This is the fourth part of the story, you can find the earlier parts here:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
* * *
On the day before commencement, I finished up my duel with Edvin Klaus, giving him a decorative scar along his cheek. The city guard was still preoccupied with the drunken stragglers from the jubilee, and couldn’t spare the men to roust the Garden of Blades again. I went through the ceremony marking my departure from the University with proper decorum. I even went so far as to refrain from telling the Provost that I was okay with going from a University student to merely being a blood relative of the Furst of Karststadt.
In the days before we left, I was in the little-used forge within the castle walls. My aptitude as a smith was severely lacking. I did learn that when you hit hot steel with a hammer, it thins and spreads out in all directions – not just the one you wanted it to. This meant me roughing out an edge on a perfectly straight billet led to it bending backward into a crescent. It was a very neat crescent., one I would never have been able to create intentionally. Even so, I was torn. Part of me wanted it to break and force me to start fresh, and another part of me didn’t want to go through all that work again. I threw about arguments for why I should toss it, and how it could still be made functional. The thoughts plagued me, even as I drew out a tang, then fought to straighten the lopsided tang. With a guard and a grip in line with both points of the crescent., the knife resembled a miniature kopesh. Still, it was done, it was sharp, and, despite by best efforts, it hadn’t broken.
While most of the visitors for the jubilee departed by the Salzheim road, Hermann, Peter, and Alvar went north. A large coterie of retainers surrounded the pack of kings, though by necessity, Hermann’s was the largest contingent. The Slagveld was an oddly beautiful country. It wasn’t home, but from the high road, it was a treat for the eyes. In a great many places, the land was the gray of weathered limestone. Throughout, however, stubborn plants rooted in their patches of green. The tops of the plateaus were all level with each other, creating the illusion of an open plain. This plain was riven by valleys, canyons, ravines, caves and sinkholes in a chaotic and crazed pattern. More plant life sprouted in these wherever sunlight fell. It would have been a nightmare to navigate before Prince Kord’s half century of road building. Few areas lent themselves to the plow, but the shepherds found good grazing for their flocks.
The high road went from plateau top to plateau top, the spaces in between bridged with causeways and viaducts. Roads and trails had been cut linking the various plateaus to their surrounding valleys, regardless of whether they were on the route of the high road or not. Somewhere in the distance, this arrow-straight span of limestone paving setts would reach the city of Nordpunkt. We had no intention of following the road that far. Of course, a mob of riders and wagons the size of ours did not travel that fast. Aside from being tied to the speed of the slowest mule, there were countless causes of delays. However frantic some of the servants became, the men around me stayed congenial. Peter chatted with the Snaerveldi court wizard in a language I didn’t understand. My father jotted things down in his little notebook. Hermann sat upon his horse calm and contemplative, though he never seemed to have fallen inattentive when someone directed a remark his way.
The biggest problem was that we had more people than the inns had space. The protocol was decided early that the youngest children got rooves first, and everyone else slept in tents. The baggage contained a great deal of food, so we didn’t deplete the local supplies. It also contained a great deal of crap no sane person needed to haul along the road for a short trip. The grand carriage for the queen of Neph looked like a palace on wheels. It certainly had enough gilding and handsomely carved exotic woods. It was also bigger than the cargo wagons, with eight wheels and pulled by a team of eight horses. Its shape and the stained glass windows made it look more like a building that had been uprooted than a vehicle. I suppose it was comfortable inside, as the Queen opted to sleep there.
I didn’t mind the tent. I had a good bedroll, a comfortable blanket, and rolling up a cloak made a passable pillow. It would have been simple to get more elaborate accommodations, but then someone would have had to deal with them. I was much happier being first done setting up or breaking down my section of the camp. Sure, I could have foist the work on Wendel, but he had enough to do. My little tent was easy to take care of.
* * *
Hermann didn’t speak much. The most verbose he got was when giving archery instructions. I was not that good. I could generally hit the target, but not intentionally hit the bullseye. Hermann had to try to miss the bullseye. His sons were better practiced at the art, and easily outperformed me.
