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Hello, here is the first chapter of my WIP, and please, feel free to rip this thing apart. Critique it as much as you want, if there’s something that seems off, illogical, or is bothering you, don’t be afraid to tell me. I want this story to be the best it can, and the only way to get there is through trial and error. If I tag you, please don’t feel obligated to reply. And if you do read the story but get too busy to keep up, that’s completely understandable.
Tags: @linus-smallprint @theducktator @keilah-h @loopylin @ellette-giselle @thearcaneaxiom @whalekeeper @rae @anyone else
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
Chapter one
Blossom Town’s suffering had only grown worse. The farmers brought less and less produce and food to the market each week. Daily, wagons rumbled through the streets, carrying the bodies of the victims of starvation. The familiar sound of wheel against stone brought villagers from their cottages or work to watch in somber silence as the wagon rolled by on the way to the cemetery. Some would weep, others cross themselves and pray. All, however, felt one of three things: pity, fear, and anger. Why must they suffer? What had they done wrong to deserve this? Had not all their lives they had been faithful to God, and this is how He repaid them? There was also anger directed at another person: the king of Terre (which is the country Blossom Town was situated in), King Lawrence.
Eldred Favri, a knight under Lord Damien, was about 21. He was tall, muscular, with black hair and jade green eyes, and would be considered handsome if not for the fact that he always wore a frown. The scar on his face did not help, for it was long, noticeable, and ran from the top of his cheek down to the end of it. One particular day, a death wagon clattered by, and Eldred watched from an alleyway, silently praying. Oh, Lord, have mercy on the souls of those who died. Remember your children and their suffering, please deliver us all from the blight facing our land. Around him, peasants spoke in whispers.
“My friend died today from the famine, and what does our king do? Nothing!”
“I hear he sits in his castle all day in comfort, with food of all types and the best ale and wine you ever tasted!”
“I heard that too! And his knights grow fat, while our own die protecting us from the thieves and creatures around here!”
And on the whispers circled, growing more bitter the more the peasants talked. Eldred tried to ignore them, tried to focus on his prayers. He was accustomed, at that point, to the peasant’s gossip. It did not make it any easier, however, when they talked so harshly about his king.
Slowly, the crowd dispersed, some following the wagon to the church cemetery, others back to their work, and Eldred was alone. How many have died in our village now? Five today… that would make Ninety. Ninety… ninety of his beloved countrymen, women, and even children, dead. And it was not only in Blossom Town. No, all across Terre, except in the fishing communities up north, the famine spread like a disease. The causes of the famine were unknown, at the time, but one rumor suggested a bug, coming from one of the faroff countries Terre traded with, had invaded Southern Terre and front there the death and destruction came. Eldred sighed, and moved from his position back to his waiting horse, his time of patrol over. Reaching his horse, he untied the reins from the tree, climbed atop, and spurred his horse toward Lord Damien’s castle in the warm spring afternoon. His horse clip-clopped along the cobblestone path, and on either side of the path, cottages and shops lined the way. Horses pulled wagons of hay, wood, and various other goods, peasants carried their own goods, the women with their baskets and the men with their bundles. Some waved at Eldred, others walked by without much of a glance, all worked. Eldred waved back at a few, giving a small half smile. “Sir Knight!” He heard a voice, that of a child, call. Eldred looked to his right, a few feet away a young boy and his friends stood by a cottage. He smiled, waved, about to carry on, when the boy waved and called again, “Would you show us your sword?” Eldred glanced at the boy, back at Lord Damien’s castle, back at the boy, knew he would be missing more training, and dismounted. “Of course.” He answered, waiting for a man to pass by before leading his horse to the boys. “Would anyone like to hold the reins while I draw the sword?” “I would!” Came the cries from all of the boys. Eldred smiled again, and handed them to a boy among the group with large, blue eyes and curly dark hair, his eyes shining as he grasped it in his hand. Eldred turned to the boy who had called him over. “What is your name?” “William.” The boy answered, grinning, then, with an air of pride, added, “I’m 7.” “Seven? Well, that certainly is a fine age.” William’s grin widened, “Thank you sir. May we see your sword now?” “Certainly.” Eldred