The Emotion Factor: Chapter III

CHAPTER III

A PEACEFUL BOY AND A CHANGE IN FATE

NOTE: This chapter is also in my book folder as well, along with whatever changes that had to be made. This will be left "as is" just cause I feel like it.





         Another beautiful day begins as the dawning sun rises over the horizon to begin another day. As the sun rises up and casts its light rays onto the ground, we see small, structural objects reflect back the light revealing their presence. A small village is revealed from when the night concealed it, for it was a simple village with no light for the nighttime paths through town. The structures varied by material and importance. A school and church that can be seen were constructed out of stone and brick. The rest of the buildings, from corner stores to regular housing, varied from place to place depending on the owner’s wealth or taste or availability of materials. The village also had its own farm lands inside of it, as well as a watch tower for patrol. Outside of the village, just by a few feet, ran a river from the north to the west downward. To the east was a large forest area. If one could see the town from the sky, the town seemed to be about a half square mile in length. Back on the farmland, one patch of fields was ready for its seasonal harvest this morning. The house that owned this patch of fields was constructed of mostly lumber, but had a stone chimney built in it. Just then, the back door of the house opened as someone walked out into the fields ready to harvest the land.

         The person walked outside with all of the essential farming gear needed to get the job done, from a simple bag to a simple sickle. The person was a young male, appearing to be around twenty years or so. He was in casual farming gear, nothing too fancy or special, with a cap to shield him from the sun. He had blue eyes and black hair, no facial hair though. He takes in the fresh morning air as he prepares for his work.

         “Ok, let’s get this job finished”, he exclaimed as he brought out the tool he needed from his waist side. The harvest he was gathering today was a tough kind of wheat in which the stalk had to be cut down by hand since the grain seeds only grow once it get’s to full length—which happens to be thrice that of an average man. The tool he brought out for this was a machete to cut the hard stalks since he had to make a quick, but clean, cut along the stalk. He readied himself and observed how much he had to do for this harvest. The depth of the field that this house owned was about 3 acres within the whole village, so even though all three of the acres this season were used for the wheat, he could only do about half an acre before the noon sun. He proceeds to cut down the stalks of wheat with relative ease.

         After getting about half an acre of the tall wheat down, he laid what he had out in piles so he can sort them out further. He had to cut the part of the wheat that was usable and discard the rest of it. He got his bag that he had and did a tedious—but required—process in order to do that task. Once he got the grain parts of the stalks into the bag, he cut off the rest of it right below the grains and then discarded the useless portions. He continued this for the other piles until he was finished completely. He then tied up the bag and placed it along the side of the house, when at that moment, someone from inside called for him.

         “Oh Burbont, I need you for something.” Yes, the young man who has been working on the fields is indeed the young prince that was saved approximately nineteen years ago. He was now the age of twenty and now had his name tag placed on his clothes. Unfortunately, he is unaware at what happened from back then except for the fact that he was saved from a forest some distance from the village. The person from the house was a woman who seemed to be in her late fifties. She was beginning to have gray hair, but the hair was a short cut style. She had regular, casual clothes on for the house. Some faint wrinkles could be seen on her face, but her beauty was still satisfactory.

         Burbont comes inside the house into the living room area to see what was needed of him. “Yes mother?” He did in fact call her ‘mother’, for she is the only caring woman he can remember since he was found, so it felt normal, even though he was already told at a young age that he was found, not born from her: he still loved her like any child to their mother.

         “You are aware that your father is getting on in his years, so we need you to get something for us, please,” she said. “You see, we need—“

         “Dear,” out came a rugged voice from deeper in the room. “I’ll explain it to him.” Burbont turned towards a man sitting a little frail in a wooden chair. Although his age changed him a lot by having slight baldness, wrinkles, and a small case of liver spots, he was the man who actually found Burbont in the basket nineteen years ago: he was the woman’s husband. The years didn’t give him an easy time, as his age showed him hitting his mid to late sixties.

         “Father, what is it?” Naturally, he called him father, due to the fact that he cared like one would.

