the rest of his blood relatives, and he would see all the nobles that lived with them. His eyes would take in his home, and his eyes would absorb the images of his new neighbours. All their voices would become familiar to him, and their habits second nature.

And as he dreamed, he was still and silent and at peace. He had come to the point in his life where all things would become complicated, but, for now, his sleeping form knew nothing of it first hand. He had lived simply before. He had been rigorously schooled, and he had worked in many tough situations. Yet what he had known was still so flat and two-dimensional to the realm that he would now inhabit. Conversations would take longer to understand. The question behind someone's actions would take on a whole different element. Each and every person would require proof for even the easiest claims.

These were academics. This was a land of psychologists. Arturur had never known a world so private and exclusive. He had never been able to even so much as barely imagine it. Unlike peasant regions, Warren was an arrogant and rightfully arrogant nation that closed out all others. Arturur had the pass to acceptance. Jamal would be fiercely fought against, and the people of Warren would struggle to take ownership of the Prince's mind. People like this had never had to interact with the rest of the world, those of much lower station. On one hand, it had its blessings, and yet on another hand, there were definitely cruel things about it. No matter how much everyone loved each other, quarrelling was so engrained into the behaviours of "big people". It seemed to be their destiny to destroy each other.

If only they could be more like a child. If only they could see past the differences of other cultures. If only a utopia was so effortless. But adults growled in opposition, and kids watched in wonder and amazement. Whether that child be young in age or young in mind, it didn't matter. You had to grow up, one way or another, to become apart of the warring mass of society.

And these problems plagued Arturur's life. As a psychologist, he was born to help people, to mend broken bonds, and to put salve on the wounds of the traumatized. And yet most psychologists, like most people, had walls in front of them. They could argue with their patients, they could battle against their patients' parents, and they could cause all kinds of unintentional mayhem in their patients' lives. There was so much bickering and so much to bicker about. Arturur had wondered all his young life why people were so needlessly aggressive and out of control of their feelings.

In his sleep, he had been at perfect ease. But then he began to wake up, thoughts quickly returning to him, memory being patched together. Now here he was again, in Vikram Castle, in Sairanof, in Warren. Grandpa Pooky didn't notice him rising, and then there was a pained cry. His grandfather turned suddenly in his direction, fearing the worst. Arturur had begun to seizure. Life had become too stressful again.

"Arturur?" Granpa Pooky was shocked. "Are you okay...?" He realized what a stupid question that was. "The computer will call for a doctor... Arturur?" He chose to be silent, not wishing to further distress a person who very likely couldn't talk.

Why didn't Sasawich jump up and seek out a doctor himself? The answer was simple. All things in the world were apart of the body of one god, the supreme god, the god with the most power. And because all things were apart of him, he could see everything that occurred. Consciously, his mind was like any other, but subconsciously, he could control the entire world without the slightest awareness. And this meant that the closed doors of his mind had vision and hearing and touch. Alastair was an extension of his own senses. And therefore when there was an emergency, no one had to do anything to trigger a response from the main computer—Also known as the root computer. This massive and completely interconnected computer was how all gods made contact to the living world.

So Granpa Pooky stayed by Arturur's side, bringing comfort to his writhing form. He watched his entire body convulse, again and again. The young man had closed his eyes, not wishing to see when he was in such distress. His grandfather did indeed give him peace, and he could feel his hand touching his arm. However, Arturur was still very frightened of others, and he did something amazing. Using all of his willpower and mental strength, he tensed up his left arm and moved it very carefully so that he could straighten it out. This confused his grandfather, who did not notice the action immediately. It was not until after he had realized that one of his arms was not convulsing at all that he understood the truth behind the stiffened limb. And still at first he had little reaction. He had to think about it for a moment before the significance behind Arturur's unbelievable amount of self control finally dawned on him.

Not only was this Arturur's first day in Warren, and not only was the tension finally causing him to have a seizure, but Arturur was controlling his arm! How had he managed to do that?!

Sasawich gasped in amazement, and didn't even notice the doctors until they were right next to him, working on the poor, convulsing boy... His grandson... was so powerful...! How could this be?

Arturur continued to seizure, and his arm continued to lay stiffly by his side. The rest of his body shook with a sickening violence... but through it all and everything that the doctors did for him, he managed to keep that arm under control. It was the only thing that comforted him in this terrifying fit. He was so afraid of people... he just couldn't let that arm seizure in front of an unfamiliar stranger.