answered, and drew forth the double edged beauty. Gleaming in the sunlight, Eldred gripped the leather wound handle, displaying it to the boys. Gasps and squeals of excitement came from them as they each stared, mesmerized, by the blade. Eldred turned it over a few times in his hand, showing each side. “This sword was given to me by my father when I was a lad, just as yourselves.” He explained, turning to the side and swinging it around in the air. He thrust at an imaginary enemy. “He gave it the name, ‘Ad Victorium’. ‘To victory.’” The boys all watched, open mouthed. Eldred lowered the sword, “Line up and I will let you hold it. Do not swing or play with it.” cheers erupted from the boys, a fierce scramble for first ensued, and finally, they were straightened out into an almost perfect line. “Very good.” Eldred praised, handing the sword to the first boy in line, a skinny, malnourished boy with dark blonde hair. He helped his hands hold the sword’s handle, then, for a moment, let him hold it on his own. His eyes glowed with excitement, a contagious smile on his face, as he gripped the handle and raised the sword. After another moment, he passed it onto the next boy and Eldred helped him hold it. Down the line the sword passed, oohs and ahs coming from the mouths of each boy as the clasped it in their small hands. Finally, it had reached the last boy, the youngest and smallest, laughing slightly as he took it in his hands. With one hand, he touched the metal, and smiled. Then, he gave it back to Eldred, and they all gave their thanks. Eldred dipped his head in appreciation, there was a yell from a woman a few cottages away, another from one in the opposite direction, and William’s friends ran off, waving and shouting goodbye. “Goodbye!” Eldred called.
“Sir knight, did your father make that sword?” William asked, and Eldred turned back to face him. He nodded. “My father was a blacksmith, and made the most magnificent swords in all of Terre.” He paused, the sounds of hammer hitting metal and the sight of sparks flying filling his memory, then continued. “He made a blade for my brother as well, and would show us how to wield one. Do you know what he would always tell us?” “What?” William questioned. Eldred looked back at him, pushing down a sudden sadness. He was too skinny for his age, most likely starving. All of them had seemed that way, and they were all too young to suffer.
“‘Sons,’ he would tell us, ‘this blade you hold in your hand is never to be used for injustice, nor selfish gain, nor murder, nor wickedness. The blade you hold is to protect those who cannot protect themselves; it is for serving your country, and defending what is true and right. Use it to fight for what is right, for God, for country, and for each other.’” Eldred finished.
William stood, staring, thoughtful. “Your father sounds nice.” He said after a moment. “He was. He was a very good man.” Eldred smiled, placing his sword back in its sheath. “Do you think I could be a knight one day?” William looked up hopefully. “Perhaps one day.” Eldred answered, “You must train every day to work for it, not only physically though. You must be trained spiritually, and be fervent in prayer each day, and walk rightly with God. Practice every day to be kind, and most important do not give up even when things are hard.” William nodded with enthusiasm, “Yes, I promise I will! I will do it as soon as I finish my chores today! Goodbye!” He raced off down the street, and was gone.
Now you have filled him with false hope. The voice nagged at him as Eldred rode his horse back to the castle. He will have that hope most of his life, never to be fulfilled. And who does he have to blame for it? Why, you, of course. You should have let him be, and all those young boys, rather than give them a taste of what they will never be. “Fool.” Eldred whispered to himself, his regular frown on his face. “Must I hurt everyone I meet?”
The castle, built on top of the hill, overlooked Blossom Town. Made of stone, the top of its towers rising high into the air, slabs cut out to form windows dotting them. A wall surrounded the inner buildings, a sturdy, oak gate with two guards standing on either side of it, was in the center. The banners of Terre, royal blue with white bordering it and a gold bear in the middle, hung from two of the windows. Eldred reached the gate, and the guards stopped him. “Halt! Where have you come from and what is your name?” “My name is Sir Eldred Favri, and I have come from patrol in the village.” “Patrol? Your shift ended half an hour ago, where have you been?” One guard inquired, lowering his spear. “A few children stopped to talk with me.” Eldred explained, realizing that he really was late for training. “May I enter now?.” The guards nodded, called up to the guards on the wall, and soon the gate was opened. “Have a good day, Sir Eldred.” “Thank you, and you as well.” Eldred responded, snapping his reins and entering the castle walls.
