This is start of a short story I started while on my lunch yesterday. So basically I am looking for general critique, and thoughts on phrasing and pacing. Thanks in advance!
A dead King, a stolen crown and a lot of blood. Talin Udock was arrested for the death of King Earnmund VII, the theft of the Crown of Areal, and worst of all no one believes his innocence. That is what happens when you are a pickpocket. Sitting in the carriage while the moon light weaved it way through alleys, Talin recalled the events that led to his predicament.
He scoffed at his luck, “Well, that went well.”
Two weeks ago it was raining in the Ruby city. Of course it had to rain that day. It had been six straight weeks of clear skies and sunny weather, but on August 22nd it had to rain. It would rain so hard that the citizens in the under city could feel it, the place where he found himself after a very unfortunate event. The under city is an area of Korem where old slaves built homes and roads in the sewer system. The slaves dug massive halls of carven stone under the city which eventually coalesced into an underground Fourth District.
Lit only by torch light the under city has an astounding resilience to the dark under world, the rest of the city call them the Small Shapers. Those born in the under city share grey skin in line the Shapers of the far west across the mountains and sea.
The under city became a place to put people who committed the most heinous crime of them all; the one of being poor. It became a sort of out of sight out of mind policy that turned into doctrine. Any Small Shaper caught on the surface was to be killed on sight by order of the governor, Gavin Drexelhand. Entrance into the city was in the abandoned church house in North District. A cathedral older than the city itself where worshipers gathered to experience an unknown religion to a long forgotten god.
The gothic spires of Obsidian adorned primal architecture with strange but familiar symbols around a yew singular door painted white with a stone grip handle to open. On the inside there is only stone work, no statues of the gods, no pews, and no choral loft; only a stone altar with old wax candles on either side give off small enough light for seeing. Certainly this cathedral would be deemed unfit for the Vicars of the Sun and their gold laden pulpit. It was for a time long passed and a purer faith.
Anyone that could not pay their weekly tax in Drakes or crop equivalent was sent without warning the cathedral to be judged and cast in to the under city. In a few short weeks Korem was free of disease, poverty, crime, all thanks to Drexelhand and his personal thugs chiefly among these are large twins Gordo and Tordo. The large and obnoxious duo take what they wish and shake down merchants and taverns to line their pockets with whatever they desire.
To the citizens of the Korem, the under city is just a prison district, a place where the ilk of Kovarl the Bone Breaker, Micha the Assassin, and Cassandra the Black Rose went once they were caught. There was plague of Gral’s sickness swept through North District about a generation ago and the heroic men contained the area then mysteriously got sick themselves, passing away a few short days later never to be seen again. That is the official story. It would be the end of Drexelhand if the ten thousand truths ever got out.
Korem itself was a cultured place and one would not be chastised for thinking Korem to be the capital. Kings, Queens, Vicars, Great Ones, Magi, Kels, and even the Matriarch herself have been to Korem’s festivals. The red city is full of life, wealth and beauty became the Jewel of the East, or so all the people Westerlands called it.
Talin grew up in East District for the middle class merchants. His father was a cloth merchant who barely made any money and quickly became a drunkard getting fat off alcohol and brought home women from all walks of life. His mother Sofia, was a fine and respectable woman who earned her money in the time of before and after marriage from her many suitors. Together they made a fine enough wage but Talin had a bit of a pickpocket problem. His long and thick hair made for a natural hood to shroud his face after getting his prize.
He was sitting on a thatched roof in the drizzling rain eating some lunch he took from the farmer Dalton’s produce stand. Farmer Dalton was an older man who was simple in life and style, he wore the same bright yellow shirt every day and his bulbous nose stuck out from beneath the brim of his straw hat. Talin did take food every now and then, but Farmer Dalton was one of the only people he would pay back at the end of the day. In return Dalton would not call for the city guards and have him thrown into the under city. It was a relationship that has lasted all of his life.
Dalton’s own wife was taken to the under city once it was discovered that she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. It destroyed him, this led him into becoming a like a grandfather to Talin but not out of charity but because if there was one man in all of the world Dalton could be proud of it would be him. For Talin, Dalton’s door was always open and inside a bed, a cold pint, and good food was always ready for him.
Marcus, Talin’s brother, would not be so kind. Marcus was the bastard son of their mother. The father died in the Arena trying to prove his love for the young Sofia. At least he made it five rounds, it was further than most. Marcus found his brother sitting atop a house on the edges of the market. He climbed up the back wall. Slowly making his way to his brother Marcus plopped down next to him with an arm full of Dalton’s food; grapes, apples, carrots, turnips, and best of all a watermelon.
“Good afternoon little brother, did not pay for those I suppose?” Talin shoved his brother slightly while trying to appear stern.
“Good? It is raining!” Marcus exclaimed, “And did you pay for yours? Or will it be later?” He jested making quotation marks in the air with is free fingers and smirked.
“Oh shut up. I like the rain, it is good for the soul. It is the purest of all things. Or that is say the church says.” Marcus rolled his eyes while his brother finished.
“Hi. My name is Talin and I like the rain. My best friend is the senile old man and-” Marcus said in a slow and handicapped voice.
He would yell as he was shoved again this time the food fell out of Marcus’ hands and plummeted into the alley below. Ruined. The price of all that food was easily a week’s wage of honest work now all of it had been wasted. The color and flavor dotting the street below them while the rain all but washed it away. Marcus then became aware that the market was empty. This is very strange even on a rainy day. Not a single soul to be found here. The quiet made the brothers very nervous.
Then there was a sound that broke through the rain. It was the town crier and it was coming from the old cathedral in North District. Talin could barely hear him but managed to make it out.
“By the order of the Governor Drexelhand of Korem you are sentenced to ten years in the under city. The Eight have mercy on you.” Their eyes widened fuller than a harvest moon. Expulsions are a normal practice in Korem but normally sentencing can take weeks and the two had not heard of any arrests. No, this was rushed.
The cathedral was merely ten blocks away from the now desolate market. Talin nudged his brother and said, “Race you there and rooftops only.”
Marcus jumped to his feet and cocked his head smiling, “Loser has to pay Dalton for all the food you made me spill.”
“Deal.”
Source by Bellotor
Mens Hair Styles 2015
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