Monday Listicles - Books

Today is the first annual World Book Night in the United States. Unfortunately, I knew nothing of this event until today so I’m not able to be a participant in this great event. I applaud whoever came up with the idea to give away free paperback books to encourage reading among adults. I’ve been an avid reader from childhood and, as an English major, I am a huge advocate this sort of thing. I’m marking my 2013 calendars now for this event so I can help give away some books!

I follow a handful of blogs that post every Monday on this Monday Listicles event. This morning I was pleased to find that this week’s listicle is about books. This is a topic I can easily go on about. I’ve read hundreds of them that I can remember (and probably hundreds from my younger days that I can’t). I’m reading books each semester for my college classes. I read across several genres and indulge in many classics.

I’d like to think I’m an unofficial authority on this particular subject.

While I’d love to be selfish and encourage you to read my Serial Novel as one of the ten books, I will refrain from doing so. It hasn’t progressed far enough to be considered a novel, or even a novella as of yet (I’ve written 4 parts so far). I will direct you to my post where I shared my poem, The Thrill of Books. I believe some other avid readers will be able to relate to that poem.

I thought about doing a list of my ten favorite books. I’ll probably do that list at some point in time, but I think that I will take a different approach to this. I’m going to do a list of ten books that, in my opinion, are must-reads:

1.      The Dragon and the Unicorn by A.A. Attanasio – In the realm of King Arthur books, this one is by far the most unique approach I have encountered. There are four books in this series which is, disappointingly, difficult to find. I scavenged bookstores frequently for years before finally buying them all online. It is not a book that you can plow through quickly, but the angle this takes makes it worth every minute spent reading this book.

2.      The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas – I remember in high school being told that there are so many plot and character twists that we would have to diagram them all out on the board. Dumas wrote some excellent novels, including The Three Musketeers, but I feel this one outshines them all.

3.      Hamlet by William Shakespeare – What better way to honor the Bard than by promoting his longest play on the day of his birth (and death)? I’d wager almost everyone has read Romeo and Juliet at some point, whether by choice or because they had to. I’ve read this play many times over the years and I find that my appreciation for it increases as I get older.

4.      Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Everyone knows the poem “How do I love thee/let me count the ways” but few people have read the collection that it comes from. This is a collection of over 40 sonnets that Elizabeth wrote for Robert Browning over the course of two years. She gave this to him as a wedding present, and you can see how her feelings develop over time until she reaches the point of that famous poem (which is the second to last).

5.      Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card – I was pleased to see this is one of the novels being distributed for World Book Night. Even if you aren’t big into Science Fiction, this is a novel that you would probably enjoy. I fell in love with this book back in high school, and I still enjoy reading this novel every time.

6.      Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss – I know the odds of convincing most people to read a book about punctuation is about the same as winning the lottery, but her sense of humor makes this book enjoyable and memorable. And in this digital age the importance of punctuation and grammar has never been greater. Grandmothers everywhere will be thankful that you know to write “Let’s eat, grandma!” instead of “Let’s eat grandma!”

7.      The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – I’m currently making my way through the entire collection of Holmes stories/novels and they have not disappointed. While the vast collection might be unreasonable to expect you to read, this is perhaps the best set of short stories that I’ve come across so far.

8.      The Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Patterson – I can do no justice to this book by trying to express how wonderful it is. The ending makes me teary-eyed every time I read it. I still refuse to watch the movie because I don’t want to risk the chance of a bad film tarnishing my love for this story. This is one of the best books ever written in my opinion.

9.       Watership Down by Richard Adams - Who doesn't like books where animals talk? While novels like Charlotte's Web and Animal Farm are excellent, this is better than any of them. I've read this book several times and I am still amazed at how wonderful this story is. This is perfect for anyone who loves reading books from the young adult section.

