Lostinthecause
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- Jan 22, 2021
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So, I have written two chapters today, one for my first-person novel, and the one for my third person, I want to know, if they are any good. And which one is better?
Please tell me which one is better.
My eyes slowly opened as the sun's rays struck directly into my vision, momentarily blinding me. I rubbed my eyes and blinked, finding myself in an entirely different environment. I was no longer inside the temple but stood in an open field. The air was filled with the refreshing scent of petrichor, and rainy clouds still hung in the sky, seemingly reluctant to depart, poised to release more drizzle.
I pushed myself up from the ground and noticed the distant cliff from which I had fallen. I shifted my gaze towards where our carriage had been, but the road before me held nothing but faint tracks left behind.
I examined the trail and decided to follow it back to the hamlet. There, I hoped to find people who could provide answers about what had befallen my beloved brother. As I strolled along the path, I felt lighter than ever before, as if newfound strength coursed through me. I touched my head and found it had returned to its normal state. However, a deep sense of Firestone's presence remained, circulating within me, as if my heart was aiding its journey. Then, I made an intriguing discovery. My skin had undergone a dramatic transformation, adopting a deep bronze hue.
I pondered, "Why did my skin change? When I saw that girl, only her hair color had altered; nothing else. But if my entire body's color has changed..." I tugged at a strand of my hair, experiencing a slight twinge of pain, and saw that it too had transformed. I was no longer fair-skinned with dark hair; instead, I possessed bronze skin and white hair.
"Well, at least I'm still alive, even though I don't particularly care for this change. Now, I have to learn to live like this," I sighed, resigning myself to the new reality. Though I patted my pockets to check if the stone was still there, I felt relief as I felt it through the fabric of the cloth.
As I continued my journey towards the hamlet, the distance was not great since I traveled at a moderate pace. The guards stationed there noticed an unfamiliar man approaching from the cliffside and took action. One of them stepped forward and shouted, "Halt!"
I watched their response with curiosity. I observed their cautious movements. One of them asked, “Who are you? And why are you coming here?”
“It’s me, Agni. I fell off the cliff, I crawled back to the surface after I drowned a bit,” I told them, a half-truth, but I was more interested in their reactions. They both had different responses, but both of them remained silent. I opened my mouth once more and asked, “Is my brother still here?”
As I watched, one guard shook his head and answered, “No, Lord Agni, your brother has already left the hamlet and returned to the barony.” However, a question still lingered in their minds: 'Is he Lord Agni?'
But they didn’t question me further; they didn’t have the authority to conduct an investigation involving nobility, even if it was a fallen nobility. They stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
I moved through the streets looking for a horse and soon found a young horse, which seemed a little uneasy around people. A girl was trying to touch its nose, but it stamped its feet on the ground, causing her to fall back and cry, leaving behind a trail of tears. Its owner sighed in disappointment.
Walking up to him, I asked, “Is this horse for sale?”
The old man turned to me, observed me for a few seconds, and answered, “Yes, it is.”
“Good,” I replied, walking up to the horse with confidence. The horse was still scared of human touch, so I stood at a safe distance, extending my hand to let it get a whiff of me.
The horse grew a little more interested as it slowly approached me, smelling my arm. I walked forward a little and gently rubbed its back before turning to the old man.
“How much will it cost?”
The old man politely answered, “15 gold.”
My eyebrows raised unintentionally at the price. This was an exorbitant price for a common horse. If it were a warhorse, it would have cost much more. I couldn’t help but let my voice grow a little stiff as I questioned, “Oh? Is it truly worth 15 gold coins?”
The old man seemed scared as my tone was not welcoming, but he stood firm and raised his voice slightly, saying, “I said, it is 15, take it or leave it.”
Though my anger rose, I didn’t want to cause a commotion over such a small matter. I sighed and said, “Here, take it,” as I pulled out a few gold coins from my pocket.
Though I was irritated, I handed him the money, watching him smile gleefully as he took my payment and then ran off as if his life depended on it.
