D.W. Wilkin's Blog, page 357

The Fastest Love on Earth 1st Hundred Pages

Here we are just a few days into the novel and have reached 100 pages.

This it is time for an update.

The Fastest Love on Earth comes from an observation that on the opening day of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway where the first 2 chapters of the books are concerned, George Stephenson became the Fastest Man on Earth as he rushed his train towards Manchester.

As the beginning of the novel is concerned with this and our couple meet in this sequence, we have our title of the novel now at 30,150 words

For February we are at 125000 words and this is the last week of writing for February.

I also have started to write a weekly blog for GameDecider.com It is called Which Way Should I Go

As usual, at every hundred pages, the first part of a chapter

1) Nothing can go so fast

"There is Stafford. He has as many shares as you, I have heard." Sir Horatio Fawkes said. He was of average height and a little heavyset, filling every stitch of his clothes. So well that they were close to bursting at the seams. He shivered in the warm Liverpool air as one of the big engines rumbled.

His companion Kevin, rail thin and taller than the first by some three inches, shook his head, covered with dark hair showing just three or four streaks of gray. Kevin did not like George Granville Leveson-Gower who his friend had pointed out. Perhaps the richest man in the world. He surely thought that clearing his estates of the poor was just, but Kevin could not see it. The man had wanted the poor off of his estates and would make the land better for his pocket later. Ten years ago and he had become even more wealthy because he had a compliant parliament support him.

"He had as many shares as I had, a thousand at the inception. I have more now for he has turned his interest to other things. It allowed me to acquire more, I am told by my man of business. Ah, the Prime Minister is come. You can hear the band begin. That Wellington is here is Stafford's doing, or Lady Stafford. They are great friends and Arthur would not listen to me. He thought this event momentous for the entire nation and schedules were changed and set so this spectacle could be created."

Horatio laughed, "They may be great friends but you are on a first name basis with him."

"The war. Fifteen years already, but that bond will not depart."

"You were young then, though." Horatio said reminding Kevin of that time.

"Four years, damn dumbest thing to abuse my power so and go to war. Father was dead two years and mother thought she would scare me from doing my duty. I was sixteen and what did I know. Cannon shot and bullets changed my mind very quickly." Kevin shivered at the memory.

"If I had known you then I would have told you that you were being foolish. Too many died during that war, or lost a limb." Kevin shivered again at Horatio's statement. Too well was he aware of that. By eighteen he was a Captain because of those who had been shot or died, and because he could well afford it. He was offered higher rank but knew that he did not have the skills or qualities to anything higher. It was one reason he had Wellington's respect. The other that he was a peer. The seventh earl of Dorchester.

And rich. Wellington was become a politician and he knew that Stafford's money as well as his own would see the growth of the nation. And he new king was all for supporting that. William IV and Kevin got along well enough too. Kevin would have to say that he met a few of the FitzClarence sons and enjoyed their company if briefly. The sons lived much more quietly than their father had. Much more frugally even though their father was now king.

One though could only spend as much money as Parliament allowed. Terrible, but then everyone should live within their means. That tenet would always hold true and made for good living. Kevin had a young brother who had trouble with that concept even on two thousand a year. Bartholomew who was an hour later than Kevin had asked him to come, but then it might have been wise to be late. Things were still not ready and with just a few minutes until they were supposed to start he was not sure that they would be on time. Kevin thought the idea of a pass in review when they reached Parkside and take on water and coal foolishness. They should show the trains here and look at them, then get aboard the one and see how fast they could travel. 17 miles each and every hour. How could one imagine such speed.

Surely a horse could go twice as fast for a few hundred yards. A mile perhaps, but then it would tire. The metal beast never did. It was a good investment. And he did not increase the size of his holding to do better than Stafford, but to do well for himself and the support he might need for Barthlomew and his sisters. There were two, and one well married. The youngest though, a child of their mother's second marriage, was due to come out in society and he was determined that Kate would have a good showing of it. Margaret had married Viscount Conway and had three children. The son would be the heir after Bartholomew of his Earldom also. The boy was a lad of seven. Michael Parker Lennox.

"Yes, I am sure you would have talked me from my folly, but it made a man of me. At least man enough that I am proud most days of my actions. Today should be well, for this is an achievement despite all the hullabaloo. I may sell my shares for now that this is launched we must do so in other parts of the country. We must one day link all of the nation by rail and then other parts of the world with this advanced transportation. I think it will change all the world."

"Here, here." Another man came forward then, Older, about fifty and with one younger than he and looking like him also. "Sorry but I heard you as I was passing Lord Dorchester. I am inspired when you say such things."

Kevin laughed, "You are inspired at everything Mister Stephenson. Sir Horatio Fawkes, Mister Stephenson and his son Robert."

"A pleasure sure. A friend of our greatest patron and shareholder is always a pleasure to meet." Stephenson said.

"Mine, sir. The pleasure is mine. I see what you have done her astonishing. I look forward to the trip. You are to steer one of these leviathans?"

Kevin chuckled. Horatio was a novice about such things. "No, they steer themselves. The rails you see, Sir Horatio. But I will be driving Northumbrian and Robert here will drive the Rocket, which won me my position as to supply the Liverpool and Manchester with these fine locomotives."

"Very good." Horatio said, not really interested but Stephenson probably could not tell that.

"If you will excuse me, not much time before we leave. You may want to board a train. You can see that the Duke is about to," Stepehenson said and that was surely the signal for the rest of them to as well.

Kevin said a few choice words and the Stephensons moved on. "One day it will not be we lords who rule the earth but those men, the ones who know how to build such things." Kevin said to Horatio when the two had moved on.

The noise from the crowd was increasing, so many people had come and the other shareholders had invited so many guests to the event that there had been no rooms available in all of Liverpool last night. It was a good thing that this venture had forced Kevin to purchase a small townhouse in the prior years both here, and one in Manchester. He did not like either of them but for their function. He also had arranged some local staff to augment three servants that travelled north to manage the houses when he visited them. Today they would travel to and from Crown Street station and so he just stayed in Liverpool for the entire affair. He and the other directors and major shareholders were to dine with Wellington of course and Kevin was conscious that many saw it as an honor. He had been doing so often for nearly twenty years.

Horatio glanced to his pocket watch and said, "Should we board?"

"Another ten minutes. We are well positioned to climb into a carriage and should like to give my ne'er do well brother every possible chance to get here. There goes William Huskisson. I think he is the smartest man I know. He can lecture you about the pound and prove to you how we can pay the debt off or how to manage the Corn Laws." Kevin observed. Huskisson represented Liverpool the destination that day. He was also good friends with Stafford. Not that Kevin thought of Stafford as an enemy or even an adversary, just as man who had treated his people terribly and that was something that had become unforgivable.

The clock was ticking and now functionaries were on the landing asking all to take their places in the carriages. "Here comes Bartholomew and with a lady and children. You did not say anything about that. Wait until Hampton hear's about this, he will be surprised." Baron Franklin Hampton was Sir Horatio and his mutual friend and could not be bothered to have ventured north.

The end of the Prize

138418 Words. But Finis!

The Prize is not as Great as You Think is done.

Started three weeks ago on a Monday so 22 days.

Now the month has over 94K words, 316 pages. The year to date nearly 300,000 words and nearly 1000 pages

The next novel shall be a return to Regency England and I think centered around the developing of railways

Here is chapter 5's beginning of the novel as a sample

5) My Son is Dead

Being escorted into the Grand Prince's drawing room was a first for Gerald. He had never been to this part of the Celebont Palace before. Usually it was enter through the main gate and the main hall. Up the stairs and then into the large room there, the main throne room. Athelstan had told him there were three throne rooms and that his father used them all and for a variety of reasons.

Athelstan was there to meet him at the station and instead of protesting, he accepted the man's company. Now there was a guard detail and after a moments discussion, Sir David and Sergeant Phillipe were tasked with picking our men to complement the guard. Sir David was told to have ten more men then guard contingent.

"Cousin," he had said to Athelstan. "I requested some information, is there anyone here who has it?"

Athelstan looked and shook his head, "I am sorry but I do not know of any information, highness."

Gerald then turned to the Captain of the man who was to be in charge of his guard. "Captain, who was responsible for the Guard detail when Prince Reginald was killed?"

"Not I!" the man, a Baron of course, said. Gladdes was one of the nobility, a little overweight from eating good food, and doing little to earn his place as a Captain.

"I did not say you were in charge. Was it the Guard? Another one of these units?"

"Well yes," the man was still indignant.

"Then my men here from the first cavalry will augment this unit. Now, I have requested information all afternoon about the murder of the prince. Do you have it?"