Few were out in the courtyard, but farther on, the grunts and yells of men could be heard. Eldred climbed off his horse and led it to the stable, handed the reins to a stable boy, and hurried off to the knights. There they were, the knights under Lord Damien, almost all 250 of them, some on scouting missions, patrol or studying other skills. “Eldred, where have you been?” The head knight had spotted him and walked over, frowning. “You should have been here half an hour ago.” “I apologize, sir. A few boys wanted to see my sword.” the head knight’s face softened, and he chuckled. “Oh, that’s alright. I thought there was a bit of trouble from some thieves, really. Anway, let’s get you paired up with someone. Today is hand to hand combat.” he led Eldred to a bench where, sitting on it, was an unpaired knight. “Percival, your brother just came back from patrol and needs a partner.” Percival stood up, nodded, and the head knight pointed the two over to an open area. Wordlessly, they walked over. Eldred noticed Percival was glaring at him. “Figures I would get paired with you.” He muttered, lowering his visor and taking out his sword. Eldred did not answer, knew that nothing he would say would alleviate any emotions Percival felt towards him for what he had done, what he still did. “Ready!” The head knight shouted.
“Beware, brother, I will not go easy on you simply because we are related.” Eldred warned, grasping the hilt of his sword and unsheathing it. “Do you take me for a fool?” Percival scoffed, readying his stance. “I will not relent this time around.” They gripped their handles with two hands, keeping their eyes trained on the other through their helmets. “Commence!” The head-knight shouted, and the training began. Percival charged towards Eldred, aiming a thrust of his sword at Eldred’s heart. Eldred parried, hitting the tip of the blade with his own. Pushing Percival off, he readied himself in a defensive stance. Percival bounced back, maintaining an offensive position, and slashed at Eldred’s legs. Eldred jumped back, barely missing the blade. Swiftly, dodging another attack, he decided it was time to play offense. Blocking a swing of Percival’s sword, he lunged, bringing his sword down upon Percival’s helmet. In all of Percival’s rage, he failed to notice the attack and was knocked down. He groaned, his head surging in pain. “Are you alright, Percival?” Eldred questioned, sheathing his sword, and extending his hand to help. “I’m fine, and I do not need your help.” Percival retorted, smacking away the hand and rising to his feet unsteadily. “I need a minute to gain my senses, leave me alone.” Eldred complied, watching Percival trudge to a nearby bench. Perhaps I was too hard on him. But, he cannot expect to not get knocked around during training.
“Percival, where are you off to?” The head knight called out to him. Percival turned. “I got hit a bit too hard while fighting Eldred, I just need a few moments to regain my senses, that is all.” “Ah, well, you know older brothers.” The head knight grinned. “Always have to be hard on the younger brother.” Percival lifted his visor and smiled. “Yes, well that is to be expected.” With that, he left for one of the benches.
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
I’m not great at critiquing, but I did notice one thing.
Eldred Favri, a knight under Lord Damien, was about 21.
Five today… that would make Ninety. Ninety… ninety of his beloved countrymen, women, and even children, dead.
The boy answered, grinning, then, with an air of pride, added, “I’m 7.” “Seven? Well, that certainly is a fine age.”
Your numbers are not consistent. You need to decide whether you are writing out the number in word form or number form.
The squirrels are collecting more nuts than usual this winter. I've already lost 3 relatives.
okay, I really like this, but I have one big thing.
the training fight.
so first off, they would use training swords. Wooden ones or maybe blunt mettle. Mistakes happen in training and the less chance for a knight to get killed the better.
second, training is hard on the weapons so their real swords would be set aside for battle.and the the blow to the head. That is pretty serious. Percival could have been killed. He would not be walking away easily. Think a baseball bat to the head. Or worse. The sword is slamming the metal of Percival’s helmet into his head. Even with blunt training swords true blows we’re uncommon. A skilled knight pulls back and taps if his blow would have hit a fatal place. It’s a point system, not a fight to the death.
so, other then that. It was great!
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
Just read your chapter. I have a couple of things for you.
Firstly, some things about your introduction. I think your intro paragraph to the chapter may be unnecessary. Why? Because soon after, you show us many of these problems in the hushed whispers of the peasants.
