N.H. Roncolato's Blog

What happened to my favorite spunky independent author, N.H. Roncolato?I know that has been the question on everyone's mind. Is he alright? Did he get lost somewhere? Has anyone seen him?What happened?Well, let me put the rumors to rest. It wasn't aliens, I wasn't activated as an international spy and forced to abandon my life, and I have not inherited a massive fortune from an uncle I never knew (which would mean I would never have to work again).I've been busy. Really busy. With life and things like that, which can happen when you have two small children of school age and bills to pay.Also, in case you were also wondering, I pulled The Redemption of Brian O'Connor from print. I would love to say it's because my book has been picked up by a publisher, but not yet. My spirit was not settled with it, and finally I decided to re-edit the story (for like the 9th time...) and release a 2nd edition. So for all of you who were lucky enough to pick up a 1st edition, keep it! One day it will be a collector's item, worth... a lot more than you paid for it? I'm not sure how that stuff works, but it's something like that.So I have the whole thing edited on paper, just not on the actual book file that I work from. And hopefully things will be settling down in my personal life, which will increase the amount of time I have to commit to my writing.For those of you worried that I am messing with perfection, please don't - I'm sorry, I couldn't get that sentence out with a straight face. The story is going to be relatively untouched, but the changes are occurring in how the story happens. So if you've read the 1st edition, don't worry. The ending is still the same...Thanks for your patience, and I hope to have something for you all soon!Oh, yeah, social media. I've left my Twitter up, but I'm taking a big step away from social media. Once I'm back up with a published book again, maybe I'll step back to it. Or maybe not. So don't feel insulted if I don't respond to your follow or comment, because I'm not responding to any.Woo! Writing!If you all liked this post, go ahead and share it on social media and subscribe to my site. This really helps me out, as I am a self-published author fighting for each step of discoverability I can get. I appreciate you all reading this and I hope that you get a chance to check out my book, , and support your favorite indie author!Thanks again! Keep reading!~N.H. Roncolato

I have often wondered this myself.  Whether an existential question that was drowning in self-doubt or the harsh criticism of self-reflection, the question of what makes a good writer always seemed to be lurking in the back of my mind.  Not that I think I'm a bad writer, mind you, but what is it that makes a good writer?Is it the ability to put a story on paper and have it make sense?  That is certainly important, since most writing revolves around that very fact.  But is it enough to just put a story on paper?  If that was the only requirement, then the ranks of good writers would be full for sure.If it isn't just that, then is it the ability to create moving and relatable characters?  If writing from A-to-Z is integral to being a writer in general, then certainly populating that story with meaningful characters that pull at the readers heartstrings or draw cheers from their throats would make a writer a good writer.  Of course, a story isn't a story without characters, so that can't be it.What about the world the characters reside in?  Any story needs a setting, whether in our world or a different one.  So does having a compelling and clever setting the blends seamlessly into the narrative while at the same time being a character of it's own be the tell-tale sign of a good writer?Of course, all of these things are required for a good story, and these are some basic ideas that all writers have to consider before they can start writing.  So this doesn't really answer the question...just add more questions to it!What I have found, from writing , is that there is no single answer to what makes a good writer.  Aside from the constantly changing physical markers of success that happen when you are writing a story, from things like "I finally figured out the title!" to "Yes! Chapter 36 is finished!", there are other abstract things like readability and consistency and world-building.  It takes all of those things, those intangible things that the writer puts into the story, to make it 'good'.Now, what happens if all those things get included...on purpose?  "On purpose?" you say, "Isn't that the writer's job to do it all on purpose, anyway?" Well, here's a little secret: It doesn't always happen on purpose.  Not that the writing doesn't happen on purpose, since you have to intentionally move the letters into words to create the story, but all of those things falling into the perfect place can seem to occur organically, as if by magic.Of course it isn't really magic (or is it...), but does that make a good writer?  Does intent matter?  Or does letting the story take shape and form while you write matter more? Wow, this is a whole lotta questions.  Almost as if I wanted an answer as bad as you...In the seven year journey of writing , I did learn the answer to what makes a good writer.  At least, I am pretty certain it's the answer.You.Woah, super philosophical.  Not 'you' the reader.  'You' the writer.  As long as you like what you are writing, I would call you a good writer.  Everyone else is always going to have an opinion, and you can choose to listen to them if you want.  But at the end of the day, you are the only person who can write like you can.  And if you like it, that's good enough for me.If you all liked this post, go ahead and share it on social media and subscribe to my site.  This really helps me out, as I am a self-published author fighting for each step of discoverability I can get. I appreciate you all reading this and I hope that you get a chance to check out my book, , and support your favorite indie author!Thanks again!  Keep reading!~N.H. Roncolato​​To purchase a copy of the best realistic fantasy epic ever written, check it out in paperback or ebook. Get yours today!

