It's November, which means it's National Novel Writing Month. I'm already way behind on my word count, but I'm exited to be working on a new fantasy series, Legends of the Houkou. Admittedly, this isn't a completely new series. I had already previously written a Legends trilogy years ago, but I wasn't satisfied with it. While the characters and the world remain, I went back and revamped the story. Thus, a new legend is born: Saito.

Here's a little excerpt from what I've written so far. Keep in mind, this is an extremely rough draft, as I'm attempting to write 50,000 words of story in the month of November. but here's a little tease of what's to come. Enjoy!

One of the thornroots lazily rose its head and looked in the direction of the cry along with everyone else. At the edge of the village, one of the armed men lay motionless on the ground, his sword several feet from him. A man dressed in worn out clothes stepped over him and walked toward the caravan. The wind picked up, and his overcoat, frayed and torn around the edges, flapped violently like a banner in the wind. His straw hat was pulled down, obscuring his face as he continued forward.

Five men surrounded the lone man. His sandals scraped the dirt path as he stopped and reached up over his right shoulder and grasped the hilt of his sword. His left hand reached around and grabbed the bottom of the lengthy scabbard.

“Where’s Kitsune?” he said.

“What are you talking about?” grumbled one of the men in feigned ignorance. “Who is Kitsune?”

The man raised his head, revealing ice blue eyes that penetrated through the soldier.

“I said, ‘Where is Kitsune?’”

Although his voice was calm and quiet, it held an edge to it that cut through the courage of the soldier. The soldier faltered, but his companions closed around the man in the tattered black overcoat, which helped him regain his composure.

The wind plucked a red leaf from a nearby oak tree and sent it floating toward the standoff.

“Kill him,” the soldier said through gritted teeth.

The man in the tattered black coat stood motionless, his hands still holding the hilt and and butt of the long sword scabbard. Five soldiers advanced on him with swords readied. The red leaf hovered above the scene.

Together the five soldiers lunged to strike the man. He tugged at the hilt of the sword and drew his blade and surprised the soldier in front of him when a blade only a little longer than a dagger emerged. The shorter kodachi moved quicker than the longer katana, and the man in the black overcoat cut him across the chest.

The other four hesitated momentarily, having to rethink their battle plan, and the man produced a second kodachi from the false bottom of the scabbard.

Junpei watched as the man cut through the other four soldiers with ease. He began biting his fingernails as a look of disgust crossed his face as the man approached him.

“You must be Saito,” Junpei said. “I’ve heard about you.”