[535] The Gift of Innocence

Here's the link to my critique: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/9bzs6l/orion_chapter_1_home_3300_words/

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This is (part of) the first chapter of a high fantasy trilogy. It's more character-centric than a lot of what's in the genre, at least that's my goal. I'll take whatever critiques you have, but am concerned with flow and your level of intrigue the most.

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A thousand tolling bells drag me from a better world. What an awful noise to wake from. Like always, the ever-so-charming Church of Neta has wasted no time in starting my day off poorly. Not that it wouldn’t inevitably sour without the bells.

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Lifting myself off the warm dirt floor I call a bed, my senses gradually return. Tired wooden walls, graying with age, glare back at me as if a reminder of my place in life. You have to breathe through your mouth in here, or risk suffocating in a stench of perspiration and defeat. I wipe away the gravel lodged in my arms and torso, feeling very little aside from bone. The usual ensemble of malnourished, olive-skinned people is reluctantly mirroring my actions.

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Next to me is Mable, a fifteen-year-old girl who lost her parents to a band of brigands; my only friend on this miserable plantation. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, unaware of a streak of sand across her cheek. Her eyelids slump, her thin lips stifle a yawn, but her face isn’t downtrodden like the rest. It’s fresh and hopeful, sticking out like a sore thumb to be honest.

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Unlike how most of our fellow mancipium keep to themselves, Mable sought company from any and all the second she got here. Anything to not be alone I guess. Giving me a fragile smile, she shadows my path outside.

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“Let’s tell stories tonight, An” she whispers.

“Can’t tonight, too busy.”

“Yeah? Got a date or something?”

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I can’t help but snort at that.

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“Alright, you know the drill. Once the final bells sound, we’ll meet at the equipment shack.”

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A hint of excitement crosses her face. She then pivots with a slight jump to head for her assigned area. It’ll be a long time before we can spin our stories again.

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Needless to say, our sources of entertainment are few and far between. Thinking up tales of brave warriors and cunning maidens can ease a long desert evening, plus they make for rare glimpses of two untroubled kids. Unfortunately, the real world hasn’t given us many to idolize, leaving us to create our own heroes. When Mable hits her stride, gets really into a good story, I can almost believe there’s someone out there standing up to the world.

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Running a hand over my symbolically shaved head, I wipe away the day’s first sweat. Long hair is a privilege enjoyed only by the free in Cocere, and us mancipium men are cropped weekly. The women might have it even worse though. Their heads are ignored, left to tangle and split.

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If everything goes according to plan, that knife won’t be going over my scalp this time.

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Squinting into the desert, I see our familiar fields, already full of toiling people obscured in dry air. Vibrance is dead up here in the north, and even the vines are more brown than green. Expanses of soybeans, bell peppers, and melons run over the flatland for miles, sandwiching us between them and the city’s pale wall. It looms high overhead, more a class barrier than a defense mechanism. If you want to invade Cocere, you contend with the Ancipitia desert, not some stupid wall.