"No. I don't know anything about that. I have orders to take you to the Celebont Palace."

Gerald shook his head. He was getting angry. "Captain Krabe is my aide. Captain will you provide this captain with a list of all the information I have required." Turning back to the Guard Captain, "Your orders now are to get me this information and attend me at the Celebont Palace when you have it. I expect it to take you no more than a half hour, for you have been here in the Capital and I have been waiting for news or traveling all day. I think that is fair."

"You can not be serious!" the man exploded again.

"Highness! Stand up straight you shit of a man! I should have you courtmartialed for your insolence. How many times did you not address me by title? Do you even know? And to suggest that I am not serious, are you fool!"

"You can't order me. Highness," he said through gritted teeth.

Gerald sent one glance to Athelstan.

"He can you know." All others now turned their eyes to Athelstan. "He is the second in command of all Almondy's forces. Only the Grand Prince outranks him. Any order you have received from anyone lower is automatically overridden by an order from the Crown Prince. As long as he has done his training in the army and is over twenty-one. His Highness is all that, Captain. I would suggest you follow his orders. Oh and show him some respect which you have not done yet, Captain."

"Now Captain, I see that Captain Krabe has the list. Half an hour. The Celebont Palace. I should not stand there waiting, your time is disappearing." Gerald said then turned to Sir David. "How long to get the mounts all assembled for your guards, ten minutes?"

"Less highness. We shall be ready in five!" Sir David nodded and then turned to his team and was making orders, looking for the Guard lieutenant who was there and discussing the route they were going to take. There was a crowd in front of the station as well but Gerald was ignoring it

"Athelstan, cousin, what do I do next?"

"Well highness we take you to the Celebont Palace. There you will meet my father. He is grieving though. Terribly. He will require that you are invested soon as Crown Prince, but I think we will have your Coronation not too much later. Yesterday he was a robust man, now he is broken, and he has not been well either. We probably will have the funeral for Reginald, in six days. Already word has been sent to the crowned heads of europe and Presidents and Premiers to attend the funeral. I do not know how many will come unless they can stay and attend the Investiture of you as Crown Prince as well soon. They will want to meet you. And the way you handled that pompous piece of work, they will especially want to meet you. A Crown Prince with a firm resolve. It shall make many of them nervous."

Waving the others nearby away, "You were the one who gave me the inspiration for that. You have been saying that we have to show the foreign elements some backbone else they will walk all across us. We have a better rail system here then Germany and France and that so helped Germany in the last war. Now we need leadership as well and then they will think twice about attacking us. Then we can be the deciding factor of any war they start. Or convince them that they should not include us in their folly this time."

"Oh very good. You listen. Reginald never did. I should have looked at that list you sent the Captain after. Anything that I can tell you?"

"Yes. How did Reginald die?" Athelstan nodded then and began to tell him. Out riding in the countryside to an assignation with a lady from one of the taverns he frequented. Reginald had one or two houses that he used for a tryst, he had a small squad of Guard with him. Several bombs were thrown and this time he was killed, along with one of the guards. Most of the others were wounded.

Athelstan had heard that what was left of Reginald was not pretty. But he was dead and the anarchists were claiming credit. "How do they do that? They can't just walk up to a Constable and say they're an anarchist and someone from their organization threw a bomb."

"No. They send a letter with some details that only those who did throw the bomb would know because the constables don't tell everything. The letter is usually addressed to Lord Hermes who father has as Minister for the Homeland."

"The Chief of the Chief Constable." Gerald said and that was indeed the man's position too. Though he covered several other portfolios that had to do with the running of the country.

"I have a great deal of reading to catch up on if I am to take over from your father. Though we have had so many conversations these last years, I am not sure that we are not ready for some other type of government. If your father can hold up, then perhaps I can be the last Crown Prince and we can make the Grand Prince more of a ceremonial position rather than one where radical should like to throw bombs at us."

Athelstan smiled and then said, "Best you don't say that any louder or to anyone but me. We need to work on this but you are right, we have talked about changing the government. I think that too many are reluctant to change the status quo."

"Of course. We can only talk to those who know they stand to gain. I would not tell another farmer that he had to drop the price of milk he charged unless he was sure he was going to get something greater for it elsewhere. No I understand. Come, Sir David has the horses ready. I fear we are about to gallop all the way to the Palace."

Athelstan looked at him in surprise. "I have a carriage…"

"Come cousin. I go to your father who is as you've said in a terrible way. We are to hurry. Much of the day has been wasted already."

Athelstan should have seen the two men with rifles approaching him but he did not. He did feel them nudge him. "Stop that. He is the son of the Grand Prince." Even I they treated him like a bastard, he was still much higher in rank then they ever should be.

Finally they were on horseback and Sir David and his men were leading to the south street that would take them almost to the gates of the palace without any twists and not overly crowded for here were homes and smaller shops not open at night. Though most shops were closed at this hour but for restaurants and places of entertainment.

At the gallop it took less than ten minutes to advance up the hill though the horses were tired. The guards at the palace gates passed them through quickly and then Athelstan and a few others were taking Gerald to see the Grand Prince.

Gratitude Log

Islands– Took Cheryl here for Valentines day and then when California Pizza Kitchen had us wait a half hour for our table and then there was another half hour on top of that (The Liars) we went again for her birthday. Great Hamburgers.
GameDecider– Have begun work with this website for gamers. Should have a weekly blog that I will be reposting here.
YouTube– So much is placed here that one day you will never have time for series television. In the last two years, going from no time watching videos to how many hours a week? How much of the internet bandwidth is taken up by YT?
Shogun 2 Total War- The newest part of the Total War Franchise was released as a demo. Very much buzzed by all Total War gamers. Can't wait to have my PC rig set up again one day and get it.
Amazon Prime– Streaming Movies. Downton Abbey here I come.

The Prize is Not as Great as You Think reaches 400 pages

Another milestone this day. I thought that The Prize is not as Great as You Think would reach beyond 300 pages, and perhaps spread to 400 but not much more. In judging where I am now, I think we have about 50 more to go. I am currently in chapter 19 and seeing the world through the villains eyes. He is explaining some things to his henchman, and keeping some to himself. Then a chapter where our hero rescues the heroine and we combine elements of the The Prisoner of Zenda and The Mad King . Last we will have a resolution chapter, so 21 altogether I expect.

February is now at 76K words, 2011 at 278,698 (929 pages) and many more hours to write still on Saturday…

Here is chapter 4's beginning:

4) The Safety of the Succession

"Well played, highness," Sir David said when they had entered the dining hall and the men had given them a perimeter allowing some privacy. There were two small room that would have ensured privacy but Gerald knew that he was not going to be there very long. Ten more minutes.

"I am come to believe that this game is not anything we have ever played before," Gerald said.

"No. Not at all." Sir David now looked serious.

As for Krabe, he was fit to be tied, he was so angered. "Captain Krabe, I may not keep you as my aide when we get settled in Steilenberg, but then I might. I trust David with my life and I think he still trusts me with his. We are distant cousins and I know something about him as an officer. That he is quite competent. Was it your idea or his to send the patrols to flank the building?"

Krabe took a moment, "Sir David's highness."

"Yes. Sir David, that idea came from?"

Sir David looked to Krabe when he said it, "You, highness. We talked about something like this a few years ago. How the infantry would surround a building and how the cavalry would do so. This came from that discussion."

"I want to say something that I hope you won't say to any other." Gerald began. "I do not like this. David will tell you that I just wanted to live here in the country and tend my cows. My family have not been very good princes. We all but squandered our inheritance and now I think the rumor is spread that I have barely five crowns to rub together. I have a few more crowns then that, but many think of me as the bumpkin prince. Here people don't even call me that which is why I like Splatz. It is a small village with just these few streets. Seven hundred people live here and their children. When all come in from the country we have three thousand adults and then their children. We are a small village and you do not have to think about France or Germany and how they hate one another when you are here."

David said, "That is over now."

Gerald nodded sadly, "Yes, I suppose so. Did you two leave right away or did you hear anymore of what occurred?" Sir David shook his head.

"The Colonel burst in to the mess and said that Reginald had been blown up and that a rider had to get to the depot, send out a company and find the next prince. He then asked who was the next prince and where was he. I of course knew and told him your name and that you lived here. He sent me to the depot so technically I have just not returned from that assignment though my company had evening parade. That will look a little suspicious at six o'clock."

"We don't have a clock in the bell tower of the church yet. A few more years Father Guiseppe tells me, but it is past six now." Gerald gestured to a clock over the bar. They could have looked at their pocket watches too, but he supposed they had not thought to do that with all the bustle they had been about.

