Ragandar
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- May 18, 2016
- Messages
- 106
This is the opening to my current project: a novel about the discovery of a new world with some political undertones. I'm worried because this opening could be seen as a bit of a red herring. Though the emperor's death mentioned will play a role in the background, it is not the main focus of this particular story, but currently it does appear to function as the main hook.
That being said, does this hook have enough going on?
As it is the opening, I'm also hoping I've avoided the issue of info-dumping. That's something I tend to be particularly bad at, although any comments would be appreciated. Cheers guys.
‘Get it loaded up,’ Leendert said. ‘I want to leave today, before the sun goes down. We have no time to lose.’ The bulky merchant squinted as he looked up at another crate with Karchulite grain that was being loaded onto his ship.
‘Some would say it would be wise to stay the night, trader.’
Leendert huffed. One could always recognise an Iusgulian by the patronising behaviour that came so natural to them, even in a passing comment. It was a strange southern thing. No northerner would ever speak as a Iusgulian did. Had trade with the eastern coasts of Karchul not been so profitable, Leendert would have taken his ships elsewhere a long time ago. As it was, he was willing to put up with the Iusgulian behavioural traits. Business was business, after all.
He looked over the empty docks. Leendert had been surprised by the lack of Iusgulian triremes in the harbour. Usually there would be a host of ships cluttering the dockyard, their masts sticking up like a wood of branchless trees, but today there were only two other ships. One quite looked like his own dhow, named Westerwind after Taran’s winds that facilitated trade. The other was a tiny fishing dinghy. It was odd to say the least and it worried the merchant.
Even more unsettling was that, with a few exceptions, the cobblestone streets were devoid of life. This port had always been bustling with trade, but now it seemed a dead place. He had barely managed to sell his wares. On top of that he felt like he was being watched.
‘Come on lads, I pay you to work,’ Leendert said as he returned his attention to his crew. ‘Put your backs into it. If we end up having to stay the night, it’s coming out of your own pockets.’ That got the sailors moving quickly again. Nobody liked having their pay docked, but the Vliss despised it.
‘Leendert!’ The thick voice came from the other side of the docks. When he saw who had called out to him, he grinned widely. There was no mistaking the typically bright Vliss garb the man was wearing.
‘Izaac!’ They met in the middle of the desolate docks, grabbed each other’s right wrist and placed their left hands on the other’s shoulder in a traditional Vliss greeting. ‘It’s been too long, old friend. Taran’s winds are truly great, to have granted us such a coincidence.’ They jostled each other playfully with warm smiles until Izaac’s face turned serious.
‘We should talk somewhere more private.’
Leendert looked over his ship and saw that his men were still busy. ‘I will be back soon. Boudwin is in charge until then. I expect to be ready to set sail by the time I return.’ Together Leendert and Izaac made their way to a tavern that was frequented by Vliss merchants. Leendert had spent some time there himself over the years. He stopped at this Iusgulian port whenever he had to sail far enough into the Green Sea.
‘So what did you want to talk about?’ Leendert asked jovially as they entered the building. He was glad to see a familiar face, other than his crew. Even though the building was essentially empty, Izaac still hushed him. They found a place at the back, in a dark corner. Hardly a desirable place, but Izaac insisted on it. Leendert saw that the woman behind the bar gave them a long, hard stare.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Izaac said as he sat down. ‘It’s not safe.’ Izaac’s jittery behaviour both worried and annoyed Leendert.
‘Well, out with it then. Spill it.’
‘Have you heard of what has happened in Karchul, in the west?’
‘The emperor is dead. Yes, I’ve heard.’
‘It’s more than that,’ Izaac said as he looked about himself. His voice dropped from a conspiratory whisper to an even softer whisper, tinged with fear. ‘He was murdered.’
‘What’s that to us?’ Leendert did not see how the death of a foreign monarch concerned the merchants of Vlissen. Trade would still thrive.
‘He was murdered by a follower of the Kandr Uth tradition, from the north. Though the empire is still grieving for their loss, some of them have already turned to hatred for northerners.’ He glanced at the woman behind the bar, ‘All northerners,’ he said pointedly.
Leendert stroked his styled beard. The hard stares the owner of the tavern had given them now made more sense to him. Their bright clothing against the heat of the north stood out like a sore finger here. He thought back to the closing words of the last letter he had received from his wife.
Jerom and Vivanne are doing well. Roeland has come home from the Academy, and is planning to stay for a longer time because of restlessness in the empire of Karchul. The family will finally be complete again, for a while. We are all looking forward to your return.