10.      Queen of Camelot by Nancy McKenzie - I wasn't going to do a second King Arthur-related novel on this list, but I couldn't imagine leaving off either of them. This is perhaps the book I've recommended the most over the years. So far everyone who has read it upon my suggestion has loved it, even if they weren't huge fans of the King Arthur stories like I am. Therefore I am going to say that if you read no other book from this list, you should read this one. You won't be disappointed.


Comment and let me know if you, too, have enjoyed reading any of these books. Comment if you don't like any of these books. Or, better yet, comment after reading any of these upon my recommendation. I'd love to know what you think of these books. 


I'd love to know that you are reading.

The Curse of Fierabras - Part Four

Part IV - Jerek

           The desperation thrust misses its mark and Dante stumbles past the guard, tripping over his feet. He skids across the dirt floor of the arena. Dirt clings to the open wounds in his side and his thigh, intensifying the sensation of pain. Dante braces himself for the killing blow that will put an end to his agonizing pain. It never comes.
           A stone pillar comes crashing down on top of the guard behind Dante, crushing him. Fragments of the pillar scatter in every direction. The last remaining guard pauses his advance, uncertain about his odds for success. Jerek steps forward with a sword in one hand and a broken dagger in the other.
           “Stay down,” Jerek says as he advances toward the center of the arena. He crouches down low like a cat, ready to pounce. The soldier thrusts with his spear and Jerek pivots to the right. Jerek counters with a quick dagger thrust and the guard shuffles back a few steps to avoid the attack. Jerek presses forward, feinting with the dagger and striking with the sword. The guard continues to give ground, trying to place some distance between them, but Jerek remains in close.
           The figures get smaller as Dante watches the battle unfold between them. Jerek fluidly moves from one attack into the next, keeping the guard off balance. Dante wonders how many men lost their lives to capture Jerek. Nobody could stand a chance in single combat against this swordsman. Jerek backs the guard into a pillar and the guard makes a desperation attack, much like Dante had done moments ago. It was the window of opportunity that Jerek must have been waiting for. The broken dagger pierces into the guard’s shoulder while the sword slices across his midsection. The guard falls to his knees, the spear dropping from his hands.
           A mixture of boos and cheers fill the arena. Small scuffles break out among the crowd. Dante gets to his feet, his muscles aching and sweat dripping down his face. Jerek crosses back over, slipping the sword into an abandoned scabbard. Two dozen of the king’s soldiers come into the arena and encircle the two victorious men. They take Jerek’s sword bind him in chains. Rage flashes in his eyes but he submits to the imprisonment. They chain Dante and then lead the two men back into their cell.
           Neither man says a word as they are placed into the cell and their chains removed. An hour later a loaf of hard bread and a bucket of tepid water are placed in their cell. Both men tear into the food and Dante finally breaks the silence.
           “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you.”
           “Thanks,” Jerek says between mouthfuls of bread.
           “I want to thank you,” Dante looks down at his reflection in the bucket. “If you hadn’t toppled that pillar I would be dead now.”
           “You ever been in a fight, lad?” Dante looks up at Jerek, caught off guard by his question.
           “I’ve sparred in the practice ring back home, but nothing like this.”
           Jerek nods and bends down to take a long drink from the bucket. He looks back up at Dante, droplets of water running down his chin. “What’s your story?”
           “I shouldn’t be here,” Dante says.
           “None of us should. These are bad times we’re living in.”
           Dante nods as he swallows another bite of bread. “About a week ago the Emperor’s army passed through our town. They stayed for two days, eating our food and drinking our ale. All the young men followed them around and staged mock battles, hoping to get drafted into the army. I kept to myself and tended my wares. When they prepared to leave, they told several of the men that they were part of the Emperor’s army now. When they told me that, I refused their offer.”
           Jerek raises an eyebrow at this, pausing mid-bite. “And they didn’t care for that, right?”
           “I was rewarded by being backhanded and then chained up. They brought me here, accusing me of being a member of the Reformation and inciting riotous behavior.”
           “And now you are going to die, here in this arena, because you didn’t want to wear the royal uniform. Why didn’t you accept? They’d at least be giving you better meals than this.”
           “I don’t know, exactly,” says Dante. He had been wondering that same thing ever since they led him to the capital. Why did he refuse? Few people had anything negative to say about the Emperor, and those who did were usually gone by the next day. “I don’t think the Emperor is as good as we’re led to believe. Towns are being found deserted, crops are scarce everywhere, people go missing and no one seems to notice. But he never tries to fix these problems.”
           “So you think they are hiding something?”
           “Yeah, I suppose I do. I’ve heard stories about what things used to be like, back before the Emperor.” The problem is that no one believes those stories. The Emperor has been reigning for as long as most people can remember. The few who do remember usually keep quiet about that. Those who don’t usually go missing, or end up hanging from a tree alongside a road. “What do you think, Jerek?”
    “Things were better before he came along, that’s for sure,” Dante stoops down to take a drink from the bucket. “That’s why I helped start the Restoration.” Dante coughs mid-swallow, unable to believe what he just heard.

