Chapter Test - Revolution

Author's Note: Just dumping an idea for a setting and magic system onto paper. This is just a tentative first chapter while I gear up for National Write a Novel Month, in which I plan to work more on Elementary. Anyway, here's a little deviation into another universe themed partially on colonial America. Nothing here is final other than maybe Dawn and Kenelm's names. Anyway, just a new idea I'd like to show you guys. Hope you like it!

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Dawn was breaking over Colonial City, the cramped brick buildings lighting up in the golden sunlight. On the eastern harbor, Wyot was heading down to the dock to help unload a big cargo freighter that was carrying spices from the Capitol. He straightened his cap and brushed a piece of lint from his beard as he gazed at the massive iron hull of the steam freighter.

Such a strange design, he thought. He was used to the old wooden liners, but those were slowly being phased out in favor of behemoths such as this. Painted on the boat’s side was its name: Imperial Spirit.

He walked down the dock and met a few other workers were smoking before their shift. The whistle blew, and a door on the Spirit’s side slid open. Laborers laid down a ramp, and Wyot entered the vessel.

Wooden crates sat on shelves in no particular order, having been tossed around by a week at sea. Wyot rolled a cart up to the nearest crate and reached to grab it. Then, something he didn’t expect happened. The crate leapt at him.

-[|]-

“Sorry!” Dawn shouted as she dashed past the bruised dockworker. She ran, hoping he didn’t catch her face when she kicked the box at him. Stowaways were never tolerated by shipping companies, and a jailing was not going to be her first experience of the city.

She ran past several other laborers who shouted after her, but did nothing to stop her. She ran into the harbor, losing any possible pursuers in the tangle of buildings. She then found a flagpole and climbed up, her hands magnetically holding her to the metal pylon. She paused at the top, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents of a colonial morning. Never before had she seen the city, and it was beautiful, sprawling out ahead of her like one of the prairies back home. The air smelled of salt and had the crisp tinge of Fall to it. Trees planted between the rows of towering buildings were just beginning to turn orange. To the north, she could make out wide open fields filled with crops ripe for the upcoming harvest. To the south was a housing district nestled among the rocks. Behind it all were the great Colonial Peaks, vanguards of the Terminus Desert beyond.

“Hello, new world,” she whispered to herself, smiling. Her stomach growled, and she frowned. Right, food, the stowaway thought. Let’s get to that.

She took a deep breath and leapt from the flagpole.

It wasn’t long before Dawn found a large market in the city proper. Dozens of vendors sold foods of all kinds, some of which she had never seen before in her life. Ripe red, green, and yellow fruits and odd-looking vegetables, along with a variety of seafood much larger than she’d ever seen were displayed in large, vibrantly colored stalls. Dawn made sure no one was looking and grabbed a strange, red fruit from a crate. She then bit into it, its sweet and tart taste overwhelming her senses.

“What is this?” she asked, taking another bite.

“That’s an apple,” someone said from behind her.

Dawn hid the fruit behind her back and downed the chewed starch. “What’d you say?” she asked.

“I said, that’s an apple,” the young man said. “The fruit you’re hiding behind your back.” He was tall, though not enough to where he was intimidating. Really, to Dawn, he looked like the average colonial man. Brown hair, brown-orange eyes, and the shadow of a beard on his jaw. No different than some of the sailors she’d seen back in the Empire.

“So, you new to the colonies?” the man asked.

Dawn shrugged. “I guess you could say that,” she replied, taking another bite from the apple. “I just got here today, in fact.”

“Ah,” the man replied. “Well, let me be the first citizen to welcome you. I’m sure the administration already did the regular greeting for new colonists.”

Dawn swallowed another mouthful of tarty goodness and said, “Oh, yeah, sure. Boring as the inferno, but I’m enjoying the city so far.”

“It’s a good town,” he said. “Name’s Kenelm, by the way.” He offered his hand.

Dawn bowed, as per custom at her home. Kenelm held his hand out, his look suggesting she had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“That’s okay, just shake my hand. It’s a greeting.”

She awkwardly took his hand and loosely shook it.

Kenelm laughed. “Might want to work on that if you plan on doing business. It’s not good to have a sloppy handshake. Speaking of work, if you’re looking for some, my boss needs some help around the shop.”

“That’s fine, but I’ve already got a way to make money,” Dawn declined. “And I bet it’s easier than any job you could offer.”

“I’m a printer,” Kenelm said, crossing his arms. “It’s not easy work, but it’s definitely not too hard and it pays well. What do you do.”

Dawn smiled and watched as a man in a vest and baggy trousers walked towards them. “Watch me,” she said. She acted as if she had ended their conversation and walked towards the man. She then bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the man shouted.

“I apologize, sir,” Dawn lied. “It won’t happen again, I swear.”

The man let out an angry huff and continued on his way. Dawn walked back to Kenelm and held up a leather wallet filled with Imperial banknotes, presenting it like a great prize.

Kenelm shook his head. “Well, when you start looking for a way to make money that doesn’t involve breaking the law, why don’t you stop by the shop. Ethereld’s Printing, on the corner of Market and Center.”

“I’ll consider it,” Dawn said, “though it might not fit in with my itinerary.”

“Have to say, I didn’t peg you as a thief. Kind of bold to flaunt a ‘skill’ like that.”

“There’s a lot about me people don’t assume,” she said. “Mystery’s a good way to stay alive in this world.” She then thought for a moment. “Know a good place to eat?”

“Maysen’s Café, just down the street.” Kenelm pointed down the street. “Just had breakfast there, actually.”

“Thanks, printer,” Dawn said.

“Welcome, thief. Have a good day.” He turned and walked down the street.

Dawn watched as he passed. He wasn’t as hostile to her ‘talent’ as she had expected. Usually when she decided to show off, people showed much more severe distaste.

She shrugged and pushed her thoughts to the side, running down the street, her coat billowing behind her.