Today we meet an important figure in Lord Mandrean’s life.  He is General Gramlick.  There is only one thing wrong with Gramlick.  He serves the wrong side.  Enjoy!
With great anguish he dragged his leg forward and prepared to bow.  Mandrean rushed forward and physically stopped the general.  “That is not necessary, Old Friend,” Mandrean assured.  Gramlick displayed irritation at the comment.  “I need not be patronized, My Lord.  If the others must greet you then I must do so as well.  Do you not remember anything I taught you about the value of maintaining discipline?”  The general did not wait for a response.  He bent his head as low as he could without losing his balance.  Upon rising he firmly called “Pawns.”  Eight paws numbering eleven through eighteen clustered nearly on top of one another at the eastern edge of the Silver River.  They huddled at the very frontier of the Empire.   Mandrean showed intense concern for the health of Gramlick and discreetly allowed the general to lean against him for support.  “The leg seems to be much worse since our last meeting.  You should let my physicians tend to you.” “Your offer is most kind My Lord.  I took the liberty of consulting them earlier in the day on the matter of my leg.  They were of one opinion about its condition and I was of another.  At this point opinions will not change facts.  My time is short.  What I still have, as always, belongs to you my Pupil and Master.” Mandrean appeared heartbroken by the revelation.  “Perhaps if they were to remove the leg it would give you time?” “Regardless of the measures taken,” Gramlick explained, “The result will be the same.  What time I have left will be lived with the dignity I have strived to display my entire life.  I shall leave on my own terms.  Before I do, we have the matter of this latest invasion you have planned for Romadon.” “Are the preparations complete?” Mandrean asked with excitement. “In my mind,” Gramlick retorted, “They will never be complete.  This plan is a logistical nightmare.  It will not work.” Mandrean’s temper began to rise but he restrained its wrath out of respect for his mentor.  “Were you not the one who told me our previous invasions through the Romadon Gap were likely annihilated after being encircled and cut off from supplies?  This is the only way to prevent that from happening again.” “My Lord,” Gramlick argued as he pointed at the map.  “Even with eight full divisions you are talking about a very thin front stretching from the Endless Mountains to the Great Western Forest.  If I were defending against such an assault I would cluster my forces in areas where I could bring all my men to bear against weak links in the front.  Then I would penetrate your lines and sweep around from behind.  End game.” “This time,” Mandrean corrected with excitement.  “We have been storing provisions for this attack for over a year.  Previously we had to stop our advance because the Gap was so vast supplies could not keep pace.  This time the supplies will flow from the depots right behind the army.  Those fools in Romadon will not have a chance to regroup.  We will drive them before us straight through the Gap and into their heartland.” “They are expecting an attack,” Gramlick noted.  “It’s not like we could hide the buildup.  Come spring they will be lying in wait for us.” “All the more reason I have decided not to wait for spring,” said Mandrean.  “I want the assault launched within a fortnight.” Gramlick was stunned by the disclosure.  “You can’t be serious.” Mandrean released his hold of the general and began to dance around in amusement at his perceived genius.  “They will never expect an attack in the fall.” “With good reason,” snorted Gramlick.  “Fall will soon be a distant memory and the winds blowing out of the mountains can cut a man down as surely as a blade.  We will lose half our goblins to the cold alone.” “They are Goblins,” noted Mandrean.  “They are used to harsh winters.  Remember our enemy will be fighting in the same conditions.  They too will lose men.”
“They are defending their home soil,” said Gramlick.  “They will have shelter from the cold while we color the snow with our blood.”  Then he thought for a moment.  He tried another approach.  “Alright.  Let’s say for the moment we do take them by surprise and we drive them back.  Let us further assume our supplies can keep up with the advance and our forces aren’t lured into a trap or delayed by snow.  If we rout all opposition quickly it will still take nearly three months to advance across the Gap.  That would mean in the dead of winter we would be at the end of the longest supply chain in history.  Our soldiers will be frozen, starving and exhausted.  Do you plan to dig in and resume the attack in the spring?” “That’s what they want us to do but we will continue to drive into the core of their nation.” “We will not be able to supply the army at that distance,” argued Gramlick.  “The territory is too vast and conditions will make it impossible.” “We won’t need supplies,” Mandrean smirked.  “We will simply live off the land and what we confiscate from the Romadonians.”   Gramlick laughed and ran his hand down his face.  “You really think we will be able to forage midwinter for enough food to feed eight divisions?  I think My Lord has had too much wine.  I will concede the point for the moment. 