Go To: Part Three - The First Battle

The First Three Months

Reflecting back upon the day I began this blog, it amazes me to think of how things have surpassed my expectations. I figured this would be a small blog where a few family and friends would read occasionally because they feel the need to be kind and read a post or two. That was the status of my previous attempt at a blog almost two years ago. I think that one made it a month before it died off, much like my attempt at creating a website.

That tends to happen a lot. The grand visions fizzle out when the initial excitement wears off.

The excitement for this one hasn't fizzled yet. Instead it is exceeding what I aspired to accomplish when I created Scholarly Scribe. So, in celebration of reaching this first minor milestone, I will answer a few questions that were put forward by some of the readers of my Guys' Night post on Friday.

The following questions were asked by Youngman Brown:

1. What was your original reason for starting a blog?

My original reason for starting a blog was actually highlighted in my first post, Why I Write. I created this as a place to share my thoughts on writing and being a writer. I wanted to be able to share some literary opinions and make book recommendations for other readers (which I still haven't done!). And, most importantly, I wanted a place to share my writing with the world.

Like I mentioned in that post, I don't care whether or not I become a rich or famous writer. I write because I want to share my poems and stories with others. If I were to measure the success of that over the past three months, I would have to say I've succeeded. I've had almost 800 page views in three months. That is much better than I anticipated, and a lot of that is courtesy of Yeah Write. But people are reading some of these posts, which means I've met that goal.

2. Have you always been interested in writing/sharing your life, or was it something encouraged by others?

I have been interested in writing itself since about my Sophomore year of high school. That would date around 1999 or so. My earliest poems and stories come from that time frame, and some of them are still among my favorites. For years I have dreamed of getting things published so others could read what I've written. I have made websites and a blog over the past few years where I would tease with a portion of a story, or with some of my poems that I didn't expect to submit.

I was worried about First Electronic Rights for future submissions. So I posted subpar material or general blogs with my thoughts on a certain topic. But I never really shared the ones that I loved. That ended when I started this blog. I've shared a few of my favorites so far, and have even more to come (and others that I've yet to write!)

3. And would you say that now, three months later, that your motivation for blogging has stayed the same or has it changed?

I would say that it has evolved. Originally my intent was to do nothing but post short stories and poems and occasionally throw in something blogish, like my post From Skeptical to Faithful. Today I still have some original writings, such as my Serial Novel that I started a few weeks ago, but I also have a fair mix of regular blog posts about my life or my thoughts on certain topics. I'm sure over the next nine months it will continue to evolve as I find my style and my voice as a blogger.

But I don't think I'll ever lose my desire to share my writing with everyone. I love getting feedback on poems and stories. The good and the bad. Those comments help me to continuously grow as a writer and hone my skills.

The next set of questions come from Shiftless Mommie:

1. What were your biggest concerns when you first got started?

I was concerned about several things when I first started this blog. The first concern was that I would lost interest, yet again, in an attempt to share my thoughts and writing with others. As I mentioned above, I have had several failed attempts at starting blogs and websites with a similar purpose in mind. Thankfully it only takes one exception to break the cycle, and I think that is going to happen with Scholarly Scribe.