"I am sorry Highness but I must protest. You do not have the authority to take my command from me." Captain Krabe said.

Gerald shook his head. "Are you one of them? Are you a traditionalist? You have now twice made it clear that this is not comfortable for you. Well the next time shall be your last and you will just be relieved of all duties until I talk to your superior in Steilenberg. It is Colonel Cartier who commands the 1st and he is a Traditionalist. Funny but I should have thought you would realize that I am the Colonel in Chief of your regiment. The heir to the throne is always the Colonel in Chief of the 1st Cavalry. I think following my orders would indicate to all that you have my favor. I suggest you think this through very carefully for I have had a few hours to think since they told me of Reginalds murder."

Krabe took a half step back as if he had been hit. Gerald had been living in the country for a long time. But that did not mean he was weak, simple, or in any way lacking in the command skills he had learned when he trained to be an officer. He may not have used them for five years, but he still had them and he still knew when to use them. Krabe clearly needed the boundaries of command established. He clearly needed to know who was at the top of the tower in this case. And it was not Krabe.

"I believe you to now be thinking. Do we have an understanding? Do you comprehend that you, a Captain, are not someone that I truly think significant if I am not to struggle with France and Germany? If I succeed Prince Michael Alan, then what does the ruffled feathers of a cavalry captain matter to me. A captain though that is my aide and helps me with this horrendous task that has been thrust at me is much more important than any other cavalry captain? And should I trust my safety to a man I have never met? Or to my cousin whose life I saved once or twice, and who saved mine?"

"No highness. Forgive me." Krabe said. Though he wore his emotion on his face and was not happy. Fool it was a promotion. Krabe might not last the trip out of Splatz let alone to Nantz or back to Steilenberg.

Sir David cleared his throat. "We are three saves of you of me, and my one return to you, cousin highness."

"You will stop that nonsense David. Cousin when we are intimate like this is fine, and best you stick to highness in public. I have just given Captain Krabe a rather informal dressing down. I should not like to deliver another. I fear I shall have too few friends in Steilenberg when we arrive. Best though that you go see to your command and send over the Chief Constable. His name is Lestaing and he is a good man."

"Yes cousin. Ten minutes I think and I'll give orders to send riders ahead, but we should be back in Nantz in less than an hour."

Gerald didn't want to contradict his cousin, but with full dark, and a sliver of moon that night, it might be longer than that hour. Sir David left the privacy zone and could be heard quickly issuing orders and consulting with the locals. That stuck in his mind that Krabe would not have thought to talk to the locals but assumed that no one but he could have managed. Either he would break Krabe of such notions or dismiss him when they returned to the capital. That would probably end the man's career but it was more important to Gerald that he himself had a life then that the officer in front of him had an outstanding career.

Most of the officers when they were still junior commanders did not think about anything but an outstanding career. Reaching all the way to be Chief of the Command Staff. The highest rank one could be. Often held by a prince of Fitzroy Perry blood. Gerald had not thought of that during his two years. He had thought of a quite life and dairy farming, a very small dairy farm began to appeal to him. Now he was sure that life was gone.

"Constable, I am not sure that I will be able to return to Splatz for some time. Can you have people pack up the house and arrange to ship my goods to the city? I should imagine that with the next couple days an address will be sent. I don't need any of the furniture so they should be covered. I may want my chair by the fire though. Someone will instruct on that."

"We shall take care of it all, don't worry highness. There are people here who will look after your possessions and we will see the cows milked. The rest of your clothes sent up to you and your other personal things. Don't worry about anything here. You send a telegram and we will take care of it right away."

"Thank you. Captain Krabe can you see to it that you forward an address to Constable Lestaing? My thanks. Also, over the years, especially since I became second in line, there have been strangers, you will recall about the village and countryside. That might increase now. And men of the papers too, these reporters. How to tell who is a reporter and who is an agent of the French or Germans or some other foreign power. If you could watch for such men and if you need more help to do so, please you must contact us."

"That is a good point," Captain Krabe said and turned to study the constable.

"We know who belongs here and who doesn't. I may ask for some help, but not just yet. I'll put some of the young men on this and they will walk all about the county and see if anyone is asking questions that no one knows. We shall be very respectful of all your privacy, highness."

"Yes. I trust you Constable. I hope that I shall find as many men in Steilenberg to trust as I have found men here. I fear though that it will be much more difficult."

The constable nodded, "I fear highness you are right. And in Steilenberg it will a great deal easier for one to spy upon you. Best you remember that."

Sir David stuck his head into the room, "When you are ready, highness."

Gerald nodded then reached out a hand to shake the Constables. "Now I must pay Master Kramer for the meal and for upsetting all his guests."

The Prize 300 Pages

My exploration into a Ruritanian Romance has reached 300 Pages. Just over 90,000 words. We have reached the latter half of the book where plots in the first half are now coming to fruition. Where the evil factions are get thwarted and our heroes are proving triumphant but with setbacks along the way.

For the month, this being day 8 of writing, I am approaching 50K words and easily achieving a pace of 40K words a week.

Perhaps by the end of the day we will be at a quarter million words for the year.

300 Pages means chapter 3 of The Prize is Not as Great as You Think:

3) A Humble Farm

Gerry was content. Over six feet tall and big in the shoulders he was glad to be home. The family ceremonies, marching in the St. Michael parade, were over for the year and now he could return to his cows and tend the needs of the farm. Blue eyed with sandy brown hair, he was out of his formal clothes, and the ancient uniform that he wore to march in the parade was put away. Even the patent leather shoes with gilt buckles were gone and he wore his second favorite boots.

His father would hate that he had become a farmer, but it was a good life, and the Grand Prince, for all that he was a dictator and did little for many kept the prices on food that the farmers sold strong enough that no farmer who put in a honest days labor would ever starve.

Farmers fed the cities and they were paid for it. Not that a farmer ever wanted all those riches that the city folk had. What would you do with them anyway. There was work in the cites making roads so that these new automobiles could ride on them. His cousin Reginald said he had ordered a Mecedes that could had 35 horsepower. When Gerry had ridden to Steilenberg he had used one horsepower. Maggie was just fine to take him anywhere in the principality. Why look for trouble and try to find someone to sell you gasoline, or could fix one of them tires. Any smith could shoe a horse.

All Reginald could talk of and Athalan was progress and where the country should go once the old Grand Prince died and the shackles he had on the principality were gone. They did not know their own father well enough Gerry was pretty sure. The man was smart enough to have kept them from folly for over thirty years. The last time sixty thousand men had gone to war and twelve thousand had not come back. The next war would be worse and it would probably be fought right in the principality. The Germans wanted to kill the French and the French wanted to kill the Germans.

They could not see that peace was the best. They never would.

Much simpler to like cows and milking. There was a calm when you were in the rhythm of milking a cow. As long as you didn't make the cow mad, and he had the four sweetest cows this side of Splatz, that they never gave him trouble. No, you sat on your stool, puled on the teat and milk came out. Twice a day, and then you had it to take to market, the night before's milking and that morning's. Though that Henry Samuelson was very energetic and now was running a cart late morning to take the milk into town for sale, and in the evening as well. He only charged a penny a liter and that meant a better use of Gerry's time for it saved him two hours a day, each day.

The cows had to be milked every day else they let you know they were not happy. Painful Gerry though. Two days not milked and very painful. Wednesday's though, he took the milk to town himself for then he met friends and had some fresh bread from Pieter the baker. He then sat in the platz and sold some cheese and milk and even a duck or chicken or two, for he had to thin his flock regularly and one man could only eat a bird every other week else Father Guiseppe, all the way from Italy, would scold him for being a glutton.

He had a good life and had urged Reginald to marry and produce a son or three so that he would no longer be heir to Reginald. Cousin Athalan laughed and laughed. Finally he shared the joke with Gerry who had to chuckle as well. Everyone wanting Reginald to marry. Well it was time. He was over thirty now and soon he would be Grand Prince. That was sure.

"So, another trip to the capital. I heard that young Samuelson looked after your farm when you were away," Pieter said.

"He is a good lad. A very good lad, I don't know that he makes a decent living at this carting nonsense or will ever make anything of himself and save enough for a farm, but he is honest, eh, and has that smile that make all like him."

Pieter looked to Gerry. "You should smile more yourself. The ladies think you are quite handsome when you do, you know. And you are a Fitzroy Perry. You could be Grand Prince even."