May Taran’s winds speed you along.
With love,
Anke
That being said, does this hook have enough going on?
As it is the opening, I'm also hoping I've avoided the issue of info-dumping. That's something I tend to be particularly bad at, although any comments would be appreciated. Cheers guys.
---
Opening
Opening
‘Get it loaded up,’ Leendert said. ‘I want to leave today, before the sun goes down. We have no time to lose.’ The bulky merchant squinted as he looked up at another crate with Karchulite grain that was being loaded onto his ship.
‘Some would say it would be wise to stay the night, trader.’
Leendert huffed. One could always recognise an Iusgulian by the patronising behaviour that came so natural to them, even in a passing comment. It was a strange southern thing. No northerner would ever speak as a Iusgulian did. Had trade with the eastern coasts of Karchul not been so profitable, Leendert would have taken his ships elsewhere a long time ago. As it was, he was willing to put up with the Iusgulian behavioural traits. Business was business, after all.
He looked over the empty docks. Leendert had been surprised by the lack of Iusgulian triremes in the harbour. Usually there would be a host of ships cluttering the dockyard, their masts sticking up like a wood of branchless trees, but today there were only two other ships. One quite looked like his own dhow, named Westerwind after Taran’s winds that facilitated trade. The other was a tiny fishing dinghy. It was odd to say the least and it worried the merchant.
Even more unsettling was that, with a few exceptions, the cobblestone streets were devoid of life. This port had always been bustling with trade, but now it seemed a dead place. He had barely managed to sell his wares. On top of that he felt like he was being watched.
‘Come on lads, I pay you to work,’ Leendert said as he returned his attention to his crew. ‘Put your backs into it. If we end up having to stay the night, it’s coming out of your own pockets.’ That got the sailors moving quickly again. Nobody liked having their pay docked, but the Vliss despised it.
‘Leendert!’ The thick voice came from the other side of the docks. When he saw who had called out to him, he grinned widely. There was no mistaking the typically bright Vliss garb the man was wearing.
‘Izaac!’ They met in the middle of the desolate docks, grabbed each other’s right wrist and placed their left hands on the other’s shoulder in a traditional Vliss greeting. ‘It’s been too long, old friend. Taran’s winds are truly great, to have granted us such a coincidence.’ They jostled each other playfully with warm smiles until Izaac’s face turned serious.
‘We should talk somewhere more private.’
Leendert looked over his ship and saw that his men were still busy. ‘I will be back soon. Boudwin is in charge until then. I expect to be ready to set sail by the time I return.’ Together Leendert and Izaac made their way to a tavern that was frequented by Vliss merchants. Leendert had spent some time there himself over the years. He stopped at this Iusgulian port whenever he had to sail far enough into the Green Sea.
‘So what did you want to talk about?’ Leendert asked jovially as they entered the building. He was glad to see a familiar face, other than his crew. Even though the building was essentially empty, Izaac still hushed him. They found a place at the back, in a dark corner. Hardly a desirable place, but Izaac insisted on it. Leendert saw that the woman behind the bar gave them a long, hard stare.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Izaac said as he sat down. ‘It’s not safe.’ Izaac’s jittery behaviour both worried and annoyed Leendert.
‘Well, out with it then. Spill it.’
‘Have you heard of what has happened in Karchul, in the west?’
‘The emperor is dead. Yes, I’ve heard.’
‘It’s more than that,’ Izaac said as he looked about himself. His voice dropped from a conspiratory whisper to an even softer whisper, tinged with fear. ‘He was murdered.’
‘What’s that to us?’ Leendert did not see how the death of a foreign monarch concerned the merchants of Vlissen. Trade would still thrive.
‘He was murdered by a follower of the Kandr Uth tradition, from the north. Though the empire is still grieving for their loss, some of them have already turned to hatred for northerners.’ He glanced at the woman behind the bar, ‘All northerners,’ he said pointedly.
Leendert stroked his styled beard. The hard stares the owner of the tavern had given them now made more sense to him. Their bright clothing against the heat of the north stood out like a sore finger here. He thought back to the closing words of the last letter he had received from his wife.
Jerom and Vivanne are doing well. Roeland has come home from the Academy, and is planning to stay for a longer time because of restlessness in the empire of Karchul. The family will finally be complete again, for a while. We are all looking forward to your return.
May Taran’s winds speed you along.
With love,
Anke
---
Apologies for the odd cut-off there, I wanted to keep it a bit shorter.