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Candide

Children's Games REBOOT. (C1 10/17)

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Um. So. Hello there and sorry for abandoning you guys when I should have been writing? ><

 

As the older members know, this is a Rhen/Lars fic I wrote about a year ago. It was originally in first person, but I'll keep it in third person, since it sounds better that way.

 

I'll upload a new chapter every week, since I have school and I'm expected to keep being awesome there. The first few chapters will be uploaded pretty quickly though, but with some pacing.

 

It's not like it has any sexual scenes, but there might be some swear words, but they'll be mild. I suggest you be at least mature enough to not freak out over those kind of words before you read this.

 

If I have critiqued your own story on the same forum in a harsh manner, I apologize if I seem like a horrible person. it's just how I am when I get into Grammar Nazi Mode. Please don't let that cloud your judgment when you read this.

 

Thank you.

 

(Oh eww I sound like I'm old.)

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And So They Meet

Chapter One

 

 

 

Another slave girl.

 

Lars raised an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of the new girl. His mother was practically shouting at her all the rules of the household while the girl cowered beneath her antagonizing gaze. He, however, was comfortably sitting in a plush armchair poring over a book with spells that he would use when he would grow up to become a raging hot sorcerer who was the wet dream of everyone. Including men.

 

She looked to be about the same age as Lars, around fifteen. Her hair was an odd shade—lavender. Lars was amazed by the utter stupidity of light purple hair, and decided that anyone with such outlandish features deserved to be insulted until they cried.

 

The Mother left the girl in front of the fireplace, where she looked bewildered and afraid. So then Lars, being the chivalrous person he was, got off his armchair and walked up to her.

 

“Slave, what’s your name?” he asked.

 

She looked up and glared, her blue eyes blazing with a temper he hadn’t seen a minute earlier.

 

“It’s common courtesy to give your name before demanding to know mine,” she responded. Lars’ mouth twitched in annoyance.

 

“If you must know, I’m your new master from now on and you have to follow whatever I say, and you will call me Master Lars.” He said it like she was mentally retarded. “Do. You. Understand?”

 

“I know very well that you’re a bratty little tyrant who isn’t weaned yet!” the girl retorted. “I’d rather call you Baby Lars. It’s way more fitting.” Lars was about to say something very worthy of getting his mouth washed with soap, but then he just had to be interrupted.

 

“Lars, dear, I see you’ve met our new slave,” his mother butted in with her annoying voice and big butt. “Her name is Rhen and she will tend to all your needs and follow all your commands.” But she seemed to be directing it at the girl.

 

“I’m going off to have tea with the ladies.” She was so embarrassing. Even in front of this slave! This girl! This Rhen!

 

Adorned with heavy foundation, thick lipstick, fake eyelashes and some rainbow streaks in her hair, Lars’ mother left the house towing her purse which probably held loads of money.

 

Lars cleared his throat. “So then, Rhen”—she sneered at him—“the first thing I want you to do for me is to cut my toenails.”

 

A few minutes later, he was lounging on his armchair again while Rhen was holding a toenail clipper and doing what he told her to do. Of course, the amazing Lars wasn’t girly or anything. He just liked to make his slaves go through torture. But then again, they were getting long.

 

“Why is your hair light purple?” Lars drawled lazily, staring at her messy mop of lavender. “It’s so unnatural and it makes you look like an attention whore. I mean, who ever heard of dead lavender cells sprouting out of anyone’s scalp? It’s madness!”

 

Rhen looked up and glared. “At least I don’t have green hair! Did you dye it that way or did you fall in a vat full of green mold when you were born? And what does the hair on your forearms become when it grows thick?”

 

Lars grit his teeth but she kept going. “You’ll be having green all over your arms! It’ll look so weird that people will think you covered yourself with hairy leaves!”

 

He kicked Rhen away. “Go clean my room, you bitch!”

 

“Oh, and you have green hairs on your toes, too! Care for a plucking?” She winked and held up a pair of tweezers.

 

-

 

-

 

The weeks that followed consisted of Rhen irritating Lars to the extent that he actually hit her. It was an epic moment, since he had a glove nearby and he slapped her in the face with it, like how the men who manage whore houses slap the women. That was the only time she actually ran away. Other times, whenever they argued, she treated Lars like one of those children who say, “When I grow up, I want to be famous, I want to be a star, I want to be in movies!” Children can wish for the most outrageous things, like a flying pink pony, but ninety-nine percent of the time when they want something that is out of their league, it never comes into their grubby little hands.

