|Nose to the Grindstone
||[Oct. 17th, 2008|02:29 pm]
2655 words so far today (a couple of hours ago, actually, but I was unable to get online--kept being knocked off after a few seconds.)
Should make my words OK today. It's flowing well.
With no intent to bite anyone, let me explain that when I post about research I'm doing, that's just FYI, to share some of the experience. I'm not asking for help.
When I need help, I ask specifically.
Though if anyone finds those missing background notebooks...please do tell me!
Meanwhile...there's not much to say about this week's work that wouldn't be a major spoiler. I'll try to find a snippet later that's not too revelatory....oh, here's one:
Setting: outskirts of Cortes Vonja; the local militia has just tried to insist on collecting the prizes Arcolin's people brought in. Arcolin refused, and showed the relevant orders to deliver captured goods directly to the Council.
Arcolin turned back to the Cortes Vonja captain. "We will not need your help," he said. "But I thank you for the offer.
"It is no matter of mine," the man said, "if the Council chooses to use foreign rabble instead of its own loyal troops." He turned his horse rudely, rump toward Arcolin.
"At least they can count on us not to run away," Arcolin murmured, remembering a particular battle that spawned at least two songs popular with mercenaries.
"That was Pler Vonja militia, not Cortes Vonja," the man said, glaring.
"My pardon," Arcolin said. "I must have misheard the story."
And some of you know he hadn't. It was the Vonja militia, now famous in song and story for a battle they wish everyone would forget.