My second concern was that no one would take notice. My blog is still small enough and new enough that I get a sense of excitement when I see any new comment, or notice that any single post is getting a fair number of views. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment that aligns with the goals that I had for this blog. As long as I continue to get some views and some comments, I believe I'll continue to have a reason to post.

My third concern was that my greatest fears would become realized. My self-confidence would take a beating. The comments I would get would all be negative and along the lines of telling me to stick to a real job and that I couldn't make it as a writer. Finding acceptance and a sense of belonging never really came easy to me growing up. For the most part I have left that sense of insecurity in the past, but it is always ready to sprout up at the (not so) perfect moment and crush my hopes.

2. What is drawing you to WordPress?

Comparitively there aren't many major differences between Blogger and Wordpress. At least that is what I have been led to believe from the bit of research I have done into the matter. Blogger is newbie-friendly and has some great features. Wordpress, from what I have read and seen so far, takes most things a little bit further in what you can do. I like the designs offered on Wordpress, and they have a free account that gives the same sort of address choice that Blogger allows.

In the end it is just those minor things that Blogger doesn't do that draws me to try it out. I think the biggest appeal is the ability to create Pages, which will make it easy for readers to access each part of my Serial Novel. I'm 98% certain I'm going to enjoy the change to Wordpress and stay there for a long time. Now I just need to get enough skill to create a passable-looking banner for the top of my blog. I've never been able to do things in Paint, much less any of the more advanced photo/image creation/modification programs.


Many thanks to the two bloggers who presented some questions. Any others that happen to pop up over the next few days will be addressed in a future blog post. Feedback is always welcome, as are any other questions you may have thought of!

The Curse of Fierabras - Part Three

Part III - The First Battle

            The blade of the saber slices through the air. Dante crouches down, shifting his momentum and leaping back to avoid the fatal blow. The soldier’s force carries his weight forward and his sword cuts into the ground. Dante runs from the man as he struggles to remove his weapon from the arena floor. With his eyesight finally adjusted, Dante is able to look around and see what he is facing.

            A dozen pillars are scattered throughout the arena, most of them broken and worn down with time. Several large pieces of pillar lie among scattered rubble and debris from the prior battles. The floor of the arena is coated with a thin layer of reddish dirt intermixed with coarse sand. A few broken weapons have been left abandoned around the arena, many coated with a layer of dust. A few spears and an axe are lodged in the wall encircling the arena.

            Half a dozen men, including the one Dante evaded, are their opponents. Each one is wearing the same gold armor on their upper torso and is wearing a pair of gold greaves on their legs. Their feet are sandaled. Each appears to carry two weapons with them: a sword being paired with shield, spear, or mace. The four prisoners are outnumbered and outmatched, just like he was told they would be. The other three aren’t faring much better, either.

            Dante turns back to check on the location of his opponent. There is a large gash in the ground where the sword became lodged, but neither man nor saber is anywhere to be seen. Dante steps around a stone pillar, determined to locate this missing soldier. A large piece of stone falls to the ground in front of him, sliding into the pillar. Dante looks over and sees the soldier reaching down to grab another stone to hurl.

            Dante notices a splintered shaft of wood on the ground a few feet away from the soldier. The man is taking aim with another stone. Dante charges forward, sidestepping the projectile as it flies through the air. The soldier picks up his sword and plants his feet, bracing himself to meet the attack. Dante slides along the ground, his fingers grasping the fragment of a wooden handle. Dust stirs in the air. The soldier swings his sword in a powerful cut, but the shaft of wood has better reach and pierces the soldier’s exposed shoulder.

            The sword drops to the ground and the soldier staggers back a step. His left arm dangles uselessly at his side. Dante gets to his feet and grabs the dropped sword. He swings wildly, cutting through the air. The wounded soldier easily dodges a few attacks. Dante rushes forward with a feint, but the soldier trips him up.

