Nanowrimo, pt 1
Okay, so this is chapter 1 of my nanowrmo for this year, the next chapters are to follow soon.
Chapter 1
It was about to rain. The clouds where hanging low over the city, obscuring the mountains from view. The street vendors surrounding the temple walls began putting up their coverings, protecting their goods from the dampness. Seven floors up, next to a window in the library tower, sat Wend. He sighed as he looked down at the temple grounds.
The garden was in full bloom this spring, as the monks of the order took meticulous care of it, claiming it brought them closer to God. Beyond the vivid colours of the garden was the great wall of the temple, against which the vendors of the city often set up shop. The sprawling city lay beyond them, their cobblestones worn with the traffic of centuries.
He wanted to be out there, with them, not stuck inside the temple studying to become a religious scholar. It had already been ten years since he had begun his tenure at the temple, and while he knew it was a smart career path that came with all sorts of perks and advancement opportunities, it just wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to be out there, with the people of the city living his life. He could be a banker, of an alchemist, or an accountant (and as we all know the moment some one feels they’d be better off as an accountant, is the moment their life needs a fair bit of re-examining). Anything but stuck inside all day and all night reading the same damn book and trying to gleam some sort of new information out of it.
But it was what his family expected of him. He was the second son, and as such, his path was to join the church. He already had on older brother to carry on being a blacksmith (not that Wend could have been a blacksmith any way, he seemed to be physically incapable of building muscle, even if he was hammering a hundred horse shoes a day), and his grandfather had taught him to read, so they had shipped him off to the temple and promptly forgot about him. But what else was there to do?
Not a strong willed man, Wend was not the kind of person to upset the status quo. Unless something forced him to. But short of the temple collapsing in a heap of rubble, he was content in his day dreaming.
He turned his attention back to the pile of papers, books and scrolls on the table before him. He sighed again and adjusted the small cap perched on his light brown head. It was red, like the thick robe he had on over the brown tunic and trousers uniform on a religious scholar. He scanned a few pages of a book without enthusiasm, before giving up completely.
Grabbing his ink bottle and quill, he opened his bag and shoved them inside with little ceremony. A few books and papers quickly joined them, and he grabbed the rest of the pile to take back to the librarian.
“Ah, young Brother Wend, are you quite finished?” asked the elderly librarian. His thick glasses were in danger of falling off the brim of his nose.
“Yes, thank you, Brother.” Wend replied, signing his name in the log book. “Have a good night, sir.”
“Thank you. I shall. And you.”
Wend bowed and left the library. The corridors were cold and draughty, as the windows had no glass on them. The only places with glass were the library and the chapel. Even the dorms where glass-less, though that was most likely due to the fact that the dorms where dark, windowless crypts. But still, it was home.
Wend shared his dorm with another student, a priest in training by the name of Olin. He was a nice man, in that priestly way, and kept to himself more often than not, which suited Wend just fine. Wend was a shy man by nature, and preferred staying out of the spotlight as much as he could. In fact, the less he had to interact with people, the better off he was. He and Olin didn’t see too much of each other, as wend was in lectures or the library most of the day, and returned to the room before Olin, who was in charge of ringing the evening bells.
The dorms where on the other side of the compound from the library and Wend contemplated stopping by the mess hall to see if he could get a bun from the larder. He had been in the library so long that he had missed dinner, and his stomach was rumbling. Not being trained as a monk, Wend was used to a fairly even diet of three meals a day (the monks were rationed to one meal a day (though some monks took this more seriously than others. One monk in particular, Roland the Thin, claimed to have only eaten once in his entire life, and even then it was only a small salad - with out dressing.) Surely one bun wouldn’t hurt. Maybe the cook would even let him have some butter. Yes, Wend decided, a bun was definitely called for.
Shifting his shoulder bag to a more secure position, he went down the stairs until he reached the ground floor. The main doors where still open, and worshippers where trickling in and out. Wend glanced up at the sky. The clouds where dark and dreary, and the sun was about to set. Heading down the long corridor past the entrance to the church he passes the mess hall. A few students were still there, papers spread around them.
Wend took the next left, and came face to face with a bandit.
The man was dressed all in black, with a mask covering his mouth and nose. A black handkerchief was covering his hair. Over his right eye he had a thick eye patch, and he was carrying a sack over his right shoulder. He stopped in mid step, one foot suspended in mid-air.
“Oh.” He said. “Hi.”
“sjsdbclwbfwaq.” Said Wend, his eyes wide, his feet frozen to the ground in terror. He noticed the short sword at the bandit’s side, and whimpered.
The bandit put his foot down, and reached up to adjust his mask. “So, you come here often?”
“Splaa?”
“Ya? That must be nice. So, look, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I was in the mind of fleeing the scene of my crime, so if you don’t mind I think I’m going to -“
“No.” squeaked Wend, before realizing that he had spoken. He clapped an ink stained hand over his mouth.
“What was that?” the bandit shifted his posture only slightly, but Wend knew now that one false move and the sword was going to come out of its scabbard. “Uhmph.” He amended, trying to speak through his trembling hands.
The bandit seemed to regard him with his remaining eye. “Are you going to stop me?”
Wend bit the inside of his check. “Mmph mmm mmph.”
The man in black loosened his stance. “I didn’t think so. I’m going to go now. You will stay quiet. You will pretend that you have seen nothing. When questioned you will fake innocence. Is that something you think you will be able to do?”
Wend hesitated. The bandit raised an eyebrow and took a step forward.
“I said: is that something you think you will be able to do?”
“Mmm.”
The stranger’s eye narrowed. “Good. I’m off. One word from you, kid, and I’ll be back to teach you a lesson about the value of silence, savvy?”
Wend nodded frantically.
