A fictitious knight reveals 5 secrets to having honor


What does it mean to ‘have honor’? Is it something real, or is it more like an idea, a notion based on a set of beliefs? How does one obtain honor? Are we born with it, or do we learn it?

Read on to find out what Sir Trogsdill Domnall, the most revered knight in my novel, IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING, has to say about the subject.

***

Me:  “Sir Trogsdill, thank you for sparing a few moments to talk to me. I know from talking to the other knights in the Order you do not like these sorts of interviews, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who could answer my questions with complete honesty.”

The knight leans to one side and props an elbow on the arm of the chair. His forefinger and thumb cradle the sharp angles of his face; the other three perch at his lips. Thick, brown hair falls in gentle waves to his collar. His piercing, peridot-green eyes lock onto mine, and I gulp as my stomach takes flight. I can tell he’s waiting for me to continue, but I’m incapable of speech. I am drowning in a sea of green. Part of me wants to run, but I can’t. I’m drawn to him in a way that defies explanation. He is a mystery, an enigma that commands respect. I take a deep breath to ease the pounding of my heart and then shift in my chair, ignoring the sweat pooling at the nape of my neck. Somehow I gather my thoughts and steady the tremble in my voice.

Me:  Sir Trogsdill, the word I hear most often to describe you is ‘honorable’. Would you say that is an appropriate word? How do you perceive yourself?”

Sir Trogsdill: “I believe I am honorable, at least I strive to be.” His deep voice vibrates the air. My nerves quiver. “As for how I perceive myself? I don’t waste the time thinking of it. I am who I am.”

Me:  “What does being honorable mean to you?”

The man leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. His eyes remain fixed on mine, as if he’s trying to dive deep into my soul. I want to look away, but I can’t. I’m mesmerized. I’m a noodle. I am a victim to his captivating presence.

Sir Trogsdill:  “You ask an interesting question. Honor, to me, is not something a king or a lord bestows upon you, nor is it something you win at the end of a joust. It is solid. It is moral. We are all born with it, this capacity to be honorable. It is what we choose to do with our lives that keep us that way.”

Me:  “Would you mind elaborating a bit?”

Sir Trogsdill: “I am not sure how much clearer I can get.”

Me:  “I suppose what I want to know is if you feel honor is something we learn?”

Sir Trogsdill pressed his back into the overstuffed chair. “No, it’s not. It’s something that resides deep within us. Some of us have it. Some don’t.”

Me:  “But don’t you have a code of honor you must abide by? Aren’t many of those things learned?”

The man smiles, and my heart swells at the way it touches his eyes. He is handsome in ways I can’t pinpoint. I wonder if he knows it.

“My code? My lady, honor is more than a code. It is something intangible. Yes, knights take oaths to follow certain conventions such as serving our liege lord in faith and valor, or to protect the weak and defenseless. To refrain from wanton acts and protect a lady’s reputation, but honor goes beyond these acts.”

He looks away for a moment as if collecting his thoughts, then turns his gaze back to me. His features are strong, his eyes trusting and kind.

“Honor, my lady, is about integrity, unwavering dedication to one’s morals and standards. It means walking a difficult path, even if we must travel it alone, but we must because it is righteous and true. Honor is holding tight to your convictions when you know they are right, and letting them go when they are wrong. It is about putting another before oneself and striving for a life steeped in justice, loyalty, and fairness.”

Me:   “But who is to say what is just, loyal and fair? Your definitions of those may not be mine. Who is right and who is wrong?”

Sir Trogsdill:  “Honor is not a question of who is right and who is wrong, my lady. You asked me what it means to have honor.  If one stands and defends what they believe in with every fiber of their being, whether you agree with their cause or not, then they are honorable.”

Me:  “So by that token, you’re saying that people who are consumed by evil can also be honorable because they adhere to their convictions?”

Sir Trogsdill shakes his head. “No, that is not what I said. Honor and evil cannot exist together.”

Me:  “Why is that?”

Sir Trogsdill:  “Because having honor is to be selfless. As I said before, honor is about putting others before yourself. An honorable act is a selfless act. Evil, on the other hand, is based in self-gratification. Evil, by virtue of what it is, is not honorable. Therefore, those performing it are not honorable.”

