Katie C

“Your stance is still too spread out, Kate,” Hassland said, snapping my ankles with his wooden sword like he was a gods-damned prison warden. “Do that one more time and I swear-” I began to growl, just as he swiped again for my ankle, hitting his mark a second before I could pull it away. I stumbled to the side, catching myself with my own wooden sword to keep from toppling into the dirt. Hassland gave me an amused smile. “See. Told you your stance was too wide.” I glared at my brother as I propped myself back up, shuffling my feet closer together this time. He paid no mind to my scowl, the expression more common on my face nowadays than a smile. His brown eyes were still narrowed at my feet. “It still doesn’t look right. Do you always stand that way?” “Hassland,” I barked, snapping him out of his focus. He held up his hands in defeat and turned back towards the elegant ebony manor that loomed behind us. “Right. Sorry. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Have you seen Father today by the way? He wasn’t even at breakfast.” Hassland was still staring at the House of Hands, as if asking the building instead of me. He was distracted. He’d been distracted all morning. That or infuriatingly focused on one insignificant, stupid thing, like my fighting stance. “No. And why do you care?” “Dunno. I just-” He paused, scratching the back of his head, his eyes still glued to the manor, to the exact window that belonged to my father’s study. Which was dark. Like it had been all week. “He’s just been gone a lot more recently, don’t you think?” “I don’t know, Hassland,” I sighed, my mind now just as distracted as his as I picked at a piece of mud that’d found itself crusted to one of my blades. “Honestly, I find it peaceful. No reason to question it.” “I guess,” Hassland said softly, turning back to me. But that was Hassland. He had to question everything. Stick his nose in everything. And it’d only ever gotten him in trouble. “Can we just get back to sparring? It’s hot and I’d rather not spend any more time out here than I have to.” “Yeah, sorry,” Hassland mumbled, turning back to me. His gaze lit up as it crossed my feet. “Hey, your stance looks better!” Every bit of strength I had kept me from rolling my eyes. Instead, I just gave him a forced smile, not eager to have his laser focus turned back onto my footwork. Even if I hadn’t moved an inch since he last glanced at me. For the next hour, we hardly spoke, only spun and ducked and jabbed at each other, taking a second only to breathe or pull ourselves back up off the ground. It was after one particularly long sparring match that I finally got a hit on Hassland. He’d miscalculated my speed, assuming I wouldn’t have enough time to twist out of his swipe for my right side. But I had, and I came back swinging for his left side now exposed. I’d like to say I hit him harder than I’d meant to, but quite frankly, that’d be a lie. After the two raps at my ankle and the several more whacks I’d received during our sparring match, I’d been a little too pleased to finally get to show him how much a wooden sword could actually hurt. He barely had time to breathe out the word, “shit” as he doubled over, the air squeezed from his lungs like water from a wet rag. “King of Reih, Katerina, don't you think that was a bit hard for training?” Hassland said, his voice a pathetic mix between a wheeze and a whisper. “Sorry, it got away from me.” “Liar,” he mused, his face still contorted in pain as he rubbed his side. I didn’t bother defending myself. I only dusted off the wooden practice blades that almost perfectly matched my steel ones slung across my bed right now. “Katerina,” our father’s voice cut through the sound of men sparring around us, making me jump. “The king is here asking for you.” Both Hassland and I tensed. I whipped my head around to face our father, but before I could open my mouth to ask why, he cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Don’t keep him waiting,” Father said, his tone about as warm and lively as a four-day-old corpse. So much for his peaceful absence I’d been growing to enjoy.