“Kord, you need to draw to the same spot every time,” Hermann said. “Ideally, you want to draw to your ear, but so long as you get to the same spot. That way the arrow flies with the same speed and you can begin to predict where it goes.”
“I understand,” I said. My arms were not accustomed to the work of drawing a bow over and over again. I would have to practice drawing in of itself just to follow my uncle’s advice. Though waiting until I felt the knuckle of my thumb touch my earlobe tightened the cluster of arrows in the target, I still wasn’t getting close to the bullseye.
“Have you ever fired a bow before?” my cousin asked. I glanced to my left. The young man standing there had copper-blond hair, round spectacles and a stupid grin. He looked to be half a decade younger than I was, give or take.
“Halvdan,” Hermann said in a warning tone.
“I didn’t mean it like… I mean, how much practice did he even get at that school?”
“More with the sword than the bow,” I said.
“How good are you?” Halvdan grinned.
I shrugged. “Better than some, worse than others.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down.”
“I don’t have an objective measure of aptitude,” I said.
“Then we have to have a fight.”
“Why?”
“To answer the question.”
“No,” I said.
“Really? Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to humor you.” I nocked a new arrow and took another shot at the target.
“Then humor me,” a voice behind us said. Lowering the bow, I turned to see Peter standing there. The self-made King of the Rustshades was dressed in neat blue robes and blindfold. Nothing was regal about his attire, though he carried himself as such
“Why would you want me to fight Halvdan?” I asked.
“Not him,” Peter said. “Me.”
“What are you up to, Peter?” Hermann asked.
“We put all that effort into making those swords, and we haven’t seen them in action.”
“That sounds awful in more ways than I can think of at the moment.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Peter grinned.
I raised an eyebrow. “That seems like an… odd request. You’ve got something up your sleeves.”
Peter pushed the sleeves of his robe up, revealing pale forearms. “Sleeves are not much use without something in them.”
“You really want to do this with sharpened blades?” my father asked, arriving behind Peter.
“Antal will patch up any scratches, won’t you?” Peter turned towards an empty patch of ground. He waited as if expecting a response from thin air.
“Gentian went back to his tent,” my father said.
“But he’s not that far away.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “But I don’t think there’s an upside to fighting a blind man. Win or lose, I come out looking bad.”
“This is why I don’t visit more often,” Peter said, “My family is no fun.”
“I thought it was because you were too busy trying to not be overrun by Zanthan warlords,” Hermann said.
“Well, there is that. It’s probably that.”
“How bad is the war?” Halvdan asked, a bit too eagerly.
“Mostly cross-border raids, none of the Zanthans can afford to commit to a big attack without first gaining the throne.”
I stopped listening as the conversation slid further into politics and turned my attention back to archery.
* * *
The ‘North Tower’ was not an impressive structure. Even expanded to provide services for caravans traveling between Nordpunkt and Karststadt, it was a small, cramped castle. Wedged in the only pass from the Slagveld to the Hookwood, it had strategic significance. The rest of the boundary was a sharp cliff dropping from the uplands of the Slagveld. There were actually two towers, one on either side of the pass. Though it looked like one was newer, and was part of Prince Kord’s expansion. Past the cliff sprouted a dense forest of ash and fir trees.
The trees closest to the road had been cleared, originally to impede ambushes. Now that land was crowded with goblins. Their small farms ringed clusters of huts made from wattle and daub. Drystone walls separated the village plots from their neighbors, constructed by heaping up those rocks dug from the dirt by the goblins’ hoes. Fences of bare wattle enclosed pig stys and pens for basilisk skinks. The eight-legged reptilians were big enough for a goblin to ride, but useless in front of a plow or cart. They were there to provide mounts for the warriors. These warriors were descended from the tribes that had willingly pledged to Prince Kord during the conquest of the Hookwood. They’d been rewarded with dominion over the survivors of the tribes that had to be brought to heel by force. A dominion that could be revoked if they failed to keep order.
Standing on the wall spanning between the towers, I realized I was looking at perhaps the most pure expression of the vassal-liege relationship in the world. It hadn’t brought civilization to the goblins, but it had brought order. They still fought each other, but attacks on merchants and human settlements had stopped.