            Dante slides along the ground, his lungs filling with dust. He rolls over in time to see the soldier pull the splintered stick from his shoulder, blood oozing from the wound. Dante scrambles backward, sword still clutched in his hand. The sun gleams on the golden armor as his opponent readies the makeshift weapon for a fatal blow. He pulls the weapon back for a powerful thrust. Dante brings his arms up over his face and braces himself for the upcoming pain. Instead of being skewered, the soldier falls to the ground, his neck twisted.

            Dante looks up to see Slate standing over him, arm extended to help him up. He is covered in cuts and scrapes. His one good eye is slowly swelling shut. His breathing is ragged. The corpses of two soldiers are behind him. Hoggle is pinned to the wall of the arena by a spear through his chest. Jerek is nowhere to be seen. The remaining three guards are advancing quickly on Dante and Slate. Dante grips the saber in his hand and Slate picks up a massive stone.

            Slate times his throw perfectly, but the three soldiers scatter before it hits them. The stone shatters into a dozen smaller pieces, flying in various directions. Most bounce harmlessly off the greaves, but a few cut through skin and one lodges itself in the foot of a soldier. Dante swings his sword at the nearest soldier. It is easily deflected off a large brass shield and the soldier thrusts with a counter-strike. Dante steps aside to avoid the blow but the sword catches his side, leaving a narrow gash in its wake.

            The soldier presses the attack on Dante, slashing and striking relentlessly. Dante backpedals, struggling to keep up with each attack. His breathing becomes heavy and sweat pours down his face. The soldier sees the sign of slowing and presses with renewed vigor. Dante parries a thrust, ducks under a slash. The soldier sweeps at Dante’s feet with his shield. Dante jumps to avoid the blow. The soldier anticipates this and stabs Dante’s thigh.

            The crowd frantically cheers for the soldiers. Dante is exhausted and wounded. Slate takes the mace from one soldier and crushes his skull with it, but the other soldier takes advantage and runs Slate through the chest with his sword. Jerek is still nowhere to be seen. The other soldier picks up a discarded spear and starts toward Dante. Pain shoots through his left leg from the wound, but Dante tries to ignore it while fending off the swordsman. His reactions are getting slower and the attacks are getting closer to striking a lethal blow. Dante closes his eyes and makes a desperate thrust, praying for a miracle.


Go To: Part Two - Cellmates                                                                                Go To: Part Four - Jerek

The Curse of Fierabras - Part Two

Part II - Cellmates

    Dante wakes when a bucket of cold water is splashed on his face. One of the guards spits at him and they walk out the door, locking him in. The room is dark and has a musty smell. Rough, dirty clumps of straw are scattered about on the stone floor. A single torch burns out in the corridor on the other side of the door, granting a small amount of light for him to see. His chains are gone and he rubs his wrists. Dante winces in pain as his hands pass over cuts from the metal bonds. His legs have cuts and scrapes everywhere from being dragged to this cell.
           Dante struggles to his feet, reeling back as a wave of light-headedness sweeps over him. A pair of rough, calloused hands grabs his shoulders and helps to steady him. He turns around and finds himself face to face with a giant. The tall man stares at him with his one remaining eye, frowning. Behind him are two others cowering against the wall.
           “You picked a bad day to come here,” says the giant. “It is our day to perform.”
           A frail old man begins to chuckle nervously. His long, white beard sways as the man laughs. He has two teeth left in his mouth, both yellow and rotten. He has a wild look in his eyes and he skitters forward to get a better look at Dante.
           “Hoggle thinks you’re not going to last,” the old man says.
           A short, heavy-set man looks at Dante with a hard glint in his eye. “He’ll outlast you, old man,” he says.
           “Hoggle will live,” the old man snaps. “New boy doesn’t know what is coming. He will be the first to die.”
           Dante is confused and irate at the exchange between these two. “What do you mean by perform?” he asks the giant man.
           “That coliseum above us isn’t just for appearances,” he answers. “Each week they pick a cell to fight up there, and bring the others up to watch. Today is our day to fight.”
           “Fight against whom?” Dante asks as he swats a fly.
           “Depends,” the short man answers. “Some days it is the Emperor’s Royal Guard. Sometimes mercenaries paid to fight. Sometimes wild beasts.”
           “No matter who it is, the odds are against us,” the tall man says.
           Dante turns and takes a step toward the door, looking at the ground. “In what way?”
           “Our opponents have weapons,” the short man says, “while we get a dull knife or a knotted stick if we’re lucky.”