I looked at the horse, which was now docile and cuddling against me. I climbed onto its back, and with a swift kick, it ran fast toward our manor, where my only remaining family resided. But I knew soon I would be the only one left to carry on the bloodline.
After traveling for a few hours, I saw my home, where a few peasants were toiling on our farm, preparing for the Founding Day festival. They all looked at me as if I were a stranger; they didn’t recognize me. A few soldiers stationed at the manor's door also looked at me and stopped me in my advance. One of them asked, “What is your business here?”
“Romni, have you already forgotten me?” I asked, smiling at him.
The guard's eyes grew wide in shock as he took a step back and stammered, “L-l-lord? Lord Agni? What happened to you?”
I jumped down to the ground and said, “Let’s go see my brother first; I have a surprise for him.”
I walked into the manor, where a few village girls were cleaning. They looked at me hawkishly, but I didn’t care. I walked towards my brother’s favorite room, his playroom, where he drowned himself with alcohol and prostitutes.
I slammed open the door to see my brother so blacked out that even slamming the door didn’t wake him from his sleep.
I grabbed his favorite sword, which was lying on the floor. I walked up to him, grabbed the water jug next to him, and poured it onto his face. Just as it entered his nose, he woke from his sleep, jolting up on the bed, looking left and right, and asking, “What?!”
His eyes landed on me, and he asked, “Who are you?”
I answered through gritted teeth and with anger and sorrow in my eyes, “It’s brother Agni, Marian.” I swung my sword with all of my might, creating an arc that sliced off Marian's head in a clean slice.
“This is for killing father and betraying your brother.” I threw the sword away, it was time to focus on the task at hand: taking over the barony and improving it.
I pushed myself up from the ground and noticed the distant cliff from which I had fallen. I shifted my gaze towards where our carriage had been, but the road before me held nothing but faint tracks left behind.
I examined the trail and decided to follow it back to the hamlet. There, I hoped to find people who could provide answers about what had befallen my beloved brother. As I strolled along the path, I felt lighter than ever before, as if newfound strength coursed through me. I touched my head and found it had returned to its normal state. However, a deep sense of Firestone's presence remained, circulating within me, as if my heart was aiding its journey. Then, I made an intriguing discovery. My skin had undergone a dramatic transformation, adopting a deep bronze hue.
I pondered, "Why did my skin change? When I saw that girl, only her hair color had altered; nothing else. But if my entire body's color has changed..." I tugged at a strand of my hair, experiencing a slight twinge of pain, and saw that it too had transformed. I was no longer fair-skinned with dark hair; instead, I possessed bronze skin and white hair.
"Well, at least I'm still alive, even though I don't particularly care for this change. Now, I have to learn to live like this," I sighed, resigning myself to the new reality. Though I patted my pockets to check if the stone was still there, I felt relief as I felt it through the fabric of the cloth.
As I continued my journey towards the hamlet, the distance was not great since I traveled at a moderate pace. The guards stationed there noticed an unfamiliar man approaching from the cliffside and took action. One of them stepped forward and shouted, "Halt!"
I watched their response with curiosity. I observed their cautious movements. One of them asked, “Who are you? And why are you coming here?”
“It’s me, Agni. I fell off the cliff, I crawled back to the surface after I drowned a bit,” I told them, a half-truth, but I was more interested in their reactions. They both had different responses, but both of them remained silent. I opened my mouth once more and asked, “Is my brother still here?”
As I watched, one guard shook his head and answered, “No, Lord Agni, your brother has already left the hamlet and returned to the barony.” However, a question still lingered in their minds: 'Is he Lord Agni?'
But they didn’t question me further; they didn’t have the authority to conduct an investigation involving nobility, even if it was a fallen nobility. They stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
I moved through the streets looking for a horse and soon found a young horse, which seemed a little uneasy around people. A girl was trying to touch its nose, but it stamped its feet on the ground, causing her to fall back and cry, leaving behind a trail of tears. Its owner sighed in disappointment.
