Alfred: The Boy Who Would Be King (Alfred the Boy King Book 1) Read online

  ALFRED

  The Boy Who Would Be

  King

  By Ron Smorynski

  VOLUME One

  of

  Alfred the Boy King

  “Alfred the Boy King” Volume Series

  Text Copyright

  First Edition 2006

  Second Revised Edition 2017

  Edited by Tammi Smorynski & Larry Haise

  Cover Art: Kim Herbst

  Fonts

  Title: Font Monger, Chapters: Elementary Gothic Bookhand by Bill Roach

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. It is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to real or imagined people, properties or ideas is purely coincidental.

  Find more info @AlfredtheBoyKing on Facebook.

  Coming Soon:

  Alfred the Boy King, Volume Two: Alfred & The Underworld

  Alfred the Boy King, Volume Three: Alfred & The Quest Knights

  & More!

  Thanks to my daughter for listening to me read this with abated breath.

  Thanks to my sister for her dedication in bringing Alfred back from the brink.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: A Free Computer........................1

  Chapter Two: Wooly & the Computer..................14

  Chapter Three: Good Night Mom .....................24

  Chapter Four: The Ghost.............................34

  Chapter Five: A Dark Forest..........................42

  Chapter Six: Verboden the Cleric.....................51

  Chapter Seven: Grotham Keep........................62

  Chapter Eight: Afraid of Spiders......................67

  Chapter Nine: The Wizard's Room....................76

  Chapter Ten: Return of the Boy King..................81

  Chapter Eleven: A Kingly Farmer?....................85

  Chapter Twelve: Of Arms and Armour.................91

  Chapter Thirteen: Defending the Defenseless.........101

  Chapter Fourteen: Honor the Mother and Father......108

  Chapter Fifteen: The Dark Forest....................118

  Chapter Sixteen: The Bandits........................124

  Chapter Seventeen: Tirnalth's Secret.................130

  Chapter Eighteen: The Goblins......................137

  Chapter Nineteen: The Knights......................150

  Chapter Twenty: A Loyal Knight.....................157

  Chapter Twenty One: Loranna.......................169

  Chapter Twenty Two: The Harvest and Looming Threat174

  Chapter Twenty Three: Goblin Raiders...............183

  Chapter Twenty Four: A True Knight.................192

  Chapter Twenty Five: Fevers and Fears..............200

  Chapter Twenty Six: Gorbogal.......................208

  Chapter Twenty Seven: A Mother's Weakness........214

  Chapter Twenty Eight: Return of Alfred...............226

  Chapter Twenty Nine: The Return of the Knights......239

  Chapter Thirty: The Battle Begins....................252

  Chapter Thirty One: Ratkins.........................262

  Chapter Thirty Two: The Battle Within................276

  Chapter Thirty Three: One Last Time.................280

  Chapter Thirty Four: The Honor at the Field...........284

  Chapter Thirty Five: Alfred Returns Home............291

  Book One

  Chapter One: A Free Computer

  “Mom! Come take a look at my super duper medieval fantasy epic battle mania monster uhh... crazy... game! Woo hoo!”

  “I'm busy, Alfred. I have many sewing jobs tonight!”

  “Mah!!! If only I could see something like this in real life! Gaah... goblins are uhhh-tacking! Come on knights!”

  CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

  “Ah mom, real quick! You have never seen anything like this!! Evah!!!”

  His mother came and leaned against his bedroom door. They lived in a small, one bedroom apartment, so it was only a few steps. She held a needle with thread and some clothes she was meticulously sewing. His mom was a bit strange. She never wore make-up and had long hair wrapped and hidden in an intricate bun. She had a natural young beauty to her that confused him. All the other mothers at school had make up and salon hairstyles. She had none of this, yet seemed majestic to him -- if indeed he knew what that meant.