“Your stance is still too spread out, Kate,” Hassland said, snapping my ankles with his wooden sword like he was a gods-damned prison warden. “Do that one more time and I swear-” I began to growl, just as he swiped again for my ankle, hitting his mark a second before I could pull it away. I stumbled to the side, catching myself with my own wooden sword to keep from toppling into the dirt. Hassland gave me an amused smile. “See. Told you your stance was too wide.” I glared at my brother as I propped myself back up, shuffling my feet closer together this time. He paid no mind to my scowl, the expression more common on my face nowadays than a smile. His brown eyes were still narrowed at my feet. “It still doesn’t look right. Do you always stand that way?” “Hassland,” I barked, snapping him out of his focus. He held up his hands in defeat and turned back towards the elegant ebony manor that loomed behind us. “Right. Sorry. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Have you seen Father today by the way? He wasn’t even at breakfast.” Hassland was still staring at the House of Hands, as if asking the building instead of me. He was distracted. He’d been distracted all morning. That or infuriatingly focused on one insignificant, stupid thing, like my fighting stance. “No. And why do you care?” “Dunno. I just-” He paused, scratching the back of his head, his eyes still glued to the manor, to the exact window that belonged to my father’s study. Which was dark. Like it had been all week. “He’s just been gone a lot more recently, don’t you think?” “I don’t know, Hassland,” I sighed, my mind now just as distracted as his as I picked at a piece of mud that’d found itself crusted to one of my blades. “Honestly, I find it peaceful. No reason to question it.” “I guess,” Hassland said softly, turning back to me. But that was Hassland. He had to question everything. Stick his nose in everything. And it’d only ever gotten him in trouble. “Can we just get back to sparring? It’s hot and I’d rather not spend any more time out here than I have to.” “Yeah, sorry,” Hassland mumbled, turning back to me. His gaze lit up as it crossed my feet. “Hey, your stance looks better!” Every bit of strength I had kept me from rolling my eyes. Instead, I just gave him a forced smile, not eager to have his laser focus turned back onto my footwork. Even if I hadn’t moved an inch since he last glanced at me. For the next hour, we hardly spoke, only spun and ducked and jabbed at each other. Taking a second only to breath or pull ourselves back up off the ground. It was after one particularly long sparring match that I finally got a hit on Hassland. He’d miscalculated my speed, assuming I wouldn’t have enough time to twist out of his swipe for my right side. But I had, and I came back swinging for his left side now exposed. I’d like to say I hit him harder than I’d meant to, but quite frankly, that’d be a lie. After the two raps at my ankle and the several more whacks I’d received during our sparring match, I’d been a little too pleased to finally get to show him how much a wooden sword could actually hurt. He barely had time to breathe out the word, “shit” as he doubled over, the air squeezed from his lungs like water from a wet rag. “King of Reih, Katerina, don't you think that was a bit hard for training?” Hassland said, his voice a pathetic mix between a wheeze and a whisper. “Sorry, it got away from me.” “Liar,” he mused, his face still contorted in pain as he rubbed his side. I didn’t bother defending myself. I only dusted off the wooden practice blades that almost perfectly matched my twin steel ones slung across my bed back in my room right now. “Katerina,” a voice cut through the sound of men sparring around us. I jumped, surprised to hear our father’s tone that was about as warm and lively as a four-day-old corpse. I felt my face heat as I met Hassland’s worried gaze. “The king is here asking for you.” I watched Hassland tense, then whipped my head around to face my father. Before I could open my mouth to ask why, he cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand, letting only a weak whimper escape my lips. “Don’t keep him waiting,” my father snapped. There was an unsaid warning in his words. There always was. So much for his peaceful absence I’d been growing to enjoy. I swallowed hard. In the sunlight, our father’s blonde hair looked nearly as pale as his skin. His blue eyes were like ice as they ran their gaze across my mud-stained face and sweaty clothing. He gave me an irritated look but said nothing. I dipped my head, trying to hide the fear in my eyes. Still, Hassland sniffed it out like a bloodhound, his jaw uncomfortably tight as he picked up the wooden sword he’d left lying in the dirt and dusted it off stiffly. “Is something the matter, Hassland?” Our father’s tone was bored, but his eyes remained sharply focused on Hassland. My brother only shook his head, his face like stone. “Good.” Then, as if remembering why he was here in the first place, my father snapped, “Katerina, go.” I nodded again and reached down to grab my blades. Satisfied with my response, he turned back on his heel, getting ready to walk back inside, when he spoke again over his shoulder. “And Hassland, next time you fight her, I expect you to win.” Hassland’s face went red, his eyes shooting down to his feet. I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier move; I hadn’t realized our father had been watching. Even so, I knew apologizing to my older brother would only result in a lecture from him about the dangers of holding back during training. We watched our father walk back towards the keep, men pausing to salute as he approached. His tall and slender figure didn’t match the thick and muscular frames of the men he passed. But one look at his sharp face and cold eyes, and you could tell he was much worse. As soon as he was out of hearing distance, I loosened a breath. “Well, that was pleasant as always,” I laughed, turning back towards my brother. Hassland’s hands were balled into fists, his eyes painted in self-loathing. “It’s not a game, Katerina,” he snapped so hard I flinched. “He’s right. I shouldn’t be losing to anyone. Even you.” “Hass, come-” I started, but he cut me off, picking up my practice blades and storming off in the direction of our father. As the oldest by four years, Hassland had an immense amount of expectations weighing on his shoulders. He was to take over the House of Hands from our father one day, and he took it very seriously. So I tried my best not to feel hurt by the outburst. I stood in silence, not in any particular hurry to go to the king, and kicked a loose rock with my foot. A mission that came directly from the King of Reih was never a fun one. I tried not to dwell on whatever unpleasant task awaited me. What poor soul would have to be threatened, kidnapped, tortured, or murdered out of the public eye tonight for ‘the good of the kingdom.’ Because as my father never failed to remind his men, to keep the peace and unity of the Reih, sometimes the sword had to be unsheathed. As if the men that were a part of the House of Hands, really cared about whether or not what they were doing was justified and right. As if any of us really care. I let a loud exhale out through my nose and turned towards the House of Hands. Its high ebony walls stood proud and mighty, surrounded by training fields, stables, and barracks. The house itself was slender and tall. Three stories were dedicated to bed chambers and weapons rooms, with the kitchens, the Grand Hall, the library, and my father’s study all existing on the ground floor. Slender, cream-colored trimmed windows spanned across the front, connecting to a large balcony. The balcony was the centerpiece of this grand manor. Into the railings, a pair of golden hands clasped together had been shaped with the metal. It was our emblem, the mighty hands, unbreakable like the soldiers who lived within. As my father always said, “It is not the weapons that kill, but the hands that wield them.” I headed towards my father’s study, watching the men who sparred in the early autumn heat around me as I went, and wished much more to be behind the brunt of a sword than in front of the king.