"That is why they like me. Once Reginald has married and has children I shall be a lot less attractive I assure you. Father did not think I would ever be higher than fifth in line but then the smallpox took all of Cousin William Simeon's line and that shooting accident three years ago and cousin Alan died. I just moved up the ladder I guess. I would have married Farmer Friedrich's daughter over along the river he has some land that would have been her dowry but once I became second in line, he would not even speak to me. He thought for sure I was no longer for farming. She's now expecting her second child and married the cobbler. He has no idea whether to plant millet or soybeans, oats or barley and Fredrich won't give him the land. Hopes he can sell it and give the man the money to make more shoes."

Pieter laughed, "We don't buy the shoes he makes now. Not that I can see anyway. His window is so full of shoes you think that we all had a third foot."

Gerry looked at Pieter who laughed harder. Gerry returned to the subject of his cousins for all liked to hear what the royals were up to and they had Gerry. No other small village had a man close to the succession and could tell them of the royals, "My cousin Athalan says that I need be suspicious if any French or German comes to town that we do not know or vouch for. The neighbors are thinking long term now. He worries that they may try and manipulate me."

"I don't know any German or Frenchie that has been here since you have been gone. I heard that there was an Englishman wandering about in the countryside."

"Pieter, those in Steilenberg thing we are the countryside." And now Gerry laughed.

"I know that. Do you think I am a simpleton. Just because I rise and start my fires at two o'clock so that you and the others can have fresh bread each day does not mean I am dumb. No, the countryside is anywhere around here that is not the town. That is where this Englishman was seen. They say he is walking about the countryside and is on a holiday. I am not the simpleton but this Englishman sure must be to think that walking about this part of Almondy is a holiday."

"It is not all bad for one of my cousins lodges is here."

"Yes castle Grayton. But it is neither gray nor a castle. It is a good lodge and I will say that view to the alps of Switzerland can not be bested by anything else in our countryside. But that is five miles away," Pieter said.

Gerry laughed, "And would you not want to see it and then spend time here? For only the little village below Grayton is there with no rooms for all that live there work at the lodge of the Grand Prince."

"I suppose that you are right."

There was a little commotion in the rest of the square, and a crowd seemed to be at the telegraph office. The one phone in the whole county was there, though a second line was being installed in the town council hall. "Trouble. When you see everyone swarm like that, it means trouble and never any good news, else you would hear cheering. Look see," Pieter pointed, "Old man Gerard is sending a boy to fetch the constable."

They saw a young lad, too far across the platz to see who it was but he ran from the telegraph office to the constables. Then the three constables, there were seven for the entire county, but three would be on duty in the office then unless one or another were out seeing to any trouble in the town or the county, burst from the door of the office and now there was shouting and pointing. Arms flailing and then the attention of the men from that side of the square all seemed to focus on the side where the bakery was and where they sat.

"The commotion seems to be centered now on us here. And good friend, I can only think that there is one reason that they all point this way and now come." Pieter said.

"Dear me. I can only think of one reason also. The Grand Prince must have finally succumbed to his many ailments.

"Hush all, Mr. Perry! Mr. Perry may we have a word? A message from Steilenberg. Terrible news, terrible news indeed."

Gerry stood to receive all the men. "Is it my cousin? He has died?"

"Died, yes. Yes Mr. Perry. Died. No killed. The Crown Prince has been killed is the message from the Capital and we are to protect you until a company comes from the army. More later they said but we were to find you immediately."

Gerry sat back down heavily.

"Back, all of you get back and give Gerry some room to breathe here. Constable clear these people back and delegate some to be your deputies." Pieter said, waving his baguette like a stick to give Gerry some room and air.

"Tell me. Tell me what you know?" Gerry asked.

"That is all. Here you can read for yourself. If you want we shall send back to Steilenberg that we have you, your, uh highness. And ask them for any information you want."

Gerry nodded, "Yes, let me read it." That was quickly done.

P REGINALD KILLED STOP

FIND P GERALD IMMED STOP

MAKE P GERALD SAFE STOP

COMPANY FROM ARMY COMING STOP

MORE LATER END

The Prize at 200 Pages

It has been just a few days but I am writing quickly these days. Cramming a lot out. Though I have slowed down this week over the last three. For three weeks I wrote at the pace of 50,000 words each week. Now I am slowing down to 40,000 words so I do more with my day then just write.

This is a graph of my writing for the weeks of 2011. The amount shown for Week 6 is on Wednesday, the middle of the day with four more days to write.

My February 2011 Writing log started on Monday so at the moment I am just that 15K words into the month.

My exploration into a Ruritanian Romance is now 60,000 and a little less than half way. The Prize is not as Great as You Think combines those elements along with part of a plot line I had thought about a few years ago and jotted down. My notes of story ideas and plots go back for years. At one time I would wake from a dream and jot down the idea. Last night I had a dream I thought was going somewhere as well and the watching Lights Out  today I saw that some of my dream stems from that as well as the George Clooney  picture from last year, Up in the Air. The premise of my dream was that there was a deal, a business deal and the hero, me of course, was the smart guy, while the other side of the deal was clearly the costar of Up in the Air, Vera Farmiga.

She was the hot number in the plot that was a great Wall Streeter with access to a lot of venture capital. I was in the position with Raymond Enkeboll Designs that I used to hold and advising how to do a deal. Something happened that caused the hot number to scrag the deal which was fine with our hero for he had booked an adjoining room to the hottie and they they took forward a similar deal together making more than either would working for the man.

Who knows, one day I may add to the idea and make a story from it.

In the meantime we are at 218K words for the year and this is the beginning of the 2nd chapter from The Prize is not as Great as You Think:

2) All The Little Pieces

The manor house, near the outskirts of the city was very fashionable. Reginald had seen it before more than once, though he had avoided the inside. He smiled to himself for the expression like the plaque came to mind. Not that Princess Margaritte, was anything at all like that. Just that an alliance, a marriage would signify the end of his life of freedom. That he would have to start serious work here in the principality. Work that his father was more than qualified for and willing to do.

With that understood, why then should he worry about taxes, and bread, Germans and railways? Father actually wanted to make all those decisions. He complained all the time that it was too much and he needed help, but Reginald had learned early on that was not the case. That when he had offered to help when he was younger, the Grand Prince would smile and then thank him. Father would say it was noble of him to offer but that Reginald should enjoy his life before he was forced to wear the crown and make such decisions.

After offering a half a dozen times, perhaps more over the years to really work on serious matters, and always being refused, Reginald took to heart that he should indulge himself. Perhaps he had overdone it. Certainly the press loved him for overindulgence. He was advised by the owners of not only the papers from Steilenberg, but those in the provinces, that he contributed greatly to their profits. Everyone wanted to read about what he was doing, or planning to do. They liked pictures of the beautiful women he dated, and fortunately they papers only called it dating. Should they report on how many women he slept with, and sometimes more than one, his reputation might not have been so great amongst the people.

He had one affair that had been placed in the papers so long ago now that no one remembered. It had caused him grief and he had come to an understanding then with the papers. They could report on all sorts of things that he did, but what happened in his bed, and who with, were never to be reported.

"Highness," he saluted by sharply bringing his heels together. Then he leaned over and kissed the proffered hand. Margaritte didn't rise when he entered, for she too was a princess of the Fitzroy Perry blood. Though he did outrank her, she was establishing her rights. He had encountered such women before. And of course he had met Margaritte many times. She was one of the most beautiful ladies in Steilenberg. He agreed with his father about that. Was she the woman he would marry, that still was to be determined.

"You do me great honor by visiting and so early in the day? Why I think the sun has only been up a few short hours."

"Yes, I saw it rise for I have not been to sleep yet. Too much to do and so I must burn that candle at both ends."

She trilled, for that was what her laugh was. Like a little precious bird. Blond hair, a descendent of one of the infusions from the north. She was one of the many cousins, and anyone who had the least amount of Fitzroy Perry blood seemed to want to proclaim that they were a cousin. Not that his cousin Gerald did, fool. He would have to tell him that the next time he came to town he need use some scent or other to hide the smell of his cows.

Perhaps that would be a good reason to marry, then he would place children between the man and the throne. Every son would cause the need for his cousin Gerald to come to the capital less frequently. "What would you say to eight sons?" He asked Margaritte. Not only because the thought occurred to him just then, but also eight would be needed to bear the damn platform with St. Michael atop it. He was still sore from that. Sure that he had torn a muscle in his shoulder.

"Eight, I think you need to first marry, and then we shall discuss it." She smiled but he saw that it did not reach her eyes. She was calculating what that question had meant.

"You must meet my cousin Gerald. You know he is next in line to the throne after me? It so irks Athalan. My brother has never accepted that he is not in the line of succession."

"I do not think of Athalan much," Margaritte said.