“All right then.” The bandit went to move past Wend, and the world started to shake. “Oh balls.”
Chapter 1
It was about to rain. The clouds where hanging low over the city, obscuring the mountains from view. The street vendors surrounding the temple walls began putting up their coverings, protecting their goods from the dampness. Seven floors up, next to a window in the library tower, sat Wend. He sighed as he looked down at the temple grounds.
The garden was in full bloom this spring, as the monks of the order took meticulous care of it, claiming it brought them closer to God. Beyond the vivid colours of the garden was the great wall of the temple, against which the vendors of the city often set up shop. The sprawling city lay beyond them, their cobblestones worn with the traffic of centuries.
He wanted to be out there, with them, not stuck inside the temple studying to become a religious scholar. It had already been ten years since he had begun his tenure at the temple, and while he knew it was a smart career path that came with all sorts of perks and advancement opportunities, it just wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to be out there, with the people of the city living his life. He could be a banker, of an alchemist, or an accountant (and as we all know the moment some one feels they’d be better off as an accountant, is the moment their life needs a fair bit of re-examining). Anything but stuck inside all day and all night reading the same damn book and trying to gleam some sort of new information out of it.
But it was what his family expected of him. He was the second son, and as such, his path was to join the church. He already had on older brother to carry on being a blacksmith (not that Wend could have been a blacksmith any way, he seemed to be physically incapable of building muscle, even if he was hammering a hundred horse shoes a day), and his grandfather had taught him to read, so they had shipped him off to the temple and promptly forgot about him. But what else was there to do?
Not a strong willed man, Wend was not the kind of person to upset the status quo. Unless something forced him to. But short of the temple collapsing in a heap of rubble, he was content in his day dreaming.
He turned his attention back to the pile of papers, books and scrolls on the table before him. He sighed again and adjusted the small cap perched on his light brown head. It was red, like the thick robe he had on over the brown tunic and trousers uniform on a religious scholar. He scanned a few pages of a book without enthusiasm, before giving up completely.
Grabbing his ink bottle and quill, he opened his bag and shoved them inside with little ceremony. A few books and papers quickly joined them, and he grabbed the rest of the pile to take back to the librarian.
“Ah, young Brother Wend, are you quite finished?” asked the elderly librarian. His thick glasses were in danger of falling off the brim of his nose.
“Yes, thank you, Brother.” Wend replied, signing his name in the log book. “Have a good night, sir.”
“Thank you. I shall. And you.”
Wend bowed and left the library. The corridors were cold and draughty, as the windows had no glass on them. The only places with glass were the library and the chapel. Even the dorms where glass-less, though that was most likely due to the fact that the dorms where dark, windowless crypts. But still, it was home.
Wend shared his dorm with another student, a priest in training by the name of Olin. He was a nice man, in that priestly way, and kept to himself more often than not, which suited Wend just fine. Wend was a shy man by nature, and preferred staying out of the spotlight as much as he could. In fact, the less he had to interact with people, the better off he was. He and Olin didn’t see too much of each other, as wend was in lectures or the library most of the day, and returned to the room before Olin, who was in charge of ringing the evening bells.
The dorms where on the other side of the compound from the library and Wend contemplated stopping by the mess hall to see if he could get a bun from the larder. He had been in the library so long that he had missed dinner, and his stomach was rumbling. Not being trained as a monk, Wend was used to a fairly even diet of three meals a day (the monks were rationed to one meal a day (though some monks took this more seriously than others. One monk in particular, Roland the Thin, claimed to have only eaten once in his entire life, and even then it was only a small salad - with out dressing.) Surely one bun wouldn’t hurt. Maybe the cook would even let him have some butter. Yes, Wend decided, a bun was definitely called for.
Shifting his shoulder bag to a more secure position, he went down the stairs until he reached the ground floor. The main doors where still open, and worshippers where trickling in and out. Wend glanced up at the sky. The clouds where dark and dreary, and the sun was about to set. Heading down the long corridor past the entrance to the church he passes the mess hall. A few students were still there, papers spread around them.
Wend took the next left, and came face to face with a bandit.
The man was dressed all in black, with a mask covering his mouth and nose. A black handkerchief was covering his hair. Over his right eye he had a thick eye patch, and he was carrying a sack over his right shoulder. He stopped in mid step, one foot suspended in mid-air.
“Oh.” He said. “Hi.”
“sjsdbclwbfwaq.” Said Wend, his eyes wide, his feet frozen to the ground in terror. He noticed the short sword at the bandit’s side, and whimpered.
The bandit put his foot down, and reached up to adjust his mask. “So, you come here often?”
“Splaa?”
“Ya? That must be nice. So, look, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I was in the mind of fleeing the scene of my crime, so if you don’t mind I think I’m going to -“
“No.” squeaked Wend, before realizing that he had spoken. He clapped an ink stained hand over his mouth.
“What was that?” the bandit shifted his posture only slightly, but Wend knew now that one false move and the sword was going to come out of its scabbard. “Uhmph.” He amended, trying to speak through his trembling hands.
The bandit seemed to regard him with his remaining eye. “Are you going to stop me?”
Wend bit the inside of his check. “Mmph mmm mmph.”
The man in black loosened his stance. “I didn’t think so. I’m going to go now. You will stay quiet. You will pretend that you have seen nothing. When questioned you will fake innocence. Is that something you think you will be able to do?”
Wend hesitated. The bandit raised an eyebrow and took a step forward.
“I said: is that something you think you will be able to do?”
“Mmm.”
The stranger’s eye narrowed. “Good. I’m off. One word from you, kid, and I’ll be back to teach you a lesson about the value of silence, savvy?”
Wend nodded frantically.
“All right then.” The bandit went to move past Wend, and the world started to shake. “Oh balls.”