20 April 2023

Well… there’s definitely issues here. The general vibe almost makes it feel like I’m pro-dictatorship and anti-democracy, which is not how I feel. So I’ll need to come up with another way to bring up Ferghus, and another way for Roland to start thinking how ill-prepared they are to defend themselves from the Conqueror and other, similar threats.

“And who would helm this coalition, then?” Roland demanded. “You? One of the other monarchs? Perhaps that princeling you dragged in out of the ocean? No, we will not leave ourselves vulnerable to some arrogant bastard declaring themselves our king or queen.”

“And what if you picked one of your own?” Moira leaned back against the table, arms folded. “Appointed them as your leader, even if only temporarily?”

Roland kept pacing. “And once we gave them that power, do you think they’d give it up? No! No, they would not.”

With a sigh, Moira pinched the bridge of her nose. “So you refuse the slightest risk of a monarch of any sort taking power.”

“We’ve managed without so far.”

“And what will your people do then, when a real dragon appears? When some foreign king or queen arrives in a storm of scale and claw and fang? When the Black Conqueror herself lands on your shores? Who will defend you? The living statue of a dragon holed up under the city?”

Living statue? What did Moira mean by that? Charles pulled away from the door and shot a questioning look at Arylwen. She shrugged; apparently she didn’t know what her mom meant, either. Charles grabbed her hand and said, “Let’s go find Bethany.”

Arylwen scrunched her nose. “Why her?”

“She’s from this city; he dad’s even on the Council, right? I bet she knows.”

Despite her scowl, Arylwen nodded. 

They found Bethany moping quietly in the grand library. [AN: I guess they rejected her earlier or something?] Arylwen sulked off to the side while Charles walked up to her. “Um. Hey, Bethany.”

Bethany jumped a bit, then hurriedly tried to wipe the tears from her face. “U-um, h-hi, Charles! What brings you here?”

Charles hemmed and hawed for a bit, and then finally asked, “Do you know anything about a living dragon statue under the city?”

Bethany blinked a few times. “Do you mean [Ferghus]?”

Both Charles and Arylwen cocked their heads.

“You know, Ferghus? The old king who set up the Council two hundred years ago? He’s not actually a statue, but he’s really, really old, and dowsn’t really move much any more.”

Arylwen’s eyes lit up. “How big is he?”

“Huge! I saw him once; he must have been as big as the whole palace!”

When he saw the smile that spread across Arylwen’s face, Charles’ stomach dropped. He’d seen that smile often enough to know it was never good news.

Sure enough, a moment later, Arylwen announced, “Let’s go see him! You can take us there, right?”

18 April 2023

This would take place in book 3 of the Majesty trilogy, assuming I get that far, after Charles and Arylwen are already married, and rulers in their own right. Shenanigans happen, and Arylwen needs to get help from the dragons. It occurred to me, before I wrote this, that my “realm of dragons” could be the Underworld/afterlife, and that opened a ton of possibilities I wanted to play with. Also, I like the idea of this section just for Arylwen showing up and being all different kinds of badass. Don’t really see that here, but I’ll get around to showing it off someday.

Also, so many names are in brackets because I haven’t settled on them yet. They’re liable to change; the country of Baldren, in particular, is highly likely to be named something else in the near future.

The stuffy silver dragon looked down his nose at Arylwen. “And will anyone vouch for Miss Arylwen to speak before the High Council?”

There was a rumble, and a massive dragon covered in stone shifted. “I will.”

It took a second, but Arylwen recognized old [Ferghus] from her time in [Baldren]; it was good to see the old coot again.

Then, from the back of the room, a female voice called out, “I, too, vouch for her.”

Arylwen’s blood froze, and she turned to see an all-too-familiar figure in deep black armor. [Agthere] still bore the wound in her chest where Charles had killed her a decade and a half earlier. If anything, she seemed to wear it with pride.

Arylwen’s first response was to lay into the conqueror with her claws, but even if [Agthere] weren’t one of the only people sticking up for her, Arylwen got the distinct impression most of the Council would frown at such a blatantly violent display. With some deep breaths, she barely managed to keep herself contained.

She couldn’t help feeling unnerved, though; she and Charles were among [Agthere’s] most ardent foes in the past, and had ultimately been the ones to kill her. So why was [Agthere] helping them now?