            “Jerek is right,” the giant man says. “Few survive their first battle in the coliseum.”

            Dante sighs and turns around. “There has to be a way to get out of this.”

            “Hoggle thinks you are fool if you think of escape,” says Hoggle.

            “There is no escape,” Jerek says. “There is one chance of being released, but no one has ever managed it” The giant turns his head and glares at Jerek. “I’m telling him the truth, Slate, and you know it.”

            “No sense getting the kid’s hopes up,” Slate says.

            “What is it?” Dante asks.

            Slate looks back at Dante and shakes his head. “Anyone who wins five battles gets an audience with the Emperor. He is the only one who can release us, but he won’t.”

            “He seems like a good man,” Dante says, taking a step forward with a glint of hope in his eye.

            All three men laugh hysterically. The laughter dies down when Hoggle coughs violently, spraying a light mist of blood. Dante wants to ask them what is so funny, but the sound of footsteps approaching turns their attention to the door. Two dozen armed guards crowd the hallway outside the door as the captain turns the key. All four men are shackled without attempting to resist. Dante begins to understand why escape seems impossible.

            They are led through musty corridors, past dozens of cells holding prisoners. Everyone has the same look of despondency. They all expect to die soon, and have resigned themselves to that fate. Dante tells himself he won’t let himself fall into that same state. No one will escape if they don’t try.

            The cheers of thousands of people reach his ears as they reach the surface. Sunlight floods into the eyes of the men as they march forward. Dante brings his hands up to shield his eyes as they try to adjust. The guards fall in behind them, forming a defensive barrier to prevent escape. The chains are removed from the four men and they are shoved through a doorway.

            The cheers become a chorus of jeers when they see the prisoners step outside. The door they came through slams shut and is locked behind them. Dante tries to see the surroundings, but his vision is still blurred from the sunlight. His three companions take off in different directions, seeking weapons or shelter, while Dante is still trying to adjust. A gate across the arena opens up and the crowd cheers. Dante struggles to make out the forms coming out of the gate, his impaired vision still creating problems for him.

            Dante runs to his left, rubbing his eyes frantically to get them to adjust. He sprints past a large stone pillar in the ground. A spear flies past, inches from his face, and secures itself in the wall. Dante turns to see a large, muscular man dressed in gold armor standing five feet away from him. The man swings a giant sabre at Dante as the crowd cheers him on.

Go To: Part One - Into the Capital                                                       Go To: Part Three - The First Battle

The Curse of Fierabras - Part One

I've decided to try my hand at writing a serial novel. My intent is post every Friday with a continuation of the story, so be sure to check back each week for the next installment. Feedback is strongly encouraged, so please let me know what you think in the comments below. I do not have a title for this yet, but I hope to come up with one before next week.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy and encourage you to share with anyone you think might enjoy reading this as well!

--------------------

Part I - Into the Capital

            Dante has always wanted to see the capital in person, but he never imagined for his first visit he would be bound in chains. The rusty metal links rattle every time he shuffles his feet along the dirt road. The thick bars of iron cut into his flesh every time he lifts his feet too high or takes too large of a step. He has to move fast in order to keep up with the guards surrounding him. They won’t stop for him if he falls. He learned that two days ago when they dragged him along the road for over a mile.