  Maybe the impression of this came from the oddly old fashioned clothes she wore and her sad eyes. He wasn't sure. She kept to herself -- well, except when smothering him. All she did was work at a laundromat and come home at night to do extra sewing jobs. Alfred did not like to ponder this too much. After all, she was his mom.

  “I thought you were supposed to be using that for school work -- that com-puting?”

  “Com-put-ER mom! You're weird!”

  “Yes, well, whatever it's called, Mrs. Kravitz gave it to you for free. That contraption isn't for playing noisy games. She is an old lady downstairs, and to give it to you was very nice of her. But she said you would need it for school.”

  “I finished my medieval homework! Oh-oh... gotta build more knights! Aaaagh!!... Hurry before they come!”

  Click-click-click! GRRAHH!! CLANG!!!

  “What do you mean medieval?” she asked.

  SCRAWWTCH!!

  “Alfred, turn that down.”

  BUD-DEEP!

  “Ah... what?” Alfred asked nonchalant.

  “You turned it off?”

  “I paused it. What, mom?”

  “Why do you call it, uhh… medieval homework? Are you still studying medieval history?” his mom asked.

  “Uhh yeah...”

  “But why? Why not learn about... you know, something... something happening today?”

  “I love medieval history! And my teacher loves how I put medieval stuff in every assignment!”

  “Alfred... why? Why not learn about ah... those things of today? You know -- business or that science thing? Or that phone thing everyone carries.”

  “Seriously mom! Seriously? 'That phone thing'? They're called smartphones.”

  “I, I don't want you to worry about that place, about those wars and all the horrible fighting,” she said, instinctively sewing at the doorway.

  “Yeah, okay mom. Sometimes it sounds like you lived it.”

  “No!” she froze.

  There was an odd moment of silence.

  “No, I just want you to be happy here,” his mom said.

  “I am. I got this computer for free! And a cool game!”

  “You're happy?” she asked, flinching with each sound.

  CRAACK! CLANK! GRRAAAHHHGGG!!

  Alfred's face contorted with each clanging sound. “Yes, mom. This is so awesome! I'm the king of all these soldiers!”

  “KIIING!!??” she shrilled.

  Alfred flinched. He was surprised at the shrillness of her response. “Uh yeah, king. I'm the king who rules over these soldiers and tells them what to do.” Alfred motioned to the game on his computer screen.

  “Playing a game doesn't make one a king! And ruling knights and men-at-arms is the least of what a king does!”

  “Whaaahhhh???”

  “Kings are just warlords with a crown! They are bitter and corrupt, grabbing authority to lord over others and are
nothing more than brigands.”

  BUH-DEEP.

  Alfred paused his game again, freezing and staring wide-eyed at his mother. “You studied medieval history?”

  “I?”

  “Mom, this game is cool because I get to be the king of knights and soldiers and fight monsters!”

  She took a deep breath, “Being a king is more than... it is not about fighting!”

  “It's just a game! See!? I know how to click on the peasants and make them build things. And then I click on these guys, who are the knights, and they fight for me. So I think I know more about being a king than you do.”

  His mom made a meek effort to look at the flashing lights on his computer screen. “I hope you never know.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Alfred. You are safe now.”

  “Ohhh-kay?”Alfred rolled his eyes, trying to avoid the loving mom look – the odd gaze she sometimes held him in, as if she had dragged him out of a threatening situation of epic scale. It was kind of like the look all moms give their kids when they feel concerned or worried about them, he figured.

  “Well I can't believe Mrs. Kravitz gave us this computer! I've never played this before. Kids at school used to talk about it, but I never got to play it till now!”

  THUNK! KLUNK!

  With each violent cartoonlike sound, his mom flinched. “She never mentioned it plays games. She said all the kids used com-put-ers for homework.”

  “Mom, it's a computer. You can put anything on it -- games, writing programs, anything you want. Don't you know anything about computers? What century did you grow up in?”

  “Alfred, I…I...”

  GRAGHHH! KLASH!