“So what are you doing up here?”
I looked at Halvdan.
“Planning.”
“Planning what?”
“How to approach the hunt when we get into the Hookwood,” I said.
“What can you do from up here?”
“I have a good view of the cliff.”
“Are you just going to speak cryptically?”
“The cliff is limestone with bands of chert. It’s sitting on a layer of shale. That tells me what types of loose stones are liable to be found on the ground below it. Thus I can plan on making use of the properties of those stones. The trees are ash, pine, and fir, each of which has components which will be of use. It also gives me a view of at least three small creeks, with an indicator that there will be more. All of these components contribute to how I will approach the challenge.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“I’m still formulating it.”
“Just a knife? Nothing else?”
“I’ll be clothed,” I said.
“You know what I meant.”
“Yes, I know what you meant. But that’s the point. As I understand, it’s a trial of determination, resourcefulness, and cunning.”
Halvdan looked discomfited. “But we have bows, steel, and horses.”
“And pillows and palaces, but that’s exactly the point. It’s a demonstration that you’re not less than your forebearers.”
“That seems absurd.”
“Talk to the men of Snaerveldi, it’s their tradition.”
“So why are you doing it?”
“To prove I’m not less than my father.”
Halvdan looked sullen and leaned on the battlements. “That’s a high enough hurdle with your father’s reputation. There are some people who are already calling mine ‘Hermann the Great’. You know his reputation; killed a dragon; got an army down the Rustshades road – then back again; literally went to war with corruption in Neph and won. How do I live up to something like that?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
* * *
I also had no idea how to approach my uncles with the sheer number of people vying for their time. Or rather, I couldn’t talk to Hermann. Peter had fewer people pestering him, but something wasn’t quite right with him. At best, he had a sense of humor that didn’t sit well with me. His random swings from serious to what he called joking made it impossible to tell where I stood with him. That made trying to come up with a response awkward. That pushed me to the perimeter of the conversation, and I ended up sitting with my back to a tree. I picked an ash because it was less likely to get resinous sap all over my shirt. The northern road through the Hookwood towards Neph and the Raven Coast was less well populated with inns and other trappings of civilization. The sound of whining from small children carried rather far from where their minders were trying to rein them in.
I watched the social orbits as the conversations dragged on. My father had attached himself quite securely to King Alvar’s side, and the two had slipped into the language of Snaerveldi. Two youths of Halvdan’s age were seated on either side of the prince. Despite his placement in the way, the two engaged in a conversation that Halvdan had clearly disengaged from. At another edge of the fire, Peter waved away the people around him and retreated to his tent. I looked at the spot he’d vacated and asked myself if it was acceptable to take it. Before I made up my mind, Hermann’s skald sat down there instead. The people displaced by Peter’s departure shifted and repositioned to find new conversational clusters. I was surprised when the pale man sat down next to me.
Antal Gentian was an Ivory Wizard, and as such dressed in white. His narrow face and lank hair were also exceedingly pale, but his vibrant green eyes looked intently out from the pallor. He was Alvar’s court wizard, and had been so for a long time. He was not born of Snaerveldi, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’d lived more of his life in that land than elsewhere. The winter pelt of a stoat hanging over his left shoulder blended in with his attire in hue, but contrasted in texture.
“You underwent the Rite of Manhood,” I said.
“Is that a question?” Gentian asked.
I sighed. “More of an observation. There are few other reasons to hang a weasel on your lapel.” I closed my eyes and cursed myself. “I’m sorry, that was… poorly phrased.”
“Though not inaccurate. I underwent the rite as a formality to properly join the King’s retinue. So I didn’t care what I caught, as long as I wasn’t out in the cold for too long.”
There was a moment of silence. A question insinuated, yet unspoken.
“You want to know why I’m undergoing the rite,” I said.