Reginald nodded, "You know most women are like that, but I think that is a mistake. Not that women should like him for his charms or his looks, though you would think with his parents he would look better. No, I think women should like Athalan for his ambition. And what he will do with that ambition should he find he is disliked."

She laughed again but not the trill she had before. This was forced. "You make him sound dangerous."

Reginald nodded, "He is probably the most dangerous man I know. I fear that in the years to come we may find out just how dangerous he is. Father refuses to see it. You should know this also should I court you to be my bride and then the Grand Princess. If we were to have any sons, Athalan would not necessarily be there friend."

She did not laugh, "If you feel this way, then why not exile him? Surely you could arrange that."

"He is the son of my father, and he is my brother. I know his ambitions seethes inside of him but until he acts upon it, I will do nothing. It is an unspoken truce between us. He wants recognition for all his efforts for a country he will never lead. I pretend that when I am Grand Prince I will do something to aid in his desires."

She shook her pretty blonde head. She was twenty three he had been told and overripe for marriage. But she was holding herself out for the biggest fish that she could find, and that was him. Did that make cousin Gerald the second biggest fish? Smelling of fish and cow, the man was intolerable.

Well once Reginald was wed and producing some boys, then it would not matter. Cousin Gerald could stay in the country forever. There were other younger cousins who could carry the damn platform during the pageant. And if he had hurt his shoulder, then Reginald would force his father to take a flux and stay in bed next pageant. That was a way to get out of carrying the dame platform. If he had to act as regent for his father for even an hour, it would supersede all other duties and requirements. Athalan had told him that, but only after they got to the damn top of the hill and the Palace gates this year.

Gratitude Log

El Pollo Loco-The Tostada Bowls–I have been eating these for a number of years and though I typically do not like mexican food, the bowls not only have edible food within, but the bowl themselves are edible.
Campbell's Soup–During the cold drinking these were great.  Cream of Mushroom is especially my favorite and Ralphs has been selling them for $1.
Apple iBooks–Still finding new, free books to download. Last night Jeeves and Wooster by PG Wodehouse.
Edgar Rice Burroughs –Wrote a Ruritanian Romance called The Mad King . I am rereading again on my iPhone courtesy of iBooks .
Wishlists–What an incredible and powerful thing when you are broke. Really broke and going into your retirement savings to pay for food. Just place things on the Wishlist when you see what you would like to have and one day, perhaps you can get them.

The Prize 1st Hundred and Green Bay Wins

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By now the news is all over the world. The Packers are the Champs! Packers

How cool is that! Wish I still had my NFL Sunday Ticket and had seen all their games this year. I did see all the ones that were on free TV. I sat through the playoffs figuratively gnawing at my fingernails fearing that we would end as we had several times in the last few years, by losing with a key mistake when trying to force a play.

We didn't.

I feared that we would lose to the Falcons, to the Eagles, to the Bears during the Playoffs. We were sixth, a wildcard, had finished 10-6 just a little above a winning season. The Bears were the favorite in our little division.

We won. I sat there hoping that Big Ben would fall and play poorly. Every time Rodgers threw the ball and the receivers let it slip through their fingers I lost faith that we could hang on. Hines Ward was the deadly secret weapon that would defeat us.

But then, the Steelers, hated more than the Bears, pushed to hard. Our defense without Woodson still dominated. They stopped the Steelers and we won.

How sweet is that.

Why a Packers Fan? The announcers kept saying it last night, the smallest city with a franchise. The city that owns their franchise, no billionaires here. The team that thinks their fans are worthy of the Lambeau Leap. The Team that plays on the Frozen tundra, no dome, that's for sisssies. That is why I'm a packers fan.

But that doesn't mean I stopped writing this last weekend.

Cold is still around, in my throat and it hurts.

Had to drive out to babysit for my niece and nephew so my brother could take an anniversary vacation. Loaded the writing onto a flash drive, setup my brothers computer and typed away.

The month of January, 5 weeks of writing, ends with 202,000 words.

Hoveria, the 2nd KoTohLan started in December got finished,

Lord Falmont's Muddle started and finished.

The Prize is not as Great as You Think, our Ruritanian Romance is now at 44,000K, over 100 pages and growing.

Here is the first part of Chapter 1

1) An Audience with Father, the Prince

"We Perry's have a responsibility to so many, and for which we get this as our reward. Do you boys not see how it all connects. We have certain duties and I know that neither of you like a good many of them very much but they are duties. Now boys, you and a few others have to do these for we have the original blood in our veins of the Conqueror. To think the same year that William the Bastard took over that little island to the west, we here had our own conquest and so many do not give us credit. 836 years ago this next Saturday and the damn Archbishop is on me because you both said you had enough and won't appear in the procession."

The three were in the very small throne room. The room that their father thought would intimidate them in a comfortable way. He sat in a gilt rimmed upholstered chair. Recently reupholstered for each year the Grand Prince decided he wished it down and the foam in the seat needed it for the Grand Prince was quite corpulent. The room had three large tall windows that looked over the inner courtyard of the Celebont Palace. The largest Palace in the capital of Almondy, and the home to the Perry family. Here giant red draperies from the top of the windows, almost to the height of the twelve foot ceiling hung and framed the windows. The room was devoid of any other furniture but tall metal sconces for fat candles that used to give the room light, but gas lamps had been installed in all the rooms of the palace. The heavy gold cast floor sconces had yet to be removed since no one could decide whether to sell them, or melt them down.

The throne was atop three steps, and a little stool was placed in front of it should the Grand Prince choose to rest his feet there. His many illnesses caused him to use more often then not. Across from the windows was a fireplace, one in each room, though the palace also had radiators throughout now also. Here though three large logs had been laid and were burning brightly.

Their father the Grand Prince was not happy. The First FitzRoy Perry by name, Michael the Bloody Handed, had come to Almondy in the year 1066 with his vassals and retainers and a goodly part of the men who knew that going west with William was death. No one could beat Harold, that was the wisdom of the day and why would anyone want to. William had no claim. All fabrication and a toad's turd if you asked Athalan. He had a short name, while his elder brother, heir to the throne and born of a noble lady had a good long name, Reginald Baxter Simeon Fitzroy Perry. Athalan Perry, no extra cognomens since he was a bastard child, though when the queen died, the king had the courtesy to recognize him and declare his blood Fitzroy.

Athalan was not a prince though and was only treated marginally respectfully by Reggie. Reggie and lately by the Grand Prince. It had been Reggie's idea to protest the yearly celebrations where it was the princes with Fitzroy blood who lifted the palanquin on their shoulders and carried up the hill, the long hill, the steep long hill from the Assembly Hall to the Castle.

Some said the road was steeper than the road in Scotland that led to Edinburgh castle. Reggie had gone in all ceremony and seen then came back and assured all it was true. They had a longer steeper road. But then the Scots did not think then that anyone would ever threaten their castle any longer. Here, all Almondians could tell you how they were the only country in Europe that when Napoleon came knocking almost a hundred years ago, he saw the Grand Prince and heard those famous words, "Piss off you little Runt!"

Seventeen days the foolish French did their best to assault that hill. Their cannon balls could not reach the walls that were fifty feet thick. Their men became exhausted on the climb up to the castle, just as Athalan knew he would too for this would be his seventh year if Reginald was convinced to attend the ceremony. Volleys of the Almondy's own cannon and shots from their rifles destroyed tens of thousand of the French. Napoleon sat down to sign a treaty ceding to the Principality what had been their rights since Michael the Bloodly Handed had come and seized the throne and lands by treachery.

Bordered north of Switzerland and to the east of France and now Belgium, the Germanies to the west, and finally the Netherlands to the North, they were landlocked, but two great rivers flowed to the sea and the French and Walloons, no one called them Flemish since all thought it funny to call them Walloons, would never try and stop their trade. An Almondian roused to anger, was not a pretty sight.

Such was the legend at least. "Father, you have not marched in the Saint Michael day parade for nearly forty years. It is a tradition that has long since fallen into disdain," Reggie said except that wasn't true. It was in disdain in Reggie's circle of nobles. The common people, Athalan well knew, loved the festival, especially the part where those of Fitzroy blood were pelted by Almonds and Tomatoes. Mostly very overripe tomatoes.

Fortunately only children under the ages of 15 were allowed to throw them just as tomatoes had been thrown at the First Michael who had used subterfuge to come and kill his wife's distant cousin who held the castle, much smaller than. No Almonds either, that had been brought in during the 1700s for a country called Almondy needed to have Almonds the Grand Prince thought then.

Falmont's Muddle Finished

Lord Falmont's Muddle is finished two weeks after it began. I managed 359 pages or 107,000+ words.

