Tales from Cam

There is a game, called Game, in which people dress up as characters of their own design and act out scenes between them. Some of you may know this as role playing, perhaps even as Live Action Role Playing (or LARP, for short). It's fun, inspiring, and allows a writer the opportunity to see the world from the eyes of his characters. I played one of these games, created a character who turned out to be very dear to me, and followed him on many adventurs. Afterwards I was inspired to write, and those adventures became the basis for my second novel, Dragons of Kaen. For your enjoyment I offer its opening page, bon apetit.

Chap 1
Stepping out of the carriage was my first taste of the city of Dracai and a moment I savor even now. The city before me, greater than anything I had yet to see in my life, was at once a horror and a paradise. Smokestacks from the distant factories and chimneys slicing the horizon were the arms of an urchin reaching towards the open sky, both rich and forbidding. Even now, immersed in its viscera, was the land a paradox. Dung encrusted streets ran below bronze statues of ancient heroes. The colors and smells of fruits and flowers in the open market were tinged with the stink of trash and a blinding haze. The cries of merchants and the base speech of peasants were in harmony with a minstrel, plying his trade. I breathed deeply of the narcotic soup that was smoke, flowers, trash, and spirits until every pulse of my being was drunk on its flavor. Dracai, capital city of the Draconian Empire, had risen early and I would be late for my meeting.
“Have a good day, Mr. Kaen”, the driver said as I took my bag and hurried into the street. I scolded myself for being so rushed that I could not be courteous enough to respond but I hoped the tip I left would compensate. The market crowds would slow me down; I would have to push my way through if I wanted to reach the Council building in time. I tipped my hat brim to the sun, held my bag firmly and I plunged ahead. My worn, old overcoat brushed and slid among the throng like oil through gears, carrying me along with ease. Excepting a near collision with a rushing servant boy, I reached the end of the market stalls unhindered, if a little shorter on time and lacking my coinpurse from my coat pocket. As I began to jog down the street I imagined the boy’s face when he discovered the contents of the purse. It would have made my old mentor ashamed to think I hadn’t carried the real purse safely on a chain around my neck and left a decoy for thieves. I reached the red-domed Council building and showed my papers to the soldiers at the gate, who allowed me entrance after an inquisitive stare. Kaen was an unusual surname this far south of the Crownpeak Mountains. Taking off my hat I strode past them through a yard littered with signs of construction and through the double doors not yet fixed with a lock. Somehow the light in the first hall was as bright as the morning sun and for a moment I was blind. Then I gaped as my sight returned.
The building’s interior was largely bare of decoration or furniture, but from the main hall I could look up into the building’s dome. Where the outside had appeared to be brick red panes of opaque glass the inside was a fantastic mural, illuminated where needed to produce images of the Empire’s history. Although the artist had taken liberties to include mythical beasts, the mural depicted the final battles of the valiant Geran people, one-time allies to the Draconians but annihilated after betraying us some ten years ago. Below the images of dragons and boars was script in the Geran tongue. In deceit are our enemies revealed. I wondered about this strange phrase while marveling at the patterns of light through the glass. It was an amused voice that brought me back to my senses.
“I hope you are Mr. Kaen, for a worker being so idle will not last long in his profession. Then again, neither would Mr. Kaen.”
The speaker had entered through one of the side offices and walked as silently as snow falling to the ground. I have always found myself to be of average height but this man stood a head taller, a bit wide in the middle but hinting at solid build beneath a suit of gray. A faint smile on his lips gave me hope that he would not hold my lateness against me, for it was obvious to me that this man was my contact. I removed my hat and came to attention.