Post by Gia Trakana on Jun 20, 2012 14:32:08 GMT -6
World of Arcanus
Book 1: History in the Making[/u]
Vicantor sat down in his chair. His wife was making sure their house was clean, while his son was finishing his homework for school. In his hands was a journal, started by his grandfather when he was a young man. That was back when things started to go bad… Vicantor lived on a planet called Arcanus. Mostly desert, they lived on the edge of it, on an area called the Desert With No Name. The people of Arcanus lived in one grand city, or at least it used to be. When his grandfather had been fifteen, the people were ruled by King Taranus and Queen Leona.
They were the best rulers anyone could have hoped for, or so his grandfather said. However, like everyone else, the rulers died, leaving their son, Trakenu, to become King. Everyone thought that nothing would change. Trakenu turned out to be a tyrant. Taxes were raised, among other things. Conditions started deteriorating. Trakenu’s son was no different. Their current ruler, Trakenu’s grandson, Leonaro, was the same as his father and grandfather before him.
Vicantor sighed. The people were not happy, and he didn’t need the journal to tell him that. After finishing his entry for the day, he closed it and put it away in the drawer in his desk where it belonged. He was trying to keep out of the factions that had formed from the upset citizens of the City of Arcanus. There were three – one believed that the citizens should assassinate the King, another believed that protesting was all that was needed, and yet another thought that they shouldn’t do or say anything. Vicantor had tried to stay out of it. He had never thought that taking sides was the way to handle a situation like this, but more and more he found that it was going to be inevitable.
Things in the city were at their lowest point ever. Due to the high taxes, the poverty level had gotten higher and higher. People with successful businesses found that it was hard to pay the taxes, keep their businesses running smoothly, and feed their families. It was becoming too much to handle. His father had been one of the first to start taking sides. He was a very outspoken man, though now an old man in no condition to be constantly standing up and vocalizing his points of view. Vicantor felt some responsibility to carry on what his father had done when he was younger.
He heard his wife, Metala, come into the room to see him standing near the desk he had put the journal in the drawer. “Dear, it’s late. Nicono is asleep now,” she told him. “We should be going to bed now, too.” She paused. “You and I have work to do in the morning.”
That was true. He and Metala had to start re-doing the shop, fixing it up. The business was not doing as good as either of them would have liked. They both knew that it was mostly to do with the fact that no one had enough money to buy something or have anything to trade for their furniture that they tried to sell. It was as good a quality as they could manage, which luckily was pretty good. Fortunately for them, they could cut down the lumber and carve the furniture themselves. Unfortunately, the cost for traveling to get the lumber and bring it back wasn’t always cheap. You had to rent the wagon to put the lumber on and the horse to pull it, sometimes more than one horse if you were going to take a lot of lumber back with you.
Vicantor nodded. “Yes, love, I know,” he replied. “You go ahead and get ready for bed.” She had not changed into her nightdress; she was still wearing the one she had been wearing all day, since she’d gotten up that morning. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Metala nodded and turned to leave, but then she froze and turned back. He couldn’t see the look on her face, but after living with her for sixteen years, Vicantor didn’t need to see her to know what she was feeling or what the look on her face was. “Is something wrong, dear? You’ve been distracted all day.”
That was also true. Vicantor had barely spoken throughout the entire day. He’d been thinking about what he was going to do all day – join the same group his father did and protest the tyrannical rule they had been under or stay out of it. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have a choice.
“I don’t know, Metala.” His voice sound almost defeated; he was so torn. “I’ve tried to stay out of things, not just for my sake, but for your sake, and for Nicono’s. I don’t want to get my family involved, but… it just seems that the longer I try, the more I realize I can’t stay out of it.”
“Has your father been pressuring you?”
Vicantor shook his head. “Not directly, but I know he wishes I would take a side. You know how he is.”
She nodded, and a moment or two later, the man felt his wife’s hands on his shoulders as he stepped lose to him. She gave his shoulders a small squeeze before laying her head on his back. “You need to do what you think is right, Vicantor. Don’t let anyone influence you.” She just kept her head on his back as her soft, comforting voice washed over him. “If you feel the best thing is to keep us out of it, then do it, but if you feel that taking is side is the right thing, not just for us, but for everyone, then you do that. Don’t worry about Nicono and I. We’ll be fine.”
Vicantor nodded. “I know, but I still worry.” She gently guided him to bed, and his last things before he drifted off to sleep were of the town meeting tomorrow night, and the decision he had to make before then.
