Epander II

See now?  Two posts in a row that I've made.  I can do things.  However, I'd like to say that it's actually to the detriment of the reader for me to post things up like this, as that one can only get a couple paragraphs at a time of scenes which are supposed to wrap one in a fit of emotion.  Alas, I shall have to only deliver snippets at a time.  Also, in this post there is a bastardization of a quote by John Stuart Mill which I'll have to edit in the future to become more original and not just blatantly stealing.  However, I actually really like the response that I give to it.

She looked up from her instrument for just a moment and noticed his gaze burning into her, instantly taking her fingers away and placing it down on the ground. Now only the orchestra of the stream remained, with the cadence of the chorus of birds accenting its steady tempo. There was love in her eyes, but also sorrow; he could only conceive that his own eyes had the same exact mien in them. They stared at each other in silence, through night and day, and in and out of surrealistic feeling; it seemed as but a dream. Her eyes began to water, and soon one tear raced down her face, followed by another. She kept her dignity, her poise; she did not blubber, she did not cry. But the tears refused their prison, their lacrimose journey being their message to the world.

She did not bother to wipe away her tears, but instead pled in gentle tones, “You don’t have to leave.”

He smiled, but not a genuine one, instead the smile that people give when they’re miserable, when they want to put forth a façade to fool the firmament of the universe itself, to make the public think that they’re contented, just as everyone else about them. She knew him, she knew better, she knew this not to be the case. He regardless refused to relent, “A man who is willing to fight for nothing, a man who places nothing above his own personal safety is a miserable excuse for a creature with the inability to remain free unless made so by the exertions of better men than himself. I am not that man; I must do what is just.”

“Men always return to their rhetoric, the shield behind which they hide when the darts of duty to their love and family are cast at them. They speak of duty, they speak of responsibility, they speak of honour. They never speak of their own heart, they never speak of the pain that is wrought unto those whose hearts they hold.”

Epander I

I'm really bad about consistency with this thing.  It all started off with me forgetting to update on day where I'd even prepared it such that I could update it from my phone whilst out for a social, but forgot all the same.  After that I was just lacking in my ability to remember things.  However, I reason that people actually do read these, so I might as well continue to post them up.  If for whatever misguided reason you're a loyal and devoted reader, I'll try not to lapse.  However, I may start putting up between each chapter non-fiction entries, either talking about background information about the world or just writing in general.  Without yet further adieu, I present to you the resumption of my blog, giving you the (real) first chapter of the book.

This was among the most beautiful moments of his life, and perhaps it was because of this great beauty that made it so sorrowful. He lay by the gentle bubbling of a brook, easing and melting away all of his worries, everything which he had to fear. Birds chirped and warbled in the distance, a harmonious symphony in their own right, trading refrains with one another in competing choruses. Where this not enough, his wife sat beside him, strumming her lyre to the tune of “Ode to Laoiphon”, recanting the departure of two lovers, one sacrificing himself in a journey to the underworld to bring back their son. The chords were almost haunting, but absolutely attractive in their accord.

He lay on his back in the soft moss, hands behind his head as he rest with his eyes closed, letting the resonance of sounds breath through him, to give him life, to give him this moment of splendor. They had left to come here before the sun had risen, and even just now as he opened his eyes it broke through the trees and gave a soft light on everything it touched. The flowers somehow were made to seem more fragile; his wife’s face softer and more fair, her hands more graceful as she ran them across the filaments of her lyre. He grinned at her, and could tell that it was a stupid sort of smile.

For a moment she was still entranced in her music, and he was able to look upon her face without her notice. She had great round eyes which were golden in colour, long dark eyelashes drawing you into them. Her face was tanned, somewhat rounded, with large, pronounced cheekbones and full lips. Her black hair was tied back behind her head, but still covering her ears. She was absolutely stunning, especially so now. He could lay here like this forever, listening to the hymns of the forest and her music both, gazing upon her face until they both were turned to stone by the gods forevermore, a testament to their devotion to one another.

Ravenna Map

I'm going to take a brief interlude to talk a little about the world in which all of these characters inhabit.  Because I've been adding more and more locations (or rather, I've been naming them), I've had to start making new maps in so that I could better visualize the world that I'm creating.  Specifically I made a more detailed version of the peninsula of Ravenna in MSPaint, which let me assure the lot of you has come a long way since I was a kid.

As aforementioned, this is the peninsula of Ravenna, which you can get a better scope of what it looks like with the rest of the world here:  World Map

To the north of it lies the Straights of Duracalis, which leads from the sea that separates the world to the endless sea (tentative names).  The red lines separate different regions, mainly by their cultural grouping, and in part by their division within Erraman rule.  Technically they are descendant from Campic tribes, but took heavy influence from being ruled by the Ravennae, whose old borders are marked in orange.  At present, Errama has dominion (or an alliance) over Thaetium, Vescia, Campium, and as of recently, Taratas.

Here below are what notes I have to describe these different peoples and places.  You can see in a couple instances where I'm taking direct basis from historical peoples.