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

Chapter 2

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

"He has epilepsy." Said Craig, in great distress.

"Epilepsy?" Questioned the professor, curiously. "At his age?"

Epilepsy was a rare condition in Alastair. And when a person did have epilepsy, they had almost always grown out of it by Arturur's age.

"Yes..." Craig trailed off, his eyes falling to the floor. He felt useless, unable to help his nephew.

They were at Vikram Castle, while Arturur was still at Jensen with Sasawich. Craig had never seen this place before now. He was Arturur's eldest uncle, and Craig had lived in Wendell his entire life despite being much older than his nephew. While he could have returned a lot sooner, Arturur could not survive without him. Therefore, Craig had stayed behind with the rest of them, and he didn't regret it at all. His uncle would much rather be by his side than walk amongst the academics of Warren.

"He is very weak." It was not a question, but a statement. The professor rubbed his chin, pondering the dilemma. "I suppose it's not really that unpredictable. After all, Arturur..." The name burned his tongue. "is the Crowned Prince... I understand that he is not supposed to have any strength." He was referring to his mental capacity.

Craig was maximum height like Arturur. He had short, orange hair, and a mean face. Every line had been drawn with cruel coldness, his eyes as fierce and unforgiving as a snake's. His ability to hold himself was legendary, however, he lacked the same impossible stoniness of his nephew. Craig could crack. Craig could cry. But, in order to be Craig, he also had to almost effortlessly bounce back. His expression could flicker with pain, and his arm could spasm with tension. But Craig was still Craig. And Craig had the emotional control of a very old man approaching a very sensitive issue. The only real difference was that an old man would eventually smile. Craig never smiled, not really. Unless it was at Arturur...

The professor had already had quite the fight with Craig, and they had been in the middle of a great, stupid argument when they had learned the news. Arturur was unconscious after enduring a terrible seizure. Craig knew this would happen, however, there was no way to prepare for it. The selfish, nasty pixie was about to—Not just crack—but shatter. He felt so guilty, like Arturur's convulsive fit was his fault and his fault alone.

Craig was a pixie. A xavier pixie. Despite all of his callousness, he was a very beautiful man. That was one thing that he couldn't hide. And while the professor had not known him long enough to truly see his face, if someone had been there that did know Craig, they would have seen that tender beauty break. They would have seen his powerful, controlling features contort into a heart rending expression of agony. Arturur was so weak. He was so disabled. He was so fragile. His uncle could not bear to witness the moment pass that marked one more strike on the board. Craig just knew... he just knew... that sooner or later, the stress would be too much, and his nephew would go into immense suffering.

But, in order for Arturur to be Arturur, his nephew did not even begin to believe that he would give out under the pressure. Arturur was not just a rare breed, but a breed all his own. His stubbornness went very deep, all the way to his frail heart. Talking sense into him was not just difficult, but a sport itself. You had to practice, and you had to practice hard and all the time. You had to strive for the most difficult psychological understanding. You had to immerse yourself in it like a school, and you had to work at it like a lifelong career. It was not easy raising the Crowned Prince. However, he was never mean or cruel like Craig. He was just really, really hard to work with.

"Well..." The professor had a serious look of dread. "how bad is it?" He was referring to the epilepsy.

Craig was on track. "It's not too bad. It's almost totally gone..." He paused, feeling frozen in fear for his nephew. "He hasn't had an actual convulsion in a long time, and when they do happen, it is rare and usually just a little bit of jerking... He used to have the big ones all the time, and they were terrible to watch. His face was terrible to watch... He used to get so scared, but he eventually became used to them."

"So he's recovering?" The professor was looking for clarification, and hoping for a good answer.

"Pretty much." Said Craig, wholly distracted, but... still on track.

Of course, the professor was worried nonetheless. He looked away, concentrating on a new mission. He had decided to change their focus from their silly argument to Arturur's well being.

The professor's name was Kane. He was average height, and had short, thin spikes of grey hair. His facial features were shaped by a deep, profound introspection, blended into a healthy balance of professional extroversion. He could be quiet in thought, or loud and demanding when laying down the rules. Seen as one of the most important parts of Warren's structure, these men known as professors had wide reaching power that spanned the entire length of the country. They were almost worshipped in their unrivalled abilities in education. However, most teachers despised them, and were even jealous of them. Everyone else simply obeyed their meticulous plans without question.

What was a professor if not a ruler of men?

