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 20, 2009

1 - 4

While Kemsa was losing his remaining money to the more experienced gamblers, Buteus and Clemens sat silently on the dock. Presently, Buteus turned to his long time comrade and said,

“We've been in Alexandria how long, now? Five years?” When his friend failed to respond, Buteus turned to face Clemens. The latter's entire manner was unnatural. His body had gone rigid, his eyes were fixed on the sky. When Buteus followed his gaze, he saw flocks of birds. Clemens' head was whipping around, allowing his eyes to track the movement of the birds.

Suddenly, Clemens' body relaxed, his eyes fluttered, and his manner returned to normal. “I was in a trance, wasn't I?” He asked.

“You were at that,” answered Buteus, “doesn't that worry you? Any time you're looking at birds, you might just ... Poof! Into a trance.”

“That is the cost of being an Augur.” Answered Clemens, cryptically.

“At least you weren't trained you as a haruspex,” laughed the other, “you'd pop out of your head every time you cut someone open in battle!”

“Very funny, Buteus. You know as well as I do that haruspection is more complex than that. Augury, on the other hand, is very intuitive.”

“Well, what did you see?”

“What do you see?”

“I see a bunch of ordinary gulls, flying about. What else?”

Clemens pondered for a moment and said, “Your eyes fail you, friend. Those are not ordinary gulls. Their tail feathers are tipped with brown –”

How can he see that? They're so far away, thought Buteus.

Clemens continued, “Local gulls have gray tail feathers. These birds are not native. Also, they're flying in a migration pattern, towards us. They've come from across the sea. The gulls are flying away from something. Something dangerous. They're trying to survive.”

“What does it mean?” Asked Buteus, a tremor of fear that he did not understand creeping into his voice.

“It means our ships are going the wrong way.”

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