This is a great piece about Linvin’s history.  It really fills in some gaps…while creating others.  I do love writing so.  Enjoy!
“My dear boy, I know this look.  There is something eating you up inside.  There is a problem you do not admit exists and it has been bothering you since before today.  When that problem comes to mind, you suppress it and vent your frustration elsewhere.  Forget about tonight.  Tell me what is really bothering you.” Linvin was still.  He closed his eyes and tried to put aside the events of the day.  At last he spoke, “My life makes no sense to me.  There I was, growing up with my parents and then out of nowhere my father tells me, ‘I must send you away, son.  You are destined for something greater than the life I can provide.  The greatness in your future lies down a separate road than I must travel.  To prepare for that, I must send you to the greatest teacher you could have, Sedemihcra.’” “‘You will be trained to be a soldier, a commander and a leader of men.  He will also train you to use your mind to solve problems that force alone cannot solve.  He will set you on the right path.  When the time is right and your training is complete, I will send for you to return home.’” “I asked him what was at the end of my path. He had such passion in his voice as he told me, ‘One day you will make an unrivaled difference in the lives of others. The weak, the helpless, the oppressed; all will one-day look to you as their champion.  They will be counting on you.  I will be counting on you.’” “‘To send you away is the hardest thing I have ever done.  Your mother is against this but the time has come for you to begin your training.  There is so much at stake, son.  You will have the chance to stand up to tyranny, oppression and all the evils of the world.  That task will fall to you alone.  You can rise to the challenge or turn your back.  If you do turn away though, millions of people will suffer.  Terrible storms are on the horizon. You are the only shelter the people will have.  So you see my son, that is why you must go.’” Anvar sat his stein on the rail and began to pace. “Your parents agonized over the decision and your mother was indeed set against the entire idea, but in the end, your father would not defer.  He sent you away because he knew that you needed training.”
Linvin finished his ale and refilled the great vessel.  “I had many years to ponder those words as I grew up in Valia.  It never made sense to me but I had to trust my father’s judgment.” “So here I am at last, summoned home to fulfill my destiny.  As it turns out, I am destined to be a merchant or politician and marry some cold, greedy woman who comes from the right family.  I will settle down, make more money and be a proper member of society.”  Linvin’s tone had been sarcastic and his movements, grandiose. He approached Anvar in a combination of frustration and anger.  “So, dear uncle, best friend of Dirk Grithinshield, is this the life for which my father sent me to be trained?” Anvar shoved his tipsy nephew back into a rocker. “I can see that you have put some thought into this.” Linvin drank deeply and then answered, “Being exiled for half of your life gives one time to reflect.” “So here and now, Anvar, is this it?  Is this what my future is meant to be?  If it is, then why not let me stay with my parents?  Why not let me learn from my father?  Something is not right about all of this.  The pieces do not fit together.  With my father gone, I think there is one person who holds the answers I seek.  That person is you, Anvar.  To my knowledge you have never lied to me.  So I ask you again, is this the life my father wanted for me?”

