As I looked back at my story, I felt my stomach sink as I realized they were right. My story had all meat and no skeleton. There was nothing to drive them aside from a “let’s go and do this” mentality. While I had originally felt that Frelka earning his name would be sufficient, I realized then that it wasn’t enough. Especially when you start to ask the question of “when will he ‘earn’ his name?”…and what happens to the story after that? Because let’s be honest, Kenshi is vast, and he could easily earn his name in any number of ways. But if I wanted something long-standing, I needed something more…at least enough to justify continuing.
So, I began to think. I didn’t relish the idea of rewriting everything, so I needed something that I could slip into what I already wrote (preferably something that would require just tiny additions here and there to showcase its existence without having to change a bunch of different aspects to the story). Thankfully, it didn’t take long before I came up with an idea.
This past week, I’ve spent time reading over the story up to this point, making the necessary additions, and making a few generic changes (in terms of grammar, word choice, etc.). I’m a slow reader, so the process took up all of my free time this week. So, there will be no new chapter this week. Now, I didn’t want to reward those of you who have stuck with me thus far with “go back and start over to catch the little bits of changes I’ve made here and there.” So, this week, the update will just be my "patch notes."
As I said before, I read over everything written up to this point–making changes and corrections all along the way. While I’m not going to go over every change I made, I will hit the main changes based on the new element/narrative spine I’ve come up with.
Chapter 1 changes:
- Frelka’s mother wore a concerned look as she placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder, handing him a large, double-bladed axe. He nodded to her before looking back to Frelka.
“This isn’t where you earn your name,” he said.
Frelka could hear the shouting coming from outside as his father turned him away and pushed him out the back, forcing him out into the night.
~~
(This is now the new first bit of the book) - Frelka forced himself awake; he knew how this dream ended.
Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes and stared at the sky above. The last thing he remembered was following his quarry out of the Holy Lands and descending into a valley thick with fog–fog so dense he struggled to see more than ten feet in front of him. He remembered the sounds of battle and the screams echoing around him as he slowly traveled through the mist, his target lost to him. Eventually, night fell, his already poor visibility became even worse, and he was forced to make camp. - Frelka felt a pang of pain in his chest and a sting forming in his eyes. He quickly shifted his thoughts. He wouldn’t be the first to fail. If he was stuck in Mongrel, then that simply meant this was where his story was meant to begin.
As they sat in one of the bars, counting their Cats, Frelka frowned. He knew the looted weapons wouldn’t fetch much, but they had barely made enough to cover food and lodging for the night. At this rate, they’d never be able to afford leaving.
Then a thought occurred to Frelka: how long was he going to be stuck here? He felt his grip tighten on his mug. Every day spent in Mongrel was a day he wasn’t pursuing his prey.
He had asked the bartender if he had seen any Holy Nation Paladins passing through Mongrel recently. The man nodded and said a man matching his description had passed through not too long ago. The man’s words echoed in Frelka’s head.
“Said he was ‘eadin’ north,” the bartender had said before scoffing. “As if escapin’ Mongrel is that easy. Fool’s likely dead by now.”
Cockroaches aren’t so easy to kill, he thought. He gritted his teeth. They had to figure out a way to sustain themselves while they were here. His mind flashed to the empty houses he had seen on their way to the gate earlier that day. - As he laid in his bedroll that night, enjoying the warmth of the fire next to him, Frelka fantasized about his upcoming adventures. Soon, they’d be able to start making their way through the Foglands. If he could rid the land of the Fog Princes, maybe he could stop the Fogman Scourge once and for all, freeing Mongrel from terror’s grasp. Then, he, Shryke, and Beep would all have the chance to get out of Mongrel and he could continue his hunt!
Chapter 2
- Frelka’s mind flashed to the man he was pursuing, but he shook the image from his mind. He nodded in acknowledgement of Shryke’s words. “That is true, ja, but we are still getting stronger. Und we have bedrolls we can take with us if we need to rest out in da field. Und there are small hills throughout da fog that we can climb if we want to rest above it. Plenty of alcoves to hide in if we decide not to, ja.”