  She flinched with each sound.

  “Well...” Alfred said between maddening clicks.

  KBLANG!

  “...her son...”

  THUMP!

  “Robert came by...”

  FWWHOTH!

  “He found the game and gave it to me. It's an old game he played when he was a kid. He said the computer is so old that this is the only game I can play on it.”

  BUD-DEEP!

  “Mom, all the kids use their phones now. When do you think I could have a smartphone!?” He looked at his mom.

  “Is it over?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I paused it.”

  Alfred looked up. Subtle wrinkles around his mother’s eyes, tautness in her simple yet beautiful face, revealed her anxiety.

  “We can't afford that, Alfred. I don't make that much money sewing.”

  “I know... sorry, mom. Is it too loud?”

  “Yes son, just a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  She looked at him with a loving glance and then turned to go back to her work in the small living room. As she left, Alfred stretched his foot out to catch the door, to keep it from closing all the way.

  Alfred watched his mother. She sat amid piles of curtains and clothes and returned to sewing. He finally let the door close all the way.

  BUD-DEEP.

  He continued his game.

  FWWOOSH! KLINK! KLANK! GRRAAGGHH!!!

  The next day Alfred and his mom came out of their apartment and headed to school. He was tip-tapping and skipping along feeling happy and anxious.

  The building next to theirs seemed less like a building and more like a giant brick shack. It must have been a city garage or firehouse that was now used as a repair shack by a strange man named Wooly.

  “Hi, Mister Wooly!” Alfred yelled and waved as his mom pulled him along.

  Wooly tried to avoid looking at them. His face was horrifically scarred. Many kids thought he was a firefighter because of how bad his face looked and because he lived in what looked like an old fire house. The room had many lockers and a pole that went up into the ceiling. Some kids said maybe he was a murderer hiding out! Alfred's mom always avoided looking at him.

  “Just a minute, mom.” He yanked his arm loose from his mother’s grip and turned toward Wooly, who was in the shack.

  “I got a new computer! Well it's actually an old computer that Mrs. Kravitz gave to me!”

  “Uhhh,” Wooly said. He did not look up but rather stayed seated at his workbench fixing an old metal lamp.

  “Yeah and her son Robert, you know him? He and his wife visit with the baby.”

  Wooly shrugged.

  “He gave me an old game he used to play too! It's called 'Grim Wars'! You have to fight goblins and make knights and build farms. It's soo cool!”

  “Fight goblins?! You've seen goblins?!” Wooly stood up suddenly, holding his wrench out like a weapon.

  Alfred backed up while his mom stepped between them. “Don't bother the man!”

  “I'm telling him about my new game!”

  “Game? I'm sorry.” Wooly sat back down. “It's a game?”

  “Yeah, it’s such a cool game! Have you heard of Grim Wars?”

  “Grim Wars? No, I don't think so.”

  “Well, I'll show you. It is awesome! I'm so excited! I have to do my homework first. It's medieval history of course!”

  “Medieval?”

  “Come on, Alfred! School! Don't want to be late!”

  “Okay, mom! I'll show you later Wooly, okay? You'll love it!”

  Wooly watched at Alfred as he tippy-tapped back out of the garage. His eyes rose to meet Alfred's mother and then he looked away quickly. It was hard with all his scars to look at anyone, especially her. She looked away and then slowly looked back at him, hoping to catch his eye to show her compassion. Alfred pulled her away before she could see.

  “You never talked to him before,” his mom said.

  “I know. But he's been here as long as I can remember, and I'm just so happy!”

  “I promise, mom. I'll do my homework before I play Grim Wars. And I'll try not to study medieval history ALL the time!”

  “It's okay, Alfred. Just do well and get good grades as your teacher said.”

  As they neared the school, Alfred took a deep breath. The humming of cars with kids being dropped off tended to rattle him. The kids invariably came out staring at smart-phones as they rushed to school.