We all grow up hearing that quote: "Don't judge a book by it's cover".  Sort of like a basic statement about not making decisions based on appearances that seemed to apply to everything.Well, the fact is EVERYONE judges books by their covers.  Especially in today's over-saturated book market, many times the cover is all that people have a chance to see while skimming through Twitter or Amazon or Goodreads.  Gone are the days where the cover was just the title and subtitle, explaining what the books contains, like a good 18th Century story.Of course there are many reasons for this.  One, digital art software and printing allows for more complex cover design then just what a basic printing press allowed.  Two, we have become a very visually driven consumer culture.  We have to like what we see.  Three, the advent of the online self-published novel means that there is a plethora of books that need unique covers.So what does this have to do with my book, you may ask.  Certainly given my astute awareness of all things writing, I must have prepared accordingly and known exactly what my cover was going to look like, you might say.No.  None of that.  Just like everything else with my novel, , I started in one direction and ended somewhere completely different.  (i.e. I thought it was going to be a short story and it ended up longer than The Two Towers, etc.)As I mentioned in my I was going for a sort of leather-bound tome idea, and compiled this image using AffinityDesigner (which I already plugged once for free...but will do it again, too)Now, for those that are good at math, yes, I had been writing for four years before I even attempted to make a cover.  That was mostly because I was still composing the greatest epic fantasy novel ever written, but it was also because I had no idea where to start.  As you can see, I tried my best but it looks...a little off.  Probably because I have had the hardest time finding a 'gold' color and not have it look greenish...Either way, I had to fix it.  Not only did the title change, but my vision for the story was also changing.  Thankfully, having a base idea to work with helped, as did my wife/at-home manager's advice to look at other fantasy novels.So the next iteration came out looking like this:Note the ornate detail, the fine texturing, and the love and attention paid to every stitch...OK, I found a stock image online and used that.  I do like the idea, but it didn't say anything ABOUT my book.  This was when I was in that awkward stage, almost the 'teenage years' of writing, when my original idea about my story was conflicting with what my story was growing into.  If I was writing a book about the mid-16th Century political history of the Holy Roman Empire, this would work well.  However interesting that may sound, that is not what I wrote.Alas, I turned back to my trusty design software and came up with a completely different direction, one that I felt spoke to the epic fantasy-ness of my story:Really engaging, right?  There is a whole lot going on there, I can tell you that much.  Almost too much...Yeah, it was pretty busy.  Really busy, actually.  Far too busy.  And again, said nothing about my story or my characters.  The map is really cool, but did not work as a cover.For the fourth time, I threw myself into molding a new cover for my book.  I was sure that this would be the last one that I would need to make.  So I came up with this:Yes!  I did it!  I finally have an epic cover that, if you look closely, combines a few of my previous attempts together.  Note the epic map (with a 'spotlight' on Ridgard Ironwall, a little foreshadowing, maybe?).  Note the intricate border that seems to be faintly imprinted along the edges.  The golden embossed text and the large print for my name...it all works so well together!Only...it doesn't say anything about my book.  There is no indication about what the importance of Ridgard Ironwall is or why the reader should care.  There is no indication of characters or even what the genre is.  Plus, my name was too big.  I always chuckle a little at the book covers where I don't know if the author's name is the title and vice-versa.So once more, it didn't work.  I had reached the limit of my ability.  I can doodle here and there, but making a professional looking cover was beyond me.  I buckled down and looked for an artist.I was going to...*gulp*...SPEND MONEY! I found the perfect artist in the most interesting place, actually.  I have a passive interest in drawing myself so I was already following a number of artist channels on YouTube and I had previously stumbled across this fantastic artist, Xia Taptara.  You can find his channel here and his website here.  Show him some love 'cause he is REALLY talented.Anyhow, I contacted him and we got the ball rolling.  I gave him a sweet stick-figure sketch (which I will send to those who have subscribed to my site) and from that, he sent me this image below:Isn't it pretty?  To be honest, when I first saw the final version I almost broke down into tears.  After almost seven years of writing, this was the first time that someone else had presented an image of the story that had been swirling around in my head for so long.  It was a very powerful moment.I composed myself and managed to scrape the final version of the cover together, what you see here:So a big thanks to Xia Taptara for his awesome work, because there was no way I would be able to draw this on my own.I learned through this whole process of making a cover for my book that sometimes it is worth it to shell out a few ducats to have someone else produce something for you.  It went against every fiber in my being to do so, but I am very happy that I did.Well, OK, I can't take full credit for this.  Or any credit, really.  My wife/at-home manager really has been a God-send, and she was advising me all along the way.  It was her that alerted me to the successes and opportunities of my cover design attempts, and it was her that urged me to look for an artist.  I really hate spending money, especially on myself, so I wasn't going to look for an artist on my own.  Thanks for the help and advice, hon!As you can see, the cover design made a fantastic journey on it's own, from the first version to the final.  If it wasn't for good advice and a willingness to admit that I couldn't do it alone, my book might look very different.This brings us to a question: Which image do YOU like?  Let me know in the comments below, if not for any other reason than just for fun.Also, if you know an author who is struggling to figure out their cover, give them your opinion.  It is hard for us, the authors, to see our work objectively, and having outside input can really help.If you all liked this post, go ahead and share it on social media and subscribe to my site.  This really helps me out, as I am a self-published author fighting for each step of discoverability I can get. I appreciate you all reading this and I hope that you get a chance to check out my book, , and support your favorite indie author!Thanks again!  Keep reading!~N.H. Roncolato​​To purchase a copy of the best realistic fantasy epic ever written, check it out in paperback or ebook. Get yours today!

