The Ringmaster's Gambit
Book #2 in "The Game" series
by Yannis Karatsioris
Pitch:
Emilian's Finest is an old-style circus put together with a purpose. This isn't their shows. Our sarcastic storyteller from The Book of the Forsaken hides in the circus and awaits for the rest of them to make their move.
"Jaelle the Fortuneteller and Emilian the Ringmaster are the ones guarding the circus from anyone who's not being nice. The Bringers of Death want to kill. The Magi want to know. The Upyri want to kill and then know. They all suspect I'm in there, hiding, scheming, mocking them. They are coming for the book, for the ones who sleep; they are coming for me. Let's see what happens."
Prologue
It’s not that we don’t like you.
Let’s face it though; we are not on good terms, generally speaking. In reality, that is. ‘Cause in literature we’re the best-selling characters of your imagination, right?
You love us as long as we stay on paper. If somehow you meet one of us, you will fill your underpants with smelly excrements. You have the same relationship of fear with insects. You think you’re afraid of a spider, while the spider loses its world when your shadow covers its senses.
We’re afraid of you too. We’re afraid of you even when you’re not around. Even when you’re not one of those who actually hunt and kill us. We’re afraid of the shadow that is your imagination, or better, the lack of it. It’s killing us one by one. We’re afraid of you because our fate is in your pineal gland, while most of you have no idea where that little almond lies.
Fear not, however! This is not a responsibility your glands can’t share with a powerful and ever-forgiving personality, like me. You’re in luck I’m still here, mighty mortal!
So, where were we?
Ah, yes. Vienna.
-----------------------------------
Pitch:
Emilian's Finest is an old-style circus put together with a purpose. This isn't their shows. Our sarcastic storyteller from The Book of the Forsaken hides in the circus and awaits for the rest of them to make their move.
"Jaelle the Fortuneteller and Emilian the Ringmaster are the ones guarding the circus from anyone who's not being nice. The Bringers of Death want to kill. The Magi want to know. The Upyri want to kill and then know. They all suspect I'm in there, hiding, scheming, mocking them. They are coming for the book, for the ones who sleep; they are coming for me. Let's see what happens."
Prologue
It’s not that we don’t like you.
Let’s face it though; we are not on good terms, generally speaking. In reality, that is. ‘Cause in literature we’re the best-selling characters of your imagination, right?
You love us as long as we stay on paper. If somehow you meet one of us, you will fill your underpants with smelly excrements. You have the same relationship of fear with insects. You think you’re afraid of a spider, while the spider loses its world when your shadow covers its senses.
We’re afraid of you too. We’re afraid of you even when you’re not around. Even when you’re not one of those who actually hunt and kill us. We’re afraid of the shadow that is your imagination, or better, the lack of it. It’s killing us one by one. We’re afraid of you because our fate is in your pineal gland, while most of you have no idea where that little almond lies.
Fear not, however! This is not a responsibility your glands can’t share with a powerful and ever-forgiving personality, like me. You’re in luck I’m still here, mighty mortal!
So, where were we?
Ah, yes. Vienna.
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