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Vindicate Chapter 1
Vindicate Chapter 1
The Eight Century of the Morgan Empire is an age of Industry and Magic, an era where the sciences and the arcane go hand in hand, and where prosperity abounds across the entirety of the Empire. However, the backbone of the prosperity stands tall only because of Magic. The single, infinite resource nestled within every, single living being... except for Levi Clark. Disowned, cast out, and estranged from his Noble Lineage, he has established himself in Waltran: The Ebony City. The city on the border of The Pit. Thousands upon thousands of the finest Sorcerers, Fleshcrafters, and Artificers throw themselves into the Pit in search for army-slaying weapons, mystical treasures, and reagents for the finest Elixirs. The malignant, living gash in reality has claimed hundreds of thousands of the lives of the finest, most talented beings borne into the world. Fewer than a ten thousand can claim victory, having achieved their goal of claiming power, over the Pit. Clark might lack the most precious of resources required to survive the Pit, nonetheless he has nothing to lose and everything to gain.
1Action / Adventure
S. Perjes (United States)
Chapter 1: Another Miraculous Day.
…
Had I been born a century ago, I wouldn’t have lived past the age of five. During that time, the Arcane Rites were administered to children at their fifth birthday. The same was true for those who bled silver and gold. The dangers of Seventh Century of the Morgan Empire could not be understated. Magic and Industry had combined to lethal effect. Battlefields and cities alike turned into chaotic masses of heated metal, alchemical gas, and weaponized monstrosities. Lacking the natural defenses of magic, I would have undoubtedly perished.
Born as I was, incapable of summoning any protection, I could not have hoped to have lived as I previously had. A gilded life until the age of eighteen, learning from the best teachers and provided every supplement available, until my own, purposefully belated, Arcane Rites proved my complete lack of Magical Ability. A century ago I’d be dead, victim to disease, astray burst of heat, or some insect changed to secrete deadly poison. I wouldn’t have had my fortuitous childhood or have my heart still beating!
By all means, I should be counting my lucky stars that, despite my abominable mutation, I was alive, had the opportunity to be more than a cripple, and-.
“Levi Clark, if you are not down here in the next ten minutes, I will throw your breakfast to the pigs!” Roskill Thorne’s voice echoed through the wooden walls of my room. I checked my pocket watch, laid against my pillow and beside my head. Indeed, it was morn already. Another sleepless night spent commiserating and debating my circumstances instead of sleeping. The third this year. I dearly hoped such episodes would cease. Nearly half a decade since my banishment and stripping of my heritage, yet I still found myself thinking incessantly about the matter come every few weeks. I really ought to mature. “And, I want you down here and ready to serve customers! That means bathed and well dressed, Clark!”
“Ten minutes?! Who are you and what have you done to my laborious taskmaster?!” The retort that left my maw that would’ve made my mother weep. Worry not, my estranged mother, my silver tongue still exists. Granted it’s mostly used to accrue gratuity from my customers, rather than charming ladies of importance, but I’ve yet to lose any skill in using it. Why my silver tongue netted me fifty Silver Marks in untaxed currency yesterday alone! “Do you need aid in hiding the body, kind lady?”
“Ten minutes, Clark, or your breakfast goes to the pigs!” The threat echoed across my room once again. However, I noted that my employer somehow in a good mood today. Typically, my earlier retort would’ve destroyed all pretense and reduced my time to less than five minutes. Either something of great importance was occurring within the inn, requiring me to be at my best, or that Ms. Thorne was jubilant for no reason. Since the sun still shone and the sky was still blue, I was inclined towards the former. “We’re booked for the Argent Lions for luncheon! I won’t have you looking messy with so many Marks on the line!”
My fear of the world’s coming to an end assuaged, I easily went through my morn habits. Four years allowed my morning preparations to simply blend into one another.
Stripping myself of my sleeping clothes, I threaded myself through my cramped accommodations. Half the size of train’s carriage, I made as much use of my room as possible. My wardrobe was in a steamer trunk at the end of my narrow bed, a desk with a chair was opposite my bed, and a hamper for soiled linens had to be to gain access to my washroom. The toilet, sink, and shower were all within arm’s reach. The size of my shoe closet, once upon a time, but that was in another life.
Decoratively, I had a pot filled with tended-to daisies upon my table. Nothing quite like a pot of hardy weeds to ensure my room was an extremely homely domicile!