 

The way Rhen carried herself annoyed Lars. Whenever she was around The Mother she acted all respectful and obedient, but with him, she treated Lars like he was a baby under her babysitting service. As in really sitting on him. One of their arm wrestling contests actually escalated into a real wrestling match. Rhen ended up sitting on Lars in triumph.

 

It was frustrating that she never got into any trouble. Many times Lars tried to make her temper come out like the horrible demon it was when other people were around, but it was too hard.

 

Lars complained to Ylitta and Hector about Rhen and they promptly agreed with whatever he said. However, it wasn’t enough to spread gossip about her in Ghalarah, because everyone else liked Rhen, especially that wretched seamstress who often gave that slave food that would only suit nobles such as the Tenobors.

 

-

 

-

 

Lars couldn’t believe he actually did that. He took off Rhen’s slave bracelet. And oh my god he didn’t know why.

 

Probably he did it on a whim, under the guise that he wanted to try out some magic he’d learned while educating himself the basic spells for starter sorcerers. But Lars knew one thing for sure: it wasn’t to impress Ylitta and Hector. He could go ahead and perform a cheap coin trick and they would literally kiss his butt. Or at least, whatever he sat on. Ylitta would constantly throw herself at the young sorcerer while Hector was willing to bury his face in a puddle if it meant keeping Lars from dirtying his shoes.

 

Tch. Such strange companions.

 

Later at dinner, Lars sat at the dining table that always had luxurious amounts of food that Rhen had cooked, and in the three months they had her, she could actually cook decently. Not that she cooked like a gourmet chef, but she did prepare the food suitable enough.

 

Lars picked at his steak, wondering what Shadwood Academy would be like. It was supposedly for gifted sorcerers and sword singers. What kind of title is sword singer anyway? Lars thought. It’s not like they serenade love songs to their swords and weapons. This world is screwed.

 

Rhen ate in a corner with a smaller table, and she was only given scraps from the bottom of the pots. She ate ravenously, and Lars watched in fascination, masking it with a sneer of disgust. Since The Mother was out, she retorted, “What’re you looking at?”

 

“I just noticed how sloppily you eat and you have the perfect resemblance of an ugly and starving baboon,” Lars replied.

 

“Are you saying I have a big butt?!”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“What kind of an answer is that? I asked you a ‘yes or no’ question and you give me maybe?!”

 

Lars shrugged and slowly started eating his steak, which had the meatiest part. He relished the taste while Rhen’s eyebrows met and her lips curled downward into a snarl.

 

“If you attack me,” Lars said before she could do anything, “then I’m going to tell Mother that you ate supper when you aren’t allowed.”

 

Rhen cocked one eyebrow. “Why did you let me eat some food?”

 

“Because,” Lars said, “envoys from Shadwood will be coming and I don’t want them to have a bad impression of me.”

 

“You’re a stupid ass-kisser.”

 

-

 

-

 

Lars felt the sharp pain that seemed to concentrate on his buttocks. He turned to Rhen with the intention of flogging her or possibly using some of his newfound magic and zapping her to crispy bacon. Mm, bacon. Before he could do anything, he was stopped by two people who were dressed in fancy clothing.

 

Lars was embarrassed when he discovered that the two were emissaries sent from Shadwood. Ghelda and Lorad. Lorad and Ghelda. Sorcerer and sword singer. The sword singer had the freakiest red hair.

 

“I am free!” Rhen exclaimed when Lorad told her that she had a ‘gift’ because she shazzanged Lars with a stick she found on the ground while he was beating up a little slave so that he could steal his candy. Then Ghelda took Lars away and they rode a mule express to Veldarah. It was weird because they could just walk the whole way and use the money to buy something worthwhile, like collection of sporks.

 

-

 

-

 

What’s she doing here?! Lars thought in horror. He had seen Rhen in the headmaster’s office, where she was being sickeningly sweet and thankful.

 

Rhen was studying at Shadwood with Lars. His slave was going to be taking classes to be a sword singer.

 

Lars liked to express his opinion that sword singers were pansies. They just trot around with their sharp swords and swing at random crap then they can cut almost anything they swing at if their cutlass is sharp. Meanwhile, sorcerers needed to refine their art in order to master sorcery. It was difficult, yes, but at least it wasn’t anything that anybody could do for no reason. Anyone can just go ahead and pick up a knife and hack and slash at chickens and rats.

 

Lars happened to bump into Rhen one day. “Excuse me, slave, haven’t you learned your manners yet?”

 

“I’m not your slave, Lars.” She scowled at him. “I’m a free citizen and I do have manners, unlike you.”