         “As you already know, son”, he began to say. “I’ve been ill for the past few days, rendering me unable to seek care on my own. I need you to leave town for me and seek out the following; the nectar of a chocolate azalea, the roots of a lily, and the rare herb, Tasgalsura.”

         “Ok father, so where can I find them?” Burbont questioned.

         “You can find the azalea and lily in the open field if you look hard enough. We already have chocolate azalea nectar stored away. As for the Tasgalsura, I’ve heard it can be found near the brooks of rivers upstream near the Balaser waterfall northeast following the river that passes by this village. It should have blue petals and two pairs of four-pointed leaves. That’s all I know of them, as few have ever seen them.” He pauses for a brief moment and covered his mouth as he coughed due to his illness.

         “Father—“

         “It’s all right, son. I still have some strength left. If you can get those ingredients, we can make a remedy to cure me of this illness.”

         “Ok. I’ll return soon!” Burbont turns to the front door.

         “Wait son,” His father managed to get out. He then turned to his wife. “Dear, give him my sacred possession.” His wife nods and heads for a plaque which had a sword on it. She grabs it from off of the plaque carefully, and then walks over to stand next to her husband with the sword in hand. The father clears out his throat before continuing to speak. “Son, take this sword. I told you when you asked me years before, on whose sword that was, and I told you it belonged to a man that I fought alongside in a war long, long ago. If I can recall, it must’ve been about thirty years now since that time. But I digress. Anyway son, I treasured this sword because he was a dear friend of mine before he was slain. And now, I think the time has come for you to take it.” Burbont walks forward towards the sword, still in its sheath, and holds it in both hands. By looking at it, after removing it from its sheath, the sword appeared to be a short sword—finely crafted as well. Placing the sword back into its sheath, he places the belt of the sheath holder around his waist. “Don’t forget son, I taught you the basics of a swordsman. Take heed of the dangers you may face, and defend yourself well.”

         “Thank you, father, I’m off.” He heads out the door to accomplish what he has been sent out to do.

         “You think he’ll be all right out there?” the wife said concerned.

         “I’m sure he’ll return safely.” He coughs pretty harshly before continuing. “He’ll hold his own out there.”

         He heads out towards the exit of the town, where a guard was on patrol. Burbont’s seen him for a few years now when he came to this village lost and alone, with no recollection on his past. The guard was a man in good armor, silver gauntlets, and iron greaves, though his right arm was severed from a gruesome battle from the looks of it. Since he couldn’t recall his past or his name, the villagers gave him the name Gin.

         “Hi Gin. How’s patrol today?”

         “Nothing to report Burbont. Are you heading out?”

         “Yes Gin. I should be back before sundown. I have to gather herbs for my father.”

         “Ok, watch yourself.” Gin waves goodbye to Burbont as he heads off.


         The azure sky was of a calm setting, with the sun shining brightly with few clouds to obscure it. The position of the sun suggested it was some time past noon since Burbont did his morning chores. As the surrounding nature carried on with its natural cycle, he searched around for any azaleas or lilies growing about anywhere.

         “Let’s see, I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard to find a lily around here,” Burbont said to himself. “This season should suffice for them to grow decently enough.” He scouted around for several minutes until he finally found what he was looking for, a lily. He carefully took the lily and placed it in his bag. He decided to extract the nectar once he got back home, so he can focus on locating the last ingredient. “Ok, now for the hard part, I need to find the rare Tasgalsura herb. He said it could be found near the brooks upstream by the Balaser waterfall.” He remembers the river that flows by his village. “Ok, to the mouth of the river”

         He heads north towards the direction of the river that flowed past his village, then trekked northeast following the river upstream. The sun in the sky has moved since Burbont last checked, but it was still some ways above the highest mountain in view, so it wasn’t near nightfall anytime soon. He finally gets to the mouth of the Balaser waterfall and begins to scout around for the Tasgalsura.