Soon enough, I was washing clear myself of lathered suds, bemoaning my inability to grow a beard, and then combing my hair back. As I donned my uniform, an unfetching combination of black pants, vest, and work shoes against a white, long-sleeved, and formal shirt, I debated on what to put on my lapel pocket. My pocket watch? A piece of candy to surreptitiously offer out of goodwill? A daisy? Ah, but both of the latter costs money! My pocket watch it is!
I left my room prim, proper, and ready to serve yet another wave of imbeciles, braggarts, and idiots with a smile on my face. No, no, no! I can’t think of customers in such a way. I needed my smile! They are my sources of capital! From their pockets come my precious Marks! Away with you, the truth of the world, I shall gladly smile for all my kind, elegant, and graceful customers! Wealth accrued means wrath subdued!
Those thoughts in mind, descended the flight of stairs, and presented myself to the proprietress of The Gilded Jubilation with a smile.
Roskill Thorne did not share my ecstatic enthusiasm. My dwarven employer was hardily built, had a strong jawline, and her hazel hair was held in a braid curled against the back of her head. A broach and a skirt were the only differences between my uniform and her own. As always, my hazel-haired employer’s gaze was hard, lips taut, and nose scrunched. She made for a very intimidating sight whenever her brows were furrowed and her glare carefully levelled. I’d borne the brunt of such an expression many times.
“You look like someone who drank themselves to death and back, Clark.” Alas, Thorne saw through my façade. As expected of someone of her age and experience! An Adept Fleshcrafter such as herself commands great knowledge all bodies! My efforts to present myself well were sadly fruitless! Still, despite my subterfuge, my Dwarven mistress produced my breakfast and presented it to me! Yesterday’s stew heated atop a stove, accompanied bread and a fried egg. A meal worthy of any champion, needless to say! “I don’t know how you do it without taking a single sip of beer, whiskey, or wine, but you always somehow manage to look half dead every few weeks.”
“Oh, truly? How mysterious!” I evaded the hidden question with a glib smile and a wave of my hand. Still, I spied my gaze in my mug of water. As Thorne had stated, I looked positively gaunt. My usual appearance after a sleepless night. How unfortunate. My smile looked absolutely ghoulish. Nowhere near pleasant. I went back to eating. I, of course, observed the custom of not speaking while doing so. I was disowned, not a barbarian. “I’m afraid I’ll have to use the mask today.”
“I’d rather some of my magic goes wasted than that face of yours scare away my customers.” Thorne gave a huff before producing a thin, full-faced mask and placing beside my elbow. I reached for the familiar Artifact. Silver in color and made of steel, it hid the identity of those who wore it with a gray mist. Typically, I abhorred using it. Lacking a face wreaked havoc on my gratuities. “Enough money to afford a the best guns and protection in the city, but not able one of the simplest of Artifacts.” A sigh escaped my manager’s mouth, her robust cheeks flaring slightly. “Learning a little Artifice won’t kill you, Clark. You really ought to expand beyond Fleshcrafting. Unnoticeable to magical senses you might be, but such a skill is hardly useful.”
“I’ll consider taking lessons in Artifice… only if you hang up your whip and cease working me to the bone.” My haughty words understandably elicited a derisive scoff and a raised nose from Thorne. My dwarven employer, however, was holding back a smile. Ah, a potential disaster successfully averted once more. As forthright and stalwart she might be, I held no joy regarding my genetic deformity. Insects were the sole form of life that did not have Magic. I would rather not be thought to be some form of degeneration of the human race. So, I kept my shame a secret. As I shall always. “Ah, such a grievous blow! To see such a fair maiden look upon me with disgust! I’m afraid I’ll be incapable of working today, Ms. Thorne!”
“Get to work, Clark.” A smile split her lips.
A chuckle was shared between the two of us. The motions of my life were beginning to spin onward once more.
Another day to spend on the precipice of the Pit, where the awaiting miracles and calamities were out of reach, the devious monstrosities that guarded them still breathed, and many foul inventions remained dormant.
I would yet find a cure for my malady in the Pit’s twisting, malignant depths, and retake my birthright… or die trying.
…
Had I been born a century ago, I wouldn’t have lived past the age of five. During that time, the Arcane Rites were administered to children at their fifth birthday. The same was true for those who bled silver and gold. The dangers of Seventh Century of the Morgan Empire could not be understated. Magic and Industry had combined to lethal effect. Battlefields and cities alike turned into chaotic masses of heated metal, alchemical gas, and weaponized monstrosities. Lacking the natural defenses of magic, I would have undoubtedly perished.