Book 1: History in the Making[/u]
Vicantor sat down in his chair. His wife was making sure their house was clean, while his son was finishing his homework for school. In his hands was a journal, started by his grandfather when he was a young man. That was back when things started to go bad… Vicantor lived on a planet called Arcanus. Mostly desert, they lived on the edge of it, on an area called the Desert With No Name. The people of Arcanus lived in one grand city, or at least it used to be. When his grandfather had been fifteen, the people were ruled by King Taranus and Queen Leona.
They were the best rulers anyone could have hoped for, or so his grandfather said. However, like everyone else, the rulers died, leaving their son, Trakenu, to become King. Everyone thought that nothing would change. Trakenu turned out to be a tyrant. Taxes were raised, among other things. Conditions started deteriorating. Trakenu’s son was no different. Their current ruler, Trakenu’s grandson, Leonaro, was the same as his father and grandfather before him.
Vicantor sighed. The people were not happy, and he didn’t need the journal to tell him that. After finishing his entry for the day, he closed it and put it away in the drawer in his desk where it belonged. He was trying to keep out of the factions that had formed from the upset citizens of the City of Arcanus. There were three – one believed that the citizens should assassinate the King, another believed that protesting was all that was needed, and yet another thought that they shouldn’t do or say anything. Vicantor had tried to stay out of it. He had never thought that taking sides was the way to handle a situation like this, but more and more he found that it was going to be inevitable.
Things in the city were at their lowest point ever. Due to the high taxes, the poverty level had gotten higher and higher. People with successful businesses found that it was hard to pay the taxes, keep their businesses running smoothly, and feed their families. It was becoming too much to handle. His father had been one of the first to start taking sides. He was a very outspoken man, though now an old man in no condition to be constantly standing up and vocalizing his points of view. Vicantor felt some responsibility to carry on what his father had done when he was younger.
He heard his wife, Metala, come into the room to see him standing near the desk he had put the journal in the drawer. “Dear, it’s late. Nicono is asleep now,” she told him. “We should be going to bed now, too.” She paused. “You and I have work to do in the morning.”
That was true. He and Metala had to start re-doing the shop, fixing it up. The business was not doing as good as either of them would have liked. They both knew that it was mostly to do with the fact that no one had enough money to buy something or have anything to trade for their furniture that they tried to sell. It was as good a quality as they could manage, which luckily was pretty good. Fortunately for them, they could cut down the lumber and carve the furniture themselves. Unfortunately, the cost for traveling to get the lumber and bring it back wasn’t always cheap. You had to rent the wagon to put the lumber on and the horse to pull it, sometimes more than one horse if you were going to take a lot of lumber back with you.
Vicantor nodded. “Yes, love, I know,” he replied. “You go ahead and get ready for bed.” She had not changed into her nightdress; she was still wearing the one she had been wearing all day, since she’d gotten up that morning. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Metala nodded and turned to leave, but then she froze and turned back. He couldn’t see the look on her face, but after living with her for sixteen years, Vicantor didn’t need to see her to know what she was feeling or what the look on her face was. “Is something wrong, dear? You’ve been distracted all day.”
That was also true. Vicantor had barely spoken throughout the entire day. He’d been thinking about what he was going to do all day – join the same group his father did and protest the tyrannical rule they had been under or stay out of it. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have a choice.
“I don’t know, Metala.” His voice sound almost defeated; he was so torn. “I’ve tried to stay out of things, not just for my sake, but for your sake, and for Nicono’s. I don’t want to get my family involved, but… it just seems that the longer I try, the more I realize I can’t stay out of it.”
“Has your father been pressuring you?”
Vicantor shook his head. “Not directly, but I know he wishes I would take a side. You know how he is.”
She nodded, and a moment or two later, the man felt his wife’s hands on his shoulders as he stepped lose to him. She gave his shoulders a small squeeze before laying her head on his back. “You need to do what you think is right, Vicantor. Don’t let anyone influence you.” She just kept her head on his back as her soft, comforting voice washed over him. “If you feel the best thing is to keep us out of it, then do it, but if you feel that taking is side is the right thing, not just for us, but for everyone, then you do that. Don’t worry about Nicono and I. We’ll be fine.”
Vicantor nodded. “I know, but I still worry.” She gently guided him to bed, and his last things before he drifted off to sleep were of the town meeting tomorrow night, and the decision he had to make before then.