This famous guy once wrote: "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  I think he was like a playwright or something...I dunno.  (I know it was Shakespeare, please refrain from 'Are you dumb?' comments below)Still, what a beautiful sentiment.  Regardless of what name a thing is called, it's nature does not change.  After all, a name is only there so we can quickly recognize and identify things and ideas.But what would happen if a rose was called a 'crap-awful'?  If you came home with a bouquet of crap-awfuls for your anniversary, would your partner say, "Aw gee, thanks"?  While the physical rose itself would not have changed, would the way we perceived it have?Thus is the power of a name.  Especially for authors and other creators, a name/title is usually the first gateway to your art.  If you have a good title, then people will be more willing to pass through that first gateway and proceeding to the next.  However, if you have a terrible title for your work, then people would not want to approach that first gateway.  The nature of your work does not change, but the willingness to approach does."I don't agree," you might say.  "I think the work will speak for itself."  Sure, OK, let's go there.  If you have an established platform and fanbase, then YOUR name sells the work and the title matters less.  But if you don't have that recognition, then the title of your work is truly a gateway. New authors cannot afford bad titles.So what makes a bad title?  Well, I can't speak for everyone, but let me illustrate my experience for you.This first novel of mine, , was not always the well-titled piece that it is today.  In fact, I have gone through a number of titles and sub-titles before I settled on this one. Here's the first title that I can remember.  I was reading an old English history book for one of my college courses and I thought to myself, "Wow, this title is awesome!"  I was inspired.So, in 2012, the first iteration of my book title, which was previously called "The Book", came about.  I settled on the brief and concise "A History of the Peoples of Caltus and the Lands that Surround It".  There were many reasons for this, namely that I thought the story I was writing was a short story, and that there were going to be a series of tales surrounding the same event, just from different perspectives.Besides that being totally wrong and the "short-story" I was writing becoming a 150,000 word epic, that title was terrible.  Do you know how I knew?  I was embarrassed to tell people the title.  I felt like I had to explain it immediately afterwards, and I saw "OK, not for me" flash across their faces.  A good indication that a title is bad is if you are reluctant to tell people it (generally speaking).Still, I was too stubborn to change it.  It stayed for years, until about 2015, when my wife (and at-home editor) said, "Have you thought about changing it?"  I had been, but I didn't want to admit it.  Like I said, stubborn.So I finally did.  To "A History of Caltus".  I figured it was short enough and kept the spirit of my original title intact.  But I had overlooked one thing: did the title reflect my story?  If people saw it, would they say "Oh, I want to read that"?  No, not really.  This whole time, I had been using a subtitle for my story as well, since I had originally imagined that it would be one of a series of short stories.  It too was brief and concise, "The Bravery of the Forlorn Seven at Ridgard Ironwall and the Redemption of Brian O'Connor".  Notice a pattern?By now, I was considering self-publishing seriously, as submitting my work to agents and publishers had not had the desired result (that's for another post).  Once more, my at-home editor said, "But the title..."My stubborn self once more took a look at it, and I reluctantly agreed that the title was not working anymore.  Or ever.  So I mulled some ideas around and finally settled on using a part of the subtitle as the actual title, "The Redemption of Brian O'Connor".I moved forward with that and the result is what you see today.  But it does beg the question: what makes a good title?  There are open ended answers to that, like "make it engaging" and "make it interesting" and that's all well and good.  However, in my experience, the best title says something about your work and can be easily reproduced and marketed.  "The Redemption of Brian O'Connor" sounds much better than "A History of the Peoples of Caltus and the Lands that Surround It", explains my story better, and actually fits on the cover.At the end of the day, the title is your choice.  It's the first thing that people will see, possibly even before they see the cover of the book.  And through the course of writing, which can be tumultuous and painful, the title may change.  That's OK. The most important thing about writing is being flexible with yourself and your story.  If the title no longer fits, be OK to change it.  Don't be stubborn about it (like me), because in the end it will only hold you back.  And if you don't have a title yet, that's OK too. A title shows up precisely when it's needed (LOTR fans know what I mean).Thanks for subscribing to my site (if you haven't yet you can do so here) Tune in for the next post where I will be talking about the joys of cover design.And if you don't mind, leave a comment below or click the share button to tell everybody about how awesome titles are.  I would really appreciate it.Thanks again!  Keep reading!~N.H. RoncolatoTo purchase a copy of the best realistic fantasy epic ever written, check it out in paperback or ebook.  Get yours today!

