Reading - Sylvestus Vol I: The Fall - Chapter I

Wazzuuuuuppp this is the second of my readings from Sylvestus Vol I: The Fall, recorded badly on my laptop and uploaded to the Sylvestus Facebook page. This chapter is a lot lighter than "Epilogue" and does not follow on chronologically, so if you didn't catch the first video (altho... u can just go and look at it first... like it's right there on the next page from this one) or intentionally skipped it because of the content warnings, you can move straight onto this one without missing out. Obviously, like, Epilogue is there for a reason, but it's a grand scale circular narrative dramatic irony bs reason, if ur just here for some easy entertainment during quarantine then like, it's not at all necessary.

So, while Sylvestus as a whole deals with heavy themes of suicide, sexual assault, animal death, and child death (cheerful, i know), this chapter contains none of those. Just Sylv being kind of a dick to multiple boys, which my good friend Sam points out is one of his key personality traits.
Remember, you can buy paperback or ebook versions at bit.ly/SylvVol1, and catch updates about this book and more by following this page, or facebook.com/Sylvestus.



Transcript:

Heya! Welcome back, uhh, if you missed yesterday's video, I'm just gonna be doing some readings from my books, so today I'm just gonna be carrying on with uh, Sylv Volume I: The Fall, because that was the one we started yesterday, and we haven't had any requests for different. Erm, if you missed yesterday's video, I did... The first chapter, essentially, which is called the Epilogue, if you intentionally didn't watch yesterday's video because of the content warnings that's completely fine, I understand, and it is worth noting that... While there are a lot of serious content warnings on the novel as a whole, there aren't... On this chapter. This chapter is completely free, it's a much different tone, much more light-hearted, and... The Epilogue doesn't really - it more kind of sets the scene, it doesn't follow on directly narratively, so you might be able to watch this one if you didn't. There's also - if you couldn't watch the other one, there's also gonna be a transcript posted on my blog, which will be linked... Somewhere in the description, so if you find it easier to kind of read that and take it at your own pace, but you are actually really interested, that might be the way to go.
Erm, it's also worth noting that the best way to go at your own pace... Is to buy the book! I will say again, I'd rather you didn't buy from Amazon at this time as they are really not being good to their workers during the crisis, you can buy directly from independent retailers such as Lulu, if you go to bit.ly/SylvVol1 that'll take you straight there, or there's ebook versions. I am reading from the ebook version hence why I'm on my Kindle, because I don't... Have any of the physical copies with me at the moment, and I don't wanna be reading directly off the laptop like this. (gets uncomfortably close to the screen)
I'm gonna get straight into it because I'm much less of an awkward human, just awkward despicable human, that way. Okay... So this is Sylvestus Volume I: The Fall, Chapter I.

When Sylvestus Atrox Nigrum stepped off the ship, his lip curled.

It was a very intentional gesture, and the slow prowl of his boots from plank to stone gave it time to be observed. He wore the scarlet cloak of an officer, and this attracted immediate attention; a moment's further observation would note the cost of the clothes, the sword and dagger on his belt though no armour was worn, and, of course, the derisive cold expression. Faces turned. Working hands hesitated. Eyes narrowed.

Stepping to the side of the gangplank, Sylv turned back, and said, clearly, "Rom, incede."

At the edge of the plank, a large dog appeared; the gusting wind caught in its thick pale fur, dark muzzle and ears turned downward as it stepped carefully onto the plank. Its wide golden eyes flicked up to its master as if for reassurance as it picked its way down. When it reached the stable ground, the dog shook its head with a loud flapping of ears, and moved close to its master's side, tail again confident and curling above its back while its eyes took in the harbour.

For a few seconds, hands folded behind his back and chin raised, Sylv too surveyed the port and its occupants. His gaze was blank, but the follow-up to the curled lip - a hint of sneer, a derisive distaste - could be read in easily, if the observer so wished.

Then, without any apparent further cue, he set off walking.

(don't watch me drink, it's awkward!)