Hi! Here are my answers to the exercises! THE ACT OF STORY STATEMENT Katerina must rescue her kidnapped brother and avoid being caught by the king THE ANTAGONIST PLOTS THE POINT King Vladimir, the current King of Reih, is the antagonist. King Vladimir’s goal is to conquer the entire continent of Veseria because he believes if a country does not conquer then it becomes easily conquerable. He is a calm, manipulative, and calculating man. He understands people’s motivations very well and uses them to his advantage. He is like a snake waiting to strike, patient and observant, then lethal. He grew up the black swan of the family, the heir to a great and honorable king. In an attempt to live up to his father’s image, he became an ambitious and cruel teenager, finding control through fear and manipulation to be more successful than honor and kindness. He was then ostracized by his father because of his dark ambition, disinherited, and exiled. However, ten years later he returned with an army, slaughtered his family, and took Reih. After his success, he was then told by the gods that one child would be his greatest weapon or his downfall, Katerina. He recognized Katerina as the child and instated her as his personal assassin and spy. He uses both fear and manipulation to control her and keep her loyal. CONJURING YOUR BREAKOUT TITLE The House of Hands The King’s Hand The King’s Shadow DECIDING YOUR GENRE AND APPROACHING COMPARABLES Mary E. Pearson Both the Remnant Chronicles and the Dance of Thieves Series are similar in the way they handle the politics of a kingdom. The protagonist, a young woman with little interest in politics, suddenly finds her way to the front of it all, whether it's due to orders from her sovereign or fleeing her responsibilities as princess. Sarah J. Mass SJM’s Throne of Glass series is similar in setting, a medieval-esque continent in the midst of division. The protagonist is a young woman raised as an assassin, similar to my protagonist, and spends much of the series working through the trauma of her past and forging towards a better version of herself. The antagonist is a corrupt king, trying to take control of the continent, much like my own antagonist. CORE WOUND AND THE PRIMARY CONFLICT After her brother is kidnapped and she fails to save him, Katerina deserts her position as the King's assassin and makes the dangerous trek across the continent to find him. OTHER MATTERS OF CONFLICT: TWO MORE LEVELS To find her brother, Katerina must leave everything she’s ever known behind and step into a world she’s never experienced before. Behind the castle walls, she’s been able to push away thinking about the consequences of her assassinations and missions, disconnecting herself from her actions. However, her journey across the continent forces her to confront the devastation she had a role in unleashing across the continent and opens up the well of guilt, anger, and sadness she’s been pushing down for years. For example, there is one scene where she meets a girl her age forced to flee Dalaria, a country under the king’s control, after her village is burned to the ground on the king’s orders. Katerina realizes that she could have easily been assigned to burn this girl’s village herself back when she served the king and knows she would have followed through on the order to protect herself. She then has to grapple with the guilt of that realization, resulting in a panic attack. The secondary conflict is a romantic conflict. When Katerina meets Azrin, a forger’s apprentice, in the city on her way to escaping, she is guarded and on-edge. She only lets him accompany her on her journey north after he saves her life. She is very wary to trust him at first due to her past experiences with men. He seems to be the complete opposite, very open and very trusting. She doesn’t want to trust him by revealing her identity and he grows frustrated with her unwillingness to open up and tell him who she is. The conflict then increases after she learns her father was the one that killed his parents. This secret she is keeping keeps her from acting on her romantic feelings for him and she inevitably shuts him out. In the end, he discovers the truth and leaves her near the end of the journey, feeling betrayed and hurt by her lies, and she is once again alone. One specific scenario in the book is when she steals a pair of horses from her father’s men and refuses to tell Azrin where she found them. He then begs her to let him in and says he would understand no matter who she is. She grows defensive and invalidates his own hardships in life by saying he could never understand and that he would leave the second he knew the truth. Azrin then tells her that if she keeps herself so guarded all the time, she will eventually end up alone. THE INCREDIBLE