Before I begin, I need to explain what a vignette is. It's basically a literary exercise which is meant to capture a particular moment or character, but doesn't function as a fully fledged story. Think of it as being the literary equivalent to a sketch. In the words of eHow.com:
Although the below vignette is fantasy, it does have a roughly historical inspiration. Try to guess which of the fantasy cultures mentioned in the text correspond to which real-world civilizations.
The Barbarian Emperor
Ulric had never expected ruling the world’s most powerful civilization, the Valerian Empire, to pain his head so much until he finally wrested that post for himself.
Sitting on a marble bench on the edge of his palace’s front courtyard, he savored the twittering birdsong and the midsummer evening’s balminess. Within the courtyard, cypress and date palm trees surrounded a rectangular pool which had a marble dolphin statue breaching from its center. In fact the Emperor couldn’t turn his head without spotting some marble, for grooved marble columns supporting arches surrounded the courtyard. Except for the roof’s brick-red tiles, all of this architecture shone whiter than snow in the Valerian sun.
Yet in truth it was the courtyard’s greenery that pleased Ulric the most, for it recalled the verdant temperate forests of his native Nodria. Perhaps he should have stayed in those tranquil woods after all. At least his own tribe loved him enough to elect him their jarl, much more than anyone could say for the Valerians he thought he had liberated.
Although Ulric donned the sparkling violet and white toga customary for Valerian Emperors, one glance at his physical features sufficed to betray his Nodric origin. His broad and stocky body’s musculature bulged through his white skin. Straight, sun-yellow hair cascaded down his head, with his beard woven into two plaits, and he had blue frost for eyes. Scars streaking his face attested to his years of struggle against Valeria’s rapacious legions, a struggle he thought he had won once the previous Emperor Claudio fell to his broadsword. What a naïf Ulric had been!
Sandals clipping against mosaic tiles shattered the Emperor’s solitude. Antonio, one of his highest-ranking advisors, swaggered past the surrounding columns towards Ulric. A contemptuous sneer crossed his middle-aged face, which had the olive-brown skin and curly brown hair typical of Valerians. Red fringed Antonio’s otherwise white toga, a uniform that marked him an important official in the Valerian government. He carried a parchment scroll in his fist.
“What is it this time?” Ulric muttered. “Has another riot broken out?”
Antonio chuckled behind closed lips as he nodded. “Pity I couldn’t report something less predictable,” he said. “As a matter of fact, there’s been more than one within the past moon.” He unfurled the scroll and read out a list of recent riots scattered throughout the Empire along with their death tolls and property damage.
“By Thunder, when are the Valerians going to show some gratitude for once?” Ulric said, “I’ve freed the slaves and allowed the plebeians to vote for my successors, and yet everyone continues to give me hell for it. What have I done to anger them?”
“For one, freeing the slaves obviously won’t win you the patricians’ sympathy, and then there’s the little matter of your banning the gladiatorial games. Words cannot do justice to how much everyone in Valeria loved those games.”
Ulric snorted. “So you Valerians amuse yourselves by watching men and women cut each other to pieces, yet you have the nerve to call my people barbarians.”
“Ha, as if you Nodrians never fought each other back in the day! Anyway, if you really cared about your subjects’ loyalty, you’d either reverse your earlier reforms or...somehow try to distract the Valerian people from their problems. You know, like Imperial expansion. That worked very well for many past Emperors.” Antonio grinned greedily.
“You mean pick a fight with another country, don’t you?” Ulric got up from his bench to tower over Antonio, glaring down into his eyes. “The world has seen enough war already, and I certainly have too.”
“Oh, you don’t necessarily have to be the aggressor this time…at least not in a pure sense.” Antonio rubbed his chin in thought. “Recently our provinces in the eastern desert have suffered attacks from Shemitic raiders. If you could bring those camel-riders under the Imperial thumb, you’d earn yourself the reputation of a peacemaker.”
