Meeting Sir Francis

[Toby Frost]

The opening of a fantasy story:


Sir Francis Vale did not live in a fortress, and that struck Jack Bircham as wrong. The spymaster’s house was new and broad, with huge windows and half a dozen ornate chimneys. It sat at the end of a long drive, behind a lawn so green that the grass had to have been alchemically tinted. Even the gatehouse was shaped like a pretty little cottage – although the gatekeeper had cropped ears and a smile like a murderer in a revenge play.

Grooms took Bircham’s horse away and a polite young man led him into the house. The youth opened a panelled door and gestured for him to enter.

The room was high-ceilinged and bright: the windows were the biggest that Bircham had ever seen outside a church. The massive fireplace was unlit. A table stood in the sunlight, and Vale sat behind it, writing in a massive book. He looked up, blew across the ink and closed the book.

“Ah, Bircham! Come in. Ale or wine?”

“Ale, please, Sir Francis.”

“Thirsty after your journey, eh? Patrick, have Lucy bring us some drinks. I’ll have wine.” Vale gestured at the door and the young man left. Bircham waited for the door to close.

“Have a seat.” Vale glanced at the clock on the far wall. “You’ve made good time. Did everything go well?”

Bircham sat down. Doing so seemed to give his body permission to ache: suddenly, he felt dog-tired. “As well as it could have done, sir.”

“Yes, of course.” Vale stroked his chin, pulling his goatee beard into a point. “Smoothly, then. Did it go smoothly?”

“It did. The executioner was good. They got started on time. It only took one blow.”

“Excellent. I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t have wanted Lady Margaret to suffer.” The door opened, and a maid poured their drinks out. They sat silently, waiting. “Thank you, Lucy,” Vale said.

The door closed again. Vale sipped his wine. “So, that’s that. Margaret de Wise will trouble the world no more. Your very good health.”

Bircham wanted to return the toast, but it had to be said. “She died very bravely, Sir Francis.”

“Is that so? Well, she always was a bold woman. She wouldn’t have conspired against Queen Gloria otherwise. Cheers. To the realm.”

They drank. The ale tasted delicious, like liquid health.

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Vale said.

Carefully, Bircham said, “I was going to leave shortly, if you don’t mind.”

Vale looked appalled. “But it’s twenty miles to Lawton from here. It’ll be dark long before you get back. No, I can’t have my men stumbling about in the night. You'll lame your horse, if the robbers don't get you first. Stay here and get a good night’s sleep. My cook can do far better than any inn between St Varlans and Lawton.”

“That’s very kind, Sir Francis, but I really must –”

“I insist,” Vale said, and Bircham knew that there was no choice. He’d stay, and he’d miss his meeting with Derrasa, and the fey folk wouldn’t get their report. sh*t.

“You were in the war, weren’t you?” Vale said.

Light streamed through the windows. Bircham felt the first prickling of sweat.

“Yes, sir.”

“Kill any Inquisition men?”

“A few.” Where the hell was this going?

“I took my share, too.” Vale sipped again. “You were in a fey regiment, weren’t you? What’s the word – lassey, is that it?”

“Lissai,” Bircham said, suddenly certain that Vale knew full well how the dryad word was pronounced.

Vale wagged a finger in reproach. “You never told me that before.” He said it jokily, as if Bircham was a sly old dog.

Who told you that? How did you find out? “I didn’t think I needed to.”

“So you grew up with the pixies, eh? I didn’t take you for a changeling.”

Bircham swallowed. “We weren’t changelings, sir. We weren’t swapped for anyone. We just grew up in the forest. When the war came, and the Inquisition men were doing – what they did, we fought to help the fey folk. We –”

“Owed them a debt.”

He saw Derassa, her eyes glaring, her little mouth pulled into a scowl. You squint-eyed idiot. He’s got you, you ugly fool! “Yes,” he admitted.

“But that debt’s paid, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir Francis. Paid in full.”

“Well, that’s all right then!” Vale smiled, baring many teeth. “Let’s have another drink, shall we?”

 

[sule]

I wasn't sold on this as an opening. I think the writing is good and the scene works well, but for me I didn't get enough of an understanding of who the main character was and their relationship to Sir Francis. It felt more like I was dropping in on the middle of something--and that was exacerbated by the casual interjection of the existence of fey folk in the middle of the scene. Again, I think the scene works. It just didn't feel to me like the place to begin the story.