So you have this awesome fantasy story in your mind.  Massive armies, roaring monsters, elegant palaces, ancient countries...the works.  You're so excited, you rush to tell your friends your idea."That's cool," they say.  "Is there a map?"A map.  Anytime you have a fantasy novel, or really any story that has a made-up or vast setting, a map is a necessity.One of the few things that I did right while writing The Redemption of Brian O'Connor was work on a map early on.  Now, here's the philosophical question for everyone: which came first, the story or the map? Clearly in the example above, the map was requested before the story was written.  A slight exaggeration, but it does beg the question: Can you have a fantasy story that does not have a map?  Even thinking about it makes me nervous...How would you know where things happen? So I had a few pages already down when one of my earliest proofreaders (my father) asked, "Is there a map?"  It was in that moment that I realized that there was this story, clear as day, in MY mind but no one else had access to it.  So I sketched this quick map on the back of the pages I had given him.  It has since become the FIRST iteration of the Map of Northern Caltus.BEHOLD, in all it's glory (you can still see the text on the other side):So it's ready for print, right?Not quite.  Any author will tell you, their story underwent major changes from the time of conception to completion.  As mine did so much more than that (another post for another time) the map reflected this change.Finally, I got to a part in the story where I wanted to really put a definitive distance and scale between the locations in my story.  I wanted to be able to have a polished map for my epic, so I came up with this:It's a bit of an improvement, I thought.  Of course, both of these early maps were hand-drawn.  That's not going to serve my book well (for some stories I am sure it works, but for mine it didn't) so I needed a solution.Enter Manga Studio and AffinityDesigner.  They are wonderful programs that let you do most of the cool stuff in Adobe without the monthly fee.  So I picked them up and, using the 2nd map as an underlay, plugged in my Wacom tablet and came up with this:Now this isn't the prettiest thing, but after adding all the text and border and making it pretty, the final version looks like this:Now, this is the final big map that I did.  From 2011 to 2016, I sketched and thought (probably should have flipped that) and then erased and sketched again, tinkering until I got this.  Mind you, in this process I got married, had two kids, graduated college, and moved from DC to LA.  So I'm pretty proud of what I managed to accomplish in that time.Still, there was one thing that I hadn't counted on...Margins.In all of those years, I never once considered what size I was going to print the book.  On Kindle it wouldn't matter, but for the paperback (where my heart will always lie), an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper doesn't scale down to 6 x 9 well.  It looks weird.For any self-published author, it is important that your book looks as professional as possible.  At least, we hope that they do.  So I had to figure out how to get a square peg in a round hole.Redraw it?  No.  It took too much time.  So I had to crop it.  Man, it was painful but I did it.  So the final FINAL version of the map is here:I had to make a choice, and I chose to crop the south, east, and a little of the west.  It was not what I wanted, at all, but it had to be done.So, after trial and error (and some more error) I managed to create my own map.  I never thought I would be benefiting from all that map-doodling in high school, but hey, it worked.To sum it up, it would be good to have an idea of what your map should look like before you get too far in the story.  And be flexible, as things can change in the story that will change the map.  Also, consider margins.  Course you could just hire an artist to do it, but that's between you and your book.  Thanks for subscribing to my site (if you haven't yet you can do so here) and I am thinking about doing a giveaway for a high-resolution version of the big map for my awesome subscribers.And if you don't mind, go on and share this with your friends or anyone you know that really likes and nerds out over maps.  I would appreciate it.Thanks again!  Keep reading!~N.H. Roncolato

Hi all! Just wanted to let you know that from today onward, is now on PERMANENT SALE! Yes, you heard right.  Permanent sale.  Which is a fancy way of saying I have lowered the price after finagling with the formatting and lowering the page count.  Still, it is a permanent change to the cost of the greatest realistic fantasy epic ever written!  Who doesn't like a sale? Please check out the new Kindle price ($2.99) here, and the new, streamlined paperback can be found here, at the NEW LOW LOW price of $11.99, down from $14.99.  Excited?  I bet; I can hardly contain MY excitement and I wrote it! So, to sum up all the insanity up above, is now $2.99 for Kindle and $11.99 for paperback.  I hope you all take a look and enjoy the new low price! Happy reading! ~N.H. Roncolato

Looking for a good book to read but reluctant to spend money?Who isn't, right?Well, here is your answer, A GIVEAWAY!That's right, I have decided to just give five signed copies of the best realistic fantasy epic you will ever read.  If you would like to get in on this (since, I mean, who doesn't like free books?) then please see the widget below and go ahead and enter!Worried about missing out on this awesome giveaway?  Don't have a Goodreads account?  No worries there, go ahead and take a look at the book on Amazon in eitherpaperbackorebook.It's like a giveaway that you pay to win 100% of the time!Keep reading,N.H. Roncolato

Hello!

After almost seven years of writing and re-writing and screaming and re-writing again, I am pleased to announce the publishing of my FIRST NOVEL, the sweeping fantasy epic, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor!
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For those of you who know me, you know how long and tortuous this process has been. Writing a book is not easy, and writing one while being a dad of two babies and working a full-time job doesn't help. Yet still, by the grace of God, the greatest American realistic fantasy novel is complete! I have shunned the tropes of traditional fantasy to bring you a new kind of epic, one devoid of magic and magical creatures, the narrative driven only by the struggles of men (and women) and the conflicts they face.

A tale of courage and sacrifice, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor is a riveting account of one man's journey set in a vibrant world populated by rich and engaging characters. A story of camaraderie, loyalty, and battle, The Redemption of Brian O'Connor will provide the epic tale you are looking for! The first in a trilogy, be on the lookout for the next two installments!

In case you need more than the words of N.H. Roncolato himself, please check out the sample chapter below!

Chapter 1

“Six of them. Damn.” His whisper was carried away by the storm that pounded around him. His thick cloak whipped against the wind as he looked at the soldiers searching the town for him. The rain that fell was bitterly cold. A few weeks earlier and this would have been a blizzard. Yet winter was ending and spring was coming, so the rains came too.

The packed earth of the road was thick with mud, the rainwater running in rivulets down the street. In the dark of night the roads were empty. It was too early for the taverns to close and the storm kept good people inside. None were out in this rain save himself and the six soldiers who hunted him.

He could see them, searching door-to-door, lanterns straining against the darkness. They were dressed as Imperial soldiers of Elriol. The pommels of their longswords hung low, visible under their deep blue cloaks. The white eagle and shield stood out on their tunics as they slogged through the muddy street to the next house.

