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 Chaos - Book one of the Divine Saga- Chapter 1 
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Post Chaos - Book one of the Divine Saga- Chapter 1
Yom has been telling me I should post more original content on forkheads :P
so I pulled out a book I started a few months ago, if I can get some readers it would be a good reason for me to continue writing.
Ive got 6 chapters, heres #1.
Miiiight be kinda long.

Chapter 1: Breakfast

The ceiling tiles were far too expensive to waste on a prisoner. He thought this for the thousandth time this day. All of this was far too expensive to waste on a ruffian like himself.

Especially when he would give his right eye to be rid of it all.

The price of being born into royalty from the belly of a bar-wench was more horrible than most people could understand. Chaos put his palm over his face, covering his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see those wretched tiles.

His real name was not Chaos, of course. His real name was Saven. Saven D’vine, the secret and hidden bastard son of Taven D’vine. But he would never acknowledge a name given to him by someone who considered him nothing more than property to be ashamed of.

He had given himself the name, and spoke it to no one. No one would think it proper for a noble to have such a name, even if that noble was never meant to see the light of day outside of the castle. Yet it was the only name that resembled his ever turbulent soul. He was no Saven.

The youth, mid-way through his seventeenth year had night-black hair and a handsome face. His dark brown, nearly black eyes were thoughtful and brooding under dark brows. He was fantastically muscled for his age, lean hard muscles curved and shaped his arms. He was as tall and broad as anyone he had met in the castle.

He wore a heavy metal chain around his neck, inexpensive metal because he despised expensive objects. His clothes were loose fitting, black and worn. No member of his family could wear black in public. It was some incredibly vain whim of his father’s, no doubt. But that did not mean he couldn’t wear it here. It was one of many small rebellions.

Three knocks sounded in slow succession against the other side of his door. He removed his arm from his face and cast his eyes lazily in its direction. “What?” He didn’t care who it was, that was all they would get from him.

“Breakfast!” Came a gratingly cheerful voice.

Chaos groaned. “Fine. it’s opened because no one would ever think to assassinate someone who could only hurt Taven’s reputation.”

The door creaked just enough for a red haired boy to slip in. His eyes shone a strangely bright orange-brown. He was older then Chaos by only a year, but his extraordinary talent with food had made him the personal chef of the D’vine family. He was much smaller than the dark-haired swordsman he was serving. “That’s entirely false. That simply narrows the list of dangers to people on our side.”

Chaos scowled. “Borju, An assassin has not even been talked of in Koral since my grandfather was killed.” He said. It had been far before his time, when Taven was his age, but he had heard all the talking of the darker side of the Divine Knight.

When Taven’s father had been killed, the assassin had been slain during his capture. Despite that, Taven had ordered for him to be tortured until he screamed blood and murder. It went on for days. Taven hadn’t been appeased until they’d built a device to force hot steam through the assassin’s air ways, forming a faux-scream that could be heard castle wide. It had sounded like nothing remotely human.

“Must you talk about such things before breakfast?” Borju asked, pale at the slightest mention of that story, old as it was.

“It makes me hungry.” Chaos set his face in a sick grin and took great pleasure in seeing the cook’s face whiten two more shades. “Something better be rare on that plate.” He laughed at the loss of one more shade. Losing all the blood in your face could hardly be healthy.

He sat up and gave his overturned table a rough stomp on its leg. Obediently it sprung up and was stopped by the same foot slamming down heavily on its top. “Have a bite with me today. What did you bring? I don’t really care if it’s rare.” He didn’t want to tease Borju too much. Friends were few and far between with him.

“I don’t understand how you can have an appetite when your room is in shambles like this.” Borju’s tone made him sound like he was mourning the room itself.

Chaos’s eyes still grinned with a sadist’s sparkle as they scanned the room. He felt great satisfaction at the amount of broken vases, torn paintings, upturned furniture and smashed windows. All of them had once been of the highest quality, all of them had once been bought with lots and lots of money.

He had once heard that Taven hoped filling Saven’s living quarters with items of such refinement would persuade him to act more tame and proper. Improve upon his attitude maybe. It was infuriating, and it got worse. As if he were some young brat simply breaking things from carelessness, “It will all be replaced with in the week, with even more expensive things.”

“I see.” Borju said, his expression carefully blank.

It was clear by his response that the cook did not understand at all. It was hard for someone who worked for a living to see things the way he did. He wasn’t being ungrateful. His father was just making him look that way by giving him everything he absolutely did not want.