 

[Brian G Turner]

You spend a lot of time providing a description of the house and entering it and what it looks like inside, but I was surprised you made no effort to describe Vale.

Additionally, you're really distant from your POV character, so it's hard to feel engaged - we're provided with no thoughts or insights, no sense of his emotions or feelings. Additionally, except for the house descriptions this scene is all dialogue and ends up as one big infodump. So, rather than feel like I'm following a character in a story, I'm simply left listing to two men explain the background of the story to me.

Your use of language is fine, but IMO you really need to push harder with the character engagement. 2c.

 

[Kerrybuchanan]

It worked well for me. The opening sentence almost lost me, but it retrieved itself by its ending. I don't like openings that begin by describing a building, but in this case it seems relevant.

I liked the way you edged us into the story. The sense of dislocation worked well with Jack Bircham's sense of dislocation as Vale begins to talk about the fey. The story kept me on my back foot, which helped put across Jack's sense of wariness. I think you could lose the second 'suddenly', but that's just a personal preference.

If this was the opening of a book on a shelf that I'd opened to browse, I would have wanted to read on. And, of course, it's beautifully written, just as I'd expect from you.

 

[Boneman]

Ditto the building bits at the beginning, but the more i read the more I was intrigued. I would read on, not a shadow of a doubt. P'raps a small comment about why Sir Francis should live in a fortress, to intrigue us? "Sir Francis Vale did not live in a fortress, and that struck Jack Bircham as wrong. They'd be coming for him one day soon." Then don't tell any more, but the conversation between the two will speak volumes. (For all I know Sir Francis is about to die of poisoned wine, but there you go...)

 

[Toby Frost]

Thanks guys. I didn't want to pre-warn people at the start, but the description of the house and the lack of description of Vale both struck me when I put it up.

I did wonder how crude the analogy of the house was: it looks pleasant but the appearance is deceptive. It sounds as if it wasn't too heavy-handed.

This is (I think) fairly close third person, and that made getting a decent description of either character into the story quite difficult. Obviously Bircham isn't going to describe himself, so hopefully he comes across as a fairly "standard male protagonist" apart from the stuff we learn towards the end. So, is it reasonable to include a proper (three line or so) description of Vale when we first meet him, probably at the point where he closes the book and stands up? Realistically, Bircham isn't suddenly going to be struck by all of his physical details again, but something is needed for the reader.

As for Bircham's thoughts, I'd hoped they would be shown by his actions and the way that he talks, but it sounds as if I'll need to make them clearer.

 

[Wayne Mack]

This sounds like an interesting world, but, unfortunately, I did not feel the hook to pull me into the story. I find the idea of a spy master and a main character who may be a double agent or playing both sides to be intriguing. Throw in some palace intrigue and conflict among human and pixie races and the main character's background, there seems to be a lot getting thrown at the reader in a short time without covering any one in sufficient depth.

Some random thoughts. I actually liked the opening sentences, but they implied a first visit while the following dialog would imply that Bircham had been there before. Perhaps a slight rephrasing would help,

Sir Francis Vale did not live in a fortress, and that had always struck Jack Bircham as wrong.

For me, the dialog felt unfocussed. Bircham had come to give a report on an execution and I felt this was barely touched upon, quickly skipping into back story on a hinted at rebellion and then on to Bircham's history. Perhaps just describing the execution and deferring the other details would provide more of a hook. Alternately, open with Bircham attending the execution. That could provide a very intense start.

As a personal preference, I like to see a clear separation of description and dialog. It might be useful to try some alternate writes where the dialog only contains simple tags or none at all. Needed descriptions can be pulled up before or pushed until afterward.

This sounds like a detailed world that will provide for a good tale to be told. My feeling is that the opening would benefit from raising fewer plot threads and then delving deeper on the ones presented. It sounds like you have a story that needs to be written, just give don't hit the reader with too much information at once.

 

[msstice]

I liked it. Information kept coming at a steady flow, keeping one reading. However there is something a bit off. I can't put my finger on it. It's probably me (not a genre I generally read).

One thing I thought was that you were too explicit with the reader at the tense moment of the exchange.

