Yes, we've split the whole thing in 3 parts.
I not really sure how many chapters will be in each part.
They are logical breaks because they are at the points of the stories when everything gets turned on its head all over again!
Seeing as I've published some of it on Wattpad, I thought I'd publish some on here. Seems only fair!
So what I'm going to give you in this post is the first chapter.
Homeland
Chapter One
"Left, right, left, right, left right!" the guard bellowed in a hoarse voice. A large straggly group of workers, wearing the city's logo, were marches along towards wrought iron gates.This logo made clear the division of rich and poor families in Shalo County. It was the mark
of poverty. The Mayor forced the poorer members of Shalo to wear it in order to
differentiate them from the privileged. As the gates emerged, the large crowd
stopped, delving into their pockets for 5 copper coins.
There
hadn’t always been discrimination like this in Shalo. It had only come about 15
years previously when the city had been invaded and betrayed.
“Orderly
Line!” screamed the guard.
One
by one, each of them handed over their precious coins to the sentinels. The
Mayor of Shalo had closed the city entrance in case any intruders managed to
get in. As a result, the poorer members of society had to climb over the walls
using rope ladders and walk through the city with a guard and, therefore, were
forced to pay their way into the city. The richer members were exempted from
this, due to their superiority and evident trustworthiness. This entrance was
one of four. The city was shaped as a perfect octagon, surrounded by tall brick
walls, however inside the city, things were not so symmetrical. The snaking
paths were interlocking and intricate, like the routes of a gnarled tree.
Alleyways and sidewalks were entwined, making the streets of the city an
endless maze. The sentinels and guards, who had the job of collecting the
money, wore heavy helmets, chainmail vests and were armed with spears and
shields. Swords were considered too valuable for such unimportant roles.
A
certain skinny girl of fifteen years old held tightly onto the hand of a lean
bald man while gingerly handing over her coins. As she rejoined the throng, she
noticed a poster nailed to the side of a ramshackle house. At the sight of it,
her heart dropped.
It
read:
Tax due next
week.
The
hungry horde was marched forward, their clothes tattered and torn.
“Left,
right, left right!” they went, through the cobblestone streets of Shalo City.
Surrounding
them were run-down buildings, infested with rats. (The edges of the city were
not nearly as glamorous as the centre.) As they passed through a small square,
three figures could be seen suspended from ropes. They hung limp, with their
mouths gaping open. Ravens were plucking at their eyes, their glossy feathers
speckled with blood.
Pay your taxes
is what you were taught. All who didn’t obey ended up at the noose.
The
young girl started to shake, and felt the man beside her squeeze her hand. She
turned to smile at him, but her smile was only half hearted – hardly reflecting
the feelings of utter dread within her. She had recently overheard a whispered
conversation between her Aunt and Uncle.
“But you’ve gotta pay it. You know
what’ll ‘appen,” her Aunt had said.
“Course I do! D’ya think I’m dumb?
All I’m saying is it’ll be tough.”
All
around them, the crumbling houses became less shabby and significantly larger;
each were adorned with colourful curtains and heavy oak doors. The crowd could
only wish they’d ever have houses like this. Shalo’s economy was
not as good as its Mayor had hoped it would ever be. While the richest had
servants in their comfortable mansions and the middle class worked as
shopkeepers or servants, the lowest class and poorest members of Shalo County
were entirely forgotten. The jobs they were given included market sellers, road
sweepers, sewage cleaners and so on and they were given just enough wages to
keep the food coming and the fire going in their ramshackle tree top houses.
On
the horizon loomed the towering pillars and buttresses of Shalo castle,
situated at the centre of the thriving city. As the castle became ever nearer,
so the prosperity of the houses grew. Each luscious garden was closed off with
an iron fence and had flowers spilling out from various beds, in a multitude of
colours. But this beauty was shadowed by the thick, cold, stone walls of the
castle.
Within the walls of the city marched row upon
row of workers, heading towards the bustling market. Past the tall houses they
marched until at last they reached the walls of the city, paid their way over
the walls and reached the market, which was by the port. The port was crowded
by hundreds of different sized ships, each used for fishing or for transporting
goods.
The
crowd was then released into the market; the finest market in the land.
“I’ll
meet you back home, Malina” the bald man murmured kindly to the girl.
Uncle
Mike worked as a blacksmith at the far east of the market. Mike cared for
Malina as if she were his daughter. She had lived with him and his wife since
she was a tiny baby. Although his work was physically challenging, it had
earned them enough money to survive. However, recently, Uncle Mike’s
merchandise had not been selling particularly well, so the family had become
dependent on Aunt Sarah’s market stall, selling berries and decorative plants,
found in the woods. They didn’t usually go for much, if they were bought at
all, but they just managed to keep the family’s heads above water.