He hissed. They were persistent. They had been following him since Rothgard, no doubt to collect the bounty on his head. There was little he could do now to outrun them. The sudden storm had seen to that.

The road through Delgard to the north was rendered nearly unusable in this deluge. It was waterlogged and nearly impassable, the mud far too deep to walk. He had to find shelter from the storm. If the elements did not kill him, the soldiers certainly would.

He turned and struggled through the deep mud. The squelching sound his boots made was swallowed up by the winter gale as he headed for the nearest building. A sign swung violently in the winds; a dark green lion rearing over a full mug. It was a tavern.

He managed to get to the door, the storm nearly opening it for him. Immediately, he saw the looks from those inside as the rain and wind poured its chill into the tavern. Quickly closing the door, he shook the water from his cloak and removed his hood. His curly red hair, long and pulled back, was matted and wet. He wiped some loose strands from his face, rubbing his cheeks to bring warmth back to them. The stubble that hugged his jaw felt rough on his hands. He had not shaved in a while.

He held his belongings; a simple bundle and a walking stick, and walked towards the bar-top. Though a few denizens gave him curious looks, it was not long before the conversations picked back up and the people turned back to their drinks. Among these people here, he should be safe. The soldiers outside would not think that he would shelter here, or at least he hoped so.

“Herzlich willkommen!” He looked up to see the tavernkeep waving to him. The greeting was in Halessian, which was not surprising. Delgard was an old city of Halessia, before the Empire of Elriol had conquered it. Though people here spoke Elrian, the common tongue, they still held on to the old language.

“I am sorry, good tavernkeep.” The man said in Elrian, his accent lilting. “I do not speak that tongue.” He approached the bar-top and took an empty seat.

The tavernkeep, a portly, moustached man, waved his hand, dismissing the apology. Speaking in Elrian with a Halessian accent, the tavernkeep said, “Oh no, it is my fault. I assumed that you were a local.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Welcome to the Emerald Lion, good sir. My name is Ortwin, and this is my tavern. What is your name, friend?” His smile wide and welcoming, the tavernkeep leaned against the bar.

The man hesitated. Names were dangerous. He thought for a moment before responding, “My name is an old one, from the Isles of Inisfall. In Elrian it is hard to pronounce. You would not remember it.”

“Inisfall? So you are Inisfain then?” Ortwin’s smile widened. “Very good, herr Inisfain. I will call you this, then.”

The Inisfain nodded. It was acceptable. He wished no harm to Ortwin or his establishment, and his real name would bring trouble to the tavernkeep here. The Inisfain bore no ill will against the people of Elriol, only against those who ruled it.

“Good tavernmaster, I need a place to wait out this storm before I continue my travels. Do you have a room available?” He looked around the tavern. The tables were full of people. “From the looks of the place here, you may not.”

“Oh no, no, these are just locals spending their evening in good company.” Ortwin laughed. “They will be going home, at least most of them.”

“Then you have rooms?”

“Yes, my friend. We have rooms. Would you like a meal as well? My wife is an excellent cook.” Ortwin nodded.

The Inisfain’s stomach growled. He had not eaten a good meal in many days. Scraps stolen from empty tables did little to fuel his journey. It was not that he had no money, rather he did not wish to bring suspicion on innocent people. Anyone he was near to would find themselves in danger.

However it would do no good to perish from starvation, either. Nodding, the Inisfain asked for bread and stew. In quick order, a bowl of steaming pork stew and a fresh cut of bread were placed before him. After so many weeks on the road, the taste of good food was rejuvenating.

The tavernkeep could see as much. Chuckling, he said, “It must have been some time since you ate, my friend.”

Nodding, through bites, the Inisfain said, “Yes, good tavernmaster. I have been on the road for many days, traveling up from Latia in the south. To visit a friend.”

A local man who was sitting beside the Inisfain heard this and interjected. He was clearly not on his first mug as he slurred, “Latia? Ah, I feel as though it is nothing more than a legend! It has been too long since we have received any word from the south. The Madman sees to that.” The last words were spat in disgust.

The Inisfain took a sip of his stew to cover his surprise. The drunken man’s words were a death sentence. Calling the Emperor of Elriol “the Madman” was a crime punishable by death, not only for this man but for his family as well. Emperor Durgen did not tolerate the nickname given to him by his enemies. No matter how well deserved.

The tavernkeep looked nervously to the Inisfain at the man’s words. He urged the drunken man to change the subject. With an undertone of warning, Ortwin said, “Hush now, Karls. We are amongst friends here, but words spoken often carry beyond the ears of those who hear them.”

With a sloppy wave Karls dismissed the tavernkeep’s warning. Emboldened by his first words, he continued. “All I’m saying is that we were better off before, when the good Kaesers ruled us. Do you understand what I say? Now we have this dummkopf from the Three Hills-”

“Enough, Karls.” Ortwin was smiling but his words were firm. “Be quiet and go home. Herta is waiting for you.”

Karls mumbled something about home and stumbled towards the door. Another local gave him a shoulder for support and helped the drunken man out of the tavern, the storm still pounding outside. The Inisfain watched him go. He knew that many in Halessia cared little for the Emperor, but to see such open hate against him was unexpected.

Ortwin nervously smiled and said, “Pay no mind to him, my friend. Karls lost his son last summer and he blames Elriol for it. When he drinks his tongue does get loose.”