“I fear I may already know. There are many fires in the camp. You choose to sit by the one with the kings, as is your right by blood. But push yourself so far into the fringe as to have almost left it.” Antal paused to see if I reacted. I sat sullenly, and he continued. “Whatever you may achieve or fail to achieve, it will not bring you closer to the others around that fire. All you really need to do is stand up and walk forward.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Yes, the simplest things can be the most difficult at times.”
“You speak as if from experience,” I said.
“I was young once,” Gentian said. “But the question you should be contemplating is not ‘what does this middle-aged wizard regret?’ It is, ‘why do I feel the need to perform this foreign rite?'”
My sigh bore the sound of exasperation.
“You need not tell me the answer, but ruminate on it.”
“I made a decision, and there’s no good reason not to see it through. At worst I’ll spend a few days grubbing around in the dirt.”
Antal turned slowly to look me in the eye. “The snow lion Alvar wears very nearly ripped half of his face off and badly mauled the rest of him. I was brought to Skogahaugr because the wounds were not healing and he was threatening to turn gangrenous.”
“Snow lions don’t live in the Hookwood.”
“They are not the only beasts which can threaten a man’s survival.”
“Antal, I appreciate the sentiment, but I have already come up with a plan.”
“Care to share?”
“Not really. But I do have one question.”
“What is that?”
“Would the rite end if I happened to catch a fish?”
Gentian blinked a few times.
“I don’t think so. I’d have to ask Alvar, but I don’t think fish count as beasts of the woods.”
“Good,” I said. After a pause, I switched topics. “Is it true you once used the flesh from a horse to save a man’s life?”
“I suppose something like that would get talked about,” Gentian sighed.
“If it’s not something you want to talk about…”
“It’s not the act of saving the man I find uncomfortable, it’s the reminder of what the Zanthans did to leave him in that state which I dislike.”
“I see,” I said.
“He’d been sent as an envoy to the court of Zanthas after the death of Tabris the Fifth. Their torturers were… creative, and somehow left him barely alive. I can not force new flesh to grow where none exists, and had to take it from somewhere. Even then, it was difficult, as the pieces were not meant to fit together in that way, and the body dislikes foreign matter. But he lives still.”
I like to include background details that hint at character dynamics I haven’t had the chance to explore in a story but are regarded as canon.
There’s a throwaway line about a couple of guys having a conversation past Halvdan that he’s disconnected from. They’re members of his Lieb Guard, who are all the same age as he is and were trained from their youths to be bodyguards and medium cavalry. Being part of an elite military unit and elevated to a social standing equal to the lower nobility, they have a rather high morale. Owing that to the existance of the prince, combined with years of
indoctrinationinstruction, they are almost fanatically loyal to Halvdan. Yet he’s convinced himself they’re hiding resentment for having been stolen away from their families, and thus waiting for the most advantageous opportunity to double-cross him. Naturally, this makes him less willing to interact with them. If he doesn’t figure out the truth, the paranoia will become self-fulfilling as the Lieb Guard realizes he doesn’t trust them and becomes resentful of that.I haven’t decided which would fit better, but those are decisions for future stories.
Interesting information, I was just interpreting his behavior as boredom with their conversation.
Great storytelling, looking forward to the final chapters, and thanks for posting this.
There’s only two chapters remaining.
And I’d bet the characters in-universe were likwise interpreting Halvdan’s disinterest as boredom.
I’m about halfway through, and I’m really enjoying it. One thing that caught my attention is that I find myself reading Kord’s dialogue in disaffected monotone. I’m not sure if thats intentional or not, but I guess you’ve left the impression that he doesn’t have the time of day for his family, and says whatever he thinks will end the conversation most quickly.
For example, I originally read the last line of the following as if he said it in a distracted, dismissive manner, but I realized that it’s ambiguous whether it should be read more earnestly because he’s starting to open up to his cousins after his reckoning with his father or whether he has settled back into his trademark aloof brevity.
I think I’ll leave that up to the reader to decide.
Is there a geneology link? I have trouble keeping relationships straight from week to week.
Prince Kord had four sons – Horst, Hermann, Peter, and Dug.
Halvdan is Hermann’s oldest son.
Kord the Narrator is Dug’s youngest son.