         “Well, I’m here now, so where is that rare herb?” He looks around the river beds looking around at all the plants that were growing there. “He said they grew around here, so where are they? You know, I think he told me they had four leaves and blue pedals.” He didn’t realize his mistake that it was two pairs of leaves that had four points on them. Then, he saw an unusually looking plant, completely out of place from the others. “Hmmm, this looks rare enough.” He pulls it from the ground and places it inside of his bag. “You know, I should find any other plant that seems rare, just in case I picked the wrong one.” With that said, and staying near the river beds, he picked a good dozen plants that he thought looked rare and non-poisonous. After he was finished, he got his stuff and began to head back home.


         Burbont reaches the front entrance of his village, spotting Gin still on guard. “Hey Gin. How goes the rounds?”

         Gin waves to Burbont greeting him back to town safely. “Welcome back Burbont. Everything is peaceful here. Were you successful?”

         “Yes I was. I have to hurry home now.”

         “Ok Burbont. I’m turning in before the night shift. You know I don’t need much rest to work.”

         Burbont finally gets back home just as the sun sets over the horizon. He walks into his house. “I’m back,” he greeted on entry.

         “Ah, you returned, and it seemed you had no conflict of any kind,” his grandfather greeted him. “Dear, he’s back.”

         Burbont’s mother comes out from the kitchen when she hears that he returned. “Oh that’s good. Are you ok?”

         “Yes mother, I’m ok. I got the ingredients.”

         “Good. Bring them here.” Burbont hands over the bag and she places the bag onto a nearby table. She sorts out the ingredients after removing the contents of the bag. Knowing herbs well, she differentiated the many herbs that Burbont picked out, finding the right one, the Tasgalsura. Then she pulled out the lily from the pile. She walked into the kitchen and got a mixing bowl and a jar of the nectar from a chocolate azalea to prepare the next step. First, she poured the nectar from the chocolate azalea from the jar and placed a careful amount in the bowl. Next, she pulled out the roots of the lily flower and placed it straight into the bowl. Finally, she grabbed the Tasgalsura and placed it into the bowl as well. Once all the ingredients were in the bowl, she proceeded to crush them into one to complete the medicine. The process was completed and the final mixture was placed in a bowl of soup so Burbont’s father could ingest it. Even though the medicine can cure his ailment, the taste alone is atrocious.

         “Thank you dear”, the father says after finishing his soup. He then turns to Burbont. “And thank you son for willingly doing this task for me.” Both bow in appreciation for his gratitude towards them. “I should be better in about forty-eight hours or so. Well, it’s the end of a long day. Let’s eat and then go to sleep.” They ate a whole-hearty dinner as the sun set over the horizon and released the night sky. Just as they finished dinner, a knock was heard on the door of their house. Burbont gets up from his chair and answers the door. It was Gin at the door who looked a little concerned.

         “Gin, what brings you here, and what’s wrong?” Burbont asked.

         “You mind if I come in?” he replied with some concern in his voice. “I need to tell you all something.”

         “Come in to the dining room.” Burbont leads him to there. Gin takes a seat as he prepares to speak to them.

         “I was going to rest before the night patrol when this unusually large man in red armor approached me. He asked me questions that concerned me. He asked questions like ‘Does this town know any information of the whereabouts of a descendant of the Sarnaman family blood line?’ He asked me that three times, varying the question each time. I kept saying that no one in this village knew of such a thing. He then said ‘Sorry to have wasted your time’ and walks off. What worries me is the look in his eyes as he spoke to me. I think he could be major trouble. Be on your guard. I already told everyone else about this before getting to your place so they know too.” He rises from his chair. “Well, I better head to the watch tower tonight in case something shows up. Goodbye.” He heads out the door in a rushed matter and closes the door.

         “Oh my, he must’ve been worried and in a rush to tell us that,” The woman said.