 

He started with something innocent. “So how is Shadwood for you, Peta?” Lars knew she hated the name that he’d given to her, thanks to Ylitta mentioning her puppy called Peta.

 

“It’s great, Lars. How are you handling your green hair growing all over your body? Are you shaving well? Make sure not to leave any telltale hairs in the shower drains, young man!”

 

-

 

-

 

In the end, neither of them won, because they started a fistfight and people held Lars back before he could break Rhen’s front teeth and leave her with a permanent lisp. They were forced into a small claustrophobia-inducing room and had to think of what they’d done and make up and accept the amazing powers of friendship.

 

Lars and Rhen obviously valued their pride much more than their freedom so they didn’t speak to each other for a long time. Master Harald kept them in that wretched room for almost a whole week, although they were given food. The teenagers just stared at each other angrily and forcefully, waiting for one of them to break eye contact.

 

-

 

-

 

When they were let out the school had been flowing with rumors, and people kept saying Lars and Rhen were lovers fighting for custody over some fried chicken named Peta.

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LOL, I so love Rhen and Lars arguing, because it's just so funny.

 

By the way, isn't a woman tailor usually called a "seamstress" instead of "tailoress"? I really have never heard the word "tailoress" before :S

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And Now They Have to Save the World

Chapter Two

 

 

 

“Congratulations, Lars! You are now an apprentice sorcerer!”

 

Lars rolled his eyes as Ghelda happily skipped around him, proud that the gifted child she brought had become an apprentice in just a year. She had told him that novices usually took at least three years of studying and training for their trials. And he bested them.

 

He stepped out of the room and nearly bumped into Rhen.

 

“Watch where you’re going, Peta,” he said.

 

“Shut up, Baby Lars,” Rhen replied coolly. “Did you just check the hair on your body and find out it’s green or what?”

 

Lars flushed. Rhen smiled and continued. “Aww, what’s wrong? Did Big Bad Rhen make Baby Lars flush like a public toilet?”

 

He scowled at her, though he could feel his face hot with embarrassment. Ugh, Rhen was such a pain in the arse. There was no end to her insults about his hair color. Luckily, Lars knew that she was quite unaccustomed to male attention in that way. It would shut her up, even though the corniness would come from someone who hated her. “Why of course not, my dear. I just found you looking especially ravishing today. Your eyes, in particular. Such gorgeous blue.” He winked and made a move to grab her hand.

 

Rhen, unable to speak out of utter surprise, jerked herself away from him, with her eyes bugging out. She slowly backed away from him until she was out of sight.

 

-

 

-

 

Lars watched Rhen do her trials. She kept missing Lorad. Sad, really. He was already an apprentice sorcerer, and he had mastered the spells his classes had to offer. It was yet more proof that he was a genius. He’d spent his childhood getting ready to become the most amazing sorcerer in the world, and he was already starting out very nicely.

 

It was impossible for a stupid slave to become a sword singer. Let alone a stupid female slave. Lars wasn’t misogynistic, but how could someone as thin and as weak as a peasant girl wield a sword?

 

He narrowed his eyes at the sight of her trying to fight back. She was so feeble and easy to break. And Lorad had freaking cross display whenever he attacked. It made the battle seem like an exorcism of sorts. Rhen had no chance. No chance at—

 

“I win.”

 

Rhen was looking at him with a tired but smug expression.

 

-

 

-

 

“So…” Lars said, as he walked by her side as if he did it all the time.

 

Rhen scowled in annoyance. “What?”

 

“You’re an apprentice sword singer.”

 

“And?”

 

“You’re going to sing love songs to your weapons.”

 

“You have no idea what sword singers do. I bet sorcerers just sit in front of fake crystal balls all day and demand cash from—”

 

Lars slapped his hand on her mouth. Then he felt something wet on his fingers and snatched his hand back.

 

“You licked me!”

 

Rhen grinned and stuck her tongue out. “You had it coming, asshole.”

 

“If you must know, I could make that arse of yours fry to a crisp. Maybe I could eat it.”

 

She grimaced. “Ew, Lars! You cannibal! Who would want to eat a human butt?!”

 

Lars smirked. “Simple. Cannibals.”

 

“What have I done to deserve this? Are you jealous of me?” Rhen exclaimed in frustration. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

 

“Because.” He leaned closer, to whisper in her ear. He didn’t care if people were watching. “You’re mine.”

 

Rhen didn’t move, but he could feel the disgust radiating off of her words when she murmured, “I’m not. You’re insane. I feel sorry for the girl who becomes your wife. You have issues.”