The story of a lord who is responsible for seeing his two sisters launched into society. As he does this, returning from a long time away from his family, he meets the family of the neighbors of his country manor. They naturally fall into the same society as they are close in the country. Over this time our lord falls for the daughter of the neighboring lord. She also falls in love with our hero. The twist though is that the neighboring lord, father of our heroine has just remarried and our heroine does not know if she can trust her new mother.

She realizes that this colors her caring for our hero. When he offers for her she is unsure that she fell in love with our hero only because should she accept him, then she will be able to spy on her new mother and still see and support her father.

For January so far I am at 170,000 words and it is the 2nd most prolific span of time since I have been recording my output, with some more days to account for still.

My next work is :The Prize is not as Great as you think. This will be a Ruritanian Romance. I had begun to think of Anthony Hope's great work, The Prisoner of Zenda a piece that not as many people seem to know as should.

I came to this realization when watching The Great Race over the holidays. So many know the movie with Professor Fate and the Great Leslie but don't realize the European gag with Jack Lemmon playing double as Prince Hoepnick is the Prisoner of Zenda tale. So it is time for a retelling of these types of stories.

Not to plagiarize the entire story as some have done, (Royal Flash) but to set them in these mitteleuropa settings. I started to research and found that the homages to The Prisoner of Zenda are abundant but that many other stories came out that were successful with the theme of a Ruritanian Romance.

The third chapter of Lord Falmont's Muddle, marking the end of the project is revealed here:

3) We came all this way to meet the Neighbors

Fanny was content to sit in the window seat at the London House and look out at the world from it. It would still be a good half hour before she was disturbed by Lady Mary or her sister Beth. It was possible but doubtful that Henry would stir from his study until the women had made of themselves a comfortable place in the drawing room. Two days they had been out of mourning, and Beth was anxious to go to balls, routs and fetes all at once. Fanny should like to go and meet people but salons and art showings were more to her taste. Something quiet.

Fanny marveled at how nice the room was, and even Henry admitted that there was little he needed to change in the house. That it took up the best part of a block along the square did not speak to their father's astute purchase but of his grandfather's when the square was laid out. That the house though looked modern once inside was all of their father's doing. Even the papering of the walls had been done last year, though the staff had mentioned that it was done each year. Their father having spent his monies here in London for that was where he was seen by society. It was why he had the latest and newest wall covering.

And fresh paint as well. Stepping into the foyer, a room whose rich red paint almost hid fine gold motifs that had been added throughout that made the color glow, marble slabs were spread across the floor with rugs from Persia and the Orient there and in other rooms whose carved wood doors were usually opened so that visitors could see their elegant display as well. Furniture by Chippendale and Wilkins, paintings by esteemed members of the Royal Academy, a Reynolds commanding the top of the stairwell at the landing of the first floor. The staff also said that just two years before William Wilkins had overseen renovations to the interior of the house and the extension of the west wing further into the gardens.

The drawing room where Fanny sat was rose colored, and the staff pointed out that if her father entertained in the room, he never wore his red hued clothing. He liked to contrast and not compliment, and since he did entertain quite often, there was another room in the new addition that was in dark colors where he could be seen presiding in his crimson colored clothing. The servants also had told her how the very next year the Marquess would alter the color schemes, and quite likely Rose would become Blue or Green, while the dark room might tinged in pale yellows. Each year a complete change.

Throughout the room, four settees and couches for guests to sit at, or the two tables with chairs enough that card games could ensue. One change Henry had made was placing a chess board upon a table. He was in the midst of a game against himself. He pointed out that he played cards, but had more than enough of playing such while in the army and at his club, when he would venture there. Now something he would do that mourning was over. Chess worked his mind he said in another way.

There was room for more than twenty and two window seats such as she sat in then. Even more could fit comfortably in the room. Along the sides, the furniture by both Chippendales, and a couple pieces that the architect had designed. While on two cabinets, an arrangement of flowers overflowed their vases, the work of the maids then rearranged by Lady Mary each day, two others had cast bronzes and ceramics. One piece the second half of a pair. The other piece had been at their mother's house in Richmond. That mystery intrigued her and when she mentioned it to Henry, he could not provide her with any information. Their father had not spoken of it, and had hardly spoken to Henry since his return from Flanders and Waterloo.

That they all had little to do with their father and had been in the London House seldom, Henry more then they, had given Fanny more than enough that was new for her to explore. Beth however had been in the house an hour before she wished to go out. Lady Mary, quite correctly telling her at that time that she should not. She was still in half mourning then. Their governess did allow that Beth could begin a correspondence to her friends to let them know that she had arrived in town. All subject to Lady Mary's inspection that nothing untoward was mentioned.

The first two letters, Beth had to correct for Lady Mary had decided that it was inappropriate to beg to be asked to a ball. She helped Beth rewrite the letters in such a way that it would not seem like she was pandering for an invitation. Then Lady Mary had cajoled Fanny into writing at least three letters herself. It had taken a good half hour for her to think of correspondents who would be in London that she could write to, and then compose the letters. None of which needed Lady Mary's censoring.

Since then they had received some callers, notably the Duchess of Lincoln had arrived, without any of her children and said she was proud to meet her cousins. It had only been a few short years since she had been introduced into society but her position allowed her to make a great many introductions. In two days, the Duchess was to have them to tea and they were to meet several of her intimates. That satisfied Fanny no end. It however was but one item on a long list of things that Beth wished for her own season.

I also have had a cold, and even so, I kept my writing up with several 10000 word days. It influences my Gratitude Log, but I was surprised by the output as when I had the flu I could write nothing.

Gratitude Log

Kleenex-Tissues–I blew my nose so much the first three days that it is chaped beyond repair. Well almost beyond repair. Without Kleenex though it would be a horror. I have used a handkerchief until it was a saturated. Not pretty.
Vaseline–This saving device eases the pain from my nose be rubbed raw.
Decongestants–And here the medicine stops the sneezing and dries me out.
Europa Universalis–With all my games packed in storage, I watch those who can play games and make videos of them right now. One of the most interesting is Eurpoa Universalis 3. Complex world domination from 1399 to 1835.
Brian Malion–This friend of mine fits right up there with the discussion of Professor Fate and then back to the Prisoner of Zenda. At one of our CCOBS Curious Collector of Baker Street a Sherlock Holmes group, Brian one year for annual ball dressed as Professor Fate and then a few weeks later at Loscon, the science fiction convention for LA did the same costume. It was a riot.

Lord Falmont's Muddle 300 Pages

Another Milestone, and the story is in the home stretch. 300 pages in 12 days, and just a little over two more chapters I think.

Our heroine's turmoil of wanting to be a protector of her father from the sponge of a step mother since he has just remarried continues to cloud her judgement over whether she loves our hero or not.

Even as she resolves matters with the step-mother. Now we have to see if she can resolve matters with the hero.

Starting the day I was just at 90K words for the story and as the day progressed more than 10 pages additionally written. For the month of January, not quite four weeks of writing I am at 144K words, or over 480 pages. A pace of 1,800,000+ words for the year, or over 6,000 pages. That would be a big achievement but the only way I can continue that pace it to start seeing a bigger return from all I have written already. It will happen, just maybe not this year.

This excerpt is the beginning of the second chapter.

2) New Mother, Brothers, and Neighbors

Reed had called her plain, which was insulting. Very insulting. Especially since she could not see that he had anything that distinguished his appearance or character.

Then Lewis had said she did have one nice thing. That her auburn hair made her smile glow when she chose to reveal it. That though only said something about her hair and her teeth, which for the most part were straight. That she new was an attribute that many would pay good money for if they could. Straight teeth, and not overly large. She used a looking glass often enough to be able to tell such things despite what the boys said. They were men and older than she, but they were boys in manner and action.

Sure that Mrs. Palmer was not a fortune seeker, she had wondered how two such young men could grow to be such a trial, but knew they had three hundred a year each from their father's estate and Mrs. Palmer had the remainder until she remarried. The boys wanted that to occur as quickly as possible for such luck would gain them new monies.

Margaret Clarisse Hunter could not compare herself to Mrs. Palmer whose red hair was what set her apart. It had been her second event in town, and they had gone to the Baron of Innerdale's ball for his daughter, Liselle. The Palmers had also been in attendance. Reed even asking her to stand up for one dance. Lewis not motivated at all. She danced with Reed, a man who was noticeably under six feet tall and thus barely taller than her own five feet four inches, thin with a rather vulpine face, and two stone of weight that seemed to do nothing useful but round out his trunk. While dancing, not for all of ten minutes, her father began to speak to his mother. After that, the two families met one way or another throughout the season weekly.