Blossom Town’s suffering had only grown worse. The farmers brought less and less produce and food to the market each week. Daily, wagons rumbled through the streets, carrying the bodies of the victims of starvation. The familiar sound of wheel against stone brought villagers from their cottages or work to watch in somber silence as the wagon rolled by on the way to the cemetery. Some would weep, others cross themselves and pray. All, however, felt one of three things: pity, fear, and anger. Why must they suffer? What had they done wrong to deserve this? Had not all their lives they had been faithful to God, and this is how He repaid them? There was also anger directed at another person: the king of Terre (which is the country Blossom Town was situated in), King Lawrence.
And let’s compare that to this:
“My friend died today from the famine, and what does our king do? Nothing!”
“I hear he sits in his castle all day in comfort, with food of all types and the best ale and wine you ever tasted!”
“I heard that too! And his knights grow fat, while our own die protecting us from the thieves and creatures around here!”
I think from these complaints we can learn everything you told us in your first paragraph. Is there not a lot of food? Check. Are people starving? Check. Are the peasants full of fear, anger, and pity? I don’t see pity as much in here, but I do pick up the fear and anger. Do they feel they are being unfairly treated? Check. Are they angry at the king? Check. The only thing I do not see in these hushed whispers that you do not have in your intro paragraph is anger towards God. This is why I believe it is not necessary.
I would go with the peasant’s complaints instead of the intro paragraph because this shows us their dissatisfaction instead of simply telling us about it. Some common author advice I hear is ‘show, don’t tell’. I’m still figuring out how to do this myself.
I think the best way you could start this chapter is to introduce Eldred. Have him look around the town right away and observe the suffering of Blossom town. I might even avoid telling the readers that he is a knight until after the peasants complain about the knights. I would like to know a bit about who this character is before I know what he looks like and what he does. I want to see his reactions to the sorry state of the town right away. (This last bit may just be my preference.)
Secondly, I find the way you break up paragraphs confusing. Take for example the following.
“What is your name?” “William.” The boy answered, grinning, then, with an air of pride, added, “I’m 7.” “Seven? Well, that certainly is a fine age.” William’s grin widened, “Thank you sir. May we see your sword now?”
My brain would expect this all to be said by one character. I have a hard time telling who is talking here. Every time you change characters, start a new paragraph. It should look like this.
“What is your name?”
“William.” The boy answered, grinning, then, with an air of pride, added, “I’m 7.”
“Seven? Well, that certainly is a fine age.”
William’s grin widened, “Thank you sir. May we see your sword now?”
This will make it much easier to read rather than a large, intimidating paragraph.
Another example:
Slowly, the crowd dispersed, some following the wagon to the church cemetery, others back to their work, and Eldred was alone. How many have died in our village now? Five today… that would make Ninety. Ninety… ninety of his beloved countrymen, women, and even children, dead. And it was not only in Blossom Town. No, all across Terre, except in the fishing communities up north, the famine spread like a disease. The causes of the famine were unknown, at the time, but one rumor suggested a bug, coming from one of the faroff countries Terre traded with, had invaded Southern Terre and front there the death and destruction came. Eldred sighed, and moved from his position back to his waiting horse, his time of patrol over. Reaching his horse, he untied the reins from the tree, climbed atop, and spurred his horse toward Lord Damien’s castle in the warm spring afternoon. His horse clip-clopped along the cobblestone path, and on either side of the path, cottages and shops lined the way. Horses pulled wagons of hay, wood, and various other goods, peasants carried their own goods, the women with their baskets and the men with their bundles. Some waved at Eldred, others walked by without much of a glance, all worked. Eldred waved back at a few, giving a small half smile.
The following paragraph is long and intimidating. I am not motivated to read it. However, it can be broken up into two paragraphs. You started off telling us about Eldred’s thoughts, then you switched to him travelling to the castle. I am not entirely sure how to do this, I mostly do it by instinct, but each paragraph should cover one topic. Since you have finished telling us of Eldred’s thoughts, you can finish the paragraph and start a new one. It should look like this:
Slowly, the crowd dispersed, some following the wagon to the church cemetery, others back to their work, and Eldred was alone. How many have died in our village now? Five today… that would make Ninety. Ninety… ninety of his beloved countrymen, women, and even children, dead. And it was not only in Blossom Town. No, all across Terre, except in the fishing communities up north, the famine spread like a disease. The causes of the famine were unknown, at the time, but one rumor suggested a bug, coming from one of the faroff countries Terre traded with, had invaded Southern Terre and front there the death and destruction came.