Chaos shrugged casually and leaned forward. “Besides, I might take offense to a word like shambles.” He tipped his chin up proudly. “Can’t you see I just finished decorating?” he spread his arms wide. “Now what have you made for me?”

Borju took a moment to regain his color. Talking with Chaos seemed to unnerve the boy very fast, and despite him never turning down an invitation, Chaos often wondered if this was ever anything more than a one way friendship.

The cook set the serving plate down on the table and fixed an upturned chair for himself. “quail eggs, fruit, fresh bread and cheese and butter. Nothing raw, I’m afraid.”

“Rare, actually.” Chaos corrected. “But the eggs would have been disgusting and I don’t much like raw dough, so you made the right choice. We’ll count the fruits as uncooked.”

“You’re talkative this morning.” Borju said, taking sparingly from the plate. An apple slice here, a chunk of bread and cheese there.

“mm..” Chaos agreed noncommittally. It was a joke that was lost on Borju. Either that or the cook had been too scared to laugh in case it hadn’t been meant as one. The swordsman sighed. “You should have brought meat.”

“Meat is no good in the morning. Only one in ten people can even handle beef before nine.” Borju defended. He always defended his cooking to the very bone, even if he talked to much, Chaos could appreciate someone with feet planted firmly somewhere. Even in food.

Chaos picked up an apple slice and dangled it in front of his face. He tossed it into the air and snatched it into his mouth. Lack of manners was another small rebellion.

A piece of bread was next, buttered generously, it flipped through the air. He closed in but missed. It bumped off of his nose and landed on the floor, butter side down.

Borju snorted timidly.

Chaos laughed, loud and long, and he wasn’t sure why. Sometimes the most absurdly mundane things could be funny beyond reason. When he finally calmed himself, he saw Borju nibbling an egg with his eyes cast to the plate. Smiling.

“What?” chaos asked as he buttered a quail egg. Best two out of three.

“You would have made a fine commoner.” Borju said meekly.

Chaos tilted his head. And rare amusement filled his heart. It was quickly turning into a very good morning. So something was rare today after all. No one had ever said such a thing to him before. Or at least this was the only time it sounded like a compliment, or had been said to his face.

“Tell me why.”

“Well, because you are so very bad at being a noble.” Borju said wryly, obviously picking up on the swordsman’s lenient mood. An egg hit him on the forehead, leaving a small daub of butter between his eyes.

Chaos reached down and took another egg. “Next time It will be a whole bird. Be specific.”

“Well you’re knack for wasting my hard-cooked food, for one.” Borju said without thinking, and another egg hit him on the top of his head, lobbed instead of flicked.

“You’re right, the eggs are kind of hard.” Chaos mocked cruelly. “You over-cooked them.” He picked up a chunk of bread instead this time.

“You haven’t even tried them! Stop that.”

“Aren’t the nobles the ones who waste food anyway?” Chaos smirked and contemplated dropping the bread on the floor, but changed his mind and took a bite. It was warm and undeniably oven fresh. Butter would only cheapen its fine taste. “Be serious.” He dropped his mocking tone.

Borju hurried a large bite of bread into his mouth to give himself time to trouble about something. Chaos waited patiently, giving him no chance to get up and wander off. Finally the cook was forced to swallow. “Don’t repeat this to anyone. I could get in big trouble.”

Chaos snorted. “That’s stupid.” He said. “If anything happens, you’re under my personal protection.”

Borju gave him a look like he thought that Chaos defending him was a liability. Slowly, he began to talk.

“You act like people shouldn’t care how you act, and like if you are to be wrong or embarrassed, that you should be the only one to suffer for it.” Borju was speaking quietly. He saw that Chaos was leaning forward so intent he was forgetting to chew, and so he soldiered on.

“Most of the time, Saven,” Chaos winced at the name. “I see you at your window, looking over the city, over the forest beyond it. You don’t even hear me come in all of the time. Despite all the standards that everyone tries to shove onto you, you live like a man free even if you aren’t. And so,” Borju shrugged. “You would make a very good one, given the chance.”

Chaos tried not to appear smug, bug Borju had just complimented everything he prided himself on. “I knew the entire world could hardly be so full of themselves.” He said, clenching a fist in front of his face. “Taven’s shame or not, I’m going to see it one day!” He laid back down, finished with breakfast. His arms crossed behind his head and he brought his right foot to rest upon his upraised left knee.

“My mother was a commoner, you know.” Chaos said, watching the ceiling with dark, focused eyes. “Never seen her. But people tell me it all the time like I should be ashamed.” He barked a short spite-filled laugh.