And how long could one stand against the notoriously rebellious Craig?

"Tell me all about this illness of his, and how I might ease his suffering." Ordered the professor, intent on gathering a group of other professors, and then going to the boy. "I need to know as much as possible. Useful knowledge. Only something that could benefit him without too much instruction. We don't have time for much learning. We must act quickly."

Craig was more than happy to oblige.

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Re: Arturur's Journey (Novel) (Rewrite) (IN PROGRESS)

Post by RabidFox »

##########

Several days had passed. During this time, the men who had been attending the worrisomely weak Prince were already stumped. They had quickly realized that Arturur was deceptively creative with speech, and in actuality, did not make much sense. One peculiar thing that they had noticed was his obsession with analysing walls.

A wall gave Arturur such a great amount of entertainment that it was terrifying to his new caretakers. The boy would stand in front of any wall, and he would run his hands along any wall. And he would carefully study something that was altogether invisible to everyone else. They did not understand the explanations that he tried to give them. They could not accurately determine what it was that drew him so...

No need to say, Craig was the most unrestrained force in Arturur's life, and he had decided the moment that this mysterious boy had come into his world that he, as his uncle, would protect him from everything. But without Craig to explain things, without any of the people who had lived with Arturur, these psychologists of great renown, these rulers of Alastair, these powerful keepers of Warren... were left almost entirely on their own to interpret and treat whatever ill thing may infect his consciousness. They had only the computer to help them, and the computer wasn't being very helpful. The unknown reasons for this frustrated and confused them. It was a puzzle that they did not understand how to solve. Only protocol could give them the help that they so desperately needed. But why they were being forced to rely on such weak methodology of psychology, none of them knew. Before now, to use such pathetic examples of care had only ever been seen as ridiculous and evil.

But then you could never argue with gods. Less than a week and already everything was in an uproar. Chaos had descended upon Jensen. But then you could never argue with gods.

You see, they had just met this child, and for everyone else from Wendell, the appropriate supervisors had been given surplus information. All of the other returning Warren natives had a full treatment plan before arrival, and the plans were detailed more than enough to ensure the proper care of such unique and troubled individuals. But with Arturur... his current caretakers had been denied these simple necessities! The main computer was forcing them to do most of the thinking on their own. All they were really handed was what was absolutely crucial for keeping him alive. The instructions that they believed were vital to his health had been refused. Each and every person coming home from Wendell had each and every thing completely laid out for them. Their psychological needs and what was required to keep them comfortable and safe was all readily available from the root computer. Except for Arturur...! Why this had been done, they did not know. It deeply angered them and, while they ultimately had no choice but to obey their ancient superiors, that did not stop them from becoming enraged and confused.

And so the child sat on this bed, in the same bedroom that Granpa Pooky had taken him to the other day in order to rest. Here, he was being tended to by other, much older doctors, and, unable to come up with straight answers, the doctors were simply taking the delicate process of his care one step at a time. They remained calm, at least on the outside, as they tried to alleviate as much stress as possible for their young charge. At the moment, the doctors wished not to bother him, occupying themselves by working on computers and writing things in books. And so the boy was left alone to his own thoughts, and he simply sat there.

Arturur was most definitely a quiet young man. He had always been that way. It was nothing exceptional for him. Yet in these strenuous conditions, he was still somehow managing to be so calm, even when he had been in the midst of a very severe and draining seizure several days ago. While his overall reaction to this new world had been surprising, the ones who knew him would have understood the source of his inner serenity. However, right now, he was surrounded by strangers who could never imagine his intellect and wisdom, and to them it was like a great light had appeared in the sky, a bewildering symbol warning of the unknown that was soon about to be realized. But it was still too early for them to tell just what was happening, and there was calming confidence among these worried doctors. At this point, Arturur's bizarre lack of emotion was considered merely a fluke, and they did not believe that he could keep defying psychology as they understood it. Soon and very soon, they just knew that he would break. They had described the phenomenon as the result of a strange tenacity in the boy that tirelessly grasped for self control, and that this stubborn temperament had caused a temporary shift in the norm. A deep fundamental piece of Arturur's psychological make up that had thrown a wrench into the gears. Or at least, this was the professional opinion that the doctors had decided upon.