No other named characters in this part are blood relations.
Or, you can click Here for a partial family tree.
That is perfect. At beginning of this part, I was thinking Peter was one of the brothers, not the uncle.
I didnt realize Kord Sr was banging his wife’s sister on the side. I thought Helen was just some chick.
It was actually only one tryst.
Dug is the cool one.
I’m reminded of a sci-fi series I’m reading. Great series overall, but the author has changed names and spellings throughout the various books, and I need a mapping to figure out who is who. For example, the president of the “US” (as it exists) has one name at the end of Book 3 and has a completely different name in Book 4, which picks up minutes later.
UCS seems to pay enough attention to detail to avoid such things, but i occasionally feel like I need to get some Hyperbole style yarn chart going to track all of the connections. UCS is very good at dropping a line here or there that shows the connection, though.
I’d recommend never trying to read a biography of Stalin. I need a database to keep track of the unpronounceable names.
Isn’t that just about any Russian history or literature?
How do Russians handle surnames for trannies?
-vx suffix.
Sure it’s not VX nerve gas?
+sarin
Same as you would expect. Using the masculine or feminine version of the last name: Putin vs. Putina, Medvedev vs. Medvedeva. The tricky question is what to do with the patronymic when the dad decides to be a trans woman. The Russian patronymic is derived the father’s first name.
I’d assume if the kids were already born, they keep the original patronymic.
А я считаю русские фамилии совсем произносимыми.
The spam blocker doesn’t seem to like comments completely in Cyrillic.
“Is russian bot!”
Interesting as it let’s all Japanese comments go through OK so far.
Too many Russian bride posts?
Japanese bots have citizenship rights.
I have trouble keeping relationships straight from week to week.
That’s that Kentucky blood, Uncle Grandpa.
Are you claiming that one of your parents was the result of a liason between robc and his mother?
Or are you claiming to be the product of a liason between one of robc’s children and one of his siblings?
Or is it both?
It’s Kentucky, we’re all related.
Thanks again.
I am enjoying this story.
You’re welcome. And I’m glad you enjoy it.
Initial reactions: I love Peter, but given Kord’s general demeanor and insecurity (if that’s a fair characterization of how he feels in relation to his father and uncles,) I can understand why Kord feels uncomfortable with him.
After reading the description of how Gentian treated the tortured man, I rather hope that man appears either later in this story or in another story set in this world. Can’t explain why – just have a feeling he could be an interesting character after his near-death experience and the particular mode of treatment administered by the wizard.
I picture Peter as the sort of guy where, he’s great if you’ve known him long enough to get a sense of when he’s actually serious or not, but without that history, you’re never quite sure if he means what he’s saying, of if it’s supposed to be a joke.
As for the horse-man, well [Spoilers redacted]
I’ve heard centaur porn is a hot market these days.
Centaur-Unicorn crossover porn is even hotter.
In that way, Peter’s rather like my boss of 20+ years. Many other employees (usually lower-ranking ones) find him intimidating, but I figured out pretty quickly that I could joke with him.
Good stuff, UCS.
I’m glad you like it.
Have you read Shadowboy yet?
I haven’t picked up a book in a while (months?).
The last book I read was Black as Knight.
*mumbles about the apocalypse*
When I resume, that’s gonna be the next one.
Then I’ll try going back to the Cryptonomicon.
Awwww, thanks!
I read Cryptonomicon in one weekend. But I was single and for once had no second job (as was my habit back in the day) and barely ate, slept, or pee’d.
You can’t pee and read at the same time?
Proof: Libertarian Women pee standing up.
Heh.
I had a very comfortable chair that I did not want to get out of. I was practically lying in it for most of the weekend. I do not recall taking the book with me to the library.
Wow. Yeah, reading it in one weekend doesn’t leave a heckuva lotta time to do anything else.
I hadn’t read it in about 12-15 years, so started in for vacation back in July and did it in a coupla weeks. Then restarted it.
It gets my vote for best novel ever.
And Amy (after saying “hi” and her name) has THE BEST introductory line of any character in all of literature, but you don’t really get that until you read the book the second time and know everything – “Welcome to Glory.”