- Frelka briefly searches for the man in Stitch’s group when he realizes they’re Holy Nation but does not see him.
Chapter 3
- No real changes here
Chapter 4
- He shook his head and started walking. It wasn’t just the inaction that bothered Frelka. At least when he was fighting, he could push his thoughts away and tell himself that any delay was for the betterment of himself and those around him, but when all he was doing was sitting at home, rereading the same book over and over again, his mind focused hard on the man he was pursuing. How every day of inaction was another day further from Frelka’s retribution.
He shook his head again as he passed the weapons shop where he had bought Falling Sun. He needed to blow off some steam before he sat down with Stitch or he wouldn’t enjoy his food at all, and looking at some weapons would do just that. As he walked in, Scratch, the Scorchlander who owned the place, perked up. - Frelka’s heart sank. Impossible? he thought. That can’t be. He wanted to give the people of Mongrel a night of silence. He wanted to give them nights of silence. He wanted to eradicate this terrible plague from Kenshi. He had been so sure that that was what his journey was supposed to be…or at least where it was supposed to start. It was what he had used to help alleviate his concerns about spending so long here in the first place.
Chapter 5
- Understandably, no changes here
Chapter 6
- Frelka felt a surge of humility flood through him. This whole time, all he could think about was earning his name and finding his quarry, thinking only of what glory his actions could bring. Meanwhile, what was easily the weakest individual he had ever met was content simply knowing he was helping–even just one person; content with life simply knowing his actions made him stronger and a better protector to those around him.
- Tomorrow they would leave this fog for good…and Frelka would finally be able to resume his hunt…assuming the trail hadn’t grown too cold in his absence.
- Since they had decided they ultimately wanted to find the Flotsam Ninjas Stitch had mentioned to the north–and that had been the last known direction his quarry was headed–they chose to head in that direction until they were out of the fog.
Chapter 7
- No real changes
Chapter 8
- Moll’s brow raised. “You want to take down the Holy Nation too?”
Frelka’s mind shifted to his quarry. He wasn’t too sure about the Holy Nation as a whole, but he knew of at least one piece he wanted to eliminate. He pushed the thoughts from his head and smiled at Moll. “Well, nothing so directed, no. I am on a pilgrimage to earn my family’s name of ‘Frelka’ by venturing out into the world, only returning once I can safely say I am leaving it better than I found it.” - “Well,” Frelka began, “my father, and his father before him, all the way back as far as any Frelka can remember, have always ventured out on a grand adventure, helping those in need, and eventually returning to settle down and sire a Frelka to continue their legacy one day.”
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He felt a lump form in his throat at the mention of his father and family.
“Wait,” Shryke said, choking on her grog, “are you telling me your father’s name is Frelka too?” - Frelka felt another surge of emotion. Without another word, he stood up from the table and walked toward the beds in the back. He’d pay for them tomorrow. As he laid down, the sinking weight in his chest shifted. He knew his family’s legend sounded outrageous, but it’s what he had been raised with, what he had been charged with…what he had left. Frelka turned to his side, facing one of the wooden dividers, and closed his eyes.
- Frelka shrugged, his eyes betraying the nonchalant demeanor he still tried to force. “It’s not like I made the story up. It’s been passed down for generations. Und I’m not saying I believe all of it, but it’s nice to feel like there may be more than just…” he paused and gestured around him. “Even if some of my family’s story has been exaggerated over the generations, I still come from a line of heroes. Und there has only ever been one Frelka born to another Frelka. Regardless of whether the origins are true, the heritage is. Und that’s what drives me. I have to prove myself worthy of my name, or I will be letting my ancestors down…letting my father down…”
- Moll smiled back. “Okay then. For now, you’re one of us. Go forth in your slaughter of Holy Nation lackeys. Spare the innocents, obviously, but you show no mercy to the paladins or priests, for they will show no mercy to you.”