Malina
didn’t care much for what she looked like, but, very occasionally, she felt
slightly ashamed of her neglect. Her hair was always messy, her hands covered
in dirt. Her eyes were wild and wary, though she was too insignificant to those
of Shalo to notice these minor traits. For Malina, life had always been like
this. She knew no different. She had always helped her Aunt and Uncle earn
money for the household and they had always just been able to scrape through.
Her Aunt was determined to have Malina look a higher status than she really
was, but due to Malina’s wild tendencies, this was almost impossible. Malina
liked to wander the woods in search of solitude. She felt truly alone in the
woods that surrounded her house. In Shalo, the rich did not tolerate the poor.
They were forgotten and best to be avoided.
Malina
liked an adventure, she thought, but she had explored the Shalo woods so much
she could recognise every shrub! She wasn’t allowed to explore the city centre.
The guards would not permit it. The city had been closed off to the poor. It
had been built for the rich, the warning signs said. Her Aunt said it was all
rubbish. She had lived within the walls herself as a child. Things have changed
so much since then, she would say. But she would never say why.
Malina
always dreamed of adventuring beyond the County’s ground, but she never
believed it would actually happen one day.
Malina’s
path took her to the market centre. She strode purposefully past the stalls;
islands amidst the turbulent waters of the crowds.
She
glanced at the stalls, selling goods varying from exotic fruits, shipped in
from foreign lands, to elaborate jewellery, baskets and gowns, hand-made by the
farmers’ daughters.
Finally
she reached her first destination: a stall selling bread of all shapes and
sizes. Brown loaves, black ones, beige and white. Hard and soft, old and new.
Her mouth watered at the sight of the selection. But she knew what she had come
for: a copper coin for five black loaves, burnt and dry.
After
buying pork, mere scratchings and leftovers, dirty vegetables and mushrooms,
she found herself pushed and shoved to the furthermost edge of the sea of
stalls.
Fighting
her way through, she felt like a stray salmon swimming against the oncoming
tide.
Malina
had long straight dark hair which shone in the sun, however messy it was. Her
long legs, tanned skin and pointed ears distinguished her somewhat from the people
of the distinctly human county, but she went unnoticed due to her low status. Nobody
liked to pay any attention to the lower classes in Shalo. Her eyes were a
brilliant yellow, with dark black slits as pupils and her tatty clothes were of
the poorest quality. She tended to look
to the floor in the presence of the higher classes, feeling her own
inferiority. Her pockets empty, she trudged the longer – but cheaper – route
back to her home in the tree-house village. It was, in fact, illegal for
someone of her status to take this route, yet she decided to take her chances.
If she was seen, she could get into terrible trouble. Her Uncle was angry when
he first discovered her using this route and made her promise she would never
go there again. She didn’t usually go against her Uncle’s wishes, but in this
case, she simply had to.
On
her way home, Malina passed the large Arena, used as punishment for criminals,
which served as a form of entertainment.
From
inside, an almighty roar swelled up, as a boar - its tusks bloodied - gored a
yelping man. Malina suddenly had a fleeting memory of a man being dragged away
last year having – supposedly – neglected his tax bills.
With
no guard breathing down her neck, she felt free to wander. The trees of the
beautiful park next to the arena drew her in and tempted her to join them. It held
water-fountains, a lake, woodland, monuments and so much more. Malina was not
usually allowed to explore, due to the fact that the park had been created for
the more prosperous, however, into the posh park, she crept. She watched
squirrels scamper up trees – their tiny paws tap-tapping on the bark. As the
birds flew by, she dreamt of their freedom. Malina had always fantasised about
being a bird – she felt connected to them in some way, as if she, too, was born
to soar into the clouds. She sat down under a large oak tree and a little
thrush settled gently on the branch above her. It tweeted a handful of pretty
notes into her ear, cocked its head and flew away.
From
behind a hedge of roses, she spied a watchful pair of cruel green eyes. Uh-oh!
It was time for her to return home! The owner of these green eyes had taunted
her many a time. They belonged to a rich boy who lived in the centre of the
city in a large mansion.
She
scampered away from the park and made her way back to the tree-house village, a
place reserved for the poor; each house set high up in the trees and connected
by rickety rope ladders. Those who didn’t live in the tree house village were
workers in the farms to the west of Shalo City. Surrounding them were marshes,
always covered in a low-lying layer of mist.
As
she walked past the falling leaves and the autumn red trees, she pondered a
life beyond her own.
I really hope you like this! I'm really excited to hear what people think :)
x
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