Chapter 63: Yes, Maybe, No!

One gnome does his best, to follow his dreams. His dream? To become a writer.

My name is Stefano, and I am a gnome. Most people will tell you, that I should live in a gnome village, and work the fields. Well, I know I was born for something more than that.

Ever since I was little, I would go around the cook fires in the village, and tell stories. Depending on the mood, they would differ.

I remember, when my little brother was born, that I made up a fake adventure for sir Reginald the Fluffy. It is kind of easy to make a comedy about a talking squirrel.

When my little brother slobbered all over my homework, and I got time out by my teacher, I managed to get a half-decent horror story. Only half-decent, since it had a happy ending. I guess, no matter how ill the Dunce Hat suited me, I still loved my brother.

But, back to the present day. I am in a tavern, and a couple of the patrons decided to give me a chance. Time to shine!

"So, a princess in a tower," I hear a chuckle, and turn towards a portly old man.

"Give us something original, little guy. Princesses don't even live in towers anymore. Unless, the towers are owned by their fathers," he wipes some ale from his lips, and I force a smile on my own. Whatever it takes, I must not lose my cool.

"This is an original story, gramps. It has a twist," I say, and he sighs.

"Ok, let us hear it," my smile becomes more genuine, and I puff up my chest.

"The princess was an alchemist," I continue, I bet that there are only a few alchemist princesses.

"One day, she was left with only a single cluster of sky creeper. So, she descended from her tower. When she was down, in her garden, a thief saw her, and fell in love," I say, and the crowd begins to snicker as one.

"In love, people. Not in lust," I correct them, more than a little angry at the fact that these people let their dirty minds poison my story.

"And what is the difference? What is the twist, even? This is the same old romance crap, that runs in theaters," the portly man says, and I am lost for words. Well, yes, it is a romance story… it needs a hook. I think quickly, panicking slightly. Then, I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

"The princess is a Hero of Ultimate Fate, and adopted. And the thief? He is a demon lord," someone from the crowd boos me, and then the people begin to leave, one by one. Only the portly man remains.

"It is no use. I will never make an exciting romance story," I bow my head, and I feel a finger on my shoulder.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, little fellow. Just why do you want to write a cheesy romance?" I might be imagining it, but his voice is kinder, than before.

"They all have a happy ending," I look him straight in the eyes. He looks as if he is somewhere else.

"Not necessarily," he sighs, and I wonder if his romance ever got to the happy ending stage. Probably not. "Take it from someone, who has been there. Women, and some men, have three responses to you trying to romance them: Yes, Maybe, No! In that order."

"But, if that was true, then there wouldn't be a single person left in the world," I insist. He smiles knowingly down at me.

"There is a secret, and I will tell you. The thing is, once you hear the no, that is when you need to buckle up for the ride, and become like a flea."

"A flea?" What sort of comparison is that?

"A flea," he smiles, and then takes another gulp of ale. I wait for him to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, and then he continues.

"Most don't know anything about you. So, the No is really a knee jerking reaction. Once they get to know you, after months of being your friend, they go back to the Maybe. A couple of years after, if you don't let anyone in on your territory, they will even go back to the Yes. That is how I got my old lady. From Yes, to Maybe, to No back to Maybe, and, finally, with the final Yes."

"But, isn't that rude?" I tilt my head to the side, wondering if I should trust in his white hair, or in my manners.

"In life, many will go from Yes to Maybe to No, and then back up the ladder. Similar to how this crowd treated you. When they gathered around you, they were in the Yes stage. They wanted to give you a chance because you are a gnome, and freshly out of your village, at that. Then, when they began to comment on your cliché, they were at the Maybe stage. And finally, when you wavered, they ended it all with a No. That is, if you let them," he winks at me, and I take in a deep breath.

Yes, Maybe, No!

No, Maybe, Yes?

Is it really that simple?

"Everyone, gather round! I want to tell you about the story of the demon lady, Esmeralda, and the Hero of Ultimate Fate, Warrick!" I yell at the tavern. Not only that, but I hear a couple of chuckles, yet I don't let that stop me. "And how they hid away from the eyes of the king, so they could roll in the hay!"

No one moves towards me, but they are looking at me. I'm not too savvy with rolling in the hay, but I have an imagination. If the roll in the hay ends up as a battle, which ends up as a rush to end a curse which turns the demon lady into a slime at night, then nobody saw it coming.

And this is how my writing career got its Maybe.

It would take Stefano ten years, to get his Yes. Ten years of working the graveyard shift at the very same inn, where he got his first applause. Reading when the bar emptied, and writing every chance he gets.

Ten years, and he finally gained a title, one earned from all of his stories.

The Mad Scribe.

For, all of his stories had little to do with reality, and that was why people came to the inn, and bought them, when they saw a fresh stack of manuscripts next to the weapon rack.