Chapter 1

This will discuss an interesting and critical subject; that of guilt, love, and intricacies of power. Let us see where it begins:

In the 19th century, around 190 years ago, there existed a country known as Varishen. Varishen was, at its core, a place of unrest and unfocused existence. Its central government, an absolute monarchy based in a palace known as Del Kastelion, was a brutal and militaristic presence, organizing mass arrests with considerable military force. The populace lived in fear, and in poverty – no social welfare plan graced this nation, and the inhabitants were poor and mistreated, save for a lucky few. Because of this, one-third of the country’s inhabitants were homeless, and the second third was poor and dreaded a return to the first third. The final third was split in two uneven halves. One (the larger) was a group of lower middle class citizens who were also quite poor. The smaller consisted of the approximate one hundred upper-class citizens in the nation. They were known as Krascemen. They were the white-tied inhabitants of the capitol city, greedy, evil pigs who ran sweatshops, mines, factories. They were the high oppressors of the nation.

Much of this story concerns a fourteen-year-old Krasceman who embodied all of these “values”. His name was Daryn Kamirel, and, truth be told, he was a wild and inconsiderate adolescent. He wore a cravat of white silk, a velvet suit, and held in a satchel hundreds of guilders. He had no measure of sympathy for the poor and downtrodden souls sitting in the gutters beside him, starving to death as he skipped merrily to school and back. Once, on one of these brief sojourns, he met a beggar who reached his hand out and grasped a fistful of Daryn’s suit.

“Monsieur, do you have a few small coins?”

Daryn nodded.

“Would you spare a few for such a poor beggar as myself?”

“Why would I do that?” said Daryn, and moved on.

A few weeks after this incident, on a hot, bright wednesday in early June, Daryn was walking back from school. He found himself at an intersection. This was the conjunction of two stars, both literally and figuratively. Literally, due to the fact that one road led to the Krasce Manors, a beautiful and proud row of houses, while the other led to the slums in the eastern and western sections of the town. Figuratively, for this reason.

Daryn had begun a walk down the road towards the manors when he heard a voice behind him. It was small, bright, and cheery; yet also mocking and bitterly cynical. It said thus;

“Hello, Monsieur! Pray tell, which downtrodden soul will you drench in mud today?”

Outraged by this scandalous talk, Daryn turned around…

…To see a small, ragged child run off with his satchel of money.

Daryn chased after him.

(And so it begins.)