“Then why couldn’t I simply reinforce our eastern borders’ defenses---you know, like building a wall? I don’t want any more conquest. All that would do is anger the Shemites and give us yet another province, and administrating this Empire is a headache as it is!”
Antonio shrugged. “I merely wanted to offer suggestions to improve your reputation, but I see you place your principles over political practicality. Fine with me, but don’t accuse me of not trying to help.”
Ulric grumbled curses as he stormed away from the courtyard into his palace’s atrium. Servants in tunics were scrubbing the floor.
“You lot have toiled all day, haven’t you?” the Emperor said. He pulled out some gold coins from his purse and lent a couple to each of the servants. “Why don’t you all take the week off to spend time with your families? The place looks clean enough for my taste.”
One of the servants smiled up at him. “Whoah…thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “Our old Emperor would’ve never done such a thing for us.”
“Indeed, he wouldn’t even pay us anything,” another servant said. “Praise be to Emperor Ulric!”
“For future reference, please don’t call me an Emperor anymore,” Ulric said. “Call me a Jarl, the way my people called me back in Nodria. Enjoy your time off!”
Ulric grinned as pride swelled in his chest, phasing out his former rage. If only everyone in Valeria would show him that kind of respect. Maybe talking with his wife would help him brainstorm ways to win the whole Valerian people over the way he had won over those servants.
He entered his scarlet-walled bedchamber. Empress Neferseti, who reclined atop the bed, greeted him by curving her luscious lips into a beam. Despite wearing a dress similar to that of Valerian noblewomen, Neferseti was every bit a foreigner as her husband. Her glistening cocoa-brown body and woolly black dreadlocks, which she tied into a bundle, showed that she hailed from the continent of Sudria, and her black eyeliner and golden jewelry specified that her native country was the ancient kingdom of Kametu. Although Ulric had married her originally for diplomatic reasons, her slender and exotic beauty always stirred his heart and loins.
“Had a busy day again, I presume?” Neferseti asked. She slid off the bed to massage Ulric’s shoulders.
“Even a break in the courtyard made me busy,” Ulric muttered. “Why don’t the Valerians appreciate me, Neferseti? What have I done to incur their disapproval?”
“Those servants seemed to appreciate you from what I’ve overheard, dear. Don’t be hard on yourself, my Jarl. None of it is your fault.” Neferseti planted her lips on Ulric’s cheeks to give him a stunning kiss.
“Then whose fault is it?”
Neferseti’s smile reversed to a frown. “In truth, the only reason the Valerians by and large resent us has nothing to do with our governance and everything to do with our…backgrounds. They can’t stand any kind of ‘barbarians’ ruling as their Emperor and Empress, and especially not a Nodric man or a Sudric woman. Why, I can barely visit the forum without Valerian women glaring at me and whispering the word ‘shit-skin’!”
Ulric’s face reddened again while he clenched his fists. “No Valerian bitch, nor anyone else in the world, calls my wife a shit-skin!” He pounded one fist against his chest. “How can I rule an Empire of people with such racial prejudice against our family?”
“Perhaps you could give out coins or bread to the people the way you gave to those servants? That could win many hearts, particularly from the plebs. Unfortunately I don’t know if such charity would suffice for them to overlook our heritages.”
“They better overlook them, or I’ll…I’ll show those Valerian dogs my broadsword’s full wrath!” Ulric brandished another fist above his head and roared.
Neferseti pushed her husband’s arm down and embraced him. “Oh, you wouldn’t have to heart to do that, would you? You should take your mind off politics for the day. Perhaps I could help you with that…”
The Empress ran her fingers along the edge of Ulric’s toga, tugging at it gently. The couple pressed their lips together and exchanged tongues, caressing each other and disrobing each other, until Ulric was ready to enter Neferseti on their bed.
Nothing could drown away a man’s troubles like the woman he loved.