It seems to me there is a famous quote out there that says something to the affect, “Time always wins in the end.”  I’m sure the actual quote is much more eloquent and makes you say, “Oh, I know that one.”  It’s one of those sayings that sounds preposterous until you give it some thought.  Imagine infinite time.  Then think of some of the great accomplishments of man: The pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Roman aqueducts, Hoover Dam, Mount Rushmore and even the Coliseum of Rome will one day revert to sand if left to their own devices.  Time is a patient killer; sometimes waiting thousands of years to have its way.  The natural world is its toy.  It creates and destroys.  We need look no further than the rising mountain ranges like the Rockies, Andes, Himalayas and Alps or the falling ones like the Appalachians or the remains of the Canadian Shield.  Out of destruction can come amazing things like the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone Park, Iceland and the Great Salt Lake.  Time always wins.  There is nothing man can do against the most powerful force in this world; time.  To fight it is instinctive but is fool’s errand at heart.  Even with our own bodies, we can delay its effects but time is a persistent adversary.  It will wait and wait until it wins.  There is no stopping it.  There is no denying it.  Time will wear you down.  No one has learned this lesson as well as my thirteen year old daughter.  She has been on the puppy bandwagon for over a year.  I give her solid reasons why a dog is not a good idea for our family at this time.  They are good reasons.  Any rational person would accept them and move on to another subject.  My daughter is not one of those people.  She knows how time works and, when used properly, can be your ally in your battle.  She sends me text messages.  She posts pictures of dogs on the refrigerator.  When they are removed, they reappear.  She Googles pictures of dogs and leaves them out for me to see.  She deleted all my most visited sites from the computer and replaced them with pictures of dogs, leashes and cages for when we’re out.  My blue tooth was lost for weeks and I was going crazy.  After I offered her a reward, she found it in 5 minutes and put the money into her dog fund.  Inexplicably the other night I found myself searching Craigslist for a dog and then emailing the person to get specifics.  My daughter discovered the sent email and checked every hour for a reply until one came.  They have one puppy left.  What is going on with me?  How did I get here?  I don’t want a dog right now.  It’s a really bad time.  And there’s the answer.  Tick, tick, tick.  Time is wearing me down.  It is like arthritis attacking my bones.  First it goes after the protective layer and then digs in where it hurts.  My daughter has begun to change her verbiage into “When we have a dog” and “What size of cage will we need.”  We’re talking about a dog nearly two hours away I have only seen pictures of and I am not even sure if my daughter is allergic to.  I’m not getting one.  I’m not.  Man, time is a pain!

As I mentioned in a blog I wrote last week, as a society we seem to be in love with labels.  We have labels for CDs (Yes I still buy them), for features of products, for allergy risks in foods, where to cross the street, the type of restaurant where you are eating and the list goes on.  As a people, humans appear to love labels.  They take the guess work out of many things for us.  When we see the recycling label on a piece of paper we know it has been recycled.  Labels tells where to go, how to act and what to do.  What if one day all the labels were gone?  No more street signs or store signs or even “For Sale” signs dotting the landscape and cars.  There would be no prices at the grocery store.  One would just see long rows of shiny cans.  You would have no idea what gas cost when you filled up.  Driving would be a nightmare.  With no speed limits or construction signs highways could be quite dangerous.  We would be like a bunch of toddlers running around with no idea of what was what.  All around us are the labels we see.  What I want to talk about today are the ones we don’t see.  These are labels we give but never print out or post for the world.  How many times have you said, “That person is really smart,” or “That person is and idiot?”  When was the last time you were in traffic and thought, “That guy doesn’t know how to drive.  He’s going to get someone killed.”  On the other hand you might say, “Please let me in the lane.  Please let me in the lane. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. (Obligatory wave) That driver is so nice.”  Was the very first person really that smart or did they happen to do something smart in your presence once?  Was the second person really an idiot?  Most likely the answer is no.  Likely the person did something ill-conceived once or even twice around you and you slapped the label on.  How about the drivers?  In all fairness, it is safe to say most drivers on the road have a license.  That would preclude the fact that they do in fact know how to drive.  Are they going to actually kill someone?  I certainly hope not but out shoots the label.   How about the kind soul that let us into the lane.  Are they really that nice?  Maybe they have a dead body in the trunk of their car and simply didn’t want to take the chance of an accident where the police might become involved and his crime might be discovered.  The point I am trying to make is that labels in and of themselves are not necessarily a bad thing.  They can be helpful by saving time and aggravation.  Often times, however, they are carelessly tossed about based on little information.  When that happens feelings can be hurt and wrong impressions can be left.  Kind of feels like the playground at school as a child all over again, doesn’t it?

Here is today’s excerpt from “Sapphire Crucible”.  Enjoy!
