This blog is where I host my story Primus Pilus.

What is Primus Pilus? It's story of low fantasy written as web serial micro-fiction set in an alternate world version of the Roman empire.

Low fantasy - meaning magic without dragons, elfs, or fireballs.

Web serial means that on a regular basis (Mondays and Fridays) a new chapter comes on here. Which is, y'know, the web. Yeah.

And here's the interesting semi-unique (I've only seen it one other place. Which would make it ... bi-nique?) part. Micro-fiction. I got the idea from Alexandra Erin's story "Tribe". Each of my micro-chapters is between 320 and 350 words. The chapters will be grouped into "Arcs". Each arc will, in it's own way, be a seperate story in the same continuity, and the arcs will come together to form a larger story.

Alternate world means two things. One it means that there's magic. Two, it means that the world fits with my spotty historical memory.

So, if you're new to the story, check out on the left the Story Archive, and click on 1 - 1.

Otherwise, the most recent microchapter is right below here.

I hope you leave me some comments. Critiscism, praise, or whatever. Just let me know that people are actually reading this!


Friday, March 13, 2009

1 - 2

“Hello, Crassus.” said Kemsa, thinking, Crassus. What a fitting name for this man. Aloud, he said, “Need I remind you that my name is not a woman's?”

“Why, Kemsa!” exclaimed Crassus is mock surprise, “I hadn't realized that was you. How foolish of me.” He said, patting the young Egyptian on the back. “Well, what kept you? We were all supposed do be at the harbour by dawn. I do believe that was a full hour ago.”

Kemsa saw that the (slightly) older man was goading him. He took a deep breath before answering. “You wound me unjustly. The sun crested the horizon less than twenty minutes ago. We are not to be aboard ship for another two hours. As such, I didn't see fit to rush my offerings to my goddess”.

“Ah yes, your goddess. What's her name again? Isa?” the other asked, uninterested.

“Close. Isis. Be careful, Crassus, or you may actually remember.”

“Well, enough talk of trivial matters,” said Crassus, “as you so astutely noted, we have time to pass before we embark. Let us join out comrades in their games while we wait.”

“What ... sort of games?” Asked Kemsa, not without trepidation.

“Why, games of chance and bets, of course.”

“But,” said Kemsa, betraying his youthful naivety, “is gambling not illegal outside of Saturnalia?”

“Ah, but we will not be gambling, my young friend,” said Crassus, “Tell me, how many denarii have you?”

“I have but a meagre fifteen denarii.” Answered the young Egyptian, not at all liking where this train of questioning seemed to lead.

“A mere fifteen! You must have spent the rest on whores, knowing how long we would be aboard ship.” Kemsa had done no such thing, but before he could protest, Crassus continued, “Well, give me ten”. When he hesitated, Crassus insisted, and the young man handed him the coins.

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