I am touched by this man’s passion … and his wisdom. I can tell by the shifting of his legs and body, he’s getting restless, so I ask my last question.

Me:  “If you could give young people any advice about being honorable, what would you tell them?”

Sir Trogsdill counts on his fingers:  “One. Hold true to yourself. Two. Never lose faith in the spirit that guides you. Three. Do not let anyone sway you from your core beliefs. Four, turn your back on those who wish to destroy your sense of integrity, and five, stray away from those who disregard your values.”

Wow. Those are words we could all live by.  I stand and offer my hand to him.

Me:  “Thank you, Sir Trogsdill. That was an enlightening conversation. You have certainly given me plenty to think about.”

The knight stands, and I am dwarfed by his size, but instead of feeling insignificant, I am overcome by a sense of safety and compassion. He bows and kisses the back of my hand before departing the room. I watch as he leaves, noting the confidence in his walk, the strength in his demeanor, and my heart twinges again. What I would give to have half of the courage, poise, and assurance he has. I suppose it will  have to suffice knowing how honored I feel to have sat in his presence. I will never forget him. Ever.

***

So, what did you think? Do you agree with Sir Trogsdill or does ‘having honor’ mean something different to you? Please leave your comments below.

To learn more about IN THE SHADOW OF THE DRAGON KING, please visit my website at www.j-keller-ford.com and sign up for my newsletter. Once a month, I will divulge parts of my story that no one else will see unless they are signed up.  I hope to see you there.

If you are into YA epic fantasy stories of love, honor, faith, courage and sacrifice, please head over to my Goodreads page and click on that Want to Read button.

I hope you enjoyed this interview. Stay tuned for more to come.

K – Kedge


Hello peeps of the world!  Welcome to day 11 of the A-Z challenge.  Today’s letter is “K”, which in my world stands for Kedge, as in “The Eye of…”

What is Kedge?  It was once a central meeting place of the mages buried deep in the Sankara Mountains.   It served as their secret headquarters during the great Dragon War.  Fingers of tunnels spanned from the base, serving as safe passages to all of Fallhollow.  The eye of kedge is a magical stone that energizes the crystals that hide the tunnels from creatures of black magic.  It went missing at the end of the great war. With the possibility of war looming over Fallhollow once more, it is important to find the Eye of Kedge.  The mages are gathering.  Time is running out.

What does the eye of kedge look like?  Click here to see my inspiration.

 

F – Fallhollow


Hi all, welcome to the A-Z challenge.  I thought I had this little ditty planned to go live yesterday, but when I checked my blog this morning, it was still sitting in  time out in my ‘edit’ box.  It’s all good, though.  This way I can post and do my Sunday Snippet Blog hop all at one time!

The A-Z challenge letter for yesterday was the letter “F”.  Since I’m focusing on my novel, The Eye of Kedge, let’s take a little trip to the magical and dangerous world of Fallhollow.  I think I’ll let Sir Trogsdill  Domnall tell you about it. (BTW, this scene is currently in edit mode.  Feedback and comments would be very helpful).

sunday_snippets critique blog hop image

Trog leaned against a tree and peeled the skin from an apple.  “Einar seized the kingdom and made Berg Castle his lair.  That’s when he started growing his army of shadowmorths.”

“Why didn’t the mages do something to stop him?” David asked, popping a handful of berries in his mouth.

“They tried, but everything they did failed.  Jared got involved and sent his daughters and an apprentice magician by the name of Seyekrad to Fallhollow.  Together, they confined the beast below Lake Sturtle.”

David sputtered his food.

“That’s stupid.”  Charlotte tossed David the boda bag.  “Why not just kill him?”

“His scales ward off white magic.”  Trog cut a slice of apple and ate it.  “All they could do was imprison him.”

Charlotte stood and tacked up her hair.  “Well, they didn’t do a great job did they.”

“How long ago did all this happen?” David asked, his brain trying to envision a dragon beneath Lake Sturtle.

“Oh, about a hundred years ago, give or take a few years.”  Trog wiped the blade and sheathed it.  “Of course Einar, being the self-centered miscreant he is, decided to go after Hirth, but he was beaten  by a fifteen-year old lad and an arrow tipped in heem.”    

“Heem?” Charlotte threw her satchel over her shoulder.