Donorus hardly reached his place before Tecious struggled to his feet and stepped forward with cane in hand.  After a few paces, the frail senior general stopped and gave a nod of his head.  A mere two pawns came forward marked Nine and Ten.  They took up positions south of Marinhalk and north of the Sorrowful Sea.    “My report will be short, My Lord.” Tecious announced.  “I currently command only two divisions.  They are both in training and will not be ready to be activated for some time.”  Mandrean’s demeanor changed drastically.  After returning his goblet to Fendri, he walked forward with concern.  “How are the new Legions doing?” he asked.  Tecious sighed and leaned on his cane with both hands.  “I have trained armies for this Empire for over forty years and never have I seen a sorrier group of recruits than this last batch you sent me.  I understand the Cangon Clan has chosen not to sell us any more goblins.  My belief is they came to that decision before sending us this lot.  It is not like it used to be where the crème of their warrior crop was ours for the choosing.  These goblins are too lazy, too old and too young.  I expect half to wash out in training and the rest will take at least a year to be battle ready.  “As for economics, my Province has fertile farmlands producing everything from hard-fruit to grains.  The grape harvest is beginning and our wine production is reaching new heights.  Unfortunately, we have no one with whom to trade.  Only Ravensburg accepts our goods outside the empire.  While they call themselves a ‘Free City’ the taxes they charge on every transaction border the ridiculous.”  Mandrean began to pace.  “I’ve heard about the Cangons,” he affirmed.  “We will have to look in different directions to fill the Legions.”  “I have made this statement before and I stand by it,” Tecious noted.  “It is time to reintroduce Men back into the army.  The shortage of manpower has been overcome and the goblins are running amuck.  Even with the best training they loot from our own people.  Crops are pillaged and stores confiscated.”  “Are the usurpers dealt with swiftly?” Mandrean asked.  “Of course,” Tecious answered.  “I have put more goblins to the sword for theft in the last two years than I did years ago in all the Border Wars with the Goblin Nations.  We are being sent the dregs of their society.  While our fine men work in the fields, these scoundrels carry the Standard of the Empire.  It is time to reverse their roles.”   Mandrean was silent as he walked over and politely gestured to the seat where Tecious had been in a nonverbal request to sit.  The general rolled his eyes and shuffled back to his place.  “Go ahead,” he mumbled on his way.  “Say it.”  Mandrean obliged.  “Great Tecious, you are a Master Trainer and no finer have ever lived…”  “But?” Tecious interjected.  Mandrean despised being predictable but felt no choice but to finish his thought.  “You know my plans.  We stand to take considerable losses.  I would rather goblins form the fodder rather than our people.”  “As always, My Lord, I am your humble servant and will comply.  Do consider, if the makeup of our forces were different, our loses may be as well.”  “If you are wrong,” Mandrean corrected. “We face a decimation of the populace not seen since the War of the Unclaimed Territory.  The people would revolt.”  “They are not far from that point now,” Tecious added.  “Our people are tired of the goblins and the crumbling infrastructure.  They are nearing their threshold.”  Mandrean walked to his throne and spoke.  “It will not be long before our people’s fears are alleviated and all will be well.  I assure you.”  Tecious simply nodded his acknowledgement and said no more.

Here is your Saturday excerpt from “Quest for the Red Sapphire.  Enjoy.
“It is safe, Anvar.  You can come out of the corner.”  In the far corner of the deck, between a chimney and wall, came the sight of a small orange light.  After having puffed his pipe, Anvar exited the shadows and walked over to his nephew.  He leaned on the rail as Linvin was doing. “However did you know I was there?” asked Anvar. “Please Uncle.  I could smell your apple flavored tobacco the moment I stepped onto this deck.” Anvar looked at Linvin’s glass of brandy, which lay largely untouched.  “I see you have the same love of fine brandy that I do,” Anvar said with a laugh.  Then he turned to the bartender.  “Do you have that item I gave you to store?” “Of course,” replied the bartender as he bent behind the bar and produced a small keg of elven ale. “I think you have earned a reward, my boy.” Linvin dumped his brandy over the rail and said, “I could not agree more.” Anvar had been prepared for this eventuality.  At his command, the bartender produced two massive steins and filled them with ale.  “Will there be anything else, sirs?” “No thank you,” Anvar replied as he handed some coins to the man.  “Just leave the keg out for us.” “Very good sir,” replied the servant before going downstairs to help with the aftermath of the party. Anvar and Linvin each took up a rocker and drank their ale.  Before long, Linvin had his pipe out as well.