Light streamed through the windows. Bircham felt the first prickling of sweat.

“Yes, sir.”

“Kill any Inquisition men?”

“A few.” Where the hell was this going?

“I took my share, too.” Vale sipped again. “You were in a fey regiment, weren’t you? What’s the word – lassey, is that it?”

This is good. I mean for the reader. Obviously, not for Bircham. But then you tell us too much (methinks).

“Lissai,” Bircham said, suddenly certain that Vale knew full well how the dryad word was pronounced.

Vale wagged a finger in reproach. “You never told me that before.” He said it jokily, as if Bircham was a sly old dog.

Who told you that? How did you find out? “I didn’t think I needed to.”

“So you grew up with the pixies, eh? I didn’t take you for a changeling.”

Bircham swallowed. “We weren’t changelings, sir. We weren’t swapped for anyone. We just grew up in the forest. When the war came, and the Inquisition men were doing – what they did, we fought to help the fey folk. We –”

You could let the reader infer more. Say:

“Lissai,” Bircham said. But you know that.

Vale wagged a finger in reproach. “You never told me that before.” His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Who told you that? How did you find out? “I didn’t think I needed to.”

“So you grew up with the pixies, eh? I didn’t take you for a changeling.”

Bircham swallowed. “We weren’t changelings, sir. We weren’t swapped for anyone. We just grew up in the forest. When the war came, and the Inquisition men were doing – what they did, we fought to help the fey folk. We –”

 

[tinkerdan]

This is an interesting piece and It looks like an attempt to make the dialogue do all the work.
This creates a problem of distance and even if the attempt was close third the result is less than close.

This is (I think) fairly close third person, and that made getting a decent description of either character into the story quite difficult.

This explains his own description; however, it should not impede his ability to describe Sir Francis.

There is a lot of detail at the top about the lack of castle yet it quickly fades into less and less detail with some focus apparently on the exchange about activities of the past and the tension that creates for the character. However, there is so much distance that it's not real clear what the source of the tension is. Since this could be close third, I think some interiority(showing)from the character could help create the tension that is not conveyed over by the dialogue.

Also to get back to the sparseness of the setting.

That and a simple error in the prose, create a rather comical imagery.

“Excellent. I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t have wanted Lady Margaret to suffer.” The door opened, and a maid poured their drinks out. They sat silently, waiting. “Thank you, Lucy,” Vale said.

The door closed again. Vale sipped his wine. “So, that’s that. Margaret de Wise will trouble the world no more. Your very good health.”

Bircham wanted to return the toast, but it had to be said. “She died very bravely, Sir Francis.”

The line--The door opened, and a maid poured their drinks out.

I don't think that these two actions belong together unless the room is really small and they are seated almost on top of the door so that the maid could open the door and pour drinks out for them. There are some missing steps.

However, below is how the room is described.

The room was high-ceilinged and bright: the windows were the biggest that Bircham had ever seen outside a church. The massive fireplace was unlit. A table stood in the sunlight, and Vale sat behind it, writing in a massive book. He looked up, blew across the ink and closed the book.

And I'm not sure you can get that all into a closet.

And then for her departure.

The door closed again.
More missing steps.

To me this is a strong indicator that this entire piece could use a second pass for clarity.

 

[msstice]

The line--The door opened, and a maid poured their drinks out.

Yes this is a good catch. But the fix can be simple:

> The maid came in and poured their drinks. They waited until she left.

There is no need to spend many words on this, but you are right, the detail of the door opening leads us to expect more detail in the maid's actions. By removing that detail we can fix this.

 

[Toby Frost]

Ah, I see what you mean. I think Msstice's answer works fine. The important point is that they wait somewhat awkwardly for the maid to finish, and then resume their conversation. I have no problem with not describing her leaving.

Clearly the whole thing needs "more". I might put up a reworked version. Thanks guys.