Walking up to him, I asked, “Is this horse for sale?”
The old man turned to me, observed me for a few seconds, and answered, “Yes, it is.”
“Good,” I replied, walking up to the horse with confidence. The horse was still scared of human touch, so I stood at a safe distance, extending my hand to let it get a whiff of me.
The horse grew a little more interested as it slowly approached me, smelling my arm. I walked forward a little and gently rubbed its back before turning to the old man.
“How much will it cost?”
The old man politely answered, “15 gold.”
My eyebrows raised unintentionally at the price. This was an exorbitant price for a common horse. If it were a warhorse, it would have cost much more. I couldn’t help but let my voice grow a little stiff as I questioned, “Oh? Is it truly worth 15 gold coins?”
The old man seemed scared as my tone was not welcoming, but he stood firm and raised his voice slightly, saying, “I said, it is 15, take it or leave it.”
Though my anger rose, I didn’t want to cause a commotion over such a small matter. I sighed and said, “Here, take it,” as I pulled out a few gold coins from my pocket.
Though I was irritated, I handed him the money, watching him smile gleefully as he took my payment and then ran off as if his life depended on it.
I looked at the horse, which was now docile and cuddling against me. I climbed onto its back, and with a swift kick, it ran fast toward our manor, where my only remaining family resided. But I knew soon I would be the only one left to carry on the bloodline.
After traveling for a few hours, I saw my home, where a few peasants were toiling on our farm, preparing for the Founding Day festival. They all looked at me as if I were a stranger; they didn’t recognize me. A few soldiers stationed at the manor's door also looked at me and stopped me in my advance. One of them asked, “What is your business here?”
“Romni, have you already forgotten me?” I asked, smiling at him.
The guard's eyes grew wide in shock as he took a step back and stammered, “L-l-lord? Lord Agni? What happened to you?”
I jumped down to the ground and said, “Let’s go see my brother first; I have a surprise for him.”
I walked into the manor, where a few village girls were cleaning. They looked at me hawkishly, but I didn’t care. I walked towards my brother’s favorite room, his playroom, where he drowned himself with alcohol and prostitutes.
I slammed open the door to see my brother so blacked out that even slamming the door didn’t wake him from his sleep.
I grabbed his favorite sword, which was lying on the floor. I walked up to him, grabbed the water jug next to him, and poured it onto his face. Just as it entered his nose, he woke from his sleep, jolting up on the bed, looking left and right, and asking, “What?!”
His eyes landed on me, and he asked, “Who are you?”
I answered through gritted teeth and with anger and sorrow in my eyes, “It’s brother Agni, Marian.” I swung my sword with all of my might, creating an arc that sliced off Marian's head in a clean slice.
“This is for killing father and betraying your brother.” I threw the sword away, it was time to focus on the task at hand: taking over the barony and improving it.
As two more years flew by like a fleeting wind, Zaron's life took on new dimensions. During this period, he dedicated himself to assisting the agent who had handled his request to fix his brother's blade without smelting it. Zaron harnessed the power of heat, skillfully pouring liquid metal into the cracks of the blade, seamlessly sealing them, and meticulously polishing it to perfection.
The agent, deeply grateful for Zaron's craftsmanship, thanked him as they met for the last time. Meanwhile, Zaron honed his skills in sword-making, transitioning from crafting high-quality blades to mass-producing them. With time, he became increasingly proficient and successfully paid off all his loans. Even the persistent tax collector, who showed up every month to collect rent, encountered no trouble from Zaron.
Raymond's Meat Shop ball turned out to be a roaring success, drawing people from all over the capital to savor his culinary delights. However, as the crowds swelled, the shop couldn't accommodate everyone, leading Raymond to bid Zaron farewell and relocate to the bustling commercial district, where he established an even larger, more prosperous eatery, once again achieving instant success.
