Two Peasants Discuss the Limitations of Feudalism
This is just a little dialogue snippet from my story. I’d love critique on how it reads. Most of my characters are very high ranking nobility, while these two are my way of giving my readers a glimpse into the harsh reality of medieval poverty.
Devon stopped at a market stall as they came to a junction in the street. He began to flip through various silks that were on display, ignoring the suspicious stare of the vendor.
“Why bother? You wouldn’t wear them even if you had the coin,” mocked Anson.
“You have no taste for the finer things in life, Anson.”
“It’s not needed.”
“Making your decisions on what's needed is boring,” stated Devon, unfolding a blue-dyed shirt.
“You talk like a poet.”
“It’s true,” Devon said, turning away from the shirt, “You sulk too much, it’s like shackles. You and I, we have potential.”
“Potential for what? Working the kitchens on the Yddrimite?”
“There it is, you’ll never be anything if you keep that up.”
“What?” chuckled Anson, “A good attitude won’t get us out of the Gorge. My mother was born a whore and died a whore. We’re no different.”
“Don’t you think that’s sad?”
“No,” Anson thought, “I s'pose not. It’s not sad, that’s just how things are.”
Devon handed the silks back to the vendor and the two continued to walk, pondering.
“That’s a poison, you know? Thinking like that,” said Devon.
“It keeps me grounded.”
“It does and that’s what they want. Those rich bastards in the Vine want you to think like that. If you thought there was a way out, and actually went for it, they’d shit themselves.”
“Don’t you think that’s just a fantasy? If we walked a mile back we’d be swarmed by beggars and urcheons, tell that to them. There’s no way out for them. There’s no way out for us.”
Devon thought, resigning to his friend’s stubbornness, “Y’know, years ago, when I was in the bounders, I actually met Swint.”
“Ondogast Swint?” Anson laughed in disbelief, “Lying prick.”
“I swear it, he was checking one of the warehouses I was at and we spoke.”
“You did?”
“More so he spoke to me, I was s’pose to be quiet. He said I reminded him of someone he knew. He went on about how that person was the same way you are,” Devon smiled, “He said to me that ‘ambition is a fire and you have to kindle it.’”
Anson laughed heartily, “Your smuggling, murdering, bribing boss gave you words of wisdom?”
“You’ve got to meet him to understand. He’s a strange one, but it stuck. He made it out, he’s rich and powerful. He manages the underbelly of the whole city.”
“I don’t think that’s making it out Devon, that’s just going further in.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Devon, “But he’s rich.”
“He is rich, but those folk always pay the price. Remember your bounty?”
“Me getting caught stealing fish is not a sound argument is it?”
“It is, he’ll have his day. You still owe me for that, too.”