It was busy within the streets immediately surrounding the harbour, plenty of ships in the port and men working between them and the warehouses, but no-one came too close. Despite the bustle of the day, hands and eyes paused their work for a moment. Sylv ignored them all; Romulus watched them coldly. The soldiers guarding and inspecting goods and property paid particular attention, but apart from the occasional cold eye contact they received no more greeting than the civilians around them.

The extensive harbour walls that shielded the port from the roughness of the sea were strong, but the quality of the stonework deteriorated as soon as it reached land. Walls enclosed the warehouses and stores, good stone and well-maintained, but beyond the government buildings the public streets seemed worn. Sea wind and salt had pulled away all the edges, and half of the buildings seemed empty or run-down, though the oldest had stood for only a handful of years. The streets were still fairly busy, the people as lively as ever - it was just the town itself which seemed... Tired. The cold pale air - that kind of day bleached colourless by weak yellow sun and the hint of a bitter-toothed wind - presumably didn't help with the whole effect, but no amount of bright sunshine could have livened what was very clearly a shithole.

Pausing, Sylv turned his head toward the western edge of the town beyond the harbour; a few miles outside it, linked by a winding road up the cliff on which it stood, lurked the high protective walls of the fortress. The Legio XIII presence was constant and noticeable.

Sylv set off walking again, Romulus obediently on his heels, into the town proper. For a while he simply strolled - not an aimless walk, for it seemed to have great intention behind it, but certainly a leisurely pace - around the streets, silver-steel eyes taking in the buildings and the people and the birds that circled overhead.

Then he returned to the dock.

The cargo had mostly now been unloaded from his ship, and his own bags were piled on the street, a soldier standing guard close by.

Snapping his fingers for the dog's attention, Sylv tilted his head casually and made a small gesture with his hand. Gaze intent, Romulus loped toward the boy while his master followed slowly behind. At Rom's low uff, the soldier jumped and whirled around; when he saw it was only a dog his face caved with relief, even as he resumed his pocketing of the engraved silver dagger. Then he saw the man just behind the dog.

Fear, horror, and resignation flashed across his thin face in the time it took him to stand to attention.

Sylv considered him silently, head slightly on one side. The boy clearly cared for his armour the bare minimum required by his centurion, and though he was not particularly small or slim he seemed shrunken inside it, his shoulders slumped and his narrow dark eyes constantly roving. Despite the just-acceptable salute, his whole body leant away from Rom, waiting patiently but staring intently from a few feet away. He kept his gaze on the corner of Sylv's jaw even as his hand began to shake in its salute.

"Name?" Sylv asked, with level interest, and the soldier's eyes flicked almost to his face before darting away again. Now that he had been released - though he remained at attention - his eyes began to dart around again, and the fingers of his free hand danced and tapped while he worked up to answering. Despite the jittering of his hand and the darting of his eyes, his voice managed somehow to emerge as a sullen mumble.

"Iratus Divites, Ser. Munifex under Velleius Annalis, Legio XIII."

"Divites, I entrust you with the safekeeping of my possessions until they reach their destination at my lodging villa. Your centurion will be informed."

"But he..."

Even as he formed the protest, a few new gears began to turn visibly in Divites' head. His eyes flicked down to Rom, and hastily back up to Sylv's jaw. Sylv decided to aid him a little, just in case the autumn air was slowing his decision-making.

"Did he not entrust you already with the care of my bags?" he asked, brow furrowing slightly, silver-steel eyes boring into the boy, and Divites cleared his throat.

"Of course, Ser."

"Marvellous. In which case, the value of anything lost will be deducted from your pay. Continue."

Sylv turned sharply on his heel, gestured with one hand for Rom to follow, and then set off again out of the harbour and into the town, and then west and toward the long road up the cliff to the fortress.

