webnovel

The Book Of Legends

The Book Of Legends. A mystical of unknown proportions, with knowledge foretelling the past, present, and the future. Of time, space, and fate. Of nigh omniscience and nigh omnipotence. A book coveted by many, yet beholden to none. What secrets does it hold, and what does it entail? Yet it somehow managed to land in tne hands of a young, down-on-his-luck man. Find out what happens when the book starts to reveal the secrets of old, and what it will do for our young protagonist. Will he drown in the knowledge of the book, or will he rise and conquer it, ushering his own era?

Chun123 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
13 Chs

Once A Beautiful Sunday...

A small, scrawny child could be seen sitting inside a gaudy room. Inside, weird looking chandeliers could be seen, similar to the ones used by the Fae Archons, yet metallic in nature. A sound could be heard, a the door leading to the room is opened.

"Edward Richtofen, get right here this instance! Stop staying in the room all day, you're not some girls who plays with dolls all day! You're a man. A man! Men are supposed to eat steel and break rock with bare hands! Hiw am I supposed to explain to your mother why toy are here all day." With a huff, a stocky matron starts berating the young child who was sitting at the table, etching drawings onto a white page.

The child, in response, just stares up, gives the the matron the deathly stare, and climbs up from the chair. His short, stubby legs fail to reach the ground, resulting in him falling from tbe chair face first. "Hmph, serves you right young master, who told you to sit there anyway. You know that you are too short for this.", the woman glints with a tiny sense of sympathy.

"But Freeda, you know how the others treat me. I mean, just look at me. Thin legs, twiggy arms, plank-like body, I'm always the forst one to fall whenever we're playing. Do you even know what they call me? Maiden Failden. I mean, it doesn't even make sense grammatically and literately. Who do they think they are, authors of great renown.?" The young boy, now known as Edward Richtofen, whines in complaint, while dusting himself off.

"I know how you feel young master," the stocky matron, now known as Freeda, started speaking, " But you must remember, you the sole, legitimate heir of the house of Richtofen. Your ancestors are of noble descent, their bravery and righteousness know to many and sung with great valor across the lands. You will someday embody this noble spirit of theirs, so get changed and go downstairs." With this, Freeda goes closer to the young lad and starts to help him change his clothes.

"... unacceptable. This boy is too weak, he must be sent to Brentshem's School for boarding there. No matter what happens, no matter how much he tells, screams, or cries, he will be sent there, and that is that!" A yell can be heard coming from behind a large door, evidently from a man. A woman can ve heard softly sighing, as if realising nothing can be done. A silent bot is standing outside, with hands clenched in rage. He turns around and storms off in silent rage and despondency. But on the stone, clear traces of water can be seen.

..."Come right up, come right up. Fresh fruits and vegetables available. The freshest veal chops you can want are here. Care for a more vegetarian option? Worry not, we have the straightest and whitest artichoke you can ever want. If still to expensive, no worries, the cabbage here is perfect for your sauerkraut. Just be careful of bugs though." A hawker is seen shouting from the top of his lungs, waving his meathy arms around in exaggerated manners. Similar scenes can be seen in the street, whether they he from mini stalls, or proper shops. Liveliness can be clearly felt here.

Young Edward can be clearly seen walking down the street. Thieves and pickpots peek at him, but quickly turn away, once knowing who he is. No one is willing to mess with nobles, especially the heir of the house of Richtofen.

Just as he is about to cross the street, a quiet voice calls out to him. An old, gaunt man beckons him, from the corner of the street. Hidden behind layers of beads, his bright eyes glint.

What attracted him the most was the trinkets laid across his laps. Mysterious glyphs, etched in the surfaces, seemed to shimmer. Though damaged, he could sense the rich history in them.

Yet the highlight was neither the appearance of the old man, nor the trinkets, but how he was laid. He was floating five cm above the carpet, with no support. Edward could that behind him lay nothing, except a solid wall.

The old man looked at Edward straight in the eyes, and asked him, "Mr. Edward Richtofen, do you believe... in gravity?"

A sudden ring is heard from somewhere, jolting Jake from the bed. In panic, he slipped from the bed, and fell down into the floor.

While rubbing his head, he wondered to himself:

What was all that about?