         “Indeed, especially since we couldn’t even get in one word back there.” He rises slowly from the chair with minor difficulties. “We should go to sleep, but heed his warning as well. Goodnight everyone”



         The town went into another night of peaceful slumber. However, something was stirring out of place close to the edge of the forest. Two men appeared from the forest’s edge. They were hidden in the shadows of the night, so nothing else could be made out. Afterwards, a good two dozen other men appeared wielding bows and arrows. In moments, they all began to circle the outer boarders of the town. From the forest appeared their general; the man that questioned Gin in the evening. He stood before his troops, all covered in the veil of night.

         “Sir, the troops are in position,” said a man quietly on the general’s left.

         “I got no answers from them,” Spoke the general.

         “Your orders, General?” said a second man on the general’s right spoke.

         “As the king ordered; answers or not, burn the town to the ground. Now fire!” The archers pulled out an arrow out and added a flaming chemical substance to the end of them. They lit the ends, pulled back on their bows and fired all around the boarders of the village so a wall of fire would ensnare the village. I bet that man alerted the village about my presents. He had this look in him that I can’t place. No matter, it’s too late for this town. “Keep firing, and don’t miss the houses! Don’t stop till all you see is flames!”


         Gin was atop the watch tower in search of any disturbances around. “Hmm, I don’t like moonless nights. It makes searching a chore.” Besides his gear, he had a small set of binoculars on hand, but he was unable to see what was heading his way until it already happened. Just then, he saw fire arrows coming in from the edge of the forest boarders and flying in onto the village. “Oh no, we’re under attack. But it couldn’t be those common thieves trying to steal crops. They wouldn’t want to do this kind of damage.” Then a flash of the man from the early evening got him thinking. “Could it be? Did he issue this? No time. I have to spread the word of danger and get all I can to a safe place!” He swiftly climes down the watch tower

         Inside Burbont’s house, he was sleeping soundly in his room on the second floor of the house. His parents slept downstairs cause their age made it difficult for them to climb up and downstairs constantly, so they constructed a room downstairs about seven or eight years ago to avert this problem. His room was casual, but cozy; a nice bed, a place for his clothes, and a small window with some cotton drapes.

         Suddenly the silence was broken, as Burbont was awoken to the sound of something, or someone, breaking through a window downstairs. He rises from his bed in his pajamas and rushes downstairs. He gets there and sees what it was that broke the window; a fire arrow just crashed through the window and landed right on his parent’s door. The fire spread rapidly as Burbont gets closer to the door. He bangs on the door, but then the flames spread towards the knob. He was forced too back away from the fire. Just then, he heard the call of his parents on the other side. “Burbont, are you out there? What’s going on?”

         “I don’t know, but there’s fire everywhere. I think we may be under attack.” Burbont hears another window break as another fire arrow broke into the house. The fire blocked the stairway to the upstairs. “More arrows are coming in!”

         “Listen to me Burbont,” the father spoke out through the door. “You must get out of here now!” Just then a wooden beam from the floor above came crashing down right in front of his parent’s door, and because the door opened outward to the rest of the house, they were now pinned in their room.

         “Father! Mother!”

         “Burbont, leave now!” cried out his mother. “It’s too dangerous here!”
Weighing his options, and seeing the increasing danger of the flames, he decided to heed their wishes and escape. “Ok.” He heads to the nearest exit, which happened to be the front door. But as he approached it, another fire arrow hit the door from the outside and set it ablaze. Burbont was about to just brave it and crash through the door, but the rest of the other fire that was already active gave way another wooden beam inconveniently landing in front of the doorway. He jumped backwards to avoid being hurt. He looked towards the windows, but flames and debris was obscuring them. The smoke and heat were getting more intense, but the smoke had a way of escaping thanks to the broken windows so it wouldn’t build up and chock him. However, the broken windows were letting wind in, spreading the flames further into the house, and eventually surrounding him. The heat was getting to him, causing his vision to go hazy. Just then another arrow came in through one of the broken windows and hit him in his left arm. He quickly pulled it out, but it pierced his flesh and on top of that it was on fire, so he received a small burn around the wound. With the pain and the increasing heat, he was starting to lose consciousness. He hits the ground and begins to black out. Before losing all scene of what was around him, he heard another crash, like someone breaking in.