This road, at least, was well-maintained. It was late afternoon, and carts took another, longer but shallower, route around the base of the cliff, a wide road visible now emerging from the trees; most of the light traffic on Sylv's path was soldiers and horses. Again, they regarded man and dog with interest, but none attempted to speak with him. The hill upon which the fortress was built loomed to the west, so that it was already dark and chill on the road as the sun vanished behind it, but orange light burned over the ocean to the south, and as he walked Sylv raised a shielding hand to his brow to look out across the rest of the continent now visible from the hill. It was well-chosen, this location; presumably this bay had been the most well-shielded and the easiest for ships to land, and it was high enough to provide a vantage point over most of the rest of the island. Directly north and east of the town and fortress, dense forest covered the majority of the visible land, felled along the whole south coast for development. Further north, a mountain range rose sharply from the trees; maps had been sent back on previous ships, and Sylv knew that beyond lay tundra - but no successful party had ever crossed the range and returned, and ships could not land on its sheer icy shores, so unless there had been recent progress what lay beyond was largely unknown. Now, the far west of the island was largely obscured by the cliff, but Sylv had glimpsed it and read reports of the extensive grassy plains which took over from the trees and then themselves gave way, much further along, to waves of sandy desert.

It was a large island, several weeks' ride from end to end, but for its size the climate of Anteria was still remarkably varied. And though the forest had been cleared around the town, and from the vantage point of the fortress Sylv could see clearings in the trees where presumably estates and farms had been built, the whole place felt...

Untamed.

The letters had used unexploited.

We are confident that Anteria is a venture worth pursuing; it has many unexploited resources, including gems, spices, and rich soil, and there are rumours of native temples complete with valuable idols of their Gods. While the Anterian people are resistant to integration, and unfortunate circumstance has slowed our progress, we are confident that the reward will make worth the investment, and that with more time and man-power we will be able to exploit this land to the full degree of its worth.

Oh, yes; the letters had been vague, written-through with concealment and hope, but their meaning had been plain. It was as if the gods of this land did not want the Romans upon it, men whispered. But, their legate had reminded them, Roma did not bend to the will of foreign gods.

The sense of wildness set Sylv's nerves on edge.

It was likely just the ship, the uncertainty, the anticipation that had come before and of all that was yet to happen: the new land, the new comrades, the new town. It had all been done before, and every time it came with ambivalent unease. That was its nature.

Sylvestus Atrox Nigrum would die on Anteria, one way or another.

Nothing Sylv hadn't done before.

The fortress gate was guarded by two munifex, regulating the traffic in and out. Sylv waited in the short queue for their attention, Rom beside him regarding the two men levelly; by the time it was their turn to face the guard's scrutiny, the younger man seemed quite unnerved. The other guard was older, though their rank - newly conscripted and serving their compulsory six terms of service - was the same, and though his work was checking those leaving the fortress, he regarded the unfamiliar soldier with a cold scrutiny.

For a second, the younger munifex stared at Sylv, obviously unsure how to address him - then some fashion of training clearly kicked in, for he straightened himself up as best he could and cleared his throat.

"Please identify your name and purpose," he bleated, and for a second Sylv's head tilted a tiny degree to the side, as if considering whether to acquiesce to the request. Then his lips turned up, a cold and efficient stone carving of a smile.

"Syl. Atrox Nigrum, optio of Legio IX. I am here to speak to your officers."

The munifex gawped. One of Sylv's brows twitched upward.

"Send him through, Bestia," his companion growled, and Sylv sensed the cold stare that continued in his direction as Bestia quickly nodded and gave an uncertain salute.

"Yes, Ser. Erm... The principium is just to the left inside, Ser."

"Thank-you... Bestia?"

"Hurtius Bestia, Ser."

Sylv nodded and passed him into the fortress.

(i'm so deeply uncomfortable with being watched drinking!)

The buildings resembled those of the harbour in quality and maintenance much more than they resembled those of the town. The fortress was built on the cliff's edge, all four walls high and manned. The north face held the stables, and the rest of the space was neatly ordered in the standard fashion, presumably complete with barracks, valetudinarium, baths, stores. From the reports, Legio XIII had been severely depleted; reinforcements had been called for repeatedly even before the augmentation of Legio IX. Looking around even as he followed the munifex's directions toward the principium, Sylv's face showed some fashion of scorn. Either the ranks had been depleted more than reported, or a remarkable number of men had decided that a mid-afternoon nap was well within their orders. This was the only fortress, but there were outposts at several points elsewhere - and it looked well below maximum capacity.