“My entire family is commoners.” Borju put in.

“Is that so?” Chaos opened one peering eye.

The cook nodded. “Every week I send them money, they often send me letters and are quite proud of me actually.”

“For what? Certainly not cooking.” The swordsman grinned, but this time it was he who was hit with an egg.

“Oh really?” Chaos smirked fiercely as he bounded to his feet, intent and grabbing a handful of ammunition on his way up. His arm was cocked back to throw when he suddenly realized that they weren’t quite alone anymore.

A man stood just behind Borju. Well muscles with Long black hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail behind his head, he had a goatee he kept carefully trimmed, and stern green eyes. His mouth was quirked up in an irritating smirk as he watched Chaos’s attack pose.

It was Rillian, his dueling trainer, Looking imposing at thirty-one years in his red mail, grey cotton shirt, and black studded gloves. “It’s time for morning training. Are you Done playing yet, Saven?” He condescended as soon as he was noticed.

The name irked him and he felt a strong urge to change his target of attack. Rillian’s face would be much improved with quail yolk, butter and cheese. At least the ladies would lick him then. With that thought, Chaos straightened up.

“Uhuh.” He said blandly, tilting his head up and to the side. He was better than Rillian, but there were circumstances. Irritating reasons that he could not beat him. Still, he displayed perfect confidence. “You ready to start?”

“Uhuh.” Rillian smiled, his condescending aura crushing down on Chaos’s shoulders.

Chaos ground his teeth but grinned through it. It was hard not to get along with someone whom you clashed swords with every day. But it was also hard to like them if you couldn’t beat them despite being faster, stronger, younger, more skilled.

He was a rival, even if he probably wouldn’t do this if he weren’t being paid. “Wow, you’re talkative today.” He lobbed over Rillian’s head and to Borju. But the cook had shrunk away from the two, managing to look as small as his little bones would allow.

Chaos couldn’t blame him. The two had cast a tangible stress into the air, and Borju was only a cook. Judging from his demeanor, he didn’t even deal with butchering the court chickens. He gathered all of this from the corner of his eye, for he was somewhat involved in a staring contest against Rillian.

It drug on, and on, and on. Finally Rillian sighed and shrugged. “Some day you’re going to realize that kind of attitude is tiresome.” He said blandly, breaking eye contact without any hesitation or regret for his loss. “Then I can finally stop humoring you, and we can swing around metal like adults.”

Chaos tilted his head defiantly. “It’s the only attitude that gives me any fun. I could do this all day, but,” He dropped the handful of food back on the plate, and made a show of brushing roughly past Rillian. “I’d much rather be beating you into the ground.”

He looked over his shoulder and caught Borju’s orange-brown eyes. He smirked from chin to ear. “Don’t mess up my room.”

The battle blood had gotten flowing, it was almost drug-like sometimes. If there had to name one good thing about Rillian, it was that he was a man that Chaos never didn’t want to fight.

* * *

Rillian stood calmly in Saven’s room for a few moments after the young noble had made his dramatic exit. His battle-fire was well contained, an easy smile confidently graced his features. Saven was a strong boy, but his unpredictable attitude made that a bad thing.

“His skill is progressing without his maturity or discipline.” The sword-master said aloud, as if the thought had been a headache. “Truly it is the teacher’s worst nightmare.”

The cook, still sitting in his chair made a sound of acknowledgement, but not of agreement. Apparently he had thought that his input had been desired. But a chef could hardly understand the troubles of the sword.

Rillian turned to Borju, the boy looked up at him, unconsciously leaning back in his chair. Rillian’s smile grew wider. Condescension flooded from him. “A fine commoner, would he, do you think?”

Borju blushed as realization dawned on him. His eyes widened. They had been listened in on!

Rillian huffed out a laugh. “Interesting opinion.”

Still no words came from the obviously uncomfortable Borju. The sword-master left him by himself. It was a short walk too his personal training quarters.

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Post Re: Chaos - Book one of the Divine Saga- Chapter 1
A few typos and capitalization issues here and there - but overall, a good start. You need a universe map.

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Post Re: Chaos - Book one of the Divine Saga- Chapter 1
Ive never liked universe maps very much. not til a series is 100% done anyway. something might need to change for the better.
And yeaaah, my chapters wont be 100% typo free, but I do go through them myself a few times to weed out most of em.

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Post Re: Chaos - Book one of the Divine Saga- Chapter 1
Its cool. a Universe map cna wait until the story's done.

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