Twitter is absolutely congested with aesthetics, so I thought why not give them a try. I'm currently on the second draft of ATBM--not much changes to the storyline. I am, however, revamping certain characters and their backgrounds.

Erden is massive Empire whose main economy was slavery. Sarna was born a free person, but slavers raided her village and captured the children. Her older brother died protecting her, and she watched as her parents were slaughtered in front of her very eyes. At the age of eight, she is sold first as a servant girl, then as a prostitute to a menagerie in the Jade City. After a dissatisfied client pressed her face onto burning coals, she escaped with Biyu's help, and they were saved by Mr. Long of Zichuan Theater. She copes with her dark past by gambling and drinking, and only lives because of the theater and Biyu.

Biyu has a large family, and he was castrated by his own father when he was seven, as his father was trying to make their lives better by sending him to work in the Jade Palace as a eunuch. Biyu's too-feminine features and charm soon became his downfall, and he was sold to the same menagerie Sarna was sold to. He soon rose in the ranks as the most desired consort/prostitute. Sarna and Biyu grew close after three years of suffering, and they escaped together. They're pretty much like siblings.

Wulin remains the same in ATBM: fierce, calm, prideful, and regal. However, as the crown prince, he is thrown into a game of power when he was very young. All he wanted was the throne, and he has to fight among his peers to rise as the strongest.

Bowen is a bastard. His father is the Emperor, but his mother was a prostitute. Unlike Wulin who is well-versed in martial arts and literature, Bowen prefers slipping out into the city and enjoying the freedom of the commoners. He has to deal with court drama, although he wants no part of it.

Here is a snippet of the current second draft!

*****

On my first day in the Jade City, I saw a boy die.

I stood in the middle of the crowd, eyes fixated on the skeletal boy dressed in rags. His dark straggly hair was patched, and he crouched in a metal cage next to the execution platform. The boy wrapped his long calloused fingers around the rusted bars of the cage, eyes downcast, the heavy metal band around his neck weighing him down.

My own neck burned, and my hands went up to my collar. It had been many years since I was emancipated, but I still felt the metal collar pressing against my skin.

Watching him struggle against his chains, I wondered what offenses he had committed. Usually, disobedient slaves were killed on the spot, but for the Imperials to parade the death of a slave in public, the boy must have committed a heinous crime.

My friend, Biyu, nudged my hand. "You don't have to watch this."

"I want to," I said. "I want to be there for him."

"He is going to die. Whether you pity him or not."

I remained rooted to the spot. The crowd around me continued to whisper, passing rumors from lip to lip.

"I heard that boy tried to poison the crown prince," one woman whispered.

"No, no." A man shook his head. "He slipped into Princess Khavarosk's bedchambers and forced himself upon her."

The whispers rose and coalesced. The boy lifted his head and stared at the crowd with his pleading eyes.

Look at me, I thought. I'm here for you.

His eyes flickered to and fro, but he couldn't see me staring at him through the veil covering my entire face.

You're going to be free, I thought. No more pain, no more Imperials. Just eternal bliss and warmth of the Nine Heavens.

"Sarna." Biyu continued tugging my hand. "We have a performance in less than half an hour."

"The performance can wait," I said. "You can either stay here with me or leave alone. Your pick."

Biyu sighed, but stayed.

The executioner stepped onto the platform. Garbed in complete a black leather robe with a cowl, the sight of him sent chills shooting up my spine, and hot bile roiled in my stomach.

As the crowd continued to whisper, the executioner stepped toward the cage and threw the door open. The boy scampered to a corner, squeezing himself into it, as though he could melt into the metal. The executioner grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him out of the cage. He hit the floor hard and whimpered.

Tears stung my eyes. For once, I was glad of the muslin veil covering my face, so no one could see me weep for him.

The burly executioner dragged the boy toward the execution block covered with so many layers of dried blood, it had turned black.

"Please," the boy begged. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"You have committed treason," the executioner boomed. "The penalty for treason is death."

He pressed the boy's head onto the stone block. The boy struggled, but a kick on the back made him fall limp.

The urge to rush up the platform and throw my arms around the little boy was scratching and howling inside of me, trying to tear its way out. He was so young, probably no older than ten. However, fear of the Imperials and the executioner was stronger.

"Please," the boy pleaded in a soft voice. "Please."

The executioner picked up his axe from the ground and ran a leathered finger across the blade. The blade glinted under the afternoon sun—so sharp, it cleaved the light into two.

"May the death of this treasonous slave be a lesson to all of you," the executioner said. "Long live the Emperor, long live the Imperials, and hail Erden."

The people chorused after him. "Long live the Emperor, long live the Imperials, and hail Erden."

The executioner lifted his axe and swung it down in one clean blow.

I forced my eyes open. The head dropped from the boy's shoulders like a rock and rolled into the basket at the bottom of the block.

"Hail the Emperor," I said softly. "Long may he reign."