DismaiNaim
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{Chapter 58 - Elder of Elders; Opening sequence. Context: MC was stationed at a strategic outpost when his unit was ambushed. He narrowly escaped and made his way back to the city only to learn that all his friends were killed and the outpost was captured by the enemy.}
Version A:
I laid down in the barracks, watching a small, green spider weave its web across the soggy window frame. Apparently, Faren brought Indictment with him to the tower. He wasn’t supposed to, and that was the only copy. He left a small canvas pouch beside his bunk, his stash of happy cabbage along with the Orca pipe. He’d kept it there as a thing to look forward to after surviving this war.
If I hadn’t let Davod out, he would still be alive. None of this would have happened.
Renou and I had spent some time in the library earlier. We were taking turns making up stories about that mysterious book in the Forbidden section when this cute Goloagi runaway slave came up. She was in charge of making sure all the books were put back in the correct place and came to give him a good talking-to because he’d insisted on reshelving them upside-down. He confessed that he was merely trying to get her attention, and just like that I was alone again.
I borrowed a book, A Chronicle of the Daenma Schism, supposedly an analysis of the rift between the Imperial Goloagi and Eastern Orthodox Churches. Instead of reading it, I propped up on one elbow and stared at the cover.
Version B:
I laid down in the barracks, alone, watching a small, green spider weave its web across the soggy window frame while a slow rain pattered into the grass outside. All around me in the thick, muggy air, the empty bunks where my friends once slept, and the spider finished one spiral only to start on another.
The belongings of the dead were taken elsewhere to be processed. Common clothing was broken down and re-spun, coins were returned to the registry, and anything personal was packaged and returned to his Naveris back home.
Their names were crossed out from the book.
Standard procedure.
There was a loose board beside the vacant bed where Faren once kept his things. Hidden beneath, a small burlap bag containing his orca pipe and stash of happy cabbage waited for him to survive this war.
Renou had said he would meet me at the library, but when I got there, he was enthralled in a giggly conversation with a young Goloagi woman who had circular burn scars where a number once was. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited around the corner for a good ten minutes, only for them to keep at it. Upstairs, *Indictment* was gone. Someone [Faren] had taken it out of the city and brought it to Praying Mantis when the place was overrun by the enemy. So, I found another book with a long-winded title: The Daenma Schism: An Analysis of the Rift Between the Imperial Goloagi and Eastern Orthodox Daenma Churches.
I sat in a large bag chair on one of the balconies overlooking the tall towers of the inner sanctum reaching into the cloudy sky, staring at the cover, a polished green leather with delicate patterned engravings all around the edges, and couldn’t will myself to open it.
Version A:
I laid down in the barracks, watching a small, green spider weave its web across the soggy window frame. Apparently, Faren brought Indictment with him to the tower. He wasn’t supposed to, and that was the only copy. He left a small canvas pouch beside his bunk, his stash of happy cabbage along with the Orca pipe. He’d kept it there as a thing to look forward to after surviving this war.
If I hadn’t let Davod out, he would still be alive. None of this would have happened.
Renou and I had spent some time in the library earlier. We were taking turns making up stories about that mysterious book in the Forbidden section when this cute Goloagi runaway slave came up. She was in charge of making sure all the books were put back in the correct place and came to give him a good talking-to because he’d insisted on reshelving them upside-down. He confessed that he was merely trying to get her attention, and just like that I was alone again.
I borrowed a book, A Chronicle of the Daenma Schism, supposedly an analysis of the rift between the Imperial Goloagi and Eastern Orthodox Churches. Instead of reading it, I propped up on one elbow and stared at the cover.
Version B:
I laid down in the barracks, alone, watching a small, green spider weave its web across the soggy window frame while a slow rain pattered into the grass outside. All around me in the thick, muggy air, the empty bunks where my friends once slept, and the spider finished one spiral only to start on another.
The belongings of the dead were taken elsewhere to be processed. Common clothing was broken down and re-spun, coins were returned to the registry, and anything personal was packaged and returned to his Naveris back home.
Their names were crossed out from the book.
Standard procedure.
There was a loose board beside the vacant bed where Faren once kept his things. Hidden beneath, a small burlap bag containing his orca pipe and stash of happy cabbage waited for him to survive this war.
Renou had said he would meet me at the library, but when I got there, he was enthralled in a giggly conversation with a young Goloagi woman who had circular burn scars where a number once was. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited around the corner for a good ten minutes, only for them to keep at it. Upstairs, *Indictment* was gone. Someone [Faren] had taken it out of the city and brought it to Praying Mantis when the place was overrun by the enemy. So, I found another book with a long-winded title: The Daenma Schism: An Analysis of the Rift Between the Imperial Goloagi and Eastern Orthodox Daenma Churches.
I sat in a large bag chair on one of the balconies overlooking the tall towers of the inner sanctum reaching into the cloudy sky, staring at the cover, a polished green leather with delicate patterned engravings all around the edges, and couldn’t will myself to open it.