There was, at least, a soldier outside the principium, yet another generic low-level man on generic low-level guard duty, but he straightened at the approach of Sylv and his dog. Before he could open his mouth to question the newcomer, Sylv held up a hand and spoke.

"I am an optio of Legio IX, and my ship was the first to make land here. I am under order to report to your legate or the next available man immediately. It may be advisable for you to, very presently, deliver me to that man. Is that order clear?"

There was a brisk nod, and with a sharp gesture to Rom to remain, Sylv followed the man inside.

But business had not only just begun; this game had been underway since the moment he had stepped off the ship.

There we go! That was a slightly longer, erm, chapter, and my throat is, um, not enjoying it... I'm sorry, I've gotta go again, I'm thirsty. I'm gonna start covering the camera when I drink, I'm so deeply uncomfortable with that.
So anyway, that was the actual first chapter of Sylvestus Volume I: The Fall, I'll probably move onto Chapter II tomorrow and then move onto something else, maybe some readings from Each Separate Dying Ember, which is the only other novel of mine currently available, it's also very good but a very different vibe, a couple of years old now... I might also give a sneak preview of Sylv Volume II: The F-- The Rise, The Rise is the second one, yeah... If people have already read Volume I. I'm gonna sign off, if I can't think of anything... Yeah. The transcription will be linked in the description, drop a comment if you enjoyed, like and share, all that stuff, thank you!

Reading - Sylvestus Vol I: The Fall - Epilogue

In jumping on the bandwagon of isolation content readings, here is the first chapter of Sylvestus Vol I: The Fall, entitled "Epilogue". The video was published at facebook.com/Sylvestus today, where other similar videos will hopefully be uploaded soon.

If you're interested in reading more of Sylvestus, head to bit.ly/SylvVol1 to purchase your paperback or ebook copy today. And for those who can't access videos and recordings, transcripts will also be made available here! Leave on while you cook, or sit and watch if you have nothing better to do (and really, who does right now?).

Content warning for suicide and pet death in the following content. Sylvestus deals with heavy themes, the first chapter moreso than the rest of the book. If you are struggling or affected by any such issues, please reach out to samaritans.org/ or at 116 123.

Heya! So, a lot of people online recently have been doing readings from their favourite books and things, and I decided to uhh jump on that bandwagon with some of the content I've made. This was the most obvious place to start, so I'm gonna be reading a few chapters hopefully over the next week or so from Sylvestus Volume I: The Fall, which is the one which is out now, find it... Um... Online. Umm... I'm nervous about this, hence why I'm not doing it as a livestream, this is a pre-recorded video, however I will be hopefully doing it in one take because editing the video and the audio is the bit that takes so long with previous videos that I've done. I've got like, two that are just, sat there, haven't been... Finished editing yet, just sat there waiting to be edited and uploaded.
Umm... So I'll get right into it, because I'm less nervous when I'm actually doing the thing. Sorry in advance about bad, kind of, audio quality, video quality... Situation. I'm not at home, I'm actually quarantining with family, so I've not got my usual stuff - and let's be honest, my videos were never that good in the first place.
I'm just gonna get straight into it - this is the start of Sylvestus Vol I: The Fall, which you can find at bit.ly/SylvVol1, or just... Google Sylvestus, and you'll find it. As a warning, this video does come with a strong trigger warning for suicide and pet death. Which is great and cheery, in this troubling time that we're all having. Shoot.

Insects sang and chirruped, but all the birds were silent.

Boots crunched on desert rock, the steps soft and even and purposeful. Firelight burned in the dark ahead; the hunching forms of tents hovered, shadows looming like too-regular walls of a canyon, and their neat rows were deserted. There was life within some of them of the tents – murmurs, movement – but the boots and their tread seemed entirely alone. Even the fires guttered in this cold deep dark.

Suddenly, the boots stopped between the shadow of a tent and the flare of a campfire. The boots turned toward the fire and waited.

