Fidelyon: ‘J’ with Ethaniel…ahem, Jagger

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

 

Hello, everyone. Jagger here. Ethaniel told me he was doing these post thingys and that he planned to write about me. I told him he’d do no such thing, so now I’m stuck writing about myself…which was my original grand plan, of course.

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I am – or I was, a jester’s apprentice. Besides the awful clothes, the job wasn’t half bad. Juggling is cool enough, as is playing with fire. And one can always get a little extra food by entertaining the maids or serving boys. My preferred choice of occupation is swordsmanship though. And my preferred method of swordsmanship is to fight with twin blades. Double the damage and besides it looks cool. Most who see me fighting say I should be a soldier. I think not. A ranger like my father and uncle, maybe, but not a soldier.

Here are two likenesses someone got somehow. Don’t ask me. They aren’t perfect, though the second one is decent. And I love the clothes…

Why am I living in the palace with my uncle, the jester, and where is my family, you may ask? Quite frankly, you don’t need to know. All that need be said is that I’ve sworn vengeance on the Volandums for the suffering they have caused. But…yes. Moving on.

When I first saw Ethaniel stumble into the courtyard, dusty and with no idea where he was going, I’d no clue I’d have to save him from an assassination attempt later that very day or that we’d be off on a wild race into the depths of legend. I’m still not sure I believe all of it, but my eyes keep telling me so, so I suppose it is true.

Ethaniel is a good friend, whatever he may say or claim. Since – well since two years ago, and the burning of my village and the debasing of my family name, I’ve received pity but not much friendship. Who wants to be the friend of the coward’s son anyway? Ethaniel was never like that. Not that he had much of a choice about whether I was with him or not, but…yes. He’s a good friend. And I’m a good friend to him if I say so myself.

 

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Fidelyon: ‘I’ with Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

Isen claims his position as my ‘I’ word. Not that I’d argue with him about that (or anything else, frankly. He can be quite stubborn). A messenger captain at Outpost Eight, he’s been around for as long as I can remember. Always he has a cheerful word or some random historical fact to share. He also so happens to be the father of Drexin, my best friend, and fellow messenger. And yes, I am sure that Isen’s friendship with me has nothing to do with my own reports about his son’s adventures, skills, scrapes, and determination to travel.

Though not allowed to operate directly under family members, Drexin does see his father quite often. Isen’s wife and daughter live several hours further away in Almathea, but they all meet regularly and, as often as not, I join their family parties.

 

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Fidelyon: ‘H’ With Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

 

I have two friends whose names start with H.

The first is more of an acquaintance since I’ve yet to get to know him better…something I do hope to do one of these days. His name is Haytham and he is one of Elentisa’s oldest councilmen. Don’t for a moment think that ‘oldest’ signifies decrepit in any way. His grip still makes my arm hurt and he claims to be as strong in battle as any younger man. Do I believe him? Yes, I do.

The name of my other friend is Hilith. Originally a guard in the king’s castle, he was one of the first men Ard recruited while assembling a new Kingsguard. Of course, Hilith grumbles about the hours he’s made to stand in the cold or the late nights on guard, but he enjoys the position and always has a ready quip and flashing smile for every occasion.

 

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Fidelyon: ‘F’ with Ethaniel

‘F’ with Ethaniel:

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

This is the letter you’ve all been waiting for, isn’t it? Admit it, you want to know what Fidelyon means. And if you don’t, then I’m going to tell you anyway. Well, as much of it as I know anyway, which frankly isn’t as much as I’d like to know.

Fidelyon is the word emblazoned on the Shield of the Prince. Gold letters on green in the ancient language…it looks pretty cool. As for its meaning, as far as I can understand, it stands for ‘a faith that gives all’. That seems clear enough, but I’ve a feeling there’s something more, or that the word ‘fidelyon’ is part of a clue.

You see, in the prophecy about the shield and the spear and the clash, there’s a line that talks about discovering the riddle of the nameless shield. Since it bears the word ‘fidelyon’, I’m assuming that ‘fidelyon’ has something to do with the riddle…whatever the riddle exactly it. I guess that’s why it’s a riddle, because if I knew it then there wouldn’t be much glory in solving it. Still, the shield could give me some help.

For now I’m waiting, hoping that something will happen to reveal the meaning. Until then, let us all keep the faith with fidelyon.

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Fidelyon: ‘E’ with Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

So, I didn’t want to do this…there are plenty of things in this world which begin with ‘E’, like my home country of Elentisa, divided as it is into twelve provinces, or Erathrane Forest, with its dark legends of an Archeress who guards its depth’s with a silver bow, but no… *sighs* Hope says I should talk about myself, Ethaniel.