A vignette is a snapshot in words. It's different from flash fiction because you're not aiming to tell a story. The vignette focuses on one aspect, mood, character, setting or object. Use it as a descriptive exercise, for character exploration, wordplay or just to get something off your mind.Essentially I'm using this thread as a dumping ground for my vignettes, similar to how fellow poster Andalus uses his Fireplace thread for poetry. I'll start with something I just typed out this morning.
Although the below vignette is fantasy, it does have a roughly historical inspiration. Try to guess which of the fantasy cultures mentioned in the text correspond to which real-world civilizations.
Ulric had never expected ruling the world’s most powerful civilization, the Valerian Empire, to pain his head so much until he finally wrested that post for himself.
Sitting on a marble bench on the edge of his palace’s front courtyard, he savored the twittering birdsong and the midsummer evening’s balminess. Within the courtyard, cypress and date palm trees surrounded a rectangular pool which had a marble dolphin statue breaching from its center. In fact the Emperor couldn’t turn his head without spotting some marble, for grooved marble columns supporting arches surrounded the courtyard. Except for the roof’s brick-red tiles, all of this architecture shone whiter than snow in the Valerian sun.
Yet in truth it was the courtyard’s greenery that pleased Ulric the most, for it recalled the verdant temperate forests of his native Nodria. Perhaps he should have stayed in those tranquil woods after all. At least his own tribe loved him enough to elect him their jarl, much more than anyone could say for the Valerians he thought he had liberated.
Although Ulric donned the sparkling violet and white toga customary for Valerian Emperors, one glance at his physical features sufficed to betray his Nodric origin. His broad and stocky body’s musculature bulged through his white skin. Straight, sun-yellow hair cascaded down his head, with his beard woven into two plaits, and he had blue frost for eyes. Scars streaking his face attested to his years of struggle against Valeria’s rapacious legions, a struggle he thought he had won once the previous Emperor Claudio fell to his broadsword. What a naïf Ulric had been!
Sandals clipping against mosaic tiles shattered the Emperor’s solitude. Antonio, one of his highest-ranking advisors, swaggered past the surrounding columns towards Ulric. A contemptuous sneer crossed his middle-aged face, which had the olive-brown skin and curly brown hair typical of Valerians. Red fringed Antonio’s otherwise white toga, a uniform that marked him an important official in the Valerian government. He carried a parchment scroll in his fist.
“What is it this time?” Ulric muttered. “Has another riot broken out?”
Antonio chuckled behind closed lips as he nodded. “Pity I couldn’t report something less predictable,” he said. “As a matter of fact, there’s been more than one within the past moon.” He unfurled the scroll and read out a list of recent riots scattered throughout the Empire along with their death tolls and property damage.
“By Thunder, when are the Valerians going to show some gratitude for once?” Ulric said, “I’ve freed the slaves and allowed the plebeians to vote for my successors, and yet everyone continues to give me hell for it. What have I done to anger them?”
“For one, freeing the slaves obviously won’t win you the patricians’ sympathy, and then there’s the little matter of your banning the gladiatorial games. Words cannot do justice to how much everyone in Valeria loved those games.”
Ulric snorted. “So you Valerians amuse yourselves by watching men and women cut each other to pieces, yet you have the nerve to call my people barbarians.”
“Ha, as if you Nodrians never fought each other back in the day! Anyway, if you really cared about your subjects’ loyalty, you’d either reverse your earlier reforms or...somehow try to distract the Valerian people from their problems. You know, like Imperial expansion. That worked very well for many past Emperors.” Antonio grinned greedily.
“You mean pick a fight with another country, don’t you?” Ulric got up from his bench to tower over Antonio, glaring down into his eyes. “The world has seen enough war already, and I certainly have too.”
“Oh, you don’t necessarily have to be the aggressor this time…at least not in a pure sense.” Antonio rubbed his chin in thought. “Recently our provinces in the eastern desert have suffered attacks from Shemitic raiders. If you could bring those camel-riders under the Imperial thumb, you’d earn yourself the reputation of a peacemaker.”