Before the end, she knew her father had decided to remarry after ten years of being a widower. And though Lady Margaret had felt indifference to the boys, she knew that Mrs. Palmer was doing her best to become friends. Not that the Earl of Hereford required that his second wife befriend his daughter once his mind was made up to marry.

Margaret knew that the real reason Mrs. Palmer had decided they should have a very short wedding tour and return to take Margaret back to London and another season was the hopes that they would get her to form an alliance. It was so obvious. And the servants told her well enough that no bride liked to be challenged in her house. Margaret having been mistress of Carnerford Hall, since the age of eight, but really acting as such these last two years.

She was to go down to the drawing room, and meet there with the rest of the family for it was nearly dinner time. Margaret took stock of herself for her abigail had just left, having finished her hair. Her locks teased into place with little effort for she was lucky in having hair that was very much adapted to the fashion. Her evening dress was white with black sleeves and brocade. Her figure snug at the waist and full in the chest, rounded where it should be. She knew that the footmen and butlers, grooms and groundsmen all admired her as they could.

And if they did, then so to did Reed and Lewis for all their words that deprecated her. Even were she their true sister, and the church service in two days would make her so, they shouldn't say such things to her. The first time she had retired to her room and wept for she thought it might be true. Her eyes, she always suspected were too far apart, her neck too thin, making her jawline that of a cliff, it was so straight.

Then she had a little tan to her skin, that which could be seen as she often was out about the grounds of Carnerford. Even before the last Countess had died, her mother had taken her along as they paid calls on the cottagers at least once each month. When the Countess had died, nurse and her tutor both helped her to carry on the tradition. Now she attended to the matter with Mrs. Palmer, though that lady grew tired before even half the cottagers had been seen.

Mrs. Palmer though did not shirk the duty. Sometimes Margaret could not understand the lady. She did seem to love the Earl, and want to truly become the Countess that Hereford had lacked. But at other times, like the decision to ensure Lady Margaret had a season that would see her wed, it showed an entire different side.

Margaret reached for a silk shawl from the orient, all greens and reds and blues. The greens were the color of her eyes, which is why the Earl had given it to her before the start of the last season. If he had not been so besotted he might have remembered he had a daughter, but nearly from the first moment that Mrs. Palmer had come into their lives, that had been forgotten.

New Regency 200 Pages

Since finishing Hoveria, have been hard at work on new Regency.

Our hero, Henry St. James Evermond, the Marquess of Falmont has two sisters that have been neglected by his father, that last Marquess. Now that he has the title, he knows that they both must be launched into society and takes them up to Town for the season. Here he finds that he too is affected by what happens when a young lady is presented around town during the season. Lord Falmont had no desire to become attached, but he could not deny that his heart was affected so.

As of today, I am 60,357 words since Monday the 17th At this rate, I may be finished by the weekend and look for a third book to work on this month.

In my last posts I talked of being sick and taking a few days off for that and for my speaking to a reading group. However I have written so much that by the end of the day I should be at 120,000 words for January. A pace of 36,000 each and every week of this year, though last week I had written over 50,000 words. It has worked out at 12,000 words week one, 36,000 words week 2, and 50,000 words week 3. Here in Week 4, and this is a 5 week month, I want to write as much as possible for from Thursday on next week I am taking time off again and may find it hard to write.

There will also be no writing on SuperBowl Sunday…. (See Below)

Though I should have posted Chapter 1 at the 100 page milestone, we have reached 200 pages so here is chapter 1.

1) At Home After Father Was Gone

Henry St.James Evermond, the Marquess of Falmont bounced in his saddle once more. "We have to smooth out the path, don't we lad." He talked to his horse, not as an eccentric would, for though he knew that he had some tendencies society and the Ton might think of so, he wasn't so far from the path of sanity that he made a habit of having conversations with his mounts. No, he had spoken to reassure the both of them. He did not like the many times that morning that he had bounced up off his saddle and landed again. Not that his backside could not withstand the shock, but this estate, as had the others in his inheritance, could stand some improvement.

Improvements that his agents had said his father would not allow.

Slowing to a stop, Henry turned the horse around and slowly walked back to the site where he had felt the uneven road. His father's death was unexpected, and did not come fast, for near the last two weeks of the season he had been struck down, Henry being summoned at once to his side. If the estates in the country showed signs of wear, certainly the London House was the top of fashionable living. Henry had a good allowance though his friends would have said a bit sparse considering he was heir to the title now. His older brother Michael dying three years before from dueling. A foolish thing to be doing, especially over such a small matter of honor.

Michael had been called an unflattering term. Michael also thought he was rather good with a sword and pistol. Three previous duels had proven that. His opponents ended cut, and he unscathed. Henry was with Wellington and the army and so had not been able to talk his brother out of such folly at any time. The fourth time Michael had been not only slower to land a touch upon his opponent, but the man had cut too high upon the neck. Michael was dead in moments, and Sir Claire Everington had fled for the West Indies, doubtless never thinking that he would have killed the heir to a peerage.

Henry dismounted where the path, the nicest to observe the grounds and ride about the Park of Falmont, had caused him to notice it's disrepair. Three estates and all the monies that should have gone to their upkeep his father had spent on the London House, which of course was called with no sense of creativity, the London House. The Marquess, his father had spent thirty years being a Pink of the Ton in London, though few could say they had been invited to Falmont. If they had he certainly would have lost his notoriety.

Now Henry had to restore the balance, though it was not insurmountable. It was just going to be a tremendous task and would take years. With the war over and his return to London society, though, he had the time. With the Marquess having been stricken, he lingered more than a month before succumbing. By then Town was cleared of most of those who had spoken of the previous Marquess as a friend. Not that Henry ever thought that his father had many friends. Many who were in his pocket perhaps, but not friends.

A small memorial service was held in the St. Edmund's Chapel of Westminster Abbey. The Archbishop did not even preside, and the Marquess of Falmont a peer of the realm. Less than a dozen were in attendance, and of those more than half were Henry's friends, not the intimates of his father. Henry was not bitter by the poor showing, for he well knew his father. A man who lacked substance and made much of being a man others wanted to look at and emulate, in fashion and style. He was in short, a Peacock. An attribute that led his parents to separate and his mother to precede his father in death by some years.

Henry looked at the ground on the path and then took a note book from his waist coat pocket as well as a small pencil. He began to take a few details of what he saw and what he desired fixed. He and his agent for the estate, Mr. Marks, would go over the lists later and see what priority they could assign to each task. One of the first was the replacement though of mattresses for the beds in the manor. Henry had not been a guest of the house, his house now, since he had left for Eton. Twenty years, or so and the mattresses were not fit. He had to have the mattress replaced in his room, his father's old room with one that the servants used. Those at least had been maintained well enough that they were free of an infestation of bed bugs.

The mattress in his room had been totally filled with them, but then his father had not journeyed to the Falmont for at least five years. He kneeled to look closer at the road and see if this point revealed anything else of detail he wanted to note. The verge was cut rather indiscriminately as well. Henry straightened to his height of just over six feet. Still lean, though if any saw him in his naked form, they would see that two years after Waterloo and there was the slightest addition to his midriff. Henry would know of it, but would any other think he was not thin? He would know for he would lay a finger across his stomach and it was not as flat as it had been when he had been on campaign.

Yet his muscles still were developed and his calves still would be remarked on by the ladies. With the death of his father, his access to the ready had increased and a new set of Hessians had been ordered. His eyes were blue, the same colour as the water of the channel when the sun bounced off it a few hours short of sunset. Hair straight and long enough to be tied with a ribbon. Blonde with a healthy dose of red in it, his mother always said that was from her side of the family. They were of pure lineage from Kent and predated the conquest while the Evermond's say with their own pride that they had come across with William.

Not that there had been a knight of Evermond in Normandy before the conquest, but their was the day after Hastings. Not even family legend had recorded how that came about. Henry felt that his ancestor was smart enough to turn riding against the Saxon shield wall led to a few men surviving the day and assuring William and others that they were knights that had joined his invasion. William looking for those to support him and strong enough to do so may not have questioned their lineage after his success.

The Duke of Normandy back at the conquest was probably assured of those who were in fealty to him, but those others who came to join his army, well he may not have thought to look closely at all their credentials. Now over 750 years later, it would be hard to know for certain, but the Evermond's could not find any trace of their family before the conquest. Since then, they had done well enough. Henry the second granting an ancestor a barony, and then, Henry the Seventh further rewarding them. Knowing who to support at Bosworth had ensured the greater step to being a Marquess.