To quote USA Hat, ‘I ain’t good at the readin’
I’m afraid I can’t do much to help with that.
Is it the font size?
No, it’s that now that I’m 3rd shift I’m drunk by 9am now. It’s classy.
That word seems jarring. I don’t know it it’s the modernity or the vulgarity.
crap has been in the language since middle english. It’s not modern.
Thomas Crapper was the victim of nominative determinism?
Yes, the poor bastard.
linky
There’s more than one source of the word ‘crap’ Probably because it’s such a simple sound, other words converged on it.
Yeah, I clipped out the part that went into that. the crap-crop relation was specifically relating to Crapper’s name, if it wasn’t clear due to me snipping out the context.
thats a lode of shite
At the time, it also meant chaff.
Are you saying he pulled it out of his ass?
he commodeered it
That entire sentence suggested to me that at some point in his life, UCS has traveled with women.
Well, yes.
But I was more consciously thinking of an episode of “Worst Jobs in History” that talked about the people who had to move Queen Elizabeth I’s Itenerent court from place to place.
Though having a mother, four half sisters, and a number of nieces may have influenced my metnal image too.
Why am I the only one able to pack into a single suitcase?
I’m able to confine myself (or, rather, my clothes) to a single suitcase unless I have something dressy or wrinkle-prone enough to warrant a garment bag. The suitcase is an old leather (and thus soft-sided) one I somehow spirited away from the previous hubby, the Rev. Mr. GT. That suitcase is delightfully crammable.
Everything else goes in various tote bags.
Overnight trip?
Why am I the only one able to pack into a single suitcase?
Because you’re able to turn your underwear inside out and get another week out of it and they aren’t?
that’s an excellent series, his location-based worst jobs series is really good too.
I’m not sure I’ve seen that one. What was the official title?
it was just under worst jobs in history, but the second series was like rural, urban, maritime, etc.
a wiki that catalogs these
Oh, I’ve seen them. I thought there was another one out there by actual geographic area (Worst Siberian Jobs, Worst Welsh jobs…)
Now that’s how you euphemism.
Did it take you this long to read that far?
No, I read everything before commenting, but I’m away from the desk most of the time today.
Time to go scare some contractors about the hazards of entering my lab.
Watch out! HF is gonna getcha! Oooga Booga! CHEMIKALZ!
To be fair, Hydrogen Flouride is a bit nasty.
It makes delicious bread, though.
Very light.
HF and MIC are the two industrial chemicals I fear the most
Sorry to see you can’t get ammo shipped to your door like normal people can.
Me too. Although I’ve found two companies that will do so. Unfortunately, one of them only has $0.80/rd and up hollowpoints, and the other one has nothing.
Fuck… I just had a long and tedious request that is going to trigger a huge and messy project because someone didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.
Other than that, how was your day? (and did you get to read the story?)
Meh. Got a request for a “WE NEEDZ THIS NOW” that when I started looking into it was already done when they originally requested it, so that was good. No chance to sit and read, I had to trace through call flows for a group. Which is where I saw that someone done fucked up the queuing (long complicated story short: instead of expanding the queue to include more people who can answer it, if no one is ready after a while, it sends the call to another queue where it goes to the back of the queue).
Knowing the group that this is for, it’s going to turn into a whole big discussion about queues, and how things are routing, and I’ll be ready to stab out my eardrums by the end of the second hour of meetings to discuss how they want this to “work” going forward.
Oh… and sorry, no chance to read the story.
I’m a terrible person, and should feel bad about that.
*headdesk*
it sends the call to another queue where it goes to the back of the queue
Reminds me of a company that discovered that their high value customer phone number just dropped those calls at the end of the regular queue, instead of either having a dedicated queue or priority into the main one.
One center reported an issue after we converted them to a new system. They said they were getting too many calls. We hadn’t made any changes to their numbers, we just cut them over. Turns out their old system was dumping calls after the queue got “too many calls” in it. That caused a big stink as we started going back through the old reports and checking their actual inbound call volume instead of what they were reporting to the leadership.