Campii- (Native tribes just south of Errama)
Erramae- Republican Roman peoples who have come by this point to have conquered the Ravennan peninsula, to include Molosseirosian Taratas. They have a long standing hatred of the Averrae and have previously warred with the Molosseirians, Phocadastians, and Elymians. They have a democratic republican oligarchy with a senate ruled by a noble class who debate on issues and give advice to magistrates that they elect among themselves. In addition, there is a common assembly in which the common citizen populous votes on issues as well. Note that not everyone is a citizen. Nobles include Vikas Valerius Taratas, Aelestros Horionus Ferrus, Catella Valeria Tarata, Daphne Horiona Ferra, Gnaeus Loftus Vexillus Majoris. Commoners include Cantice Didius Moechus, Pascius, Sentinus, Vetus.
Liturgiae- People living between Molosseiros and the Erramans. They are somewhat wild natured and smoke soothing herbs before going into battle.
Locae-
Ravennae- (Old culture just north of Errama)
Taratoi- (Korinnesoi colonies)
Thaetii- (Italo-Celtic peoples on north tip of peninsula)
Vesciae- (Samnites?)

Daphne 2.V

Well, apparently I messed up and moved about two paragraphs from the beginning of the latter half of the chapter, one whole with the beginning and end of two others, smacked into the ending section.  I have no idea how I did this, and was quite grateful that I hadn't accidentally deleted anything.  So here is the fixed beginning and end of the latter half of this chapter.

The sun had begun to sag by time that they had drawn near to the urban villa of Vikas, a friend of theirs that they’d had for quite some time. He was quite the socialite, and knew many of the important people in the city. He was also quite richer than they were, which certainly helped his position, and from a more notable noble family. Theirs, whilst not without repute, was not the most premier family in the city. They both liked the urban lifestyle better, and in a few years when they’d saved up more money, they planned on buying an urban villa themselves, and would have their country villa run itself as their source of income. It was nice living in the country, but it separated one from all of one’s friends.

By this point, they’d been there enough where they didn’t need to have a slave lead them from the city gates; they could find their own way. And as they drew up to the front doors her husband threw one leg over the horse and leapt down, then proceeding come over to her and help her from her own horse. She obviously could do it on her own and had done so countless times when he wasn’t around, but was this not a gentlemen’s duty? She certainly didn’t object.

He walked up to the giant, ornate doors and turned back to her with a smile, which she reciprocated, before banging three slow, deliberate knocks onto the door before taking a step back. Aelestros had maintained this notion that one should not stand too close to the door when someone answered it, but even though he’d explained why, perhaps more than once, she never quite understood. After not too terribly long, one of the great doors swung slowly inward to reveal a meek little old balding man in a black tunic. With almost a tremble to his voice, he bowed slightly and greeted them, “Lord Orionus. We expected you much earlier. I trust your journey did not contain any trouble?”

.  .  .

Her dress put on and hair braided intricately, her personal handmaiden, Doula, was setting to work on Daphne’s makeup when Catella walked into her bedroom. Without yet seeing her, Daphne heard from behind, “Oh darling, that I was unable to see you when you first came in! Come!” She swept towards Daphne and took her up from her seat by her hands and leaned in to give an exaggerated kiss towards each cheek, but making sure not to actually touch hercheeks or lips to anything, lest she ruin her makeup. “How have you been, darling?” Without giving a chance for response, she continued to talk, “You should really have my woman do your makeup; she’s clearly much more experienced.”

This resulted only a sigh under her slave’s breath and contemptuous state, which was surely ignored as she walked around to look at her vast collection of makeup on the table. Daphne herself rolled her eyes when she wasn’t looking, but said nothing. Catella either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to mind, instead continuing on, “I’ve recently gotten some fabulous blush made of red ochre, imported from the Nervae coast. I’ve also gotten some eye shadows, one made from saffron from Nukemaos, and some from lapis lazuli from Karakum, beyond the borders of the civilized world. It’s what I’m wearing now.” She turned to graciously display it for her.

After a moment of no further words, with a sigh on her lips she said, “Well then, I suppose I need to make sure that the slaves have everything ready for our dinner party. We’ve a fair number of guests of import to come, and I must make sure that we are to impress. Ta ta.” And with that having been said, she turned and exited the room, Daphne and her slave sharing a look. That look.

Daphne 2.IV

This is a picture of a slave talking to some people.  Exciting, right?  Next update will be the last of this chapter, and then I have a special entry with more map.  Also, next one has some catty girl-on-girl action.  Now that's exciting.

“Of course sir, after me.” And with that he turned and began to shuffle away. Her husband turned about and quickly informed their two bodyguard to take all the horses and go around the corner to where they could store the horses, their goods, and rest their weary feet, and then gave them a silver Denarius each. They both liked to give their slaves rewards for either special or generally good work, such that they could either buy something for themselves or eventually save up to buy their freedom. It was one of the reasons that their slaves were generally quite predisposed towards them.

She followed them in and after her husband and his slave had been shown to a side room, the hobbled old slave asked of her, “Madam, should you like access to the cosmetics of the Lady of the house, or have you brought your own with you?”

Honestly, Daphne didn't like Vikas’s wife. She couldn't quite place it, it was perhaps that she was a little too artificial, but he had been married to her on account of her families wealth, not due to any manner of deep and passionate love. However, he liked her well enough, so they indulged him and indulged in pleasantries with her when there was need of it. Should she use the expensive cosmetics of a woman she didn't particularly like instead of the one’s she’d packaged with her? Of course. She put this thought into it and thusly replied with a fake smile creeping across her face, “Of course.”

“Yes, m’lady.” He changed the direction that he was leading her, evident that he’d thought of this halfway through leading her to somewhere else. As such, she and Doula followed and were taken back towards the back of the house, passing a beautiful garden surrounded by a colonnade and into the bedroom of the mistress of the house. It was opulent, as to be expected. She couldn't bear but to be surrounded by but the most expensive of furniture of decorations. It was how she was raised, Daphne supposed. Doesn't make her any less of a right cunt.