S. R. Hatcher

Opening scene - introduce protagonist, protagonist sympathy, hint at antagonist and introduce conflict, worldbuilding. Chapter 1: The Broker “So, the prince is dead. Why should I care?” “Because every peddler in the Empire will be after his heart.” The conversation at the adjacent table was hard to ignore. Though it weakened his nerve, Marek had no choice but to go through with this; there was too much coin on the line. He tapped trembling fingers on the bar and cast what he hoped were inconspicuous glances around the grimy pub, searching… Through the pipe smoke clouding the windows, he could tell the sun was reaching its witching hour; when more and more lost souls would trudge through the door to drown whatever it was which kept them up at night. But he predicted his contact was already in the room, biding their time while Marek kept an eye over one shoulder. It was typical for his contacts to make him sweat; he knew it as an attempt to garner dominance. As a broker, he always reminded himself that without him, his contacts would be penniless. He fretted at how the contact might initiate the rendezvous. His defining feature – a silver necklace bearing his family crest – glistened upon his collar, so the contact was bound to recognize him. Even so, any of the patrons appeared of the sort he was to meet. It could even be the bartend, who wore his graying locks in a frame about his face, a beige tunic baring multiple stains which might not be wine, and pants weighed down by the contents of his pockets. Despite his shifty appearance, one glance into the bartend’s eyes betrayed innocence. Marek let out a shaky breath, wishing the contact would move things along. He was not the type to waste an entire evening in a dive. Would it be the short fellow on the other end of the bar, chewing a reed? Or perhaps the broad carving a rune into her thigh, a sacrament for the God of Blood. It could easily be the slim bloke dipping frog legs in his ale, or even the prostitute advertising her services in the form of a bangled dance. He had nearly drained his pint when he began to rise from his stool, preparing to leave – his form of showing dominance, if the contact was even present. But then the candles flickered as a hooded figure stood from the darkest corner, stepped away from his table for one, and subtly marched to the counter, his leather boots testing the strength of the rotting floorboards. The man was careful to tuck his fur cloak out of the way as he sat down, allowing a glimpse of some fine weaponry beneath. He selected a stool near enough to Marek but did not yet acknowledge him. The bartend put down the mug he was scrubbing and wandered to where the new man sat, leaning toward him expectantly. In response, this mysterious wight dragged a flask from within his cloak and took a swig. The bartend glared and turned his back to this rather rude gesture, and so the contact was identified. Only someone so bold would accept this job. With a nervous swallow, he turned to the man. # “I was beginning to think you had sunk in the swamp,” the broker remarked, his focus trained upon peeling the label off his mug with a fingernail. His voice was confident, but his body language was cracking. Odel tended to make a formidable impression, though he supposed this conversation would make any sane man nervous. “Are you quite sure about this location?” Odel muttered. He hated places like this. He’d had enough of bars and taverns and brothels, but they seemed to be the only haunts in which his line of business was done. But Odel suffered through his ire, reminding himself of the gold. Always the gold… and the debt. “No, but I’m not sure that matters for the purposes of this meeting.” It didn’t seem like anyone was listening to them, as the place was growing louder by the minute. The dancer had been picked up by a drunkard and an out-of-tune fiddle whined over the din. Despite the rowdy cover, Odel knew better than to trust his senses here. “There are many who would seek this information,” he hissed, throwing a glare at the broker. He took another sip from his flask, which was always filled with plain water. It was of his hardened opinion that only men who were foolish or celebrating drank, and Odel was neither. The broker twitched, scanning the room. Wanderers flooded in as the sun set further below the horizon, and the conversation around them grew ever more noxious with the minstrel’s grating tune. Though the threat of unwelcome ears loomed, he knew there was no better place for this meeting; he just wanted to test the broker’s nerves. For a job like this, he needed to make sure the man was reliable. “This can’t wait, my information is not of the permanent variety.” The man’s voice sank to a whisper despite the hubbub, and his fidgeting shifted from the mug to his necklace. A nervous tic, as the silver was tarnished in the shape of a thumb on the round pendant, the repetitive motion having worn the symbol etched there. “Then speak now and I’ll leave you to the delights of this establishment,” Odel murmured into his flask. “Though the men and women here are not known for their kindness.” He presumed this was why the broker had chosen the location, though he seemed hardly able to tolerate it. He was a skilled actor, though. Odel predicted he was the only one who noticed the broker did not belong. The man’s hands were too clean, his boots too polished. His costume was otherwise perfect for the occasion: a torn cloak over a moth-eaten tunic, with pants which looked as if they had barely escaped