I’m sorry Nephilium didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. :-p
Shit… if I had written this script I’d be embarrassed as hell about it. Theoretically, it would be possible for a caller to hold indefinitely, shifting through the queues while other calls are getting answered.
Almost forgot:
But will it keeel?
The keeel test comes later.
Damn, I love that show!
The moment they opened it up for judges to compete, I keep waiting for the episode where Wil and Doug are required to try their hand at the forge.
OT…Tw razorfist
https://youtu.be/tOEGSVwfSeE
At around 4:30sec Hat and Hair get a callout?
And i read the story…may need to reread again from beginning through
https://twitter.com/LibWatchdog/status/1296448315022811136
Well, I guess I like Sean Hannity now.
If anybody deserves that level of ridicule, it’s Stelter.
Is there a more beta move than writing about being called a name and expecting sympathy?
“They called me a big meanie!”
Anything to achieve victimhood
I mean in fairness there’s nothing particularly alpha about calling Cnn’s Eunuch humpty dumpty.
I love the fact that assholes like Stelter can make all sorts of salacious accusations, but yet can’t take it when someone (usually an asshole like Trump or Hannity) gives it to them just as hard.
Sportswriters seem to be mostly the same way.
Does he write about his childhood playground experiences too?
One, that’s amazing. Two, why would Stetler write that in his book?
Because he’s an overweening asshole?
“”Extreme, Ill-Considered Views” – 38 Fed Alum Urge Senate To Reject Judy Shelton Nomination”
https://www.zerohedge.com/markets/extreme-ill-considered-views-38-fed-alum-urge-senate-reject-judy-shelton-nomination
“She has advocated for a return to the gold standard; she has questioned the need for federal deposit insurance; she has even questioned the need for a central bank at all. Now, she appears to have jettisoned all of these positions to argue for subordination of the Fed’s policies to the White House – at least as long as the White House is occupied by a president who agrees with her political views.”
I don’t like the last part but the first part sounds great. Approve this woman immediately.
A heretic in the church may be what we need.
The last part is how it already is. The Fed Board is like the SC: appointed by POTUS, confirmed by Senate. They have, over the last 50 years, appointed the same kind of elitist products of the American liberal consensus that dominate every other institution.
That’s the continual giant fucking con of this decrepit system: that the post WWII policy consensus on all things is to be permanently enshrined as a bedrock principle of the United States, that things like a big and expensive NATO and a constantly inflating currency are intrinsically American, and attacking them is an attack on the country, not as a policy change made by the rightful policymakers: the elected officials.
appoint. appoint. appoint.
So I’m talking to my partner about a Monsters & Mormons part 2. It’s a solid MAYBE.
But do you have any ideas for it?
Me personally? As in a story for the anthology? Naw. I mean, I guess I could continue with Deb and Baby Gator and another issue.
I ask mainly because I have trouble writing a story without an idea first. But thinking about it, I realize this isn’t necessarily an issue for others, who might be able to come up with the idea on the fly.
Well, I came up with Deb on the fly after my partner strongly hinted I should write a story for it and do something different. “But we’re publishing it. That would look weird.” “Yeah, so what. Other people do it.” Well allrightythen. “And Wm [other editor] will edit it since I’m too familiar with your work.”
So…yeah. I wrote that because he wanted me to spread my wings a little.
It’s always good to try writing stuff you don’t normally do.
That reminds me, I need to finish my murder mystery.
That’s what he said. It was kind of an experiment on my part. The guy who actually edited MINE said, “Do something noir-ish.” *turns in something not noir* “Make it more noir.” Um…
The closest I’ve come to Noir is “Omnirunner” (second story in Lucid Blue). Mostly from the narration style.
“Mechbay Murder” is a ‘cozy’ mystery set in the Tarnished Sterling universe.
I liked it. Well done. I almost never share what I write, and you make me want to share, just to see what kind of reaction it gets.
Request: how do you determine the names of your characters? Do you have a system, or do you just wing it?
Well, I determine a language family, and use an internet random name generator to keep throwing names at me until I spot one I like.