“It is sad a story that I have heard too often, good tavernmaster. Do not worry, I do not begrudge a father his grief.” The Inisfain said. In truth, he was happy to see such simmering hate for Elriol within her borders. He himself held no love for the Emperor, not least of all because he was being hunted.

Turning back to the tavernkeep, the Inisfain asked again about a room. Specifically, he wanted the smallest room available.

“Good friend from Inisfall, we have many rooms here. You need not take the smallest. I can give you a larger one for the same price.” Ortwin said, confused.

“Good tavernmaster, it is not the price that I am worried about.” The Inisfain said, looking towards the door.

The tavernkeep understood. He leaned closer and asked discreetly, “Are you in trouble, my friend?”

“It is safer if you do not know, good tavernkeep. All I need is a small room and your discretion.” The Inisfain said. He was being honest; should anything happen here then the tavernkeep could be held responsible.

The tavernkeep nodded and produced a room key. “Second from the end, on the left.”

Thanking him, the Inisfain dropped a few copper coins for the meal and took his effects. The rooms were up a flight of stairs off of the main tavern, built over the barn next to the tavern. It would be a safe place to sleep, for if escape was necessary he could always break into the barn below.

Not a moment after he had stepped onto the second level, the door to the tavern flew open. The Inisfain crouched low and peered into the main tavern from the top of the stairs. He could not see the door but the sight of the stomping boots of the six Elrian soldiers appeared quickly.

Hissing a curse, he hid from view in the hallway. He had hoped the six soldiers would have left this place alone, for it was far too public to be a hiding place for a wanted man. Apparently, his luck was not so good.

A smooth voice sounded over the crashing of mugs and tables as the soldiers moved through the tavern. “An enemy of the Empire is here. An Inisfain from Latia. Give him to us now, or your lives will be forfeit.”

Ortwin responded, fear heavy in his voice. “M-my lord, what do you mean? We are all good people here and-”

“Silence, peasant!” The smooth voice spat. That must be the captain. The Inisfain had seen him before, his smooth-shaven face and tailored eyebrows spoke of privilege. It was no wonder his voice was so arrogant.

Still, it was only six Elrian soldiers against a tavern full of Halessians. From the grumbles that sounded, it seemed that the tenants there did not care for the captain’s tone.

The captain must have sensed this as well, as his tactics changed. With a hiss of steel, he drew his sword and said, “You, come here.”

The Inisfain heard Orwtin protest and then whimper. The captain spoke again, “I will cut his throat if someone does not tell me where the Inisfain dog is.”

The Inisfain cursed under his breath. He wished no harm on the people here, least of all the friendly tavernkeep. Clenching his fists, he loosened his twin daggers in their scabbards, snug underneath his armpits. If it was to be a fight, he would move to spare as many townspeople as he could.

It was not to be though. After a moment of silence, the Inisfain heard someone say, “He’s upstairs.”

A thump and the sound of Ortwin gasping in relief told the Inisfain that he had not been harmed. The captain spoke again, his voice threatening and cold. “Out. Everyone!”

Five more blades were drawn, the hiss of steel on leather unmistakable. The tavern emptied. Soon, only the sound of six pairs of boots could be heard. They were heading for the stairs.

Suddenly, the captain spoke again. “No, not you, peasant. You are under arrest for treason. Once we deal with the Inisfain, we will come back for you.” It was directed towards the tavernkeep.

The Inisfain heard Ortwin stammer out a terrified response. “M-my lord, please, I-I did not know-“

The sound of metal on flesh and Ortwin cried out in pain. The captain growled, “I said silence! We will deal with you shortly, traitor.”

The Inisfain cursed again. It was what he had feared, these people were in danger simply by showing him kindness. Gritting his teeth, he slipped down the hall and entered the room Ortwin had given him.

The captain and his soldiers would not be returning to carry out their threat. The Inisfain would make sure of that.

--- END OF SAMPLE ---

The book is available now at CreateSpace.com (an Amazon company), Amazon.com, and is now available as a Kindle eBook! I still can't believe that I wrote this and remained sane!

Tell everyone you know!