Henry mused as he remounted his horse, what was he going to say to that? If a king who overthrew another rewarded his ancestor for an act of support, or betrayal depending on your way of looking at things, it allowed the Evermond's to move forward. Not that they had not paid England back many times with sacrifice for the honor of the title they carried. Nineteen members of the male line since Henry the Seventh had served in the countries armies. Six dying in that service. Henry himself had come close two times in Spain and in Flanders.

He rubbed his arm where the easy to reach reminder of that was. The other, was just above his right buttock and though rubbing his back was not embarrassing, he was on a horse and he did not need to rub both areas where he carried scars to remember that he had them. They were obtrusive enough in his ming that he seldom forgot they were there.

"Let's back to the house, shall we girl. The Vicar and his wife are to come for tea and I must change, again." His father would have thought him a fool for thinking that changing clothes so many times a day was a bother. But it was and it would be a fool to Henry's mind that thought changing, even up to four times in one day was something that should be done. Aside from himself on the estate, no one else changed their clothes. The servants and tenants all donned one outfit a day, even his richest tenants, for there were a couple who had ambitions to make their way up the shelves of the social bookcase. No one else was required to get out of their morning clothes to put on riding clothes if they wished to ride about the park, or lands of Falmont. Henry was and now he would have to change into another outfit, and last, late that night, even though he planned to dine with just his sisters Fanny and Beth, he would have to change again.

Shortly after Michael had died, so had their mother, Lady Falmont. Her death brought his sisters home to live with father, for they had been under their mother's care. The year before Fanny was set to have her season, and their father, not inclined to bring a young lady out into society, did not. He sent her here to Falmont with Beth to rot. If father had not denied him access to the estate, he would have visited them. As close as he came was through the good efforts of Mr. and Mrs. Grace, the Vicar and his wife. He had been able to stay in the village a few times under an assumed name and meet his sisters when they attended chapel and took tea at the vicarage later on a few Sundays.

Guess who is going to the Super Bowl Again!!!! Packers

Hoveria Finsihed 500+ pages

Milestone day

I finished another first draft, Book 2 in the KoTohLan saga, dealing with the second kingdom of the seven kingdom empire to be visited, Hoveria. 150,781 words, putting the word count for 2011 at over 50,000 words. Time for another writing challenge.

The finish was a little difficult as I broke the last chapter to give us three perspectives on the action, the last being how our hero sees things and prepares for the next segment. Giving out rewards, tieing up some lose ends, putting in place somethings for the next book. All in all a good way to handle things.

Here is the beginning of chapter 5:

5) Calm Returns

The Coterie was gathering, Ferdinand reflected, at least the members in Karn were doing so. Tonight they met at the Emporia, which was not absurd or suspicious. Cortier was basking in the glow of the win by Magnus. Great banners had been hung at the walls of the emporia and throughout the Cortier Precinct men walked about not only with the Imperial badge that Magnus had started to wear so many years before, but also, a Cortier badge that had been made to look like a game stone. That badge was the Magnus Thistle badge.

His fans had started to wear it some years ago before he had even won the first tourney seed, but lately, especially after Magnus had won the tourney, tens of thousands began to wear it. Someone in the Sarbentine house sold them and the money went to a private account. The traders of Cortier were able to tell. The Sarbentine had given Joss a loan recently, large, but not outrageous. Enough so that he might think to go back to them for more. An action surely to stay his hand from shutting them down. An event the Emperor had not yet taken to begin.

One day though, the Emperor might do so. Others had done so, and then had seen themselves lose their lives very quickly after. None of the Emperors who had meddled in a trading House, or reneged on a debt had lasted a year. Except one. And he had done his best to correct the excess not of his government but of the trading houses. The people were so far behind him, near two thousand years before, that the trading houses had adopted new rules to govern themselves and it had been many years since any of the imperial trading houses had thought to bend those rules.

Joss had waited a few days then thought he should summon his new Imperial Master to the palace and talk to him. Duke Franklin said he had intended to be civil, but Ferdinand could only report to the Imperial Messenger that Magnus had disappeared the day after the tournament had ended. They had a feast for him, and he had been out to drink with friends and supporters, but when they looked in his room, he had gone. Ferdinand had been given a letter to have published in the two games papers, and he told the messenger that day's paper should surely report on it. How Magnus had left and gone to the edges of the Empire as was the duty of the Imperial Master. His plan to search out generals and see if they wished his advice.

He however did not tell Ferdinand where he went, and all could see by the letter that he had not mentioned where he was going precisely. Magnus had suggested word should go out in the one letter he really did leave, for Ferdinand, so Ferdinand had just created a second letter that suggested it was written by Magnus. It all worked well, but Duke Franklin told his brother, the General, that the Emperor was not amused when the messenger returned with the news and the games paper where he saw the letter printed. It nearly said what Magnus had told him at the end of the tourney. It did not suggest that Magnus left for he feared for his life at Joss' hands, or would accept the insult of a small home, when Imperial Masters had almost always been given great palaces.

Ferdinand still did not feel it was time to bring back to the house any man who had family, or the families that he had sent off. The audacity of Magnus Thistle to win the game, and to humiliate the Emperor to the tune of ten thousand gold was still too fresh. Master Ross, the man who had needed the Emperor to cover such a wager, had disappeared. Arch Priest Saul, assured them all that Joss had not picked him up and killed the man. He had left hurriedly the day he had lost the Imperial championship.

Balis had said to Saul that all was not done with the man, but that the gods were putting him outside the reach of the Emperor just then. Saul had no other news then that. Amree had come to many in Cortier and gave them comforting thoughts of their loved ones and that they were safe. It was reassuring. She had come to the dreams of the men of Cortier the night that Magnus had won the tourney. Old John, Chief Bili and Colonel Paks all said they had a visitation and discussion with Fring, though. Old John was told to go to his son and send him from the Emporia to help Magnus. The other two were told to make it so that Magnus and John both could leave if he so chose and that should information come back to Cortier of his wherabouts, that they should remember it but not tell Ferdinand, for old oaths he had given would cause him conflict."

Fring was probably laughing but it was so. His oaths to the Coteries were superseded by his oaths to Magnus. But he had known those people for years. One was the father of his wife. How did he hide from them any knowledge of where Magnus was or had gone. His lieutenants were right that they could keep track of Magnus If they had such word and need not share at all with him. That would certainly solve such a problem. Again a solution that surely tickled the god of jests, tricks, and that which was humorous.

The Overlord of Haltoria would not attend. He was old now and soon one of Laurene's brothers would take over. Three of them, all equally capable, but he did not think that all wanted the responsibility. Especially as they now would have more duties then their father thought he would have when they were born. As Ferdinand was married to Laurene, he too could be nominated for such a position, but he was very happy running his emporia and trading house. That Laurene was the daughter of the Overlord had recently been made known to Duke Mikal and Duke Beacons. Duke Franklin knew but he was told once more at the same time as the other Royal Dukes so that he could feign surprise at the revelation.

The Camorian representative also would not attend. General Zacharia Carter was in Camoria attending to the needs of his position as Council Leader. His son, a quarter finalist in the Imperial had returned to Camoria, as had his daughter, the wife of Duke Mikal Korman, the Emperor's right hand. Mother Carla had come to them all to say that development had proved unexpected. At first Ferdinand thought it was a bad idea. But the Goddess Nuln wished it.

Then Ferdinand had found that the girl despised her husband and was in no danger of falling in love with him. Further, when Magnus was brought to teach the son, Ferdinand saw the gods hands in that gesture. Just as he had guided Magnus for all those years, perhaps that was the plan of the Gods, to have Magnus befriend the boy who was the son of a monster. Or also to provide a poetic end to the Royal Duke. Mikal had killed Magnus' parents and one of his true uncles. If and when that happened, it would make for a legend and strangely enough, many Emperors had legends. It was something that the gods seemed to like to arrange.

Students of history would note that there were more than ten emperors who had nothing much to them, sons of heroic men, just to be caretakers of the empire. Men who should have known to live in peaceful time was something to be relished. Those men took effort to fabricate such legends for themselves. Debunked in the generations that came after them. Probably again at the hands of the Gods guiding historians and theologians to do so. Thus there were those with heroic legends and those with legends making them cast even more evil then they probably had been.

In other news, it is time then to choose the next project. I am at nearly 30% of all my writing being Regency related, and have spent a great deal of time lately doing Fantasy. So with a goal of trying to put out 4 regencies a year, or 40% of the books I write being Regency now, I think that is the next task.

Elsewhere, two nights ago the Packers won their playoff game. Now to fight the Bears for a trip to the SuperBowl. That would be nice. I also finished reading the first Lord Darcy mystery courtesy of Project Gutenberg . Not quite the background I was looking for to compliment a story I am thinking about in the Steam and Thunder universe, but a start.