The "Big" Reveal

After two rambly posts hinting at but never really explaining anything about the story that inspired this blog, I think it's time to actually explain what it is I'm up to.

Basically, I really like reading/watching/playing fantasy stories (and science fiction, but that's another post for another time). Thing is, I've noticed that everywhere I look fantasy seems to be about grand adventures and epic wars/quests against some villain. One of my favorite books of all time, the Hobbit, is a quest to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim the riches of Erebor for Thorin and his company from the dragon Smaug. One of my favorite fantasy game series, Fire Emblem, is invariably about a prince/princess/mercenary starting from humble beginnings to lead an army against some antagonist or ancient evil (often both). While this is all well and good (and some of my own ideas fit that mold), I thought I'd try to make something different.

Another inspiration for this direction came from Limyaael's rants about fantasy cliches and tropes. While I never actually communicated with Limyaael, finding a link to her posts was incredibly helpful in coming up with ideas that didn't fit the generic mold of fantasy. The rant on "fantasy without magic" in particular happened to inspire the story I've been working on.

What is this story? Well, as I've seen other writers say: it's really hard to come up with an "elevator pitch" that sounds cool while still showing off what you're doing differently from everyone else. In addition, I'm focusing on a more "personal" rather than world-changing story, which means I have few examples among the generic fantasy pitches.

Of course, I promised I'd explain and so I will: "The Charlatan and the Elf" (working title) is the story of a conwoman "fortuneteller" living in a city based loosely on Renaissance Italian city states. Part of her act is the claim that she is a "half-elf" with mystical elven abilities from her ancestry, which combined with her wisdom to keep away from those who might not believe in such superstition has kept her alive and the money rolling in despite living in the same place for a few years. Unfortunately for her, an actual elf shows up in the city after the (re)discovery of the island nation where they have lived separate from humans for decades. The conwoman has been playing on many of the misconceptions about elves that built up over the years, and rightly suspects that this elf is a major threat to her work. In addition, an officer of the law is on to the conwoman's act and has access to knowledge of elves that could see her reputation destroyed. In an attempt to preserve her reputation and her main source of income, the conwoman recruits the elf to discredit the lawman.

As you may have noticed, the last paragraph had a lot of expostion lines that wouldn't take up nearly as much time to cover in the story itself. Just in chapter one alone (currently being drafted) almost everything in the paragraph above is explained or hinted at. The real story is *how* the conwoman deals with the elf and lawman, which is why this pitch (adapated from my notes) isn't really doing it for me.

An interesting note on the title: Originally, I created it just to have something to name the files of notes and drafts with (there is no such thing as an unnamed file on a Windows computer), but it's starting to grow on me. It looks like a title taken right out of a book of fairy tales, which I find ironic because it crushes in-setting fairy tales. It might eventually be changed, but it's not my top priority now that I realize it could fit the story well.

At this point, I'd like to put out some setting or character information to add some context to the pitch, but I think instead I'll just post my "prewriting stories" (which I'm considering using as preludes to the main story) and let those explain for me. After all, writing about writing is one thing. Actually demonstrating the stories themselves is a lot more effective (and less rambly!)

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The Charlatan and the Elf
Prelude One: The Arbiter

Danito stroked his beard as he examined the man held before him by two watchmen. "You are aware of the gravity of your situation, I assume?"

The man smirked at Danito. "I don't know about gravity, but I do know you always manage to show up at the worst possible time, Sir Arbiter."

Danito ignored the man's sarcasm, knowing better than to let the knave get the better of his emotions. "This is the third time you've been caught stealing in my ward. If you don't change your ways, the punishment will only get more severe."

"Maybe I'd rather be pressed into a ship's crew or thrown in the mines than look at your ugly mug again" the thief retorted, earning him a blow to the back of the head from one of the watchmen. Danito suppressed a sigh at the display of defiance.

"Things will go much more smoothly for you if you give up this life of crime and show respect to officers of the law." Danito reached into one of his pouches and retrieved the stamp that would affix the mark of the criminal onto the thief's flesh. "Felidan, roll up his sleeve and present his arm."

The watchman nodded to his comrade, who took the thief in both hands to prevent any attempt at escape. Once he was secure, the watchman pulled up the sleeve of the thief's ragged shirt, revealing two marks from previous offenses and an odd circlet of faded gemstones. Danito narrowed his eyes at the sight of the circlet, having not seen it the last two times he caught this thief.

"Is this one of your ill-gotten gains?" Danito asked the thief, indicating the circlet.

"Ah, this?" The thief chuckled. "Some girl sold it to me. She called it an elfstone talisman or something like that. Said it would make me luckier. She never mentioned that it would be bad luck!"

Danito furrowed his brow. "Do you remember anything about this girl?"

"Interested in some luck yourself?" The thief smirked. "I wouldn't pay the silver if I were you. But if you're overflowing with coin, ask around for the half-elf. She'll find you if if she thinks you're interested."

Danito made a mental note of the information. He'd have to take a look into this "half-elf". "I'll keep that in mind. Felidan, hold him still."