 

[SonicSouls]

I’ve skimmed through the other critiques and chose to give you ones that I didn’t see. First, want to complement you for your opening. I like the hook. It poses several questions. Who is Sir Francis Vale? Why is it odd that he didn’t live in a fortress? Who is Jack Bircham? However, the prose could use some refinement. A possible revision could be:
“Sir Francis Vale didn’t live in a fortress, striking Jack Bircham as peculiar.”
Not using contractions typically comes across as stilted, unless the book has a more formal tone. In that case, it should be made clear to the reader. However, I noticed that at some points that contractions are used. For example:
Carefully, Bircham said, “I was going to leave shortly, if you don’t mind.”
Because of this, I suggest that you either stay consistent, or just use contractions unless it wouldn’t fit in with the character. It flows better and doesn’t remind people of dry book reports.
Secondly, “wrong” is too generic of a word. Consider using a thesaurus to find a word that has greater weight and emotional impact. However, don’t make the mistake of replacing random words in an attempt to sound more professional. Readers will notice. Instead, look for moments where a word is too generic, or isn’t giving you the desired impact. Then, look for similar words. I’ve personally found that I can find words that say more than what the original word did. This is especially helpful for trimming unnecessary words by condensing them into one word.
To go on a tangent, I’ve found this technique to useful for everything from setting to dialogue. It’s especially useful for eliminating adverbs. Now there’s nothing wrong with adverbs on their own. They’re just a tool. But, part of the reason there’s a stigma among certain groups if that writers may use them unnecessarily. Here’s an example based on a story I’m working on:
“The bells echoed loudly.”
Now there’s nothing wrong with this sentence. However, “echoed loudly” can be replaced with “reverberated”. According to Oxford Languages, this means “(of a loud noise) be repeated several times as an echo”. The new sentence:
“The bells reverberated.”
Gives an identical meaning. But it uses one word instead of two. Now why is this important? Imagine doing this across an entire story. You’ll trim a lot of fat by doing so. Additionally, as mentioned earlier, you may find a word that grants more meaning than the original word. This is my personal technique. If it helps you, great. But I’m not a published author. In fact, I’m doing critiques not just to help others, but to get the minimum thirty posts I need to post a snippet of my own work for critique. So, take my advice with a grain of salt.
My second critique concerns the description of the first paragraph. Now you’re on the right track since your description does serve an actual purpose. It creates further mystery as to why it’s peculiar that Sir Francis Vale doesn’t live in a fortress. Especially since being a spymaster would seem to make that befitting. Unless, it’s a form of cover. This also gives insight into him, making the reader more interested in meeting them. You also have some interesting descriptions that help this.
The grass being so green that it “had to have been alchemically tinted” is more interesting than saying “unnaturally green.” However, it also implies that alchemy and this detail will be relevant later. Since this is a snippet, I cannot definitively say if this is unnecessary. But I suggest that you muse on that. The gatehouse shaped like a “pretty little cottage” is interesting since it defies the typical notion of a gatehouse. However, like the grass, it needs to be relevant in some way.
I see what you are trying to achieve with the juxtaposition of a quaint cottage and the sinister gatekeeper. But I feel like they could use a better description. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about “a smile like a murderer in a revenge play” sounds off. My question is, what are you trying to achieve? What is a “revenge play”? Would there be a better term for this?
Overall, I liked the opening paragraph, but thought it needed some work on the prose. Also, if you could find a way to integrate the description into the action, that would be great. It’s more interesting than just reading a block of text.
Before I conclude this, I have some historical terms related to spymasters that may interest you. I don’t know how much your story will focus on espionage, but maybe this can give you some ideas. At the very least, you can give your spymaster some authenticity. It should be noted that these terms come from the Cold War, so some of their names won’t fit the genre. However, I hope they can help. In no particular order:

• Aunt Jemima

This is a slang for an explosive that resembles gritty flour. Under a different name this has some potential for a fantasy story. Based upon your story I’m assuming its based upon Western European. During that time flour typically was gritty unless you were very rich and could afford the processes to make white flour. As such I have a proposal for a hypothetical scenario.
Imagine an innocuous windmill. It does make flour for the local area. But there is a secret lab where our “Aunt Jemima” is created. It’s smuggled out in deliveries alongside regular flour. If anyone stops for a random inspection, unless they are familiar with “Aunt Jemima”, they’ll just find regular flour or grittier flour. If anyone asks about the grittier flour, the driver could say that it’s just for the peasants. This is because historically, the peasants could the least grinded, and thus worst quality flour. When the packages are delivered, perhaps the ones with “Aunt Jemima” have a special label on them to differentiate them.