“Mother was right about the view up here.  You can see the entire city.” “Speaking of views,” Anvar chided, “You had quite the nice view of young ladies out here.” “Do not remind me,” Linvin said as he rocked.  “I felt like the prize whore in a brothel.  Could you hear what they were saying from over there?” “Sadly, no,” replied Anvar.  “The acoustics were not very favorable in the corner.” “In that case,” Linvin laughed, “I envy you.  They were all like trained pets following their mothers’ orders. Everything they said sounded like, ‘I love children.  I hope to have several.  In fact, boys run in my family.  It is not my place to question my husband’s authority.  He is lord of the house and his word goes.  The only reward I seek in life is to make my husband happy and did I mention how much I love children?’  And this was not one person’s answer.  They all said the exact same thing! Sometimes they would change the order a bit but they all were the same.  It was all I could take not to scream!” “Well,” laughed Anvar, “Those all sound like fine qualities in a wife.” “Oh please,” barked Linvin, “Those are fine qualities in a dog!  The answers were as phony as the ones I gave this evening, only less convincing.  If they were really telling the truth, then why would I want a wife like that anyway?  They sounded like servants.  I do not want a wife like that and truthfully, until my mother made it a priority, I had no urgent desire to attain a wife.” “Surely one of those beauties must have stood out from the group,” Anvar said before drinking his ale. “Not one,” Linvin said as he walked over to the rail again.  “Sure there were some that were ravishing, voluptuous and captivating in appearance, but I want more than that.   I want someone with a brain.  Someone I can talk to.  Most of all, I want someone who cares more about me than my money or name.  The question I really wanted to ask was, ‘If I was poor and no one knew my name, would you still be so eager to marry me?’” “That would have raised some eyebrows,” Anvar laughed, “I take it you did not ask because you knew their answers.” “No,” Linvin corrected, “I did not ask because I did not trust the answers they would give.” Anvar filled his drink and rejoined him at the rail. “Well, if you are looking for a woman who does not know who you are or your family’s worth, do not even bother looking in this town.” Linvin drew on his pipe and exhaled.  “That is the conclusion I came to tonight and it is not just the women who seem wrong for me.  This whole place is not…me. The house, the servants, the whole society thing.  It just seems like someone else’s life.” “Give it time,” Anvar said as he patted Linvin’s shoulder, “You have only been home one day.  You will adjust in time.”

It’s funny how many titles are assigned to people throughout their or your life.  Some people are called pretty or handsome while others are given unkind names referring to their appearance.  Individuals could be labeled as mean or disrespectful while still others are thought of as kind and considerate.  As a society we seem to love labels.  When they are accurately applied they tend to stick.  That’s actually not the point of this blog, although it seems like it could have been.  There are few people in my life I hold in high esteem.  My father happens to be one of them.  He has many labels but there is one that his children, relatives and former colleagues would universally use on him.  It is a label surprisingly used little in our society.  My father is wise.  To be fair, he is extraordinarily intelligent as well but the things he taught me over the years fall more in line with wisdom.  One afternoon in particular changed my life.  We had a few giant black walnut trees in our back yard and some of the limbs had died.  One of considerable size came down in a storm and thankfully missed our garage but my father and I went out there to saw it into firewood.  I was 18 and would be leaving for college in a month.  I knew everything about the world and nothing all at the same time.  My father asked no questions but instead started teaching as we worked.  He said there were some simple lessons to learn and if I followed them I would have a long, prosperous career with good friends one day.  The first thing he said was, “If you want to keep your friends, never talk about politics or religion.”  I tried to protest but was cut off repeatedly.  “But…”  “NO.”  “But…”  “Never!”  The point was made.  Next he said, “You see a pretty woman.  How do you compliment her?”  Was this a trick question?  I was an 18 year old boy with raging hormones.  Still, I focused.  “Um…I could say her shirt…”  “Wrong answer.  You were just slapped, fired or both.  Try again.”  I thought hard.  “Her smile.  Tell her she has a pretty smile.”  “Wrong again.  Not only are the first two things happening but you might be getting sued as well.”  “So what can I say?”  He tilted his head to the side and looked at me.  Then he said, “Did you do something different with your hair?  Then wait for a response.  She will always say something.  Then finish with ‘It’s most striking.”  I was hooked.  “What else should I know about work etiquette?”  He continued to saw and every little while would give me a nugget of gold.  “Never drink with your boss no matter how much they ask.  As hard as you try, you will end up saying the wrong thing and the next morning your boss will wake up only remembering what you said.  If you must go be the designated driver.  No one can say anything against you for that.”  “Don’t accept gifts from vendors doing business with you unless your boss tells you it’s alright.  You might see it as a poinsettia at Christmas but the company might look at it as a kickback.”  “When you eat a business lunch, never order anything that comes with sauce.  You don’t want everyone spending the day looking at the spot on your tie.  Also never order pasta. There is no way to eat it without someone being offended in a group.”  “Find out if your boss drinks and give them a bottle of their favorite alcohol for Christmas.  Make sure to wrap it so they don’t look like a lush.  It’s rare to find a person in authority who doesn’t like to let off a little steam at home.  This way when they do it, they’ll be reminded of you in a pleasant way.”  “Try never to date a girl who is friends with an old girlfriend…they talk and if one is your old girlfriend, there’s probably a reason she is.  You’re already dead in the water with the new one.”  So I asked, “In a non-work setting like say college, what’s a good way to compliment a woman without getting slapped or blown off.  My dad laughed.  “That question is as old as Adam and Eve.  What I always found worked best was this.  At your age the girls love to wear perfume.  Be sure you smell something before you say anything and then say, ‘Pardon me but what fragrance are you wearing?’  Whatever her response is you say, ‘Ah, it’s very subtle.’  After she thanks you then you introduce yourself.  If you want it to work better, go to the perfume counter at the department stores and ask what the best sellers are.  Then get samples for free and go home to memorize the scents.  If you can name them it has a powerful effect.”  I went to college and memorized nearly 50 different perfumes.  I could walk up to a girl at a party and say, “Pardon me, is that the perfume ‘Poison’ you’re wearing…It’s very subtle.  By the way my name is…”  It worked EVERY SINGLE TIME.  After that I could do no wrong.  I became “The Icebreaker” for my friends at parties.  I don’t believe he meant my powers to be used for evil but he also left me with a warning.  “Son, there are a lot of girls out there.  Just remember a difference.  There are girls you bring home and there are girls you bring home to Mom.  Stay away from the first group.”  Like I said, what a wise man.

We all experience loss in our lives.  We tend to dwell on the really big losses like the loss of a loved one or a job.  Then there is another tier reserved for items that are not necessarily life altering but still sting pretty badly.  These are big hits like your car getting totaled.  (Is it just me or does that always seem to happen right after you filled it up with gas or just spent some serious money fixing it?)  The loss could come in the form of a major unexpected home repair.  I’ve had air conditioning (which is a lot more expensive than you would think) the dirt around your foundation being washed away, sprinkler hose repairs, mudjacking, basement flooding due to two (2) sump pumps failing, basement flooding after you have fixed it because the dirt outside eroded and allowed the water access to your drainage system…you get the point.  Those sting pretty badly but in a few years you will have to strain to remember them or at least the specifics.  Today I want to talk about those little things you lose.  Which hurts more; a pebble in your shoe or a broken arm?  Having had both it is unquestionably the broken arm.  That was not a tough question.  Here’s the rub.  (No pun intended.)  When you have that pebble in your shoe it just annoys you with every step you take.  You take off your shoe and shake it.  Nothing comes out.  So you try it again and there’s that pebble.  You stop again and take your sock off this time, turn it inside out and shake it, then put it and the shoe back on.  It’s still there!  All day long with every step it digs at you and digs at you.  That is the difference between a big loss and a little one.  Sure, one of the big things is far more impactful to lose but the annoyance factor is much higher with something small.  As an example, I use a blue tooth on the phone.  I especially like to use it when I am reading something I have written from the computer to my brother on the phone.  He is blind and is sort of my beta reader.  He can listen and point out inconsistencies.  So I use the blue tooth and can type as I talk to him.  A couple of weeks ago I put my blue tooth in its place to charge.  The next day it was gone.  (Rub)I searched the whole counter.  (Rub)I asked around.  (Rub)I began to question if I left it there and so I started searching other places.  (Rub, Rub)  I tried searching for it in the dark to see if I could spot it flashing.  No good.  (Rub)  It is driving me crazy.  No one in the house would have touched it…except maybe my 3 year old grand-daughter and getting a straight answer out of her is like getting one out of Al-Qaeda.  You don’t know what to believe.   One day she might say she took it but doesn’t know where it is.  The next she might deny it all together.  It has to be here somewhere.  It wasn’t cheap and I don’t want to replace it.  And you know as soon as I buy a new one it will show up.  There is that annoying rub.  It is not a life-altering situation but the longer it goes on, the more consuming it becomes.  Perhaps I have a touch of OCD.  Who knows?  I just know I can’t stand to lose things.  I put them back where they go and I expect them to be there when I return.  Somehow buying a new pair of shoes doesn’t seem like the answer to the pebble problem.  It shouldn’t be so hard.  Anyone else feel this way?