Glen's son embarked on an expedition, but the news that returned was tragic; the entire expedition force had been wiped out. Upon hearing this devastating news, Glen, unable to bear the shock, collapsed, clutching his heart, and was subsequently declared dead, a victim of a heart attack.
Zaron received both joyous and sorrowful news during this period. Tyler had made a partial recovery and was on the path to complete health. He had been married to the daughter of the tailor next door, and with his newfound responsibilities, he regained focus on his life. The somber news was that Zaron's mentor, William, lay on his deathbed, drawing his last breath. An invitation from Aamon requested Zaron's presence to visit the ailing William.
The day had finally arrived for Zaron to close down his smithy. He had already sold all the equipment, and the furnace had been dismantled. He was prepared to move on to the Royal Academy, as the entrance exam was approaching. As he locked the gate, a tremor of emotion coursed through his heart, and he made his way to the treasury department to hand over the keys.
Navigating toward the department responsible for handling buildings, Zaron spotted the tax collector, Ramus, dozing off in his chair. Zaron called out to him, "Ramus," rousing the tax collector from his slumber. He sat up, somewhat surprised to see his least favored client. Ramus inquired, "Any problems?"
Zaron shook his head and tossed the keys to Ramus. The tax collector, though aware of the impending closure of the forge, hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Nonetheless, he didn't seem to care and returned to his interrupted nap.
Zaron turned away and left the department, heading toward the Inner District. The guards there had grown familiar with his face and simply smiled as he passed. Arriving at the Manor, Zaron couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. However, everything had changed. New faces now occupied the positions once held by familiar ones, and the entire decor had undergone a transformation.
Zaron proceeded to William's bedroom, where he was greeted by two familiar faces—Sarah and Seva. He couldn't help but notice how time had altered them. Sarah had transformed from a young lady into a middle-aged woman, her face lined with wrinkles and her hair beginning to gray. Zaron exchanged greetings and moved closer to the frail William, who lay in his bed.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Zaron said, "Teacher, I've come to see you after such a long time. Please forgive me for not arriving earlier."
William extended his arm, searching for Zaron's head, and Zaron obliged by resting his head on William's arm. A feeble smile crossed William's lips as he remarked, "You have grown up, Zaron."
Despite the frailty of William's grip, Zaron couldn't afford to appear weak in front of his beloved mentor. With confidence, he declared, "Teacher, I am soon heading to the academy to earn a name for myself as your student. Won't you be happy for me?"
William continued to smile, his voice barely a whisper as he replied, "Yes, Zaron. I am happiest for you. Good luck with your advan—" His words trailed off, and the light in his eyes dimmed. His hand slipped away from Zaron's head, and his breathing ceased.
In shock, Zaron's eyes widened, and he let out a pained roar, mourning the loss of the person who had cared for him after his mother's death. Sarah and Seva joined him, shedding tears of grief.
Aamon, too, arrived and rushed to William's side, clutching his arm, tears streaming from his eyes. "Mentor... No," he whispered.
A heavy, mournful aura hung over the Manor as they held a funeral for one of the empire's most accomplished blacksmiths. Nobles and prominent families attended, with even the emperor sending his first prince and Princess Yuwi. Yuwi, too, wept as she watched William's pyre burn. Zaron spotted people he hadn't seen in years—Alice, Tyler, and Lucy. He exchanged a few words with them before they all turned their gaze back to the pyre.
Throughout the night, as they watched the pyre burn, Zaron's resolve deepened. He understood that people are remembered by those who spend time with them, and he desired to ensure his mother's memory lived on through his future generations. However, a burning determination took root in him—to seek justice for his mother by confronting and, if necessary, eliminating Fluaner.
The agent, deeply grateful for Zaron's craftsmanship, thanked him as they met for the last time. Meanwhile, Zaron honed his skills in sword-making, transitioning from crafting high-quality blades to mass-producing them. With time, he became increasingly proficient and successfully paid off all his loans. Even the persistent tax collector, who showed up every month to collect rent, encountered no trouble from Zaron.