“Then why couldn’t I simply reinforce our eastern borders’ defenses---you know, like building a wall? I don’t want any more conquest. All that would do is anger the Shemites and give us yet another province, and administrating this Empire is a headache as it is!”
Antonio shrugged. “I merely wanted to offer suggestions to improve your reputation, but I see you place your principles over political practicality. Fine with me, but don’t accuse me of not trying to help.”
Ulric grumbled curses as he stormed away from the courtyard into his palace’s atrium. Servants in tunics were scrubbing the floor.
“You lot have toiled all day, haven’t you?” the Emperor said. He pulled out some gold coins from his purse and lent a couple to each of the servants. “Why don’t you all take the week off to spend time with your families? The place looks clean enough for my taste.”
One of the servants smiled up at him. “Whoah…thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “Our old Emperor would’ve never done such a thing for us.”
“Indeed, he wouldn’t even pay us anything,” another servant said. “Praise be to Emperor Ulric!”
“For future reference, please don’t call me an Emperor anymore,” Ulric said. “Call me a Jarl, the way my people called me back in Nodria. Enjoy your time off!”
Ulric grinned as pride swelled in his chest, phasing out his former rage. If only everyone in Valeria would show him that kind of respect. Maybe talking with his wife would help him brainstorm ways to win the whole Valerian people over the way he had won over those servants.
He entered his scarlet-walled bedchamber. Empress Neferseti, who reclined atop the bed, greeted him by curving her luscious lips into a beam. Despite wearing a dress similar to that of Valerian noblewomen, Neferseti was every bit a foreigner as her husband. Her glistening cocoa-brown body and woolly black dreadlocks, which she tied into a bundle, showed that she hailed from the continent of Sudria, and her black eyeliner and golden jewelry specified that her native country was the ancient kingdom of Kametu. Although Ulric had married her originally for diplomatic reasons, her slender and exotic beauty always stirred his heart and loins.
“Had a busy day again, I presume?” Neferseti asked. She slid off the bed to massage Ulric’s shoulders.
“Even a break in the courtyard made me busy,” Ulric muttered. “Why don’t the Valerians appreciate me, Neferseti? What have I done to incur their disapproval?”
“Those servants seemed to appreciate you from what I’ve overheard, dear. Don’t be hard on yourself, my Jarl. None of it is your fault.” Neferseti planted her lips on Ulric’s cheeks to give him a stunning kiss.
“Then whose fault is it?”
Neferseti’s smile reversed to a frown. “In truth, the only reason the Valerians by and large resent us has nothing to do with our governance and everything to do with our…backgrounds. They can’t stand any kind of ‘barbarians’ ruling as their Emperor and Empress, and especially not a Nodric man or a Sudric woman. Why, I can barely visit the forum without Valerian women glaring at me and whispering the word ‘shit-skin’!”
Ulric’s face reddened again while he clenched his fists. “No Valerian bitch, nor anyone else in the world, calls my wife a shit-skin!” He pounded one fist against his chest. “How can I rule an Empire of people with such racial prejudice against our family?”
“Perhaps you could give out coins or bread to the people the way you gave to those servants? That could win many hearts, particularly from the plebs. Unfortunately I don’t know if such charity would suffice for them to overlook our heritages.”
“They better overlook them, or I’ll…I’ll show those Valerian dogs my broadsword’s full wrath!” Ulric brandished another fist above his head and roared.
Neferseti pushed her husband’s arm down and embraced him. “Oh, you wouldn’t have to heart to do that, would you? You should take your mind off politics for the day. Perhaps I could help you with that…”
The Empress ran her fingers along the edge of Ulric’s toga, tugging at it gently. The couple pressed their lips together and exchanged tongues, caressing each other and disrobing each other, until Ulric was ready to enter Neferseti on their bed.
Nothing could drown away a man’s troubles like the woman he loved.