The thief clenched his fist as Danito stepped forward and pressed the stamp into the inside of his arm. The thief failed to hold back a grunt of pain as the stamp cut into his flesh and a trickle of blood oozed out of the wound. Danito held the stamp down for a few seconds before pulling it out. Once he was certain the mark was deep enough to scar into its final shape he pulled out a small cloth to clean the stamp. "Wipe the blood off and put a fresh bandage on the wound" he ordered the watchman holding the thief's arm.

The man busied himself with cleaning and bandaging the wound as Danito put the stamp away and stared hard into the thief's eyes. "In accordance to the laws of Carista, you have been given your final warning. Your next crime will see you a slave to the city."

"I've seen enough friends get dragged away to know what happens" the thief replied, none of his previous bluster remaining. "I'd bet what little I have left that we'll be going through that drill soon enough at this rate."

"This isn't pleasant to me, man" Danito reminded the thief. "There are ways to live that don't require you to break the law."

The thief snorted. "Yeah, get born to the Prince's family. I'd have done that if I could."

Danito resisted the urge to sigh. "I can't make you change, but I urge you to reconsider your line of work." He looked to the watchmen. "Release him."

* * *

Danito paid little heed to his surroundings as he walked with watchman Felidan back to the watchpost. He was aware of Felidan keeping a few paces behind him and the passerby going about their daily business, but he was deep in thought about the talisman the thief had been wearing. He had seen accessories of similar make worn by other citizens, but had never given much thought to them before. The thief's comment about the talisman granting the wearer luck struck Danito as curious and potentially worth investigating. At best, it would be an interesting discovery as Danito didn't have any strong belief in manipulating luck. At worst, the talismans were the work of a charlatan who would need to be brought to justice.

"Felidan" Danito called, gesturing for the man to come apace with him. The watchman obliged and turned his head to his captain curiously. "I want you to make a few quiet inquiries regarding the 'half-elf' over the next few days. If you learn anything, let me know as soon as possible."

"I'll get on it, sir." Felidan nodded. "Any idea where I should begin?"

"Start in the marketplaces" Danito replied. "If you see anyone wearing jewelry or accessories similar to the circlet the thief was wearing, ask them first."

"Sir." Felidan gave a quick salute. "Should I begin now, or do you still need me?"

Danito considered this for a moment. "Go ahead. I'd like to find out about this supposed half-elf as quickly as possible."

"Sir!" Felidan saluted again before turning and walking down the street to the nearest marketplace.

Danito continued his walk to the watchpost, keeping an eye on the people he passed in search of the talismans that could identify possible sources of information on this half-elf. He was nearly back to the watchpost when he stopped to think about what he knew of elves. According to the folk tales he grew up on, elves were long-lived mystical troublemakers. He was sure there were more reliable historical records of elves and their relations with humans, but he never had a reason to study such records.

With this thought in mind, Danito decided to put off returning to the watchpost and instead began to walk to the Prince's palace. With his rank as Arbiter of the Law, he'd be allowed access into the archives of Carista's history and could request records relating to elves be sent to his watchpost.

The trip went smoothly by Danito's standards. While some parts of the city became crowded and difficult to pass through at this time of day, he made good speed. He asked a few patrolling watchmen and watchwomen for reports on their patrols along the way, and everything seemed to be in order. Reassured that he wasn't needed in the immediate future, Danito presented himself at the entrance of the Prince's palace and was admitted upon showing his signet ring.

Once inside the palace, Danito made his way to the archives immediately. Just inside the door a scholar in the Prince's employ sat at a desk covered with scrolls, writing notes into a book as he read. The man looked up as Danito entered, narrowing his eyes as he approached.

"What brings an Arbiter of the Law so far from his ward?" questioned the man, a hint of disrespect in his tone.

"I may need to borrow some historical records" Danito replied as politely as he could manage. "Someone in my ward is claiming to be a half-elf, and I'll need to know as much as I can about elven history to determine if this citizen is honest or a criminal."

The scholar raised his brow. "Elven history? Carista hasn't had any contact with elves for decades."

Danito frowned. "Then perhaps this citizen is little more than a charlatan. However, if you could send any information regarding elves to my watchpost, I'll be able to clear up this matter more quickly."

"I'm very busy organizing a biography of the Prince's mother, but if I find anything I'll send a messenger to you." The scholar lowered his head back to his book.

Danito nodded, ignoring the manner in which he was dismissed. "Thank you. I'll leave you to your work." This said, Danito turned and left the archives. After exiting the palace, he made his way back to his watchpost. The trip went smoothly, with none of his watchmen needing any assistance along the way. His work with the thief complete and the investigation on the half-elf begun, Danito sat down at his desk in the watchpost and began drafting his monthly report to the Seneschal.

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The Charlatan and the Elf
Prelude Two: The Baker

Flour, salt, butter, water...