“The saliva from an estreal, a rare bird found in the jungles of the floating isles of Ansilar.  Dragon hunters use it to kill their prey.  Sadly, it didn’t kill the beast but it did incapacitate him, until about eighteen years ago.”

“I take it he attacked Hirth again?” David said. 

“Tried,” Trog said.  He pulled on his boots and gathered his bag.  “This time the mages were able to spin a powerful sleeping spell around him, which held until two days ago.”  

David’s stomach fell into a hollow emptiness under the weight of Trog’s words.  He knew all too well what happened two days ago.  Now if he could only figure out how to fix it.  Thing was, he didn’t have a clue.

***

Don’t forget to hop around to the other bloggers who are participating in the A-Z challenge.  You can find the list here.

It’s an “A-Z challenge” and “If you could” Friday! Whoo Hoo!


Hey everyone!  I was going to forego “If you could” Friday because I’m doing the A-Z challenge, but I thought about it and said, why not to both, so here goes:

If you could /date/marry/have an affair with your favorite fictional character, who would it be and why?

Now on to day 5 of the A-Z challenge.  Today we bring you the letter E.  As in keeping with my theme, I bring to you Eric, another protag from my novel, The Eye of Kedge.  Eric, take it away.

As squire to Sir Trogsdill Domnall, Eric makes it his personal mission to find and offer his services to a mysterious paladin summoned by the mages to protect the realm of Fallhollow.  Fearless in his pursuit, he defies danger in his search for this magical being.  What he finds is nothing like what he imagined, but that’s okay.  Even head-strong, fearless squires have to make unlikely alliances to find what they want, even if it’s hidden in plain sight.

Excerpt:

Eric nodded and shuffled his feet under the weight of Trog’s stare.  He waited for Sestian and Farnsworth to get far enough away before lifting his head and meeting Trog’s gaze.  The knight raised a brow.

“Are you going to tell me where you really were, or are you going to hold to your story that you were listening to a lecture that ended this time yesterday?”

“Which one will get me in the least amount of trouble?”

Trog placed his hand on Eric’s back and edged him down the stone steps to the lower courtyard.  “The truth, Eric.  Always the truth.”

“What if I promised not to tell?”

“Secrets are grave burdens to bear.”

“I can’t betray his confidence, Sir.  I promised.”

Trog nodded.  “Then you’ll sleep in the stables tonight as punishment.”

“But, how is that fair?”

“You know the rules as my squire and you still choose to withhold the truth.  Therefore, you shall be punished accordingly.”

“But the rules of knighthood require I not reveal confidences or secrets under any circumstance to anyone at anytime, even under pain of death.”

“Nice try, lad, but that rule only applies if you’re a knight and have been captured.  Last time I looked, neither of those apply to you.”  Trog placed a heavy hand on Eric’s shoulder.  “I’m going to give you one more chance.  What will it be?”

Eric clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.  “With all due respect, Sir, I cannot and will not betray my friend.”

Trog removed his hand.  “Then you have made your choice and will suffer the consequences of it.  Now go on and get busy with your chores.  I want each of those blades in your hand sharpened and polished by morning—”

“But, Sir—”

“And for protesting when you should not, you will also sharpen and polish Sir Farnsworth’s blades. I’ll see to it they are dropped off this evening.”  Eric opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind at Trog’s lifted brow.  “Would you like me to add Sir Gowran’s and Sir Crohn’s weapons to your load?”

Eric bit his lip, his guilt boiling below the surface.  “No, Sir.”

“Very well.  Bring the blades to the farrier’s stall in the morning around eight.  It will be a dual-fold meeting as you can visit your father at the same time.”

Trog paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then turned and strolled across the courtyard.  The beast of a man hoisted a young page from a game of marbles and lectured him on the pitfalls of wasting time. Eric snorted at the boy’s bewildered expression and the speed at which he ran once set down upon his feet.  Been there, boy.  He cursed beneath his breath.  What am I talking about?  I’m seventeen and I’m still at his mercy.

****

For a glimpse into my vision of Eric, click the guy below:

anime boy

 

D – David Heiland


Good day everyone, and welcome to day 4 of the A-Z Challenge.  Thanks for stopping by and reading my contribution to this fun blogging event.  Please feel free to stay as long as you like, then jump on over to see what the other participants are blogging about.

