I finally got around to revising my first page, as posted here for Michelle Hauck’s first page critique blog hop. It’s taken a lot of time, a lot of thought, and a lot of quiet to get something figured out, but I think it’s good. It’s longer, but less wordy, and hopefully, more showy and less telly. Either way, it wouldn’t be what it is without your input, so thank you very much!
I’ve posted the revision at the top of the original post (clearly marked so you know what’s what), and would love some comments on the revision as well. Because, you know, we writers are nothing if not insecure. But on the off chance that you don’t feel like digging back through ten days of blog posts, I’ve also posted it for your reading pleasure below.
“Please, your Highness, have mercy. I beg you.”
“I would very much like to, sir,” Prince Vegin said. Light filtered into the gallery through twin rows of stained glass windows, exaggerating the poor farmer’s haggard appearance. “I sympathize with you, but drought or no, you’ve still got taxes to pay. I cannot simply let you go.”
“Your Highness, I’ll do anything – anything at all – only let me go back to my family.” Dirty tears carved grooves through the layers of grime on his face, but hope shone in his eyes.
Before Vegin could reply, the chamber’s heavy wooden door burst open. The prince flinched as his father stalked into the room, the queen trailing behind him. King Tol’s gaze swept the room as the court fell to its knees. The guards scattered about the room stood a little straighter, not wanting to provoke the king’s famous temper. The peasant trembled before him, suddenly afraid for his life. The prince groaned inwardly – he hated fighting with his father, especially in public.
“Vegin!” Tol’s voice boomed through the chamber. “If you’re not going to sentence this man, I’ll be more than happy to do it for you.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think he’s committed a crime?”
“He’s a peasant, isn’t he?” Tol sniffed in the man’s direction. “A farmer, by the smell of him.”
“Just because he’s a peasant doesn’t mean he’s a criminal, Father.”
“Then why is he here?”
Vegin opened his mouth, but no words came out. What could he say to that?
“Fine,” the prince said after a moment, “he’s done something wrong. Are you happy now?”
The king smiled smugly. “So you’ve sentenced him, then?”
“I was about to, but you interrupted.”
There you have it! Questions, comments, and suggestions will all be gratefully received (NOTE: “Vegin” rhymes with “bacon,” for anyone who missed the comments in the first post asking about the pronunciation), so let me have ’em!
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