Raymond's Meat Shop ball turned out to be a roaring success, drawing people from all over the capital to savor his culinary delights. However, as the crowds swelled, the shop couldn't accommodate everyone, leading Raymond to bid Zaron farewell and relocate to the bustling commercial district, where he established an even larger, more prosperous eatery, once again achieving instant success.
Glen's son embarked on an expedition, but the news that returned was tragic; the entire expedition force had been wiped out. Upon hearing this devastating news, Glen, unable to bear the shock, collapsed, clutching his heart, and was subsequently declared dead, a victim of a heart attack.
Zaron received both joyous and sorrowful news during this period. Tyler had made a partial recovery and was on the path to complete health. He had been married to the daughter of the tailor next door, and with his newfound responsibilities, he regained focus on his life. The somber news was that Zaron's mentor, William, lay on his deathbed, drawing his last breath. An invitation from Aamon requested Zaron's presence to visit the ailing William.
The day had finally arrived for Zaron to close down his smithy. He had already sold all the equipment, and the furnace had been dismantled. He was prepared to move on to the Royal Academy, as the entrance exam was approaching. As he locked the gate, a tremor of emotion coursed through his heart, and he made his way to the treasury department to hand over the keys.
Navigating toward the department responsible for handling buildings, Zaron spotted the tax collector, Ramus, dozing off in his chair. Zaron called out to him, "Ramus," rousing the tax collector from his slumber. He sat up, somewhat surprised to see his least favored client. Ramus inquired, "Any problems?"
Zaron shook his head and tossed the keys to Ramus. The tax collector, though aware of the impending closure of the forge, hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Nonetheless, he didn't seem to care and returned to his interrupted nap.
Zaron turned away and left the department, heading toward the Inner District. The guards there had grown familiar with his face and simply smiled as he passed. Arriving at the Manor, Zaron couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. However, everything had changed. New faces now occupied the positions once held by familiar ones, and the entire decor had undergone a transformation.
Zaron proceeded to William's bedroom, where he was greeted by two familiar faces—Sarah and Seva. He couldn't help but notice how time had altered them. Sarah had transformed from a young lady into a middle-aged woman, her face lined with wrinkles and her hair beginning to gray. Zaron exchanged greetings and moved closer to the frail William, who lay in his bed.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Zaron said, "Teacher, I've come to see you after such a long time. Please forgive me for not arriving earlier."
William extended his arm, searching for Zaron's head, and Zaron obliged by resting his head on William's arm. A feeble smile crossed William's lips as he remarked, "You have grown up, Zaron."
Despite the frailty of William's grip, Zaron couldn't afford to appear weak in front of his beloved mentor. With confidence, he declared, "Teacher, I am soon heading to the academy to earn a name for myself as your student. Won't you be happy for me?"
William continued to smile, his voice barely a whisper as he replied, "Yes, Zaron. I am happiest for you. Good luck with your advan—" His words trailed off, and the light in his eyes dimmed. His hand slipped away from Zaron's head, and his breathing ceased.
In shock, Zaron's eyes widened, and he let out a pained roar, mourning the loss of the person who had cared for him after his mother's death. Sarah and Seva joined him, shedding tears of grief.
Aamon, too, arrived and rushed to William's side, clutching his arm, tears streaming from his eyes. "Mentor... No," he whispered.
A heavy, mournful aura hung over the Manor as they held a funeral for one of the empire's most accomplished blacksmiths. Nobles and prominent families attended, with even the emperor sending his first prince and Princess Yuwi. Yuwi, too, wept as she watched William's pyre burn. Zaron spotted people he hadn't seen in years—Alice, Tyler, and Lucy. He exchanged a few words with them before they all turned their gaze back to the pyre.
Throughout the night, as they watched the pyre burn, Zaron's resolve deepened. He understood that people are remembered by those who spend time with them, and he desired to ensure his mother's memory lived on through his future generations. However, a burning determination took root in him—to seek justice for his mother by confronting and, if necessary, eliminating Fluaner.