IMPORTANCE OF SETTING Fahviel - Fahviel is a bustling medieval-esque city. It’s the capital of the country of Reih and the largest city in the country. It’s split into three districts, the Crown, where the royalty and wealthy live, the Working District, where the working class resides, and finally the Crag, the slums of the city. Fahviel was once the largest and most illustrious city on the continent, but the recent war has since driven away most of its travelers and increased the wealth gap substantially. The city used to be a melting pot of different cultures, festivals, and traditions from all across the continent, however, as King Vladimir continues to conquer the continent, much of these cultures and festivities have been outlawed in the city. Once the gem of the Western World, Fahviel has now fallen to the corrupt politicians and the rats. The House of Hands - The House of Hands is a large manor in the heart of a Fahviel’s Crown district that houses the king’s elite army, the Hands. The manor is a tall, slender, ebony house with a large gold balcony engraved with the House’s emblem. Inside the House lives a few hundred of the country's most dangerous and powerful assassins, spies, engineers, and soldiers. The members eat, train, and sleep in the House. It’s a place teeming with competition, ruthlessness, and action. Cazik’s Eye - Cazik’s Eye is a small stretch of streets in the Crag that have become home to Fahviel’s darker dealings. Along these streets, you’ll find brothels, gambling houses, and any other illegal business or service one might’ve needed in medieval times. Cazik’s Eye, named after the trickster god, Cazik, is run by several different crimelords. The crimelords govern themselves and keep the debauchery from leaking into the rest of the city, so the king chooses to turn a blind eye. However, travelers unlucky enough to accidentally find themselves in Cazik’s Eye are likely to lose their valuables, if they are lucky enough to even get out. Havenshire - Havenshire is the second largest city in Fahviel, however it is far below it in size and splendor. It’s located in the northern part of the country and has, since the war, become a refugee city for those fleeing from Dalarian. That being said, the people of Reih who live in Havenshire hardly enjoy the new influx of foreigners and are often hostile towards people from other parts of the continent. Chestwood - Chestwood is a small Reihian mining town near the border of Reih and Dalaria. It’s a peaceful, quiet town, full of friendly and trusting people, quite the contrary to Fahviel. It’s snow-covered most of the year because of its proximity to the Stag Mountains. It’s the last town before the dangerous mountain terrain of western Dalaria. Dalaria - Dalaria is a peaceful, northern country that has recently been conquered by the Kingdom of Reih. Its people are spiritual and passive people, who rely heavily on community and tradition. There are several different regions of Dalaria, including the coastal region, the Icelands, the Stag Mountains, and the Tundra. Each part of Dalaria has its own version of traditions and type of people/community. There have been several uprisings from the Dalarian people over the years since King Vladimir conquered the country and even a structured rebellion that has been forming. King Vladimir has been retaliating in recent months by having his soldiers burn every village with ties to the rebellion. Because of this, many of the Dalarian people remained split on whether or not they support the rebellion, and it has led to communities and even families being torn apart over the conflict. The Stag Mountains and Agar Peak - The Stag Mountain Range is the largest mountain range on the continent. It has treacherous, rocky, and icy terrain that remains covered in snow nearly year-round. Most of the communities who lived in these mountains have since left due to harsh weather and superstition. Agar Peak is the tallest peak in this mountain range and is said to be home to the gods. The legend of Agar Peak says it once used to be a popular pilgrimage site for Dalarians, but once the gods disappeared however, the peak became hostile and haunted. The Dalarians have heard stories of men going mad at the base of the peak and having horrible, terrifying visions. Therefore, this area is heavily avoided. Because the area is abandoned, there are several ruins of old villages and pilgrimage sites that once existed around the peak. Drugaur - Drugar is an abandoned village in the heart of the Stag Mountains near Agar Peak. It is an ancient village made of entirely black stone with a large, tall castle embedded into the mountain side. It is the current site of the rebellion. The castle has a dark and violent history that is uncovered throughout the series.