Frelka nodded. “Don’t worry, no Paladin will escape Frelka…So, do you have any plans?”
Moll gave a playful scowl to her new ally. “Of course we do! We recruit. We train against cannibals. We get stronger. We destroy the Holy Nation.”
Chapter 9
- Frelka stared at the two walking toward one of the buildings with a sign made of scavenged metal that read “BAR.” He certainly wouldn’t have minded a drink, but it was still fairly early in the day, and he wanted to familiarize himself with the city if this was going to be where they were living for the foreseeable future.
Besides, he had some questions he wanted to ask away from curious minds. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide it, but he knew Shryke and Beep would dig if they heard him…and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it just yet. Burn, on the other hand, seemed content with observation, and while he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t deny that having some company would be better than solitude.
He turned to Burn. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like the company, ja.” - “If you really must know, speak to my assistant, Iyo. He’s the Skeleton on the third floor. Better yet, if you really want knowledge, prove it; go buy one of my many published books, or some of my blueprints. This work is hard, and it’s not cheap keeping everything here moving.”
Frelka held up his hands. “Okay. Okay. We are leaving, ja.” He paused, hesitating, before asking. “Before we go, has a Holy Nation Paladin passed through town recently?”
Finch gave an incredulous stare. “Yeah, we get ‘em all the time. Did you not hear me before? ‘Hail Okrans’ and all that? Memory of a goldfish, this one,” he finished with a mutter.
Frelka brushed the Hiver’s remarks. “This Paladin would not have been with the others. He’s tall to most, maybe six feet. Honey-colored hair, and a full beard?”
Finch, clearly nearing the end of his social rope, gave an exasperated shrug. “What? I don’t know. I don’t keep tally of every person to step through the gates. Go bother the guards or bartenders if you want to know that kind of stuff.”
Frelka held up his hands again. “Fine. We’re going.”
“Good,” Finch said, before muttering, “head scientist of the Tech Hunters, now personal tour guide for all visitors apparently.” - “Excellent. Then I will leave you to it. Please feel free to peruse our bookshelves. Knowledge is power, after all.”
“Just one more question,” Frelka added, stopping the Skeleton as it began to turn back to the chest it was searching through. “Have you seen or heard of a Holy Nation Outlaw passing through World’s End recently? Any time in the past few months really. Six feet tall; honey-colored hair and a full beard?”
He heard processors whir as Iyo stared blankly at him before saying, “This does not match any of my records over the last few months. However, I do not leave the University frequently. Perhaps the gate guards or local bartenders will know more. Apologies.” - Frelka still felt the pit in his stomach as he nodded to Burn and they walked in silence toward the bar.
Frelka had them make a few more stops at each of the other bars in town and the two gates before returning to Beep and Shryke. However, no one had seen anyone matching Frelka’s description.
Chapter 10
- The left side of the first floor, which was cordoned off by wooden dividers, was reserved for their living space. Four beds, an indoor fire, and a few sitting cushions decorated the area, giving their home a very real and warm, welcoming feel.
Even Frelka felt the pull to stay and relax. But they were low on Cats and running low on their food reserves. And unless they wanted to try opening a shop–without suppliers–they would have to venture out in search of goods to loot. And despite the cold trail Frelka had found himself following, he still couldn’t completely give up the chase. If he searched well enough, maybe he could pick it back up and find his quarry. - Beep’s eyes widened and he gave Shryke a determined look. “Beep feels a pull to this village. My Skeleton double-ninja senses tell me we should travel here!”
Shryke groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh gods, we’re back to the double-ninja Skeleton crap again.” She looked to Frelka. “And you’re okay with just going to some random fishing village…a village that very likely won’t have anything worth our time?”
Frelka, who was desperate to overturn every rock if necessary, shrugged. “If Beep feels a pull, we should not ignore this, ja?”
