Chapter 19: A Case of Stormy Moods

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CHAPTER NINETEEN: A Case of Stormy Moods

Simon continued with his daily life. He met and trained with Sage. Started to get used to this new world. He was trying to think of a way to get the Writer's plan in place. Quite frankly, he thought what I was doing was stupid but he didn't say anything. I was his way back. He was going to do exactly as I said from his own will because he had no other choice. In the end, Simon decided that the best way to really get the plan to work was obviously to work at it in grass roots. Be subtle about it, in other words. The question was how to be subtle about it-in a way that didn't arise suspicion or get himself hanged for treason or some other minor offense. The king was well-liked from what Simon could see in the palace and capital city, but he also knew that if the king thought it would be best for the country, he would kill Simon with his own hands without a second thought. Though he was a but a simple fencing master, he didn't want the king to get any ideas.

Here was the plan to get a way to start hinting at Tara's story: It would start with Simon's monthly meetings with the king, to start bringing up that he was worried about Tara. He knew the king would refute him but at least the seed of something would be planted and all Simon would have to do is make it grow. Somehow, he needed Sage to fail in her skills as a warrior. Something small, yet alarming enough that the king begins to give serious thought to what Simon was saying. Once that happened coupled with the kingdom's already cultural disapproval of Sage's skills and the fact that she was a women, the fire would have started and all Simon would have to do is add fuel. It was simple yet devious enough and Simon hoped it worked. He was already 'working' around the clock. He didn't want to extend his stay in this world longer than it needed to be.

When Simon came in for his months tea with the king, the king was at his desk, spectacles on, a quill in his hand, inspecting some books. He had creases of concentration on his forehead and he did not look up as Simon came in. It seemed like he didn't even notice. Simon sat on the chair opposite of the desk and waited. The king seemed busy and it seemed like it was important so Simon sat quietly for the five minutes that the king did his work and waited for him to notice. Plus, he needed to gather his thoughts about how he was going to bring up the question of Sage with the king. He could feel butterflies in his stomach. He shifted in his chair and as he did, the chair made a creaking sound. The king looked up.

"Oh, you're here," the king said, returning to his papers almost immediately. "Sit for another five minutes. I need to finish this. Matters of agriculture in the western regions, you understand. Can't be put off. No matter how much everyone wants it to be." He muttered the last sentence under his breath.

Simon nodded and waited a bit longer while the king finished his work. It was taking him a while. To the point where Simon wished that they could just have their goddamn tea, so that he could just get it over with. The anticipation was just killing him. He just wanted to be done so he could go on a walk and again overthink his life choices and regret being born. Because overthinking things was what he was good at.

And here comes the moment. The moment all writers love beyond anything. The moment where things start to change in a story. Where a character is finally pushed into the path of fate, when the ball starts rolling, nothing being able to stop it. After all, gravity is a powerful force, halted only by the impact of hitting the ground. They are the moments that perhaps not the character or the reader even recognizes: it is the collision of events at which where the story begins its slow climb to the climax. Like how anticipation fills your stomach on the rise of the rollercoaster, this was the moment before the fall. Some collisions are obvious, such as a plane crashing. Or even the door I so blatantly tempted Simon with. But some-like the one about to happen-some are subtle. These are apples falling to the ground and rolling away. No one notices the importance of the green half-bitten apple rolling away in the street, it is deemed unimportant until the moment of truth, when the writer reveals the importance of this. We writers love moments like these, especially the subtle ones. These are the softly spoken secrets, a treasure only one person knows. This knowledge is the best feeling in the world.

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