A Little Factory of My Imagination

story #2

This story's structure is kind of told like Star Wars. The original idea is actually like the sequel of the series, but it's the first story, and then, I made a prequel to explain the story. This story is also pretty recent, so here's the premise:

Following the events after the infamous Rouge Siege, Caden Lucas flees with the survivors, along with his only daughter, Rosaline. The Rogues have sought refuge by a solitary forest of Shalom. Wanting a new and safe life for Rosaline, he leaves her in the newly established camp, hoping she would be better taken care off there. Caden, in despair, starts drinking, gambling, and smuggling just to get his wife, Elisa out of his mind.

Eight years have passed, nothing has changed. His life was just as meaningless as before.

When terror strikes again at the Rogues, he runs back to the camp to see everyone gone. They all left, the place was abandoned. He never saw his daughter again. He forced himself to wield his strength; his will to keep on going with his life.

Five years have passed, something has changed. His reputation erased his past of infamy, he was loved and well respected by small towns.

Yes, something had changed. He found the important people in his life. He managed to regain his senses in order to create a new band of people. Maybe he can reunite the Rogues, and relive his old life again.

The story talks about the relationship between Rosaline and Caden.

The Rogues are the rebels and now fugitives, so they're all hiding from the King after their failed attempt of a Revolution.

Here's a sneek peek (what am I talking about? It's not like I'm actually gonna publish this 😂) or an excerpt of the first (and only) chapter I've written.

Rosaline was an ill-mannered girl always holding back a nasty temper. She hated all the boys in camp, always jeering at her for her flamboyance, always nagging her of how feeble she was. They called her weak.

She hated that.

She despised them.

But she knew the ire was tolerable, for she knew that she hated two people more than anyone or anything in this world.

Pursing her lips, she did some gallivanting across the humid grounds under the scorching glare of the sun. She squinted heavily from the bright gaze, barely seeing the green outline of forestry surrounding the wood and cobblestone walls. She passed by people doing their weekly routines. Some waved, some greeted her 'a lovely morning', some ignored her. She did not really care for the attitude displayed right at her.

The redhead was always looking out for danger, mishaps or brawls. She considered herself a peace marshall of the camp. No one would allow a nine-year-old going outside of the campus, so she had to prove herself worthy of their time to go on expeditions for news, supplies, and recruits.

The drummer gave three beats in his instrument, signifying that it was three hours after the high sun. She found herself standing absentmindedly by the children's quarters, who were listening intently to her grandmother, Delia, retelling the same mild victory of the event known as the Rouge Siege. The event was so tragic that all her words were forced to discretion, all her words masking the blood that was spilled like brilliant waterfalls that were all for nothing because they lost.

Rosaline was one of the few younglings who demanded a recount of the true events, the other being her only friend who she hated just a bit. Her only exception.

Gravis Kaldean, an apprentice, was making sour faces at Delia, who shot him back a warning look. The children gave scattered glances of confusion and annoyance at the twelve-year-old boy. He returned them an innocent look as if he was not doing anything.