Born as I was, incapable of summoning any protection, I could not have hoped to have lived as I previously had. A gilded life until the age of eighteen, learning from the best teachers and provided every supplement available, until my own, purposefully belated, Arcane Rites proved my complete lack of Magical Ability. A century ago I’d be dead, victim to disease, astray burst of heat, or some insect changed to secrete deadly poison. I wouldn’t have had my fortuitous childhood or have my heart still beating!
By all means, I should be counting my lucky stars that, despite my abominable mutation, I was alive, had the opportunity to be more than a cripple, and-.
“Levi Clark, if you are not down here in the next ten minutes, I will throw your breakfast to the pigs!” Roskill Thorne’s voice echoed through the wooden walls of my room. I checked my pocket watch, laid against my pillow and beside my head. Indeed, it was morn already. Another sleepless night spent commiserating and debating my circumstances instead of sleeping. The third this year. I dearly hoped such episodes would cease. Nearly half a decade since my banishment and stripping of my heritage, yet I still found myself thinking incessantly about the matter come every few weeks. I really ought to mature. “And, I want you down here and ready to serve customers! That means bathed and well dressed, Clark!”
“Ten minutes?! Who are you and what have you done to my laborious taskmaster?!” The retort that left my maw that would’ve made my mother weep. Worry not, my estranged mother, my silver tongue still exists. Granted it’s mostly used to accrue gratuity from my customers, rather than charming ladies of importance, but I’ve yet to lose any skill in using it. Why my silver tongue netted me fifty Silver Marks in untaxed currency yesterday alone! “Do you need aid in hiding the body, kind lady?”
“Ten minutes, Clark, or your breakfast goes to the pigs!” The threat echoed across my room once again. However, I noted that my employer somehow in a good mood today. Typically, my earlier retort would’ve destroyed all pretense and reduced my time to less than five minutes. Either something of great importance was occurring within the inn, requiring me to be at my best, or that Ms. Thorne was jubilant for no reason. Since the sun still shone and the sky was still blue, I was inclined towards the former. “We’re booked for the Argent Lions for luncheon! I won’t have you looking messy with so many Marks on the line!”
My fear of the world’s coming to an end assuaged, I easily went through my morn habits. Four years allowed my morning preparations to simply blend into one another.
Stripping myself of my sleeping clothes, I threaded myself through my cramped accommodations. Half the size of train’s carriage, I made as much use of my room as possible. My wardrobe was in a steamer trunk at the end of my narrow bed, a desk with a chair was opposite my bed, and a hamper for soiled linens had to be to gain access to my washroom. The toilet, sink, and shower were all within arm’s reach. The size of my shoe closet, once upon a time, but that was in another life.
Decoratively, I had a pot filled with tended-to daisies upon my table. Nothing quite like a pot of hardy weeds to ensure my room was an extremely homely domicile!
Soon enough, I was washing clear myself of lathered suds, bemoaning my inability to grow a beard, and then combing my hair back. As I donned my uniform, an unfetching combination of black pants, vest, and work shoes against a white, long-sleeved, and formal shirt, I debated on what to put on my lapel pocket. My pocket watch? A piece of candy to surreptitiously offer out of goodwill? A daisy? Ah, but both of the latter costs money! My pocket watch it is!
I left my room prim, proper, and ready to serve yet another wave of imbeciles, braggarts, and idiots with a smile on my face. No, no, no! I can’t think of customers in such a way. I needed my smile! They are my sources of capital! From their pockets come my precious Marks! Away with you, the truth of the world, I shall gladly smile for all my kind, elegant, and graceful customers! Wealth accrued means wrath subdued!
Those thoughts in mind, descended the flight of stairs, and presented myself to the proprietress of The Gilded Jubilation with a smile.
Roskill Thorne did not share my ecstatic enthusiasm. My dwarven employer was hardily built, had a strong jawline, and her hazel hair was held in a braid curled against the back of her head. A broach and a skirt were the only differences between my uniform and her own. As always, my hazel-haired employer’s gaze was hard, lips taut, and nose scrunched. She made for a very intimidating sight whenever her brows were furrowed and her glare carefully levelled. I’d borne the brunt of such an expression many times.