That is if I don’t have a meaning I want to use, which usually has me looking at translations for something that might work as a name.
I have to put in a lot of work to come up with them, because it does not come naturally.
Similar to my process.
I have to work at it as well. ‘Nameology’ is a skill that doesn’t come easily for me.
FWIW, as I don’t write scifi/fantasy, I just collect names I find interesting or snappy. For my Prohibition book, I used names that are in what used to be the most prestigious cemetery in town. I also have taken a normal last name, e.g., “Tate”, and spelled it a different way, “Taight.” Sometimes I name bad people after people I don’t like; not necessarily the main villain, but maybe a tertiary villain. They’re not important enough to rate being THE villain.
In my Hamlet book, for Claudius, I used “Fen” (short for Fenimore) because the dude Shakespeare based him on was a Jute chieftain named Feng. Gertrude was referred to as “Aunt Trudy” for most of the book. The Hamlet character I named after Knox* Overstreet from Dead Poet’s Society and a high-end gentleman’s gallery here in town. I named one character after another character in a book I love. I named another character after a woman who worked at Union Pacific (when I was in the railroad business) just because her name was so utterly gorgeous and I couldn’t get over it.
*I explain the plot and the background of the Hamlet character to my brother. He says, “Knox? That sounds like a rich-kid name.” Me: … “I JUST told you he was a rich kid and named after a rich kid playing the prince role in a Shakespearean drama.” Him: “Yeah, but it sounds so pretentious.” Me: *headdesk*
Anyway, my weakness is names that begin with E, G, N, and V and possibly M. I use them ALL the time and if they’re all in a book together, it gets very confusing. I’m trying to kill that habit, but I gravitate to them. I don’t know why.
That reminds me that I have one rule – I actively avoid names that my mind has associated with a person or existing fictional character. Because when writing I won’t see the chracter I’m writing for, but the external association. If I know enough people with a given name (real or fictional), it stops being a problem, so I can use it and see the character I’m writing for.
This causes an issue when I’ve been writing for a character for years and a real person shows up with their name and becomes a coworker.
*that is not my only rule, but it is one rule.
Thanks, Mo. I have mined movie credits for names I find interesting. Or changed names to make them my own. They just need to make sense in my head.
Good stuff, UCS. Since I think I’ve read all the stuff you’ve got out on Amazon, I’m eating these up – love the worlds you’ve created, and want MOAR!
I’m working on it. Prince of the North Tower is approaching completion. On Unknown Shores is about halfway. Shadowfire* has the basic plot idea and an opener. Junior Redemptioners* has a good chunk of content. Zombi Man is well on its way.
*Working Title
Great news! I really do enjoy both worlds, and the bits you’ve dropped here help keep me “plugged in” as it were.
Forgive me for asking again, what is the author’s recommendation for reading order?
“Beyond the Edge of the Map” can be read at any time because it’s not in the same universe.
As for Tarnished Sterling books, I’d recommend publication order – “Shadowboy” – “Shadowdemon” – “Lucid Blue (And other Tales Too)” – “Shadowrealm”
Thanks!
Have read through “Reforger” in LB. Hope to read “Heartstrings” tonight and save “Lucid Blue” itself for the weekend.
Any opinions?
When each short story ends, I find myself wanting more. Any chance some or all of the characters in the first few stories will reappear, maybe in one or the other of the longer works included?
Some of them do reappear in later stories.
Come to think of it, Hephaestus appears in the most stories in that book.
Yup! He just appeared in “Heartstrings.”
where da links?
We haven’t accumulated enough literary dicussion for the lynx to spawn and try to kill it.
On the other side of the rechts?
Late
Has there been a report of a meth lab explosion in Florida?
Oh wait, that wouldn’t be news.
It triggered a chain reaction of exploding meth gators that severed the pennensula, and it slid into the sea.
The Manatee is now extinct.
There was a water spout, was it a meth water spout?
I look forward to the next part.
Next thursday.
I still haven’t started part 2 yet. Saving for a rainy day I suppose, but part 1 was good.