A dog limped from the darkness behind the tent. There were deep cuts in its flank and shoulders, and its pale fur was crusted brown with blood. Every movement was stiff and slow, its golden eyes bright with pain, but when its gaze alighted on its master the tail began to lift and its ears perk up.

Its whole body wagged as it pushed his head against the man's leg. The man's fingers tightened as if to snap and warn it back to a respectful distance - and then went loose. He dropped onto his haunches, and let the dog nuzzle the palm of his hand as he dug his fingers into the soft spot behind its left ear; the dog let out the softest hfff and closed its eyes for a moment. The man let the dog lick his neck and chin, and then with a whisper of a laugh pressed his nose to the side of its muzzle, and closed his silver-steel eyes.

For a moment they were stationary, faces together, with the dog's thick tail beating a breeze close to the warmth of the fire, orange-yellow flames flickering in the stone-like face of the man.

Slowly, he put one hand behind the dog's ears, and the other at the base of its neck.

Leaving the broken body of the dog curled limply by the fire, the man straightened and for a moment simply breathed. He took a step, and when the boot landed it was on a narrow paved path surrounded by trees, the desert and camp and dog gone.

The depth of night, dawn still a few hours hence, was a ripe time in the forest. The land watched and listened; the air was heavy with its collected breath. Ahead, a villa loomed, dark and abandoned. Its well-worn path and well-tended lawn promised commerce and care, but now it was cold. No torches were lit along the path or walls, the only light the moon between the trees, and no greeting came as the steps took the man slowly past the stables and kennel. The man's head twitched as he passed them and wound around the villa, but he made no motion to change his path.

In the basement, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a handful of rich yellow powder. In one fluid motion, the man tossed it toward the nearest empty furnace; his other hand twisted, and as the powder settled over the furnace, white-yellow flames blossomed.

It was with an easy twist of his hand that he gave the fire strength, form.

For quite some time he stood before the furnace, hands moving as if manipulating the flames as they strengthened and grew. Sweat beaded beneath his clothes and on his face, and the fire glowed on his skin and armour as it became hot and close, but he seemed unaffected as he worked with the flames.

When the heat was sweltering and the fire in the furnace was huge, the man left the now-bright room, with its layered flickering shadows and sweltering orange air, for the cold darkness of the dawn.

Or the dream of dawn.

It should have been dawn; there was no tint of light in the sky, but the world knew when it was supposed to wake, and it was ready. Yet it was dark, and the world only watched.

All the sound in the world was insects and the rustling of leaves, and even the crackling of the furnace was muted as the door swung shut. And then along with the insects and the leaves came again footsteps, expensive leather boots on neatly-laid paving slabs, this time around the villa, past the stable and kennel, and then up the path to the door.

The floors were cold, and the walls were dark; after a moment, the man removed his boots before he stepped further inside. As he crossed the atrium to a darkened study, his pace was slow and intentional.

The contents of the desk were scattered; books and scrolls lay on the floor, ink spilled staining the wood, and for a moment, the man surveyed the carnage. In the darkness, his brow twitched ever so slightly downward.

He used a crumpled swatch of cloth from inside his cloak to wipe up the spilled ink. He re-organised the books, including ones still hidden, and placed them in some unspoken order in piles on the desk. Then he crossed - strides faster, but still controlled and calm - to a bedroom, and retrieved two books hidden there; he paused at a third hiding spot, already empty. Another was retrieved from the dining room, and another from the wall of the garden, and then when he was done, he stood and looked at the desk.

For a moment, the man seemed to blur. It was dark in the room, but his stone features were suddenly illuminated as if by firelight. In the same way it should have been dawn, a boy should have crumpled to the floor and screamed and screamed - but just as it was not dawn, so his own body held its shape, its composure, as he tapped out five precise taps on the back of the chair, and took a breath that did not tremble:

Tap tap tap tap tap.

Within his boots, his toes curled against the floor. Sharply, he turned. He took up an unlit torch from the wall, and when his fingers brushed the handle flames burst forth, no powders this time. He crossed the villa, to the bathhouse above the furnace.

Steam rose from the water, greeting him with warm fingers as he closed the door behind him. He fit the torch into its sconce and turned to the bath.