Now on to the letter D.  From my YA novel, The Eye of Kedge, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to David Alwyn Heiland, one of three main protagonists.  Charlotte you met yesterday, David is today, and Eric follows tomorrow.   Anyone interested to see how I envision David?  Click on the little guy below to find out.

anime boy

David was born March 31 and is almost 18 years old, extremely wealthy and lives with his godmother, Lily, in an 1860’s mansion in Havendale, Tennessee.  His father died 3 months before David was born.  His mother died from complications after David’s birth. His car:  a steel-blue 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500.

He is a champion archer, great at shooting paper targets, but his love for living creatures makes it impossible to shoot and kill.  He’s secretly in love with his best friend, Charlotte, and his OCD tends to get him in sticky spots.  He takes pride in his appearance, is always stylish.  He can be  short-tempered, stubborn, and quick to judge, but those traits are quickly squelched when thrust into the care of Sir Trogsdill Domnall, a highly respected and lethal knight of the kingdom of Hirth.  David may not be fond of Trog’s methods of teaching, but when he comes face to face with two enemies determined to kill him, David  realizes Trog may not be such a bad teacher after all.

***

David woke upon a straw mattress in a moon-lit room cluttered with strange items.  Braided vines hung from the rafters, piles of river rocks and unusual stones, talons, teeth and amulets perched on weather-beaten shelves.  Sloughed reptilian skins hung like party streamers from the ceiling while red and black ink blot paintings clung to the walls at a tilt. A high-backed rocking chair sat in the corner like a lone, forgotten figure, its seat in bad need of repair.  Soft moonlight reflected off the water in the basin, casting ripples of glimmering brilliance upon the planked walls.

A knock on the door broke his concentration.  He flung his long legs over the edge and sat up as the gangling, paper-thin stranger entered carrying a wooden bowl and mug, both with knots, branches and leaves protruding from their sides.  He set them on a nearby round table, along with a lit candle, its yellow wax dripping like lemon tears down its tapered form.

“I have brought you nourishment.”  His voice was soothing, lyrical, like the gurgle of a babbling brook on a Spring day.  “I figured you could do with some stickies on your insides.  I have drawn you a warm bath. It awaits you at the end of the hall.  Fresh clothes are on the chest at the foot of the bed.  Take your time.  When you are done, come downstairs.  We have much to discuss.”  The stranger turned to leave.

“Wait.”  David stood and swept aside fringes of dark hair clumped together by briars. “Who are you?  What are you?”

The stranger flashed a mouth of paper-flat teeth.  “My name is Finnegan.  Finnegan Aginagin and I am a sestra, an emissary of the mages.  You may call me Finn.”

B – Bainesworth von Stuegler


Happy April 2 and welcome to day two of the A-Z Challenge.  Today, I bring to you from my YA novel, The Eye of Kedge, the one, the only, Bainesworth von Stuegler

Bainesworth is an arrogant, devious knight and commander, serving the kingdom of Faucher, an ally kingdom to the kingdom of Hirth. His allegiance, however, doesn’t lie with Faucher’s ailing king, but with himself.  He’s also made himself the arch enemy of Sir Trogsdill Domnall, a revered knight of Hirth.  Trust me, there is no love lost there.

***

Trog tore the shirt from Eric’s hand, slipped it over his head and stormed through the doors.  The murmurs hushed, the room fell silent except for the click of boots across the tiles.

“Well, well, well.  Sir Trogsdill.” Bainesworth’s voice echoed in the hall.  “How nice of you to join us.  Are you well?  You seem ill.”

Trog set his gaze on Bainesworth and grunted.  “You have no idea how sick I feel at this moment.” He scratched his chair across the floor and sat down.

“Yes, well, as usual, you’ve kept us waiting for quite some time.  Then again, that doesn’t surprise me.  You’ve always been a bit ostentatious when an audience is involved.”  He paused for a moment, as if waiting for a rebuttal.  Bainesworth continued, a snide grin pinned to his square face.  “Funny thing is, despite your grand entrance, I’m short of feeling honored by your disheveled presence.  You know how I hate to wait – especially on the likes of you.”