“You look like someone who drank themselves to death and back, Clark.” Alas, Thorne saw through my façade. As expected of someone of her age and experience! An Adept Fleshcrafter such as herself commands great knowledge all bodies! My efforts to present myself well were sadly fruitless! Still, despite my subterfuge, my Dwarven mistress produced my breakfast and presented it to me! Yesterday’s stew heated atop a stove, accompanied bread and a fried egg. A meal worthy of any champion, needless to say! “I don’t know how you do it without taking a single sip of beer, whiskey, or wine, but you always somehow manage to look half dead every few weeks.”
“Oh, truly? How mysterious!” I evaded the hidden question with a glib smile and a wave of my hand. Still, I spied my gaze in my mug of water. As Thorne had stated, I looked positively gaunt. My usual appearance after a sleepless night. How unfortunate. My smile looked absolutely ghoulish. Nowhere near pleasant. I went back to eating. I, of course, observed the custom of not speaking while doing so. I was disowned, not a barbarian. “I’m afraid I’ll have to use the mask today.”
“I’d rather some of my magic goes wasted than that face of yours scare away my customers.” Thorne gave a huff before producing a thin, full-faced mask and placing beside my elbow. I reached for the familiar Artifact. Silver in color and made of steel, it hid the identity of those who wore it with a gray mist. Typically, I abhorred using it. Lacking a face wreaked havoc on my gratuities. “Enough money to afford a the best guns and protection in the city, but not able one of the simplest of Artifacts.” A sigh escaped my manager’s mouth, her robust cheeks flaring slightly. “Learning a little Artifice won’t kill you, Clark. You really ought to expand beyond Fleshcrafting. Unnoticeable to magical senses you might be, but such a skill is hardly useful.”
“I’ll consider taking lessons in Artifice… only if you hang up your whip and cease working me to the bone.” My haughty words understandably elicited a derisive scoff and a raised nose from Thorne. My dwarven employer, however, was holding back a smile. Ah, a potential disaster successfully averted once more. As forthright and stalwart she might be, I held no joy regarding my genetic deformity. Insects were the sole form of life that did not have Magic. I would rather not be thought to be some form of degeneration of the human race. So, I kept my shame a secret. As I shall always. “Ah, such a grievous blow! To see such a fair maiden look upon me with disgust! I’m afraid I’ll be incapable of working today, Ms. Thorne!”
“Get to work, Clark.” A smile split her lips.
A chuckle was shared between the two of us. The motions of my life were beginning to spin onward once more.
Another day to spend on the precipice of the Pit, where the awaiting miracles and calamities were out of reach, the devious monstrosities that guarded them still breathed, and many foul inventions remained dormant.
I would yet find a cure for my malady in the Pit’s twisting, malignant depths, and retake my birthright… or die trying.
Read Reviews
Review 1:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Character conflict
- The reader’s experience of the story is heightened when the characters’ goals, conflicts and purpose are clear. Perhaps giving this aspect of the story further attention could be worthwhile.
Technique and tight writing
- When writing is tight, economical and each word has purpose, it enables the plot to unravel clearly. Try and make each individual word count.
Style and originality
- Creating a unique writing style while maintaining quality of prose is tricky. As writers, we face the daunting task of making sure we are not being predictable. Can you find a way to give the content and characters more of a unique edge? Perhaps say something boldly, something fresh or show an unorthodox approach to a topic?
Authentic and vivid setting
- The scene needs to be vivid and realistic in order to hold the reader’s attention. Being concise and plausible at the same time is tricky. Giving this further attention could perhaps be worthwhile.
General comments from your fellow writer 1:
This has the potential to be amusing and is occasionally. There are, however, many interruptions to the flow of the narrative. First of all, there is a fair bit of repition; you write of Levi's tenuous hold on life too many times; in the first paragraph twice and then several times after. The initial "I wouldn’t have lived past the age of five." is sufficient. This labouring of the point, happens throughout the story. Look at where you use the words 'ten minutes' The writing style is often confusing and this makes hard going for the reader. I don't understand what is going on. I read it twice and am still quite confused. He seems to have some deformity but we are not told what form this takes...is it something to do with insects? You mix up his inner thoughts with the dialogue of the other character...they seem to blend together and one has to re-read to make sense of it. "Decoratively, I had a pot filled with tended-to daisies upon my table." is poor sentence construction and the following sentence makes it worse. You would do well to delete them as they add nothing to the narrative. This is followed by "Soon enough, I was washing clear myself of lathered suds," - this almost reads as a poor translation from another language. What's wrong with 'I quickly bathed and combed my hair.' Some sentences I like. "You look like someone who drank themselves to death and back, Clark.” is quite amusing. However, couple of good sentences, do not, a decent narrative make. I suggest you rewrite with an eye to less artifice and more attention to clarity. If you are after a good example of excellent narrative style and dialogue, you can't go past Charles Dickens. Read, for instance, 'Great Expaectations' carefully. Pay attention to sentence construction.Review 2:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Narration and dialogue: Balance
- Your story struck a good balance between narration and authentic dialogue.