In this excerpt from “Crucible,” Mandrean lays into another of his incompetent generals.
Donorus arduously stepped forward with the sound of his armor filling the room.  He bowed as best he could in the suit.  Before he could speak, Lord Mandrean commented.  “Are you expecting an attack in this room or are you just trying to make us all deaf from the clamor you create with every step?”  “I am only dressing my part, My Lord.  If it is offensive to you I will wear more casual attire at our next encounter.”  “Fear not General Donorus,” Mandrean chided.  “I am sure you will find a way to wear all your medals on a quieter uniform.  I am fully aware of your accomplishments.  I need see no ribbons to remind me.  Now tell me of your Province.”  Donorus nodded and called out “Pawns.”  Five more boys raced forward with the numbers four through eight branded on their clothing.  They took up positions east of Marinhalk.  Five stood at the mouth of the Mystic River while the others dispersed in a uniform pattern that stretched to the Great Eastern Sea.  “As you have requested,” Donorus began.  “We have established a base on the south side of the Mystic River in the Unclaimed Territory.  Sartan has taken no notice of the infringement and leads me to think they have lost interest or at least the interest to fight for the land.  A deeper penetration will likely prove my conclusions to be correct.”  Mandrean held out his palm and Donorus stopped speaking.  “You are arguing for something you will not get,” Mandrean said plainly.  “I had the base established to be certain Sartan would not be interfering with my plans.  Starting another war with them is not on my agenda.  If you want to prove you are worthy of all those medals, tell me what is happening in our newest province.”  Donorus looked at his pawns with dismay.  “I presume you are inquiring about the limited taxes paid to The Empire.”  “Forget the Empire,” Mandrean roared.  “I am the Empire.  Two years ago I sent you to conquer one of the most lucrative trading nations in the world.  Their armies fell in little more than two months.  Yet, in all the time since then, I have not seen one bit of gold reach Marinhalk.  Those funds were the chief reason for annexing them.  Where are they?”  Donorus’s anxiety grew into distress as he formulated his answers.  “My Lord, though we captured the land we were unsuccessful at doing the same with their merchant fleet.  The vast majority abdicated to the south and joined the fleets of Rador directly to the south and Valia further still.  That significantly reduced revenues for taxes.  We have also had problems finding suitable leaders for the various counties.  The new citizens of the Empire have fought the adoption of our policies.  Our appointees are rebelled against on a regular basis and few of their own people are willing to help our government.  Add to that the abysmal conditions of the roads and the bandits who prey upon our wagonloads of taxes and there is little wonder you have seen no tithes.”  Mandrean rubbed his forehead as though he was searching for a wound.  “Why have I not killed you yet?” he asked rhetorically.  “For two years you have had five full divisions to subdue the population and find my money.  Here we sit with no funds and no viable answers.”  Donorus held up one finger and mentioned weakly, “To be fair the Fifth Division is at less than full strength at the moment due to some unforeseen natural phenomenon.”  Linvin mustered all his will to prevent himself at laughing at the statement.  “Oh do shut up.” snapped Mandrean.  “Your incompetence is not the result of the loss of a handful of goblins.  A poorly dressed marching band could have defeated their army.  Yet with all the resources at your disposal, you are unable to attain your true goal.”  “We have exported vast quantities of foodstuffs from their farms and ranches,” Donorus offered.  “The wealth of the empire vanished when we arrived.  It was likely carried away by their fleet.”  “Or your soldiers,” Mandrean accused.  “You and your men are more corrupt than any in the empire.  After what General Maxion just tried to make me accept, that is making a strong statement.  So I will make a stronger statement to you and him.  Before we meet next you will both have my tribute in great quantities or I will have your heads in their place.  I don’t care how you get it or how many people need to die.  Deliver my bounty or forfeit your lives.  Now sit back down.  I can’t have you crying and rusting your pretty armor.”  A chorus of laughter was heard from the gallery.  The disgraced general angrily took his seat.

