King of the Hill
- Reads 41
- Votes 4
- Parts 8
Ongoing1h 28m
Last published Wed, Oct 25, 2023
Young Robird, third son of a lowly villein, doesn't mind his hard life but of course dreams of better. Every day on his way to manorial labour, he greets a majestic oak on the top of a hill as a king. Sometimes he visits the tree, pretending to be the king's loyal vassal and telling it of his life and dreams.
He did not ever think that the tree would one day answer him. When it does, it offers him a deal that would bring him wealth and fortune. But trees, even talking ones, are not human and making a deal with them is no risk-free undertaking.
Open invitation from the author: I enjoy taking my time getting into the characters, both when I read and when I write. Rushing the plot is not really my thing. Am I alone in enjoying stories that evolve slowly? If anyone is reading this, please let me know if the pace turns you off from it. I guess I could speed it up, killing off a darling or two...
The oak art on the cover is courtesy of Lars Alvestal, link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kvill_Eken,_picture_taken_2018-09-02,_Heavily_Edited.jpg
All Rights Reserved
#299
mysticism
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Shen Tang awoke on her path of exile to find that this world was utterly unscientific. Divine stones rained from the heavens, and a hundred nations vied for power. With a honed literary heart, words became reality. With courage gathered in a warrior's spirit, mountains were cleaved and seas divided. The seemingly weak pretty boy she knew, with a single declaration of "Charge on horseback!", instantly found himself clad in armor, a long spear in hand, becoming an army of one, capable of slaughtering his way through enemy lines seven times over! The consumptive wretch in her eyes, by chanting "Stars scattered across a chessboard," transformed the heavens into a round canopy and the land into a chessboard, arranging troops with effortless ease! This wasn't just unscientific anymore! This was the coffin lid of science being nailed shut by theology! And as for her- "My Lord, the Northern Commandery is suffering a severe drought, perhaps you should shed some tears?" Shen Tang: "..." "My Lord, the Southern Province is flooded, perhaps you should laugh more?" Shen Tang: "..." -------- Looking at the ten bowls of rice she had devoured, her pocket cleaner than her face, and a group of starving, ill-intentioned villagers constantly stirring up trouble, the village chief Shen Tang, suspected to be the reincarnation of a bottomless pit and a true 'soul painter' (someone who draws poorly but passionately), had no choice but to abandon her beloved paintbrushes and reluctantly embark on the path of a warlord. join patreon.com/worldoffanfiction for advanced chapters and support the daily update
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