the flames of a dragon. This man had never fought such a beast; his eyes did not match his outfit. “I will be plain, then,” the broker began. “I need your name, and the information is yours.” Odel considered the request. He did not often offer such a valuable identifier. A man with a reputation such as his did not need a name to be known. Though, on occasion, he would namedrop so fellow black-marketeers could easily seek him out for business. It was like a storefront only visible to his market audience – very convenient for his particular line of work. After some grumbling and sipping from his flask, he uttered, “Odel Bradenday.” The broker nodded. “The party recently exited The Desert Between and are enroute to Tulon.” He added in an even lower voice, “The Mill.” The crowd around them was tumultuous, and a brawl had broken a table in two. The bartend continued to serve pints of this and that, and it was practically impossible for anyone but Odel to have heard the broker. He made no display he heard the man speak, either, rising from his stool with the information he needed. But the broker twitched again out of the corner of his eye, an iron blade glinting from the folds of his tattered cloak. “The payment,” he reminded. Odel was not stirred by this toothpick of a blade when his dagger and trusted sword were just beneath his palm, not to mention his insurmountable build. He did, however, respect the man’s bravery, and slipped a necklace matching the one the man bore into his nearly empty mug. Usually worthless, such an artifact was priceless to the mournful. There were many spoils which could be reaped from the dead, the necklace only one of them. He departed the pub before the broker could so much as say “thank-you” for his late sister’s trinket. Odel did not deserve thanks for his deeds; they were always skewed in his favor. Practically swinging the door off its hinges, he took a deep, refreshing breath of the outside air. Slaves’ Swamp, though wrought with sitting water and frog spawn, was a welcome scent after the humid stench of intoxication. He scanned the low-hanging mist shrouding the vast expanse of mud and weed. Satisfied with its emptiness, he turned his attention to the steeds leashed to the pub deck. One stood out from the others. Again, the broker did well in his act, as his horse was hardly distinguishable from those of slaves and thieves. She was not draped in any banners and her reins were plain. Even the saddle was second-hand, though the broker was certainly wealthy enough to purchase a gilded one. The steed’s mane was just too shiny, and the shoes left fine imprints in the mud. This was the horse of a well-connected man… though not anymore. Odel allowed her to sniff his palm, gave her a few strokes down the neck, and offered a sliver of bread from his pocket. Suitably befriended, he untied her lead, mounted the tattered saddle, and rode South into the deepening twilight. But his doom in the North chased him, a shadow ever present. Just one more job.

Assignment 1: A notorious thief must find and steal the heart of the princess’s late betrothed while navigating a debt to a fire-breathing dragon and the vicious politics of the black-market trade. Assignment 2: The dragon, Arnevir, is a red herring antagonist. He burns the protagonist, Odel, for pilfering his hoard and seals him to a debt that will end in Odel giving up the heart of his deceased beloved or falling slave to the dragon’s command. But the dragon is testing him, for he knows Odel is more than a thief, but the heir to the Old Kings before imperialism destroyed the throne. The true antagonists are Baron Vein and the Empress. The Baron is the cruel leader of the heart peddling guild who manipulates Odel into stealing the most valuable heart in the Empire and trading it for the heart of his love. Baron Vein is a womanizer, a crime boss, and motivated by his lust for flesh and coin. He is but a puppet to his chief benefactor, the Empress. She hoards the hearts the Baron collects and enslaves an army of half elves for their magic, which is fueled by said hearts. She herself is secretly half elf and is determined to reclaim the immortality generations of human oppression have taken from her race. But she wants all that power for herself, the rest of the half elves be damned. Assignment 3: The Heart Peddler Thief of Hearts The Heart Thief Assignment 4: The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty is my first comparison title. This fantasy is set around a talented thief who has magical abilities she does not understand. The thief embarks on a lengthy quest with someone of her ancestry who teaches her about the power she wields. The setting for the first half of my novel is quite similar to Chakraborty’s – a land of desert sand where religion and magic intertwine. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo is my second comparable. It is a thieving fantasy centering around an impossible heist, morally grey protagonist, and multiple antagonistic forces at play. The utilization of flashbacks for character development is key to the storytelling. Also, those with magic are feared, hunted, and enslaved, treated as second-class citizens or worse. At the very end, there is a twist; a big reveal which unveils the true antagonist with a cliffhanger ending. Assignment 5: A desperate thief has been slave to the black-market heart trade for his entire life and seizes one final job which could grant him freedom. Assignment 6: Odel has a few drops of elven blood running through his veins. He is still considered a half elf and identifies as such with his pointed ears and dark hair. But he denies this part of his identity, hiding his ears like other half elves and disbelieving in the magical abilities his kind is rumored to possess. His circumstances are grim, having been plucked off the streets as a wayward orphan and forced into a life of crime, he is constantly chasing freedom in the form of “just one more job.” He must learn that chasing freedom is equivalent to running from it. Hypothetical Scenario: Inner Conflict Odel has taken “one more job” for the Imperial Princess and embarks on a journey with her to find and steal the heart of her late betrothed. The Princess reveals to him that the Imperial line is not purely human as mandated, but tainted with elven blood and the magical abilities which come with it. She is fully accepting of her identity as a half elf and attempts to teach Odel how to wield magic conjured from the memories held within the hearts he peddles. In the hope of buying himself the freedom he so desperately desires, Odel tries to conjure coins from the heart, but the spell goes terribly wrong as he never truly believed in magic, only the power of gold. He burns himself with the coins which turn to molten metal in his hand and must conjure another spell to heal himself. The emotional toll of conjuring a memory of his own hand from the heart of his deceased love is overwhelming. He angrily promises to never use heart magic ever again, the anxiety of coming face to face with the power he had denied his entire life and the shame of causing his true love’s death far too much to bear. It is easier to continue chasing a life of freedom and deny his ancestral powers. Hypothetical Scenario: Secondary Conflict Odel’s lifelong love was killed by Baron Vein, the leader of his black-market heart peddling syndicate, and he subconsciously takes responsibility for gambling her safety on a risky heist. Now he carries her preserved heart and is preparing to deliver it to the dragon to pay off his debt. But he was again enticed by a job offered by the Imperial Princess to steal back the golden heart of her late betrothed – the same heart he peddled to the Baron to get his true love’s heart back in the first place. He keeps this secret from the Princess and takes the job anyway. Now he must return his love’s heart to the dragon and re-steal the heart of the prince-to-be for the Princess. But Odel is falling in love… and of course denying it. When the Princess sits up with him at night after an arduous day of battling their enemies, Odel holds her hand. But in his pocket, he’s squeezing the heart of his love in the other. He is feeling guilty for loving the Princess not only because he is in mourning for his deceased partner, but because the Princess is enduring the same loss. Assignment 7: The Empire of Gladius is rich in history. Naervin, the continent to the North, is the ancestral land of the humans, who formed the Old Kingdom. A greedy king stretched the Old Kingdom to the Southern continent, Sorros, the ancestral land of the elves. With this imperial expansion, the Gladian Empire was born, and the power of the Old Kings lost to an undiscovered twin of the final King and first Emperor. Humans slaughtered elves for fear of their magical abilities, but stole their anatomical religion and the practice of embalming the heart after death. The Empress (or Emperor) rules Naervin and Sorros from Isle Meridi between the two continents, and the Imperial Princess lives in the Palace of Marion, Goddess of Women, in the farthest reaches of the South. The heart of the prince-to-be, who met an untimely demise before his marriage to the Princess, went missing on its guarded pilgrimage to the Tower of Trell, God of Men, in the farthest reaches of the North. The embalming of hearts makes them particularly valuable for collectors, jewelers, and criminals alike for the precious metals and gems which decorate them. The Hepatic Portal is the black-market heart peddling guild which controls the trade of these precious organs. Heart peddlers are skilled thieves who make it their occupation to hunt hearts, uncover details of their former masters in life, and trade them for ample amounts of coin. The Imperial Princess is abandoning her duties to employ and accompany Odel on a quest to recover the heart of her prince-to-be, the heart Odel had just peddled away. At every turn, Odel and the Princess are at risk of discovery not only by Imperial forces who would return the Princess to the shelter of her palace and execute Odel, but also from hired brutes enforcing The Hepatic Portal’s specific “no double dipping” policy. Odel could get in serious trouble if he is caught trying to peddle the same heart twice, not to mention that he is keeping this fact a secret from the very intelligent, but naïve, Princess. Odel is a Northern man with Northern customs, Naervin having been inspired by Anglo Saxon and Norse lands. But he is thrown into the mysterious sands of the South, where the Princess is most comfortable, but he is not, forcing him to adapt to a culture completely alien to him. It is a land inspired by Arabian myth and civilizations lost to war and time. Throughout their journey North through both continents, Odel and the Princess must challenge their cultural norms. All the while, an all-powerful dragon is breathing down Odel’s neck for fulfillment of a debt and the nomadic descendants of the Old Kings are rampaging lost adventurers for their supplies in the remote reaches of the Empire.