Narration and dialogue: Authentic voice
- The protagonist didn’t always respond believably against the backdrop of the story. Ask yourself if people would really answer to a situation in that way. Think about whether the characters’ voices could be more convincing for their age, background, gender, time period, genre, gender and ethnicity. Dialogue should be natural and consistent throughout the story.
Characterization
- Make sure your characters are multidimensional. Do they have strengths and weaknesses? Mere mortals make the most interesting stories because they are like you and me and we are able to empathize with their journey. That’s how the connection with a character is formed.
Main character
- Your protagonist exhibited a unique voice and had original characteristics. Their actions and dialogue were convincing!
Character conflict
- The reader’s experience of the story is heightened when the characters’ goals, conflicts and purpose are clear. Perhaps giving this aspect of the story further attention could be worthwhile.
Plot and pace
- Maintaining the right pace and sustaining the reader’s interest is a difficult balancing act. Are you sure all the material is relevant to the plot, setting and atmosphere? Make sure each sentence makes sense to the reader, and each paragraph moves their experience forward.
Suspense and conflict
- The joy of reading often lies in the element of suspense prompted by internal or external conflicts. Your story makes compelling reading.
Technique and tight writing
- When writing is tight, economical and each word has purpose, it enables the plot to unravel clearly. Try and make each individual word count.
Point of view
- The story successfully solicited the reader’s empathy through the clever use of the narrator's point of view. You show great deftness in handling point of view.
Style and originality
- Creating a unique writing style while maintaining quality of prose is tricky. As writers, we face the daunting task of making sure we are not being predictable. Can you find a way to give the content and characters more of a unique edge? Perhaps say something boldly, something fresh or show an unorthodox approach to a topic?
Authentic and vivid setting
- The scene needs to be vivid and realistic in order to hold the reader’s attention. Being concise and plausible at the same time is tricky. Giving this further attention could perhaps be worthwhile.
Opening line and hook
- Great books, nowadays, start with a powerful opening and compelling hook in order to keep the reader engaged. Have you baited the reader enough?
General comments from your fellow writer 2:
I was surprised at the beginning of your piece. I thought after the first paragraph that you should have entered this under fantasy/science fiction. Was the initial paragraph a dream/nightmare. It had the feeling of 'Terminator' with descriptions of war and machines. Then we are back in the present with someone waking him up, noisily. Liked the feeling it gave. But on reading it further you start to use strange language. i.e. replacing, sometimes, morn for morning, but using morning some of the time. I found this confusing. Having said all that, the story has promise. I think you need to put your visions into the words more to give the reader a sense of where and what you are. Good use of prose, well done.Review 3:
Compelling hook?
Fresh?
Strong characters?
Entertaining?
Attention to mechanics
- The grammar, typography, sentence structure and punctuation would benefit from a further round of editing to avoid distracting from the quality of the story.
Narration and dialogue: Balance
- There needs to be more balance between narration and dialogue. Avoid overdoing the narrative and remember that dialogue can diffuse long claustrophobic text.
Narration and dialogue: Authentic voice
- Your characters’ voices were convincing and authentic.
Main character
- Connect us to your main protagonist with a deeper characterization. Could your protagonist have a few more distinguishing character traits?
Character conflict
- The reader’s experience of the story is heightened when the characters’ goals, conflicts and purpose are clear. Perhaps giving this aspect of the story further attention could be worthwhile.
Plot and pace
- Maintaining the right pace and sustaining the reader’s interest is a difficult balancing act. Are you sure all the material is relevant to the plot, setting and atmosphere? Make sure each sentence makes sense to the reader, and each paragraph moves their experience forward.
Suspense and conflict
- The joy of reading often lies in the element of suspense prompted by internal or external conflicts. The first page should introduce some intrigue, something that causes the reader to turn the page. Think about the conflict and tension in your story. How effectively has it been introduced?
Opening line and hook
- Great books, nowadays, start with a powerful opening and compelling hook in order to keep the reader engaged. Have you baited the reader enough?