~ N.H. Roncolato
The Redemption of Brian O'Connor

Hello!After almost seven years of writing and re-writing and screaming and re-writing again, I am pleased to announce the publishing of my FIRST NOVEL, the sweeping fantasy epic,The Redemption of Brian O'Connor!For those of you who know me, you know how long and tortuous this process has been.  Writing a book is not easy, and writing one while being a dad of two babies and working a full-time job doesn't help.  Yet still, by the grace of God, the greatest American realistic fantasy novel is complete!  I have shunned the tropes of traditional fantasy to bring you a new kind of epic, one devoid of magic and magical creatures, the narrative driven only by the struggles of men (and women) and the conflicts they face.A tale of courage and sacrifice,The Redemption of Brian O'Connoris a riveting account of one man's journey set in a vibrant world populated by rich and engaging characters.  A story of camaraderie, loyalty, and battle,The Redemption of Brian O'Connorwill provide the epic tale you are looking for!  The first in a trilogy, be on the lookout for the next two installments!In case you need more than the words of the author himself, please check out the sample chapter below!Chapter 1“Six of them.  Damn.”  His whisper was carried away by the storm that pounded around him.  His thick cloak whipped against the wind as he looked at the soldiers searching the town for him.  The rain that fell was bitterly cold.  A few weeks earlier and this would have been a blizzard.  Yet winter was ending and spring was coming, so the rains came too.The packed earth of the road was thick with mud, the rainwater running in rivulets down the street.  In the dark of night the roads were empty.  It was too early for the taverns to close and the storm kept good people inside.  None were out in this rain save himself and the six soldiers who hunted him.​He could see them, searching door-to-door, lanterns straining against the darkness.  They were dressed as Imperial soldiers of Elriol.  The pommels of their longswords hung low, visible under their deep blue cloaks.  The white eagle and shield stood out on their tunics as they slogged through the muddy street to the next house.​He hissed.  They were persistent.  They had been following him since Rothgard, no doubt to collect the bounty on his head.  There was little he could do now to outrun them.  The sudden storm had seen to that.​The road through Delgard to the north was rendered nearly unusable in this deluge.  It was waterlogged and nearly impassable, the mud far too deep to walk.  He had to find shelter from the storm.  If the elements did not kill him, the soldiers certainly would.​He turned and struggled through the deep mud.  The squelching sound his boots made was swallowed up by the winter gale as he headed for the nearest building.  A sign swung violently in the winds; a dark green lion rearing over a full mug.  It was a tavern.​He managed to get to the door, the storm nearly opening it for him.  Immediately, he saw the looks from those inside as the rain and wind poured its chill into the tavern.  Quickly closing the door, he shook the water from his cloak and removed his hood.  His curly red hair, long and pulled back, was matted and wet.  He wiped some loose strands from his face, rubbing his cheeks to bring warmth back to them.  The stubble that hugged his jaw felt rough on his hands.  He had not shaved in a while.​He held his belongings; a simple bundle and a walking stick, and walked towards the bar-top.  Though a few denizens gave him curious looks, it was not long before the conversations picked back up and the people turned back to their drinks.  Among these people here, he should be safe.  The soldiers outside would not think that he would shelter here, or at least he hoped so.​“Herzlich willkommen!”  He looked up to see the tavernkeep waving to him.  The greeting was in Halessian, which was not surprising.  Delgard was an old city of Halessia, before the Empire of Elriol had conquered it.  Though people here spoke Elrian, the common tongue, they still held on to the old language.​“I am sorry, good tavernkeep.”  The man said in Elrian, his accent lilting.  “I do not speak that tongue.”  He approached the bar-top and took an empty seat.​The tavernkeep, a portly, moustached man, waved his hand, dismissing the apology.  Speaking in Elrian with a Halessian accent, the tavernkeep said, “Oh no, it is my fault.  I assumed that you were a local.”  Clearing his throat, he said, “Welcome to the Emerald Lion, good sir.  My name is Ortwin, and this is my tavern.  What is your name, friend?”  His smile wide and welcoming, the tavernkeep leaned against the bar.​The man hesitated.  Names were dangerous.  He thought for a moment before responding, “My name is an old one, from the Isles of Inisfall.  In Elrian it is hard to pronounce.  You would not remember it.”​“Inisfall?  So you are Inisfain then?”  Ortwin’s smile widened.  “Very good, herr Inisfain.  I will call you this, then.”​The Inisfain nodded.  It was acceptable.  He wished no harm to Ortwin or his establishment, and his real name would bring trouble to the tavernkeep here.   The Inisfain bore no ill will against the people of Elriol, only against those who ruled it.​“Good tavernmaster, I need a place to wait out this storm before I continue my travels.  Do you have a room available?”  He looked around the tavern.  The tables were full of people.  “From the looks of the place here, you may not.”​“Oh no, no, these are just locals spending their evening in good company.”  Ortwin laughed.  “They will be going home, at least most of them.”​“Then you have rooms?”​“Yes, my friend. We have rooms.  Would you like a meal as well?  My wife is an excellent cook.”  Ortwin nodded.​The Inisfain’s stomach growled.  He had not eaten a good meal in many days.  Scraps stolen from empty tables did little to fuel his journey.  It was not that he had no money, rather he did not wish to bring suspicion on innocent people.  Anyone he was near to would find themselves in danger.​However it would do no good to perish from starvation, either.  Nodding, the Inisfain asked for bread and stew.  In quick order, a bowl of steaming pork stew and a fresh cut of bread were placed before him.  After so many weeks on the road, the taste of good food was rejuvenating.​The tavernkeep could see as much.  Chuckling, he said, “It must have been some time since you ate, my friend.”​Nodding, through bites, the Inisfain said, “Yes, good tavernmaster.  I have been on the road for many days, traveling up from Latia in the south.  To visit a friend.”​A local man who was sitting beside the Inisfain heard this and interjected.  He was clearly not on his first mug as he slurred, “Latia?  Ah, I feel as though it is nothing more than a legend!  