         Morning rises once again, but the sun reveals a bitter scene. The small village was burned to the ground. Any vulnerable home was eaten away in moments. One could only imagine what the death toll could be if no warning or means of rescue was issued. Any house of a weak material was now just ashes of what it once was. Gin was seen walking down the destroyed town. He then heads to where Burbont’s house once stood. It met the same fate that the other houses faced, being no more than a pile of ash. He went towards a root cellar that was near the back of the house and opened it up. He began to walk down the stairs and turned on a candle lamp he had on him. He gets to the bottom and locates Burbont on the floor, still asleep from the other night. He pushes Burbont’s side to stir him from sleep.

         “Huh? Where am I?” Burbont spoke slightly groggy. He had some soot on his face from the soot from the fire last night. “How did I get out here? Last I remember, I was in my house…and blacked out. Am I dead? The afterlife doesn’t seem like I thought it would, darker and colder” He turns his head and sees Gin standing over him. “Are you dead too?”

         “No Burbont I’m not dead, and neither are you. I was able to save you from your house and hide you in here.”

         “Huh, I’m alive? But what about my parents!?” He grabbed on to Gin’s arm.

         “When I got to you, the place was too unstable from the fire. I got you out just before the house gave way and placed you in this root cellar to protect you from the fire as I tried to rescue anyone else that I could.” His head lowers. “I…couldn’t save your parents.”

         Burbont was shocked at what he just heard. He stormed past Gin despite his injuries. “Wait Burbont, you’re in no condition to be moving around so recklessly!” Burbont reaches outside from the root cellar. He looks around to see where his house once was. He finds it and sees only ash where it once stood, only leaving the stone chimney standing, pointing towards the sky. He searches through the rubble. As he searches through it, he finds what was left of his parents—burned beyond recognition. He couldn’t bear to see them like this. He looked around for a shovel in order to give them a proper burial. Gin walks up to him with a shovel in his hand from the root cellar. “I knew you would want this. Here.” He gives him the shovel. Burbont silently takes it and heads to a patch of land near the house to dig the graves.

         After he was finished with the graves and placing his parent’s bodies inside of them with the help of Gin, they both say some final words before filling in the holes with dirt. Then he took one last look and was about to leave the remains of his home, when he spotted something in the yard. It was his father’s sword lying in the ashes reflecting the sun’s rays. He picks up the sword and leaves his home behind, carrying the sword in his hand against his shoulder. He Turns towards Gin and asks, “You said you managed to saved others, so who else made it?”

         “Hey, Mr. Burbont, is that you over there?” Burbont turns towards the sound of the call. It was a survivor of last night’s fire, a small girl around ten years of age.

         “Little Sherry, is that you?” Burbont calls out in response. She runs towards him and clenches onto him. He then pats her on the head like a parent would to their child, relieved that she was alive and safe. “How are you doing?” His voice was slightly lifted of all burdens at that time.

         Sherry suddenly began to cry into Burbont’s chest. “Oh Mr. Burbont, my mommy and daddy, they’re gone. Why?” Tears and cries of utter sadness flooded her being. “Why did these bad things happen?”

         Burbont comforted her as he replied, “I truly don’t know why.” He calmly pushes her away to ask her of something. “You survived last night’s ordeal, are there any others?”

         “Uh huh. The ones who made it are in the school building, since it survived the fire. C’mon, I’ll show you.” She pulls him by the arm in the direction of the school building. Burbont looked back at Gin as he was being pulled, but he gave a gesture for him to go with her. Burbont and Sherry get to the door and she opens it up. They walk inside of the interior of the building. “These are all of the people that made it Mr. Burbont. There aren’t many of us left.” Burbont looks around where he stood as he looked at how many people actually made it. Counting heads, he only reaches up to thirty other survivors, not counting Gin, Sherry, or himself: thirteen grown ups, and seventeen children. He walks closer to them.