 

“Dear Rhen,” he whispered. She waited for him to continue, but then he strolled away like nothing had happened. Rhen could hear some whispers around her. Her face turned pink, seeing as how she was in the spotlight, and she too left the scene.

 

She heard someone say, “That bitch!”

 

-

 

-

 

“I can’t believe that you, of all people, will be joining me,” Rhen huffed as she sliced a rat in two. They were training like crazy, in order for them to get stronger for the quest that lay ahead of them.

 

“I told you,” Lars snorted, “I can’t let Peta take all the glory. And you might hurt yourself. You’ll lose your porcelain perfection of the skin and it will look so not attractive.”

 

She glared at him while she gingerly removed the treasure from the rat’s corpse. “Who’s the one who stocks up on the covey balms?”

 

Lars lunged and forced the sharp end of his staff to pierce though the body of a scurrying rat and he stepped on another, killing them both with sickening crunches. Rhen cringed.

 

“Could you kill them quietly?”

 

“It’s not like you’re not loud when you kill rats. You grunt like an ogre.”

 

“I don’t!”

 

“Do too.”

 

“I’m not a grunter!”

 

“Yes you are.”

 

“No I’m not!”

 

“Yes you are.”

 

“No I’m not!”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Yes I am!”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Yes I am!”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“I am a grunter and that’s final!”

 

Lars grinned at her. “Okay then, Rhen. I’m fine with you being a grunter.”

 

The said girl looked confused for a second, then thoughtful the next, then suddenly angry. “You tricked me!”

 

“Didn’t.”

 

“Did too!”

 

“Didn’t.”

 

“Did too!”

 

“Didn’t.”

 

Rhen had a gleam in her eye. “Did not!”

 

Lars raised an eyebrow. “That won’t work on me.”

 

“Ugh!” She stomped off in a huff.

 

-

 

-

 

Since there was a massive flood of new students, Rhen offered Master Harald hers and Lars’ rooms, with that dreadfully pathetic “Lars and I are okay with staying at an inn, Master Harald!” Lars, of course, protested, yet the peasant girl was too generous to let the children sleep at the inn when they were just novices.

 

They had to save their gold for equipment and other supplies, so they had to share a room that thankfully had two beds. Lars had made it a point to demand that he wouldn’t sleep on a floor or his mother would march herself to Veldarah and scream at whoever owned the inn.

 

A few hours after training found Lars at the market buying some food because the food at the inn was too bland and made he and Rhen have long dates with the bathroom. Lars saw some children playing and ogling at him. They must be staring at my hair, Lars thought in annoyance. They were like Rhen; the kind of children who take in every little detail and scrutinize the strange little things.

 

He picked up a haunch and weighed it in his hands, estimating whether to get it or just eat bread again. The prices were outrageously high for such a small amount of food. Only bread was reasonably priced.

 

Lars spotted a ratty old woman waving an oar. Her image screamed I am an old woman. Hear me roar.

 

She was yelling about a boat for a large price of gold pennies. He shuffled uncomfortably away from her. The old lady kept shifting her gaze in his direction. Only well-off people would be in the meat market buying delectable animal flesh.

 

-

 

-

 

“Melita, domi adsum!”

 

Rhen looked up from wiping her sword of the rat blood. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“That’s for me to know and you to not find out,” Lars grinned gleefully. His companion frowned.

 

“Latin is a dead language, Lars. No one even cares about it anymore.”

 

Lars slapped on his face an expression of mock horror. “Dead language?! You’re only saying that because you’re jealous that I know more than you!”

 

“Just shut up.” Rhen concentrated once more on ridding the blade of body fluid.

 

“Come on, you know you want to know what I mean,” he teased. She didn’t react. Lars rolled his eyes and sat next to the apprentice sword singer.

 

He poked her. “Ouch.”

 

“Ask me.” He poked her again.

 

“No – ouch!”

 

“Ask me.”

 

“Lars, stop it – ow!”

 

“Ask.”

 

“No!”

 

Lars cruelly poked Rhen’s stomach hard. “Fine then! Just tell me, so that you’ll leave me alone!”

 

He simpered and meandered leisurely to the door. “This requires reenactment, dear Rhen. Pretend I didn’t come in, and that you’re still wiping that invisible blood off the pitiful blade that you try to pass for a weapon.” Then he opened it and went out. Then went back in.

 

-

 

-

“Honey, I’m home!”

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Woah... this story is absolutely amazing; I am so late though and I wish there was more. Still, amazing job! I totally enjoyed your story! Now excuse me as I go lurk and find other R/L fics for me to squeal over xD

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