Eldred sighed, and moved from his position back to his waiting horse, his time of patrol over. Reaching his horse, he untied the reins from the tree, climbed atop, and spurred his horse toward Lord Damien’s castle in the warm spring afternoon. His horse clip-clopped along the cobblestone path, and on either side of the path, cottages and shops lined the way. Horses pulled wagons of hay, wood, and various other goods, peasants carried their own goods, the women with their baskets and the men with their bundles. Some waved at Eldred, others walked by without much of a glance, all worked. Eldred waved back at a few, giving a small half smile.
Now, instead of seeing one huge paragraph that scares me, there are some smaller ones I can follow easily. Even if this means more pages, I would be more motivated to read the broken-up version.
That is all the feedback I have for now, I hope you find it helpful! I will read the next part when you release it!
@theshadow so….we have traded places…..
now you’re telling me to read your story that you’re afraid is a dumpster fire! (Don’t worry, I think yours is great.)
I would go with what @linus-smallprint says about the new paragraphs whenever a character is talking. Look at my fanfic–the google doc separates the paragraphs out a lot, so I’ll use it to show you what I mean.
@everyone else you guys don’t need to read this, it has nothing to do with Shadow’s story, it’s mine that I’m using as an example for her.
He put down his rifle, and we stared out at the convoluted mess of buildings in front of us. Neither of us spoke for a minute.
I pulled out the kukri knife I’d stolen from him. “By the way, uh….here’s your knife back.”
“Keep it, mate.” he said. “Somethin’ to remember me by when the job’s done and we all go home. I can get another one.”
Home….
The word conjured up images of the streams and mountains of the planet I was born on. The large city I’d grown up in, and the seaport-spaceport that was nearby. It was far away from here.
“Heh. Home. Yeah. Speaking of which….what’s your home like?” I asked. “I’ve never been outside of the Systemic Republic.”
“A bit like this moon.” Sniper began. “Empty. Where my house is, the horizon stretches on for miles. Ya feel like you’ll never see the end of it…..and then ya hit the coastline, or some city somewhere.” He shook his head. “I never liked the cities growin’ up. Too many people. Too much noise and bustlin’ about. Everyone reminding ya that yer nothin’ like everyone else.”
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
Notice how a new paragraph begins whenever Huntress or Sniper stops speaking and the other replies. Had I written it the way you did, it would’ve looked like this:
I pulled out the kukri knife I’d stolen from him. “By the way, uh….here’s your knife back.” “Keep it, mate.” he said. “Somethin’ to remember me by when the job’s done and we all go home. I can get another one.”
or:
“Heh. Home. Yeah. Speaking of which….what’s your home like?” I asked. “I’ve never been outside of the Systemic Republic.” “A bit like this moon.” Sniper began. “Empty. Where my house is, the horizon stretches on for miles. Ya feel like you’ll never see the end of it…..and then ya hit the coastline, or some city somewhere.” He shook his head. “I never liked the cities growin’ up. Too many people. Too much noise and bustlin’ about. Everyone reminding ya that yer nothin’ like everyone else.” “What do you mean?” I questioned.
Kinda awkward, don’t you see? It’s hard to tell where one character stops and the other starts. It also eliminates the pauses you might expect in a normal conversation. To me, this almost looks like Sniper and Huntress are talking over each other, which is really weird.
other than that, I think this is a very interesting story! I don’t know much about medieval times/life, so I can’t really help you there, but I’m liking it so far.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
Thank you, and thanks for helping with the historical accuracy (I will definitely need help with that lol)
Okay, agreed, the beginning is not great imo, I will definitely change it, and the formatting. Thanks!
Okay, that way looks a lot better, and I see what you mean, it is kind of confusing. Thank you!
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
@theshadow you’re welcome! I didn’t see your post until now because KP is apparently wigging out and won’t send me emails to any of your latest posts for some reason.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
Weird, the same thing is happening to me too.
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
@theshadow Yeah! Wonder what it is.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
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