First Three Months:
So I'm a bit behind again. I was out most of yesterday and I really just wasn't in the mood to be writing. Of course, I'm happen to be working on simultaneous projects which makes this entire escapade interesting.
A Nefarious and Evil Tale will be finished this month, but because it will get done prior to my 50K goal, I need to be working on something else too and that something else is the brand new
WIP I've tentatively titled
Prince of Lies.
An excerpt :
>It didn’t take long to settle into a routine. I avoided my father, my brothers attempted to coerce me into playing nice and I…I snuck out at night down the jutting stonework just outside my windows and into the town. I had a reputation to build after all.
At first I spent my time in the seedier districts of Cashe. I was an unknown element on those streets. I became less unknown very quickly. I went by Declan, dressed as flamboyantly as possible and pretended to drink too much.
I met a great deal of interesting people.
My current establishment of choice was on the less seedy side of seedy and tended to have prostitutes that did not appear to be dying of an illness I could catch. That did not mean I went for them, I wasn’t interested in paying for sex. If I wanted to I could go into a nicer district and seduce someone.
Which was probably more trouble than it was worth. At the moment I was content with my own imagination and making lurid remarks aimed at the wait-staff. It was all in good fun though, and Sheila didn’t mind too much because I kept my hands to myself.
The other reason for choosing The Goblin was its proclivity for attracting a certain level of violence. I was starting to find that beating the tar out of a few strangers every other evening allowed me to be less irritable around my family. My brothers thought I was beginning to settle in.
That was for the best really.
“Declan, dear, you want another pint?” Sheila asked with a grin and a tray balanced with practiced ease on her arm and shoulder.
I grinned, “I would, thank you dear.”
She pulled one off the tray and set it down, taking the empty jug in front of me away. “You’re stirring for a fight, aren’t you?”
“Me? What gave you that idea?”
“You wore that damn hat again. It always starts a fight.”
The hat question was foppish to the point of insanity. I couldn’t actually see through the feathers that flopped about when I walked, but the entire point was its ridiculousness. Every time I wore it someone started a fight with me. It made people think I was an easy target.
I proved them wrong.
“I love this hat,” I protested. “It attracts the ladies you know.”
She gave me a look I was fairly certain mother’s give their sons when they know they’ve done something wrong. “One day you’re going to bite off more than you can chew.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
One day…more like one night, and it was almost that night. You should never dive into a fight before ascertaining how many other people will join in on the side of the opposing party. My journey back to the palace was delayed on account of that. And it is much harder to climb up brickwork when your arm is broken.
I managed it, climbed into my room biting down on my lip to prevent screams—and drawing blood at the same time. I was attempting to come up with a story to explain all of this when I heard a sound.
A scuff of feet on stone floor.
“Hello Doyle.”
“Liam, what have you done to yourself?”
“If I told you I fell out the window, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“I fell out the window.”
His eyes narrowed and I had a feeling that if I hadn’t have been legitimately injured, he would have become physically violent. “What happened?”
“I got into a fight.”
“Elaborate. You don’t see the physician until I’m satisfied.”
“Very well. It all started when this man insulted my hat…
“Are you wearing a peacock on your head?” A man grunted at me from somewhere to my left. I peeked up at him momentarily. Large, burly, the sort to be offended by a foppish hat of this extreme nature.
“I’ll have you know,” I hiccupped, “that women adore this hat.” Wanted to wear it even. Then, I was fairly certain it might in fact be a woman’s hat. Ah well.
“And you should know, that I don’t want to have to look at while I drink!” The man swiped at the hat. I dodged him by falling off of my chair in what was obviously a devious maneuver and not the result of alcohol I’d consumed up to that point.
The fight would have gone in my favor, if it hadn’t been for the rest of the Masonry Guild having chosen that night to drink at the Goblin. Masonry workers are very well muscled, it should be noted, and despite my skills, I was not a match for a dozen burly men while partially inebriated and wearing an overly decorated hat.
I wasn’t sure what had happened to that hat.