It has been too long since we have received any word from the south.  The Madman sees to that.” The last words were spat in disgust.​The Inisfain took a sip of his stew to cover his surprise.  The drunken man’s words were a death sentence.  Calling the Emperor of Elriol “the Madman” was a crime punishable by death, not only for this man but for his family as well.  Emperor Durgen did not tolerate the nickname given to him by his enemies.  No matter how well deserved.​The tavernkeep looked nervously to the Inisfain at the man’s words.  He urged the drunken man to change the subject.  With an undertone of warning, Ortwin said, “Hush now, Karls.  We are amongst friends here, but words spoken often carry beyond the ears of those who hear them.”​With a sloppy wave Karls dismissed the tavernkeep’s warning.  Emboldened by his first words, he continued.  “All I’m saying is that we were better off before, when the good Kaesers ruled us.  Do you understand what I say?  Now we have this dummkopf from the Three Hills-”​“Enough, Karls.”  Ortwin was smiling but his words were firm.  “Be quiet and go home.  Herta is waiting for you.”​Karls mumbled something about home and stumbled towards the door.  Another local gave him a shoulder for support and helped the drunken man out of the tavern, the storm still pounding outside.  The Inisfain watched him go.  He knew that many in Halessia cared little for the Emperor, but to see such open hate against him was unexpected.​Ortwin nervously smiled and said, “Pay no mind to him, my friend.  Karls lost his son last summer and he blames Elriol for it.  When he drinks his tongue does get loose.”​“It is sad a story that I have heard too often, good tavernmaster.  Do not worry, I do not begrudge a father his grief.”  The Inisfain said.  In truth, he was happy to see such simmering hate for Elriol within her borders.  He himself held no love for the Emperor, not least of all because he was being hunted.​Turning back to the tavernkeep, the Inisfain asked again about a room.  Specifically, he wanted the smallest room available.​“Good friend from Inisfall, we have many rooms here.  You need not take the smallest.  I can give you a larger one for the same price.”  Ortwin said, confused.​“Good tavernmaster, it is not the price that I am worried about.”  The Inisfain said, looking towards the door.​The tavernkeep understood.  He leaned closer and asked discreetly, “Are you in trouble, my friend?”​“It is safer if you do not know, good tavernkeep.  All I need is a small room and your discretion.”  The Inisfain said.  He was being honest; should anything happen here then the tavernkeep could be held responsible.​The tavernkeep nodded and produced a room key.  “Second from the end, on the left.”​Thanking him, the Inisfain dropped a few copper coins for the meal and took his effects.  The rooms were up a flight of stairs off of the main tavern, built over the barn next to the tavern.  It would be a safe place to sleep, for if escape was necessary he could always break into the barn below.​Not a moment after he had stepped onto the second level, the door to the tavern flew open.  The Inisfain crouched low and peered into the main tavern from the top of the stairs.  He could not see the door but the sight of the stomping boots of the six Elrian soldiers appeared quickly.​Hissing a curse, he hid from view in the hallway.  He had hoped the six soldiers would have left this place alone, for it was far too public to be a hiding place for a wanted man.  Apparently, his luck was not so good.​A smooth voice sounded over the crashing of mugs and tables as the soldiers moved through the tavern.  “An enemy of the Empire is here.  An Inisfain from Latia.  Give him to us now, or your lives will be forfeit.”​Ortwin responded, fear heavy in his voice.  “M-my lord, what do you mean?  We are all good people here and-”​“Silence, peasant!”  The smooth voice spat.  That must be the captain.  The Inisfain had seen him before, his smooth-shaven face and tailored eyebrows spoke of privilege.  It was no wonder his voice was so arrogant.​Still, it was only six Elrian soldiers against a tavern full of Halessians.  From the grumbles that sounded, it seemed that the tenants there did not care for the captain’s tone.​The captain must have sensed this as well, as his tactics changed.  With a hiss of steel, he drew his sword and said, “You, come here.”​The Inisfain heard Orwtin protest and then whimper.  The captain spoke again, “I will cut his throat if someone does not tell me where the Inisfain dog is.”​The Inisfain cursed under his breath.  He wished no harm on the people here, least of all the friendly tavernkeep.  Clenching his fists, he loosened his twin daggers in their scabbards, snug underneath his armpits.  If it was to be a fight, he would move to spare as many townspeople as he could.​It was not to be though.  After a moment of silence, the Inisfain heard someone say, “He’s upstairs.”​A thump and the sound of Ortwin gasping in relief told the Inisfain that he had not been harmed.  The captain spoke again, his voice threatening and cold.  “Out.  Everyone!”​Five more blades were drawn, the hiss of steel on leather unmistakable.  The tavern emptied.  Soon, only the sound of six pairs of boots could be heard.  They were heading for the stairs.​Suddenly, the captain spoke again.  “No, not you, peasant.  You are under arrest for treason.  Once we deal with the Inisfain, we will come back for you.”  It was directed towards the tavernkeep.​The Inisfain heard Ortwin stammer out a terrified response.  “M-my lord, please, I-I did not know-“​The sound of metal on flesh and Ortwin cried out in pain.  The captain growled, “I said silence!  We will deal with you shortly, traitor.”​The Inisfain cursed again.  It was what he had feared, these people were in danger simply by showing him kindness.  Gritting his teeth, he slipped down the hall and entered the room Ortwin had given him.​The captain and his soldiers would not be returning to carry out their threat.  The Inisfain would make sure of that.--- END OF SAMPLE ---The book is available now atCreateSpace.com(an Amazon company) and is now available as aKindle eBook!  I still can't believe that I wrote this and remained sane!Tell everyone you know!~N.H. Roncolato

Finally, after many years of working and writing and suffering, I can announce that a new book has arrived!The Conversation is a concise look at the relationship between science and faith and whether or not the answers each provides as to how Humanity came be are compatible.  On the surface, there are marked differences, but as you go further in, a lot of similarities appear.Check it out!The link for the paperback is here:The ConversationThe link for the Kindle edition is here:The ConversationLet me know what you think!