So here I am. *bows*

How they get these…photos, they call them, I’m not sure. But I guess it’s a good enough likeness if my friends are to be believed.

Don’t ask about the clothes in these pictures. They are…I’ve never seen them before.

And that…that is a picture that is not only colored but it moving. Hope says you like that sort of thing.

What, pictures aren’t enough? I’m supposed to talk about myself?

If you insist.

My home is Outpost 7, where Ard is Captain. Seeing as he’s the one who rescued me when I was only three from a Volandum raid, and raised me when no one knew who my family was, it was only natural that I should become a messenger. But I enjoy the work, for the most part. Three leagues in two hours; life could be worse. And with no family, this occupation is a good one. Still, I’m 19 now and may one day join a border outpost or even become a ranger. I’ve not spoken to it with Ard yet, but I think he suspects. I suppose we shall see.

And no, Hope, I’m not telling them about the dreams and nightmares; why would they care about that?

Anyway, I guess…Oh yes, there’s this personality typing thing that Hope likes. I don’t understand it, but these pictures she’s found do describe me, so enjoy them, if they interest you at all for some reason.

And…that’s it. I’m done. If you really want to know about me more for some reason, you can read Fidelyon whenever Hope gets that account done.

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Fidelyon: ‘D’ with Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

There is only one obvious word to go with ‘D’…Drexin, of course. One of my best friends, Drexin and I ran messages from the same outpost for over four years together. Under Ard’s observation we learned swordsmanship and all manner of fighting techniques, both with and without weapons. Away from Ard’s sharp gaze, we sometimes fell into all manner of mischief. Generally it was Drexin’s fault, whatever he may claim, but together we always worked our way back out again. Normally without anyone being the wiser.

drexin

Drexin (picture from Pinterest)

Drexin comes from a long line of messengers, and his father runs a nearby outpost while his mother and sister live in Almathea. But Drexin himself is determined to travel and explore…in both Elentisa and Voland if possible. Right now he has his eyes set on being a merchant and occasionally interrogates Cedric on what business entails. But that won’t be until after the war, if we’re not able to talk him out of it. Until then, he’s managed to get himself a position as a Kingsguard where at least I can keep an occasional eye on him.

 

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New Fantasy Times: Musings of a Minion

Musings of a Minion

Heroes have overwhelming expectations placed upon them, and villains are pressed into stereotypes, but the one character who no one seems to expect much of are the minions. They work hard too, and they’d appreciate some recognition as this anonymous letter from a minion, delivered by Kirin testifies.

To whom it may or may not concern,

Everyone has a trade or craft or position of some sort, from smiths and bakers, to farmers and soldiers, to architects and sailors. I so happened to choose the path of a minion. Not, of course, that you should ever, ever, use that term. It’s a great inside joke, but do you know how demeaning it is when someone address us as a mere minion of some great leader? No? Well, try it sometime to our face and just you wait. You’ll be sorry.

Because honestly, face it, you use the term minion as if it is degrading. As if we are less than the one we serve, less than other people, and sometimes less than human. Is a soldier in the army treated as less than a person just because he’s under a great general? We are people, same as anyone else. We’ve loyalties, duties, likes, dislikes, families…we aren’t some brainwashed mass who does a villain’s bidding. I’d best add here that villain is just another term bandied about. To us, he is our employer. Perhaps a master. Perhaps a friend. Yes, there are some who might serve him out of fear, but then he’s little more than a slave driver. Generally ‘minions’ work because they choose to for money or for other rewards.

We might have ambitions to become like him someday, or we might just be working to put food on the table, but either way where do you think he’d be without others like us? No one, hero or villain, can do everything. So they hire helpers and others volunteer for the job. You don’t see the people helping heroes called minions, do you?

Though, frankly, the gross underestimation that generally comes with the term ‘minion’ does help us out quite a bit. I mean, how do you think we got our jobs? By shooting at a target and the one who hits the least gets promoted? We work to earn our way. If we deal in security, then we are at least a notch above the average shot or swordsman. If we work indoors, we are constantly on the alert. Our rise and fall is intimately connected to that of our employer (do you know how hard it is to find a job after working for someone termed ‘villain’?). This is also the reason a good villain will hire his helpers, not enslave them. But we aren’t just going to look the other way or fall asleep while guarding prisoners (there are severe penalties for that anyway) or (generally) accept bribes. Well, I take that back. It depends on the quality of our employer and what we think the long-term damage will be and how it affects us. The best course of action is to acquire the bribe then go to our employer. Hey, you don’t expect us to act honorably anyway. Why should we?