She threw up her hands and walked toward the door. “Alright, you win, let’s go!” - Frelka had seen a few Sheks in his day, but none that utilized war paint. He wore a duster and large rice hat. He had no weapon equipped from what Frelka could see. Still, this had to be what Beep was sensing! He looked around but couldn’t find the Hiver anywhere.
He turned back to the bartender. “Thank you. One more thing, have you seen a Paladin pass through here recently? Tall, honey-colored hair and beard?”
The bartender shook her head. He had figured that would be her answer, but he still felt a surge of disappointment. He took one more look for Beep before walking over to greet the mysterious Shek. - “That doesn’t– I mean, that isn’t–” She looked at Frelka. “So that leaves us with, what, less than three thousand Cats?!” She turned to Horse. “That treasure better be damned worth it, or your new name is going to be Mule! And Beep,” she turned to face the Hiver, whose smile had been replaced with worry. When she saw how she had killed his enthusiasm, she felt a pang of regret. Don’t be your mother, she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It’s just Cats.She opened them back up and said as gently as she could, “Good job on this find. If you have a good feeling about him, I’m sure it’ll work out.”
- That one doesn’t have to do with the new stuff, but I liked the joke enough that I wanted to include it.
Chapter 11
- Frelka waved his hand in the air. “Well, there’s no point in talking about it right now. Even if we decided to go after this guy, he’s clear on the other side of the map.” Und in the opposite direction of where he left Mongrel. He looked up at Beep. “It looks like you have quite a few there. Is there anything in there that sounded closer to us?”
Chapter 12
- “Oh shit,” Shryke said, “a defected Paladin? This guy’s no joke then.”
Frelka perked up immediately. He felt a cold tightening in his chest as his heartrate spiked. “Did you say defected Paladin?!” he almost screamed. “Who is he? How tall is he? What color is his hair?”
The entire group jumped at Frelka’s sudden outburst of questions.
“I don’t know who he is,” Mani replied slowly. “Not sure ‘bout much else either, honestly. It’s been a few months now, and I’ll admit I paid the man no mind when he originally came talking to us about his plan. Just another suicidal idiot, I figured.
“Based on that response though, I’m guessing there’s a little more to the story than just chasing a bounty…”
He trailed off, and the rest of the table looked to Frelka in anticipation. Slowly, Frelka returned from his half-standing position and sat down. “No,” he muttered. “I was just curious. Please, tell us what you know.”
Mani nodded, unconvinced. “If you say so. Well, if y’all are goin’ to go after the guy, there are some things you should know. Y’all got a map?” - With this, he excused himself from the table, leaving the group to themselves.
Frelka sat, staring at the note Mani had given him. His mind was racing. Could it be him? Could he have really fled all the way here?
“Hey kid,” Shryke said, reaching out to Stone, whose purple-hued face had blanched, “you okay?” - “Not helping Horse,” Shryke snapped. “Look, Stone,” she said, turning back to face him, “it’s not that none of us are scared. I’m terrified. But,” she paused for a moment, glancing at Frelka’s distracted face and looking back, “Frelka here got us out of the Foglands when I thought it was impossible. Since then, I’ve learned to trust the big ox. If he believes that we can do it, I believe in him…and though I’m not sure why, this seems important to him.”
- “If we die,” Beep added, “then we’ll die making the world a better place.” He too looked at Frelka, concerned curiosity in his eye, then back at Stone. “And that’s all that really matters.”
- It made absolutely no sense to Frelka how any sentient creature could be so gluttonous as to supersede its own sense of self-preservation or safety, but apparently this was exactly the case with these cannibals. It was no wonder the Holy Nation had no true fear of them escaping the Plains. Frelka’s mind flickered to the Grand Wizard, and his stomach churned. The others had yet to ask him about his outburst, but he could feel their unspoken questions burning into him with every curious glance or concerned stare.