  It was a chaotic hustle and bustle. Impatient and inconsiderate moms double-parked, then other cars honked. Parents opened and slammed car doors. Moms got out wearing bright clothes with crazy hairstyles, dragging their kids to the entrance. Yet plenty of moms stopped in the middle of the flurry and started 'he-said-she-said' conversations with other moms.

  Alfred's mom was not like them. She calmly walked through the hustle of the morning drop-off crowd. Other moms glanced at her, wondering what her problem was. They wondered why she wore odd long dresses in earthy tones. She didn't wear makeup or jewelry. If she was trying to look poor and country-like, the other moms agreed that she did it well. But something about her natural beauty made them jealous.

  As she kissed Alfred’s cheek, he grimaced. Thankfully the other kids didn't seem to notice. They were always looking at their phones as they maneuvered up the stairs and around the other students.

  “Bye, mom! I'll see you later!”

  That evening, Alfred leapt up in his jammies. “Victory!!! Grryaaarrrhhhgg!!” Alfred pranced around in a tiny circle in his small bedroom. He opened his door and danced out. “Victory!!!” He danced near his mom, who was working on her sewing jobs.

  She seemed in a daze but snapped out of it with all his silly commotions. “Alfred? It's late!”

  “I won!!! WWWUUUHHHHNNN!!!” Alfred made some muscle poses. The wrinkles in his jammies gave him some muscular definition, sort of.

  “Alfred, have a glass of milk and go to bed!” She giggled at his prowess.

  “Whhhuuuunnnnn!!! Okay. I just gotta watch the outro! The victory video!!” Alfred skipped back to his room.

  His mom stood up, stretched her back and rubbed her hands. She was half awake as she got him a glass of milk.

  She went to Alfred's room and saw him leaning down watching the screen. She handed the mil
k to him and yawned.

  He reached for the glass, which seemed suspended in mid air. His mom didn't notice. Alfred turned in extremely slow motion and yelled in a deep monotone voice, “NooooooOOoooOOOoooOOohhhhh!!!”

  The glass of milk came splashing down atop the computer case. Its rich creamy liquid splattered and seeped through every slit and slot of the computer, producing sparks and smoke. It seemed almost magical. Almost.

  A small flame burst inside the computer box and flickered, decreasing with each drip of milk. Then a small mushroom cloud of smoke floated upwards.

  “Is it supposed to do that?”

  “G'ah.” Alfred looked at his screen as the computer game he loved suddenly blinked out of existence.

  “I'll get a towel. We'll just dry it right up!”

  She came back with a towel and quickly patted at the computer. Alfred sat slumped, watching the tiny trails of gray smoke. He unplugged all the wires and then put his head on the desk.

  “Don't worry. Once it's dry, it will be fine. How does it work?”

  “Mom, it's ruined. Any liquid on electronics destroys it! Don't you know that?”

  “No, I...”

  “Of course you don't! You don't know anything!”

  “Alfred, I'm sorry. We'll get a new one?”

  “New one!? Do you know how much they cost!? You can barely afford rent and milk. I gotta go to school where all the kids have phones but me! You know why I go to the library and read the three medieval books over and over? So I don't have to deal with the other kids. So they won't make fun of me because I don't have a phone!”

  His mom sat silent next to the dead computer. She dabbed it a bit more then stood up and walked to his bedroom door. She turned around with a thought.

  Alfred stood up in front of her at the door before she could speak. “Why are we so poor!? Why do we live in such a small apartment? Why do you have a lame job? Why aren't you a lawyer or doctor or someone on TV!? I hate my life, and I hate you!” He slammed the door in her face.

  She stood there stunned, looking down at her hand holding the ragged towel. She trembled. She began to sink. She turned and sat at her sewing table. She wanted to get angry at him. She tried, but all that came were sad tears.

  She placed her right fist on her mouth, to muffle her crying. Instead of standing up with anger, she hunched over in pain and hid her face.