A sample from DISHONORED: CURSE OF THE DEMON PRINCE
Work continues to go well on this novel. The following is a portion of a chapter I just finished, so it’s not proofread or fine-tuned, but it gives a bit of backstory so I thought it’d be okay to share. There’s no context regarding who is talking or where they are or what’s going on. It’s just two characters talking, with one relaying some history to the other…
“If it will bring you some comfort to hear more about the warrior you admire, I will tell you…” Bakshi said, and the look of eager enthusiasm that grew in Yuji’s eyes compelled him to continue. “Atitori is the seventh descendant of Emperor Eiji. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“They don’t teach us much history on the island.” Yuji conceded.
“No matter. Emperor Eiji was a cruel and ugly man, who taxed his people to service his wars against the southern lands of Shoto, all of which ended in defeat after defeat. His grandfather had united the middle of the Island into the three Kingdoms and his father had stabilized the sometimes-messy relationship between the three lands, but what good those Emperors did, Eiji undid. Insurrection rose up against him, in the form of Tomiichi, the Emperor’s brother-by-marriage. He dishonored Eiji by burning his Castle to the ground and when the Emperor sought him out seeking vengeance to regain his honor, Tomiichi defeated him in battle, killing the Emperor and solidifying his dishonor.”
“So Eiji was the villain…but no, Tomiichi was; he dishonored the Emperor.”
“Life is never as simple as in the stories.” Bakshi said. “Anyway, Eiji had only a single child, and Tomiichi reigned as Emperor over the three Kingdoms, raising up Eiji’s son, Yoshi, as his own.”
“Yoshi was the true Emperor though, right?”
“No. Yoshi was the son of a dishonored Emperor, and that carries a sentence of seven generations. A dishonored person is meant to be exiled to Humao, and he and those after him must remain dishonored until the seventh generation has been born. Only then is the honor restored. Yoshi was kept alive for other purposes.”
“What other purpose?” Yuji wondered.
“It was said that Tomiichi was unable to father any children. He raised Yoshi as his own, deceiving the whole Empire about his true heritage. It was only when the boy grew and came of age that he learned the truth.”
“How?”
“There are always people who learn these things, and always people who feel compelled to make the truth open and known.” Bakshi said in his customarily vague way. “Yoshi learned the truth and soon after left the house of the Emperor, travelling from village to village, province to province, hoping to stir up a rebellion against the usurper Emperor.”
“Did he?”
“What do you think?” Bakshi asked. “The boy was dishonored, and furthermore, the land had prospered under the rule of Tomiichi. No one was in a hurry to return to the heritage of the wicked Emperor Eiji. The people rejected Yoshi, and drove him off of Shoto, exiling him to the Island of the Dishonored. He lived a long and bitter life, only managing to marry and father a child a few years before he died. His daughter, Ena grew up on Humao, without any concern for the life of her ancestors. She made the Dishonored land a home, found happiness there, and married a priest. Together they had a daughter, Kiko, who also lived a long life on the island, mothering many children, the first of whom was a boy named Ichiro.”
Yuji yawned heavily, not intending to be disrespectful but all the same, projecting that idea. Bakshi noticing it and ignored it other than to smirk. He had been intentionally telling the history in as bland a way possible, in the hopes of lulling the teenager to slumber. “Go on, I’m with you.” Yuji said, defiantly keeping his eyes open.
“Ichiro was a wild one, never content. He frequently slipped away from the island and visited the mainland, only to be captured and returned. Eventually, however, he learned the truth of his heritage and left Humao for good, hoping to kill the reigning Emperor Hiroshi, to restore his family honor.”
“Did he?”
“I’m telling the story, aren’t I? And no, of course he didn’t. I told you, seven generations must pass; that’s the only way to restore your honor. Ichiro was only the fifth generation. Nevertheless, he was charismatic enough to stir up a revolt and march on the Emperor’s stronghold.”
“What happened?”
“He died, obviously. He and all his siblings. Hiroshi took an army to Humao and murdered each of them in the night, in the midst of a terrible typhoon.”
At that, Yuji’s eyes widened and he sat upright, fully awake. “Wait a minute…I know this story. Hiroshi’s Storm. That’s history they did teach us.”
“I’m not surprised as it concerned your island.”
“They said the storm was so terrible it threatened to kill everyone in Shoto, so the Emperor came to offer a sacrifice at the Temple in the middle of the island.”
“Hmm, well I’m not surprised the history would be slanted by the Governor and those he appointed to teach the young people of Humao. In truth it was not a noble sacrifice for the greater good, but a selfish action by a paranoid ruler.”
“I never did like that story.” Yuji admitted. “I was always told how the Emperor was just and right to kill so many innocent children, but no…if killing a child is the only way to live, I’d rather die.” He looked up to Bakshi, expecting to see the old man nod his head in agreement. Instead, the wizard only sighed. Interpreting that to be his annoyance over the story being so frequently interrupted, the teenager quietened down.
“As for Ichiro, he was killed and all his siblings, as I said, but what the Emperor did not know was that he had married a wife before he left the island on his quest to revolt. She got word of the Emperor’s plan and fled in the night, mere days before the storm hit. Eventually, she settled in the Province of Yumea-Ba, and birthed her son, Katsumi. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“No…” Yuji replied sheepishly, feeling like it should.
“Katsumi grew up in Yumea-Ba, in the foothills of the Ghibli mountains. He grew up alongside a boy whom you have met already on this journey.”
“I’ve barely seen any children other than me and Akuma.”
“He is no child anymore. His name is Horu Miyazaki, and when Katsumi died in a house fire, Miyazaki raised his friend’s son, taking him into his house and treating him like his own.”
“Atitori.”
“Indeed.” Bakshi said. “The seventh generation since Eiji was dishonored.”
“So he can be Emper—oh…” Yuji said, cutting himself off. Atitori could be nothing anymore, he painfully remembered.
“There’s something else I forgot to mention.” Bakshi said, hoping to redirect the teenager’s saddened thoughts. “Ichiro’s attempt to overthrow the Emperor failed, but a young soldier in his small but loyal army never gave up on the dream, and when Suji was old enough, he mountain his own rebellion and overthrew the Emperor in the name of the dishonored lineage of Ichiro.”
“Suji…the one Mizu believes should still be ruling.”
“Indeed. His dynasty was short-lived compared to those before it. Now he is an old man, living in exile, removed from his thrown by some of the very conspirators in whose house we are now guests.”
“Does Mizu know?” Yuji asked, breathless.
“Yes, but more importantly, other than Urimashi, none of the people living in this house know Mizu is loyal to the deposed Emperor Suji.” Bakshi let his words hang for a moment before breathing in deeply and lifting his hands. “Now then, off to bed.”
“What?!” Yuji balked. “You can’t send me away after a story like that.”
“Oh? You were half asleep for most of it.” He rose from his chair and slid open the door to escort the boy to his room.
Urimashi was there, clearly listening, but for how long neither of them knew…
So there you go. That’s about 1,300 words out of the 4,500 hundred words in this chapter. I’m nine chapters into it and each so far has been between 4,000-5,000 words. If that trend continues it will be the largest single novel I’ve yet written.
I don’t expect it to be done until the middle of next month, Lord willing.
Until then!