One thing we don’t do is fight among ourselves. There is a certain code among us, which we all follow for our own good. Sometimes, I admit, some man or woman gets ambitious, but such uprisings are generally put down from the top. Because no house will succeed when ripped apart from the middle. Now there is one exception. If faced with ‘minions’ from a different villain, insults and then blows might fly. But who can blame us? The others are generally insufferable.

We come from all walks of life and for all kinds of reasons. Adventure. Love. Revenge. The need to provide for a family. The experience. If we fail, there are standard punishments like anywhere else. If we betray, we die. But if we work hard and use our skills, we are able to obtain a view from the shadows that very few can see.

Remaining nameless to protect myself,

A Sharpshooting ‘Minion’

 

Have any questions, legends, or trending cliches you’d like Kirin Quillblade (or Elena) to address? Please comment below; he promises to at least read what you have to say between his realm leaper’s missions, even if he holds the rights to choose what to write about and what to ignore.

 

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Fidelyon: ‘C’ Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

I have two names which begin with ‘C’ for you today.

The first is Calexa. Of the twelve provinces of Elentisa, each with a capital the same name of the province, Calexa is the largest of them all. The fifth major port city along the Elentisaren coast, the city of Calexa is a center of trade and bustles with craftsmen of all sorts. The people tend to be talkative and merry, or so I’ve heard. I was only there once, briefly, in the middle of winter and in the middle of war. No one was merry and there was very little speaking.

Cedric is the other name that begins with C. The Councilman of Ryth, Cedric is also a merchant and savvy businessman. Brother to Anthedon, also a Councilman, the two have been a great help in the war against Voland. In private, they argue almost constantly, balancing Cedric’s occasional rashness with Anthedon’s cautious planning until they are sure they have hammered out the best plan possible. In public, they show an undivided front.

A father of two daughters, Cedric longs for home life but is dedicated to the wellbeing of his country, no matter the cost.

Unrelated to these ‘C’ words, Hope bids me inform you all that beta reading sign-ups for Fidelyon will open tomorrow! So keep your eyes open for that extra post if, you know…you’re interested in me and my story for some reason.

 

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Fidelyon: ‘B’ with Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names. Be is a short one…

Blue and silver! No, using a color isn’t cheating, at least that is what I was told. Blue and silver are the royal colors here in Elentisa. You find them ever where. The walls of Almathea. The silver gold and sapphire studded crown. The silver and blue royal cloak. The sapphires embedded in the hilt of the Sword of Kings or in the rim of the Prince’s horn. The livery of the soldiers and the even richer armor of the Kingsguards. They are royal colors and they are beautiful colors as well.

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Fidelyon: ‘A’ with Ethaniel

Ethaniel, the main character in my novel, Fidelyon, has taken it upon himself to introduce you to his world by going through an alphabet of terms and names.

There’s plenty of words here in Elentisa which begin with A, but two stand out.

Firstly, there’s Almathea, our great capital. Based on the banks of the Shimilver River, Almathea is ringed with great walls which appear blueish from a distance, but up close they also reveal specks and lines of silver.

It’s a bustling city, with trading sectors, a wide open forum for daily markets, Sanctuaries of the Prince, the quieter twisting streets of the living sectors… Smoke hangs in the air, along with the scene of flowers and ripening fruit. The splash of fountains slip through the shouts of messengers and vendors, and water pours along the gutters at least once a day, keeping the city clean.

Overshadowing Almathea’s eastern walls looms the castle bluff where the king lives. Bad news if the castle is ever taken while the city still holds out against an enemy. Still, all in all, it’s an ideal city. Of course, Almathea is the only great city I’ve been to, but Ard has been to many cities, or so he claims. And even he grudgingly agrees that Almathea is one of the the cleanest, liveliest city in Elentisa.

Ard, of course, is the other ‘A’. He rescued me from a village destroyed by Volandum raiders when I was very young and raised me even while he ran a messenger outpost. There was never any question of what I’d become. I was one of the youngest runners on the force, and in my spare time Ard’s teaching was detailed, with an intensity it took me years to understand. The swordplay I caught on to well enough. The books and rules of governing…less so. What would a messenger need with such information anyway?

Firm, sometimes stern, yet always with a ready laugh, Ard was always there. Watchful. With an air of expectant waiting. I knew he harbored secrets, and he never denied it. What I didn’t know was how deep those secrets ran. And how closely they concerned me.

 

 

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