As if I give a damn about what you hate,” Trog said, his expression contemptuous.

“You should.  You top my list.”

“I’m honored, considering I don’t give you a second thought.”

Bainesworth’s lip twitched at the corner.  “I’d watch your arrogance, Sir Trogsdill.  You never know where I’ll be lurking.”

“Lurk all you want.  It makes no difference to me since your fate waits for you on the tip of my sword.  Of this I swear to you.”

Bainesworth chuckled.  “I look forward to your feeble attempt.”

***

Nice guy, huh?

Want to see my vision of what Bainesworth looks like?  Click this little guyDon’t forget to hop around to the other bloggers who are participating in the A-Z challenge.  You can find the list here

D is for David (Heiland, that is)


This is a continuation of the A-Z blog challenge.  Click here to see the list of all 1935 participants!

Who the heck is David Heiland?

He’s this guy…

Okay, okay.  You’re right.  It’s not.  This is Zac Efron, but if I could cast my MC, David, from my novel, In the Shadow of the Dragon King, this is what he would look like. Hot, right?

But what makes my Zac Efron look-alike so special?

David was born March 31 and is 16, almost 17 years old, extremely wealthy and lives with his godmother, Lily.  His father, Edward, was a fighter pilot.  Unfortunately, he died in a training mission over the Gulf of Mexico 3 months before David was born.  His mother, Jillian, died from complications after David’s birth.

David lives in an 1860’s mansion in Havendale, Tennessee, located not far from Bristol, and his favorite ride out of four cars is the steel-blue 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 his father left him.

He is a champion archer and State track star and longs to be a fighter pilot like his dad when he grows up. His favorite subject is history, and finds Geometry a complete waste of time.  He’s an honor student, and holds multiple National academic awards.  He loves to read, draw and play his guitar. His choice of music:  classic rock and roll from the ‘60s and ‘70s.  He broke his left leg while running in a track competition when he was 15.  The injury still causes occasional problems.

His best friend is Charlotte and he would do anything to keep her from harm. His greatest fear is losing her from his life.  He is not in love with her.   Their friendship is strictly platonic.

He is cunning and mentally alert.  He listens to conversations and picks up subliminal meanings.  He remembers things easily and has a photographic memory, especially when it comes to minor details. Intuitive.  He can articulate well.  He has lots of energy he’s a great organizer and a determined fighter.  He’s a great adversary, especially of mind.  Dramatic.  Tough on the outside, soft on the inside.  Charming.  Stylish.  He likes being alone.  Doesn’t like ‘socializing’ or adulation from teachers for doing what he loves to do, but he does like taking control and being a leader.

He has a need to make things ‘right’.  He can’t stand disorder.  He always has to win, to succeed in everything he does.  Must be the one to take initiative, but needs backup once the ball gets rolling.  Needs to help others, especially without them knowing.

On the downside, he is short-tempered, stubborn, with childlike tendency to see things from his own point of view and to express himself as he sees things in an innocent and youthful way. While some might see this as being self-absorbed or even selfish, he sees it as being honest and expressing his true thoughts and feelings and doing what he thinks is right.

He runs his fingers through his hair a lot, bites his fingernails and grits his teeth when nervous or angry.  He’s a klutz in spite of being a state track champion and he mumbles in his sleep.

He has to make his bed every day.  Papers have to be stacked neatly and in piles of similar size. i.e. large pieces of mail together, letters stacked together, postcards stacked together.  His clothes are color-coded in his closet and are on color-coded hangers.  He flips out if anything is out-of-place.

His greatest weakness:  he’s quick to judge.  Quick tempered.  Easily bored, even with his own concepts, and tends to wander off.  He will sometimes sit back and let others have their way.  He can be bull-headed, obstinate and doesn’t like being told what to do.  He’s impatient, aggressive but also needs reassurance he’s doing the right thing.  He’s two dimensional.  He doesn’t see all sides or all aspects, leaving him open to physical and verbal attacks.

He’s taken down a peg or two when he is thrust into the care of Sir Trogsdill Domnall, a highly respected and lethal knight of the kingdom of Hirth.  David is irritated by Trog’s methods of teaching, but when David comes face to face with a sorcerer and a dragon that are determined to murder him, David soon realizes Trog may not be such a bad teacher after all.