It’s time for another insight into “Quest for the Red Sapphire”.  Enjoy.
By the time Linvin had finished his last dance, he was wishing he had chosen the other sandals.  The time had come for the remainder of the party to move to the roof deck.  A simple bar attended by servants quenched the thirsts of the patrons.  It was the part of the evening in which guests could shed their responsibilities in society and relax.  There was an unwritten rule that one’s actions on the balcony were not to be held against them.  In fact, the lunacy that sometimes occurred was never to be spoken of again.  They ordered whatever beverage made them happy and a buffet was arranged in case it had seemed too long since dinner. Jelena was noticeably absent.  She was working the door again, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘thank you so much for attending.’  Jelena also thought her son would feel more comfortable with the young ladies if his mother were not within sight. Linvin had already consumed his share of wine and decided to switch to brandy in an effort to slow his consumption.   Like his uncle, it was not a favorite drink of his but the glass gave him something to do with his hands so he did not seem so anxious. Linvin took his seat and the women flocked around him, like pigeons to breadcrumbs.  The young ladies sat tall in a proper pose.  Coaching the girls from behind were their mothers.  Linvin could not help but wonder if the supervision was for their daughter’s benefit or his.  The males of the respective families were busy smoking and drinking themselves into embarrassment. It suddenly occurred to Linvin as the ladies formed a circle about him that he could think of nothing to say.  The entire group waited for him to speak.  In his nervousness he fell back on flattery. “You are all simply marvelous dancers,” he commented, “Your grace and poise made my clumsiness so much less noticeable.  I thank you.” “Oh you danced divine,” one suitor said.  A chorus of agreement followed. “I have taken dance lessons since I was five,” one interjected. “Well I have taken them since I could walk!” blurted out another.  Credentials began to fly around like bids at an auction. Linvin raised his hands to silence the competition. “I was hoping to learn a little more about you ladies.
Perhaps if we just went around and you told me your names and a few things about yourselves.”  It seemed to Linvin that he had come up with an orderly plan.  He did not realize that it would be the last opportunity for him to speak for some time. Each young lady took full advantage of the center stage and told him the lengthy details of her life and ambitions.  Some statements were intriguing, others were revealing and a few were ones he was thankful his mother did not hear.  Still, the vast majority of the statements sounded exactly like the woman who had just spoken. Linvin felt himself caring less and less about what he was beginning to view as predators looking for a kill. He wondered how much time had passed.  By counting the number of inebriated fathers strewn about the deck, he judged that the hour had grown late.  It was a deplorable sight and rules or not, Linvin guessed many of them would receive an earful from their wives the next day, if not on the carriage ride home.  He was just pondering that thought when the group became silent. The last girl had recited her biography. “I must say,” Linvin said while addressing to the group, “when I sat down here, I had no idea I was in the presence of such charming and well-mannered young ladies.  Your mothers have certainly raised marvelous daughters.  I hope that I may have the honor of calling on you sometime in the future.”  The responses were unanimously positive. “And now, sweet ladies,” Linvin said as he stood, “It would seem that my gentlemen guests have given the cue to end the evening.  Theisen!  Would you be so kind as to help our guests to their carriages?  I’m afraid some may be the worse for wear.” “Yes, of course, Master Linvin,” Theisen said as he herded the guests down the stairs.  Before long, all the guests had departed and Linvin stood alone, leaning on the rail of the deck.  Only the servants cleaning the bar remained.