Soter survives a traumatic and lonely childhood as son of the tyrannical Consul.
Ptolemy is an old soldier in the City Guard and mentor to Soter.
When the City of Konstantinopolis is thrown into the chaos of war and political intrigue, Ptolemy must fulfil his duty and protect Soter. Soter, however, discovers a different path.
- Overall Score
- Style Score
- Story Score
- Grammar Score
- Character Score
- Total Views :
- Average Views :
- Followers :
- Favorites :
- Ratings :
- Pages :
Leave a review
This Review is part of review exchange.
I want to preface this review a little bit; keep in mind, I don't know it all and I am not a published author. So take my thoughts with a grain of salt.
As a fan of ancient Romain history, I see what you're trying to do. You modeled Soter’s father after Gaius Julius Caesar and Soter himself after Gaius Octavian, but as is it does not work. One of the biggest problems I think is the lack of subtlety. You have Soter’s father act like a crazed five year without ever giving us a reason for his seeming madness. The thing is a politician who spent years climbing the ladder of power to become The Consul would know how to read and use people. He would have mastered the use of carrots and sticks; if not, how could he get the people to vote for him. So, for that reason, most of what you've written just doesn't ring true, and I found it hard to get into.
You should grab your audience with your very first sentence; it's the very first thing they read, and they will judge you on it.
Soter stacked another blue block onto the tower of wooden blocks, hoping to distract himself. His hands trembled as he placed it. The whole room seemed to shiver with the light of the candle he had set in the middle of the floor, long shadows leaping up the walls.
And yours doesn't do that at all, which is the case with most of your writing. But as you write more that should improve so don't stress about it too much.
“I heard that. You talking to your hands boy?” the shadow said in a gruff man’s voice.
He walked over to the curtains. “Why do you always draw these, eh? It’s broad daylight.”
“I heard that. You talking to your hands, boy?” the shadow said in a gruff man’s voice. He walked over to the curtains. “Why do you always draw these, eh? It’s broad daylight.”
Side note: Please write longer chapters. The short snippets make your writing feel choppy.
Anyway, I hope this helps. Thanks for sharing.