11 April 2023

this was a very good day for figuring out what the plot of Majesty book 1 will be. I needed an antagonist, in particular one that would be defeated by kids without removing the threat the Conqueror herself imposed. And combined with the theme with Charles and courage, I decided on a coward.

I’d actually initially named him Richard—as an ironic twist, from Richard the Lion-Hearted—but it just really did not fit. So he’d Roland for now. there’s a lot that’s shifted even in the couple days since I wrote this; their country no longer has a sovereign, but is, in fact, just ruled by this Council he’s a key member of. A lot of political finagling. It’s also unclear how much his motivations will actually be motivated by fear of the Conqueror, and how much will be tied to the Pirate King (both fear and rage, based on the reveals towards the end, depending on how close he was to his brother-in-law, or how devastated his sister was at her husband’s death).

I drop Roland into a large jungle setting, where the plants are ridiculously oversized, in order to make him feel small. As his eyes dart this way and that, trying to figure out where he is, I study him. He is tall; possibly even matching my own 6’2”, though I’d guess he’s closer to six foot even. He’s skinny, though; there’s so little meat on his arms I wonder for half a second if he’s ever lifted anything heavier than a pen.

No, that’s not quite right. He’s fit enough; it’s just masked by his flowing robes. What is his position, anyway? Is he a Denethor? The similarities are quite uncanny… Hopefully, he’ll prove a little more competent, however. And less crazy.

Finally, I emerge into the light in front of him. “Goodman Roland, I presume?”

He starts, then nodes, somewhat relieved to see another person here. “I am. I… am afraid you have a distinct advantage over me. May I ask your name, sir?”

“Cloud will do.” I wave my hand, and the foliage rearranges itself to create us chairs, or something similar. “Please, take a seat.”

Roland mostly manages to mask his unease; I’m honestly a little impressed. Once he’s settled, I ask, “Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?”

He seems confused. “Is there something in particular you wish to know?”

I shrug. “Anything will do. What is your position? How did you come by it? Do you have any family?Anything you think to be of note.”

Roland nodded, then mused quietly to himself. “I suspect you are already aware of this, but I am head of the Council, the governing body for our kingdom in our queen’s absence.”

I make a not of that. “And forgive me, but where is your queen? I am not from the area. She has not turned dragon has she?”

“Not to our knowledge, no.” He gave me a polite smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “After the Conqueror invaded her sister’s realm, she headed to the southlands to seek allies. She believes it is only a matter of time before the warlord extends her reach beyond the sea.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you disagree?”

He shrugged. “It would be incredibly costly. If the Conqueror is not provoked, what reason would she have to take the risk to come here?”

I keep silent. Clearly, he judges the Conqueror by is own values, rather than acknowledging the evidence that shows how different hers are, Instead, I ask, “Any news of the queen’s sister? She was a queen in her own right, no?”

Roland nodded. “Married to the king of those lands. Before the Conqueror came, anyway. Alas, multiple eyewitnesses confirmed both the king and queen perished at her hand.”

“And the prince? They had a son, Elliott, did they not?”

Roland pauses, and when he answers, he is a lot more cautious with his words. “I can’t say that I’ve heard one way or another. Rumors persist that he miraculously survived, but… Even should such reports prove accurate, it would be best for everyone involved were he to stay hidden.”

Once again I raise an eyebrow. “You believe his presence could be the spark that draws the Conqueror here?”

Roland pursed his lips, but the silence itself spoke volumes. I nod and make a quick note. I consider asking what he’ll do if Elliott does arrive, seeking refuge, but as fun as it might be to challenge Roland on his cowardice, that is not the point of today.

Once I finish, I ask, “Alright then. Do you have any family? Wife, children?”

Roland offers a wry smile and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I’m all but married to my job; I’ve little time for such matters.” His face softens. “I do visit my sister and her two children when I can, however.”

“Oh?” A genuine smile begins to form on my face. It’s nice to see him legitimately happy about something, no matter what he’s done or might do later in the story.

“A niece and a nephew. The older one is nearly twelve; the other just turned eight this past month.”

“And their father?”

Roland’s smile vanished. “A sailor. He died when the Pirate King targeted his ship some eighteen months ago.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “Such is life. He left them enough that they get by, and I help out where I can. Life is full of little sorrows like that.”