His eyes rested on those that were so determined to study him. They were all curious beings to him, all of them white pixies. He was amazed by the fact that they were even there. Arturur had never seen a white pixie other than Garner, and the two of them had always been alone that way. Craig may have been a pixie, but he was a xavier pixie, and therefore he was very different than them. While there was a great similarity that all pixies shared, Craig was still of another breed. And they, Arturur and Garner, alone with each other, could not imagine others of their race. And so Arturur stared at them, and eventually two of them noticed this and stared back. For them, what was amazing was finally seeing their Prince. Finally setting eyes on the boy of legend. While there was only a very little about the child that had ever been told to them, there were indeed some important facts that they had been given. And stunning facts they were.

One annoying thing that Warren had decided on its own was the idea that Arturur was a very disobedient young man who refused to submit to anyone. Oh yes, he was definitely rebellious. Oh yes, he was extremely difficult to dominate. But that didn't mean that he was disobedient in the ways that they thought him. Or that he refused to submit in the ways that they believed. Soon, it would all start coming together what kind of person was really before them. But not until they had thoroughly aggravated him to a degree that he could no longer handle. Then the gods would step in.

The computer's refusal to educate Arturur's new caretakers made the doctors wonder why Arturur should be forced to go through such difficult trials. However, no one ever really questioned the gods, always knowing that their best interests were the top priority of their ancient, all powerful ancestors. It didn't always make sense to people why they must go through all the things that they did, yet one answer that they were constantly given was that youth must learn how to survive with as little interference as possible. How much that had to do with Arturur, the doctors did not really know. For the most part, they were being informed through the computers that Arturur was both too weak to undergo normal care and that he was struggling through rapid mental growth. They had been told not to argue with their instructions and to follow them blindly. But regardless, they had been pushed to the limit on what they considered right and wrong, and while defiance was not possible, they could not fathom, for any reason, why so little assistance was being given to them for the protection of such a fragile boy.

Right then, in that bedroom, surrounded by a team of doctors, Arturur was profoundly aware of the fact that Granpa Pooky was not there at the moment. Only hours ago, he had been ordered to leave, tearfully beholding his grandson's face as he was forced to—What felt like to him—abandon the poor, tormented child. Yet, for now, there was nothing that the old man could do about the boy's frightened suffering. It was time for Sasawich to face another. For a while, Arturur would have to be taken care of solely by the strange, new doctors. By the strange, new white pixies.

And they all eventually looked at each other and at the boy, and the boy looked at each of them and then his own hands. And the boy reached out, innocently, wanting to touch one of them, as he had never known any other than Garner that was his race. Sensing this, the doctor in charge moved towards Arturur to allow him such searching behaviour. However, Arturur instantly became afraid of him, and withdrew his hand. The doctor eyed him carefully, and then took his trembling hand in his and placed his hands over and under Arturur's. The young Prince shook in fear and apprehension, a great anxiety overtaking him.

"It's all right, boy." The man said, everyone watching the pair with interest. "I won't hurt you... You're okay." His eyes were full of patience and kindness, and for a passing moment, Arturur was somewhat calmed by the compassionate effort in his voice.

For the span of what felt like a whole minute, the two simply looked at each other, their eyes meeting. Then, finally, Arturur remembered his fear, and backed off from the man, quickly withdrawing his hand and moving farther away on the bed. This was too much for Arturur, this introduction to his own kind. It had been easier when Arturur was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and strange as it might have been, it was almost as if all of the men were Garner, for he had only seen such features in Garner's face and his own. All of them, like all other white pixies, had spiky white hair. And all white pixies were doctors. Strong, commanding men, with rabid attention to detail and strict adherence to the rules, these were the people that Arturur would reign over one day. However, until then, he was all theirs. One of them smiled, very pleased at being able to see the Prince in person, and the entire group was alight with excitement. Then the smile was hidden, the man not wishing to come off as aggressive. Everyone was hiding their true feelings, because they were terrified of frightening the poor boy even more than he already was.

"You can relax." The man spoke again, his voice soft and gentle. "We're just here to monitor you. It's a very stressful situation, it is. Having lived away from home for so long. You must be exhausted... Go ahead. Sleep. I won't watch you any more, and we will just focus on our studies." This comforted Arturur, desperately wanting to get away from their prying eyes.

The white pixies turned away then, and did as they promised. Arturur began to calm down, and he stretched his form over the bed, purposefully facing away from them. At first, his eyes were open, full of wonder and fright. And then he closed his eyes, trying to disappear, trying to vanish from the room. Soon, sleep came over him and he rested.

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