Effie sighed as she collected the ingredients for her pie crust, sidestepping around the other servants in the kitchen and trying to ignore their complaints once they noticed that their ingediants had been snatched up. For such a well-stocked castle, it was awfully hard to keep everyone supplied in the kitchen. Effie knew that the others would find someone else's ingredients unattended soon enough, so she never bothered to ask if they still needed them.

Flour in the bowl, mix in the salt, melt the butter and combine, pour the water...

Effie growled to herself in a quiet voice as she realized her water pitcher was gone. She grabbed one from a nearby table and went back to work. Just once she'd like to finish using her ingredients before they disappeared.

Mix the dough, roll it out, place it in the mold...

The pie crust dough ready, Effie looked around to find an empty oven. She set her eyes on one and carried the dough in its mold over, pushing past a number of bakers only to be intercepted by another baker sliding in a batch of pastries.

Frowning and muttering to herself about how this was a waste of time, Effie turned around and examined the crowded kitchen in search of another empty oven. Not believing that they were all full, Effie started to push her way through the crowd of bakers to each one, checking it before moving to the next one.

Certain that they were all full, Effie resigned herself to making another pie crust to keep busy. She set the old dough to the side of her table and began collecting ingredients for the next one.

Somewhere between snatching a bag of flour and looking for a pouch of salt, the thin overseer approached Effie and stared her down. "Why do you have dough just sitting, unbaked, on your table?" asked the overseer with her "disappointed" voice.

Effie felt her heart beat faster, knowing that she was in trouble and angry because it wasn't her fault. "All the ovens were full, so I thought I'd make another set of dough while I waited."

The overseer wasn't moved by the excuse. She frowned at Effie and pointed to an oven that Effie noted was empty. "What about that one? Are you too good to have your dough baked by it?"

Barely holding her anger in check, Effie quietly said "It was still full when I last checked it."

"If you say so" replied the overseer, with no indication she believed Effie. "I still expect all three pies done by the end of the hour. You wouldn't want to be the one who kept the King's court from their dessert."

Effie restrained herself from trying to make a snappy comeback as the overseer turned and walked away, another unfortunate baker in her sights. She felt the heat of her pent up rage in her cheeks, which caused her to keep her head down as she raced back to her first pie crust dough to get it in the oven.

* * *

Once her work in the kitchens was done for the day, Effie scurried off to her room as quickly as elvenly possible. Still upset over the overseer's reprimand, Effie pulled her storybook from under the cot she called her bed and opened it to a random page.

The stories were written in a language foreign to her homeland of Kilshan, though Effie didn't mind. The castle archivist who had lent her the book taught her a great deal of the language over the past few months, and Effie felt like she could carry on a decent conversation in the language if anyone else knew how to speak it.

Effie began to read the story she had opened to, mouthing the words quietly as she read to keep the pronounciation straight in her mind. She enjoyed the foreign sounds of the names in her storybook, with places called Carista and people named Rafio. They sounded so elegent compared to names like Kilshan and Effiag.

Effie was fascinated with the tales surrounding this place called Carista, which at one point was said to have a Queen that ruled for seventy years. Most elves were lucky to see the age of fourty, and thus Effie wondered at what the people of Carista did during their long years.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hallway of the servants' quarters, Effie tucked the book under her bed and pretended to have been lying down from exhaustion. There was a knock at the door, but no attempts to open the door, which suggested it wasn't the overseer or one of the guards. Effie stood up and walked over to open the door, curious who came to see her.

A middle-aged man with a forlorn expression on his face looked up as the door opened, trying but failing to flash a smile. "Effiag! It's been too long."

Effie smiled at the recognition of her father, but the expression on his face worried her. "Father!" She hugged him and invited him in before shutting the door. "What brings you here? I'm sure plenty of people are missing your pies back home."

Frowning even more deeply than before, Effie's father averted his gaze. "Your mother took ill a few weeks ago..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "She died of the fever earlier this week."

Effie felt a weight settling on her chest, and it took her a moment to respond. "How? How did she get sick?"

"There was a plague in our village last month, and she felt the fever near the end of the disaster" her father explained.

"Did... who else died?" Effied asked, certain she didn't want to know the answer.

Her father lowered his head, seemingly contemplating whether to answer. He looked up slowly with his response. "Morag died as well."

Hearing that her childhood friend had died, Effie shook her head and tried to ignore the crushing feeling in her chest. She grabbed her ears and pulled at them, turning away from her father so he wouldn't have to see her face if she couldn't hold back her tears.

"I'm sorry, Effiag." Effie felt her father's hand on her shoulder. "I thought you should know..."

"I... need some time alone." Effie responded after a moment.

"I understand." Effie heard her father leave the room and close the door slowly behind him, and she felt the weight on her chest grow heavier with each footstep she heard echo back.

Alone once more, Effie hurried to her bed and pulled her storybook out from underneath it. Book in hand, she grabbed her cloak and ran out of the castle through a servant's exit. She came upon a hill that she would retreat to when she wanted to be alone and curled up on the far side from the castle, opening her book again to the stories of Carista as the sun set behind her.