The fifteen minute novel writing experiment is a attempt to write a complete (and very rough) draft of a novel by writing for fifteen minutes each day. I have taken a timed writing from one of the daily prompts done in 2021, cleaned it up a little and used it as my jumping off point into a story. Each day I will take the last line of the story written the day before and use it as my sentence starter and write for fifteen minutes, growing the story as the year progresses.
Day 142: The magistrate may have received complaints from her sisters’ husbands but she didn’t know if that was public knowledge yet.
The magistrate may have received complaints from her sisters’ husbands but she didn’t know if that was public knowledge yet. Anya watched her father, drinking and being ignored. The only person who paid him mind was the barkeep and that was merely to refill his tankard. There was no conversation. Anya found it a depressing sight and found nothing to gain in continuing it.
She left the tavern and returned back to the House of the Star. ‘I need to find out more about Marta’s routine and when it would be good to visit her,’ Anya reminded herself. She wiggled her toes in her boots, feeling the blanket beneath her. It was keeping the cold of the stone from being drawn into her feet. The feeling reminded her that while it was useful to know she could look beyond the House of the Star, it was within that she had come to look.
‘I wonder if I could see Lord Mathis,’ Anya thought even as she reminded herself why she came to the orb. As though responding to the thought, the orb whisked her sight away once more and Anya found herself looking into a grandly appointed receiving room. Anya blinked, the change in location and the whizzing by of distances making her feel slightly dizzy. She saw enough of the outer building to realize this was some sort of palace.
‘The matron told him I was sent to the palace Laundry,’ Anya recalled. She couldn’t remember whose palace she was sent to or even which kingdom, but she recalled it was a palace. The rooms Lord Mathis occupied were definitely rooms that she would think appropriate in a palace. The windows were draped with costly velvets and silks to help insulate the room from the cold.
A Fire burned in the grate and luxurious rugs covered the floor. Lord Mathis sat in one of the chairs, his dressing gown looking thick, silken and heavy with embroidery. There were even pearls and small gemstones sewn into the garment. They glittered in the firelight. His feet were clad in slippers. Anya could just see the fur peeking out around the velvet edges. A gold ring winked on his hand as he gestured to the servants to bring in his breakfast tray. They approached silently, set up the tray and then left without a word, bowing as they exited his presence.
Anya wondered what power Lord Mathis held to receive such treatment. He poured his tea and took a sip of the steaming brew. Then before reaching for the food he picked up one of the letters from the stack placed at the edge of the tray. He read the first one as he sipped his tea. He snorted at the contents and set it aside. He reached for the second letter, reading through it as well before setting it aside. By the time he was finished with his letters, the teacup was empty. He poured another measure and pulled the breakfast tray close. He speared one of the offered sausages with the tip of a knife and bit into it gustily.
Anya watched him eat. It was a mechanical gesture. He ate, while his mind was occupied elsewhere. To Anya it looked as though he took in the information from the letters and used the time he consumed the offered food to plan his responses. He finished his meal, wiped his lips, refilled his tea cup and leaned back in his chair. He took a sip, nodded to himself and sat up.
“Garaway,” He bellowed.
Ten til Midnight 