         “Oh Burbont, you’re safe,” one of the grown ups spoke out to him. “We were barely alerted of the terror last night somehow. Did your folks make it out too?” Burbont’s head lowers in despair once again at his parent’s death. The message was clear to them all. “Oh, I see. I’m so sorry Burbont.” Silence fell upon the room.

         “Do you know who it was that warned you?” Burbont broke the heavy silence.

         “Gin alerted most of us by waking us up.” An old man said. He was bald and wrinkly and still in his pajamas since that’s all he had left from last nights ordeal. “Then, those that were able to were directed to this building, while he led the elderly or very young.”

         “And Gin was able to save this many people?”

         “It was dark, but some of us that were saved say that there was someone else that guided them here. How did you make it out?”

         “Gin saved me and placed me in the root cellar, but he was unable to save my parents in time.”

         “I see, so that’s why your expression is not what it used to be.” The old man noticed that his face didn’t give off the joyful person the town saw for many years. Now it was more melancholy and neutral, almost hiding the anguish he suffered. “So, where’s Gin now?”

         “I’m right here.” Gin just walked into the building as the old man asked that question. “I went to look around to get a body count from last night’s attack; I counted sixteen bodies so far.”

         “Hey Gin,” Burbont said. “They mentioned that someone else was helping you save them, is that true?”

         “As a matter of fact, I’m positive someone was assisting me. He even confronted me saying he was going to help me that night.”

         “Did you find out who he was?”

         “No. I couldn’t even see his face and he didn’t give out his name to me, probably because time wouldn’t allow it that night. He had his face completely wrapped up in a bandage. But he did have a cape and some armor on his torso. Also, I think his left arm was also bandaged up. I could see that since a bandage strap was hanging off his left elbow.”

         Burbont thinks for a bit, and then walks past Gin towards the exit. Gin did nothing as he had a good guess on what he was thinking of. “Wait,” Sherry suddenly called out. “Where are you going, Mr. Burbont?”

         Burbont lowered his head at the question thrown at him, as his answer was not going to be reasonable. His back was still facing them as he responded with a tone set on vengeance. “I’m going to go after him. I’ll get him for what he’s done to my family and this town.” He resumes walking towards the exit, but Sherry grabbed on to his pants leg, as if to say she didn’t want him to leave them. He slightly turns his head just enough to see her in his sights. “Sherry, I know what I’m doing could be dangerous, but I’m going to try anyway. I want some answers on why they did this, even if I—," He cuts himself off, for he felt like it was fruitless to explain any further of his reasons, and turns away from her. He raised his head straight and spoke out in a loud tone towards the survivors. “Everyone, listen to my words. Whether I return or not, I want you to either rebuild this village, or leave this place and find a new home. I must leave now and pursue their trail.”

         Gin places his hand on Burbont’s shoulder. “I understand Burbont, so I won’t stop you. You may be young with the sword, but your skill is enough to survive with if faced with anything. I wish I could go with you, but I don’t have that kind of strength.”

         “If possible,” Burbont began to reply. “And if the others decide to, will you guard them and guide them to a new location?”

         “Yes I will, right everyone?” He turned back to get an answer. They all nodded in agreement. “Ok. Burbont, you can count on it.” He lets go of his shoulder. “Oh, and take this: some spare clothes apart from those pajamas you still have on from last night.”

         “Thank you, Gin.” He walks out of the building. Everyone waves goodbye with hopes that he will be safe on his journey.

         He get’s to the village entrance to leave the home he now lost to get those responsible. He looks at his home one last time before leaving. Because of the damage to the village, he was only able to take his sword and the clothes he got from Gin that he just finished changing into privately outside of the village boarders. His clothes were now donning a plain shirt, pants, leather boots, and a small pouch for anything small like food gathering or the sort. No spare supplies were left that he knew the villagers would need for whatever time they could last, if they could be scavenged from the ashes that is.

         Amazingly enough, from the morning when he saw his folk’s dead, to his very departure; whether it was his will or whatever the case may be, not one tear was seen descending down his face.