• Dead/Letterbox Drop

This is a prearranged location where money, equipment, and/or documents are left for collection. Typically, a signal of some kind of given to indicate that the delivery was found by the proper person. For example, a dash of lipstick on the wall was common. Sometimes you could identify an enemy spy pretending to be the actual recipient by the signal they give. It was common to see unusually complicated stenciled marks on walls by soviet agents. Real signals are simple.
It should also be noted that this typically isn’t just a box lying about. It may be hidden in something unsavory such as fake vomit, or a bag filled with garbage.

• Cut-Out

This is used to maintain security. Here’s a hypothetical example:
Agent A wants to give information to Agent B.
But Agent A can’t personally see Agent B for security reasons, and vice versa.
So, Agent A gives Agent C the information, who then delivers it to Agent B.
Agent C would be the “Cut-Out”.
Sometimes it’s a term for someone used as a pawn, though that’s uncommon.

• Jack-In-The-Box

This was used for cars at night, though could be adapted for carriages/stagecoaches/etc. For the purposes of this example I’ll just say car.
Let’s say an agent is a passenger in a friendly car. They start getting followed by someone they know is a rival spy, or likely is. It’s night so they use the Jack-In-The Box technique. The car turns a corner so the rival spy can’t see them. The agent activates a device hidden in typically a cake box. It pops up a cutout that in night resembles their silhouette. The agent dives from the car, quickly throws on a disguise, then nonchalantly walks down say an alley. The rival spy continues following the car, thinking they’re still pursuing the agent.

• Cobbler/shoemaker

This is a forger skilled in creasing false passport visas or other documents. Perhaps an actual cobbler/shoemaker could double as a forger.

• Brush Pass

If your story is heavy on espionage, then this one will be used a lot, even if it’s not explicitly mentioned by name. This is brief physical encounter between agents in a neutral location to exchange verbal information or hand over materials. Sometimes this takes the form of what appears to an outsider to be two people roughly brushing against each other. Side note, although this isn’t a “brush pass”, the aforementioned technique is used by pickpockets to steal items such as wallets.

• Asset

This is an agent that can pass on useful information.

• Canary Trap

This is a technique used to expose a leak. It involves planting different versions of sensitive information with suspects to see which response from the enemy has been passed on.

• Chicken Feed

This is genuine but harmless classified information. It’s fed to a possible double agent to ensure that they are trustworthy.

• Dangle

A spy pretending to be a defector or informant. They “collect” intelligence and supply disinformation to the enemy agency. They hope to be recruited as a double agent.

• Discard/Throwaway

An agent deemed a worthwhile sacrifice to be exposed as to protect other agents who are deemed more valuable.

• Hello Call

This involves telephones, though could be modified for a fantasy story. It was a phone number that spies could use if they were in trouble. The person answering their call would give a harmless sounding message that was a code only the spy understood.

• Bang and Burn

Demolition and sabotage operations.

• Counterintelligence

The division designed to keep enemy spies from infiltrating the organization.

• One-time Pad

This was a code pad that used a randomly generated code that was used once. This essentially made it uncrackable.

• Honey Trap

Typically, this refers to men or women using sexual situations to intimidate or ensnare spies. However, it can involve bribery.

Many more terms can be found in sources listed below. There is also some recommended reading that you may find interesting. I hope this helps.
Sources:
Language of Espionage: International Spy Museum
A glossary to Cold War spy-speak- The Telegraph
Recommended Reading:
The Billion Dollar Spy: A True Story of Cold War Espionage and Betrayal by David E. Hoffman
Operatives, Spies, and Saboteurs: The Unknown Story of the Men and Women of World War II’s OSS by Patrick K. O Donnell.
I also recommend the following books from Kevin D. Mitnick. He was a former hacker that now works as a security consultant. Because of the nature of his work, his books focus more on technology, which isn’t befitting for a traditional fantasy setting however. The following book:
The Art of Deception: Kevin D. Mitnick & William L. Simon
Focuses more on techniques involving humans. This involves bypassing security, getting information, etc. However, some other books although not that relevant to a fantasy story are nonetheless interesting reads:
The Art of Invisibility by Kevin D. Mitnick
The Art of Intrusion by Kevin D. Mitnick