            His lips are cracked and his skin is caked with dirt. Dante tries to rub the dirt from his eyes but he only manages to irritate them further. The heat from marching under the sun has his brown hair slick with sweat. He tries to catch the droplets with his tongue as they roll down his face. His body is in dire need of hydration.

            Dante’s mind, distracted by the physical discomfort, is still in awe of the vast walls surrounding the capital. They stretch in all directions as far as he can see with hundreds of buildings crowding together inside of them. Thousands of people swarm through the streets and stand in doorways, most of them dressed in torn and dirty clothing. His appearance right now blends in perfectly with the crowd of citizens, apart from the chains around his hands and feet. The stench of the unsanitary living conditions threatens to knock him off his feet, but the guards around him seem unfazed by it. He reaches up to cover his nose but a guard tugs on the chain and forces his hands down by his side. He supposes the smell is to be part of his punishment.

            As they navigate the labyrinthine twists and turns of the outer city the swarms of people begin to thin out. He can smell fresh fruits and meats and the aroma of burning coals in the furnaces of blacksmiths. Peddlers are stationed alongside wooden carts, holding up their wares to try and attract customers. The ragged clothing of the outer city has been replaced by vibrant colors and smooth layers of cloth. This part of town seems more alive, even though there are fewer people crowding the streets.

                The further they travel into the city the more open space they encounter. Houses and buildings become scarce, replaced by flowering trees and flowing fountains. Thick tufts of green grass are sprouting everywhere and extinct birds and animals are present among them. Everything he has ever been told about the capital and the Emperor don’t fit with this image of beauty. Why would the Emperor destroy everything out there while maintaining this paradise outside the palace?
            A sharp jab from the blunt end of a spear disrupts his thoughts and gets his feet moving again. Suddenly the decisions that have led him to this situation no longer seem to be the right choices. Maybe his family and friends were wrong; maybe the Emperor was trying to restore peace and prosperity to the land and everyone rebelling was preventing his success. Maybe he should have chosen differently.
            The guards bring him to a halt in front of a massive coliseum. White marble pillars gleam in the sunlight. Beds of vibrant-colored flowers encircle the base of each massive column. Dozens of arches lead into the building, each opening as wide as a dozen people. Stone steps are chiseled into the structure, leading up and down into hundreds of rows of seats. All the people in his hometown, combined with all the neighboring villages, couldn’t fill up a fraction of the seats in this coliseum. The enormity of the structure leaves him in awe of the place.
            All around them are soldiers dressed in short crimson tunics over a thin coat of chain mail. A black raven is embroidered on the left shoulder of each tunic. Each soldier has at least a small sword sheathed at their waist and a longbow strapped to their back. Many others also carry a variety of spears or maces, and a few have massive battle axes. All of them salute the man seated in front of the prisoner and his accompaniment of guards.
            The captain appears bored as he rustles through a few scrolls of parchment. He scratches his gray beard as his eyes glance up at the prisoner. He frowns and grasps a black quill and a blank roll of parchment.
            “Name?” he says without looking back up. The prisoner is hit upside the head from a gauntleted hand of the guard next to him. His vision blurs and he stumbles over his words as he attempts to answer the captain.
            “My name is Dante Silverstar,” he says. The captain jots the name down without looking up.
            “Crime?” he asks. Dante starts to answer, but one of his guards cuts him off and answers for him.
            “The prisoner is guilty of open defiance of the Emperor, inciting rebellious activity, and being in league with The Restoration.”
            Dante furrows his eyebrows and tries to step forward but the guard behind him kicks him in the back of his knee. He falls down on his knees, inhaling a cloud of dust that stirs from the impact. “I did no such thing,” he says.

            “Guilty,” the captain says.

            “Because I refused to join the Emperor’s army?”

            “Guilty,” the captain says again as he stifles a yawn. “Take the prisoner to the pit.”

            “But I…” are the last words Dante says before the world goes black and the guards drag the unconscious prisoner into the depths of the coliseum.

Go To: Part II - Cellmates