As the man undid his cloak, his hands were still and sure. He did not blur. There was no illumination on his features but for the steady light of the single torch. Pulling the cloak from around his shoulders, he folded it neatly and laid it on the tile beside him. His belt was undone, sword and dagger aligned perfectly parallel, and then went each of the straps of his armour, which joined the cloak.

His breaths had started to accelerate. Hands on his tunic, the man stared down at the flickering firelight reflection of his face in the water, until the eyes were silver-steel and the hands were still and the face was lit by nothing but a single steady torch.

Then he removed his tunic and his undergarment, and folded them both beside the cloak and the armour and the belt.

All that was left was a leather harness on his shoulder, and the sheath it held against his ribs, and the dagger inside. Staring directly ahead, at the mosaic wall painted orange in the dark, the man stepped down and slipped into the bath.

There were goosebumps along his skin, and as the heat enveloped him a shiver jerked at his body.

Breathing slowly and steadily, he took the dagger from its sheath and carefully made two clean cuts in the leather. With great care, he removed the harness and placed it behind him on the tile, with the rest.

For a second, he paused.

He raised one arm carefully above the water. A warm trail of water dripped from his hand to his elbow, each droplet of water returning to the bath echoing too loudly, and his breaths were shallower now and his eyes wavering in the reflection of torchlight on water.

The man made one neat cut, precise and unwavering, from halfway down his forearm to his wrist. Blood welled immediately. It beaded from the neat wound, and for a second time froze. Then it began to pour, following the trail of warm water, dripping fast and loud into the bath.

Another few seconds passed as he stared at the pouring blood and the blossoms of darkness like ink in the water.

Then, transferring the dagger to the other hand, the man made the second cut. At the last second, his hand hitched, and before the blade left his flesh it tore clumsily at the skin of his wrist

He placed the dagger back on the tile, fingers trailing blood. It spilled into the water; it should have turned first pink and then red, but in the gloom it was only black.

His breaths were coming faster. Silver-steel eyes blinked, and became bright blue-grey. In the swirls of black in the surface of the water, his skin glowed with firelight.

Suddenly fighting for breath, chest heaving, the man leant his head back against the tile, arms resting on the warm surface of the water. His bright blue-grey eyes were unfocused and his lips moved softly.

A tremor tore up his whole body, cutting up the water, cracking his stone features as a boy crumpled and screamed and screamed.

"I'm sorry," the man whispered, the words slurring, almost unintelligible.

The world pressed in, watching, hungry.

As the bright blue-grey eyes became glassy and blank, and his body slipped down so that water snatched at his skin and pulled his face beneath the surface, the terror vanished as suddenly as it had broken.

His lips turned upward and formed the outline of whispered words that were lost in a cascade of bubbles which broke thickly through the blood-dense water.

Dawn came.

And it was like this that the man died.

Cheerful! (nervous laugh) Umm, so that's... The first chapter, called "Epilogue", of my novel Sylvestus Volume I: The Fall. That is currently available on Lulu.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and many others, umm... Amazon is currently being a piece of poop to its workers, so I will kindly request that you - if you want to buy Sylv through the quarantine, that's amazing, thank you, I would request that you get an ebook version or go directly through Lulu.com, at this time, support Amaz-- no, don't support Amazon, support their workers... I'm trying. I'm... Trying.
Erm... Volume II is looking to be released some time during 2021, stick around for more of that, um, I'll probably be doing the next few chapters of Volume I over the next few weeks if people are down for that, also let me know in the comments what else you might be interested in. I've had requests for, um, more content about sort of, the writing process, I'd like to talk to other writers about that as well, that'd be awesome, then... I could do some readings from Sylv Volume II, if people have already read Volume I and are excited for previews of Vol II instead, or there's other pieces that I've been working on, sort of in the works, there's um... Cyberpunk-y detective... Murder... Stuff, that one's pretty cool, or... Steampunk... Future... Retro...
Sorry, there was a loud bing and I can't tell whether it's at my end or not. Anyway, let me know. Hope you enjoyed! Stay safe.