Niall sat by the desk in his hotel room, typing rapidly as the moving string of words on his laptop screen were reflected on his focused, cool-gray irises.
Before he’d known it, he’d subconsciously slipped into the supernatural flow state his Gift of True Aptitude afforded him.
ACT III – TRUTH IN FRAGMENTS
Ch. 11 - The Seer in the Woods
The token begins to display more of its abilities as the war rages on. Tristan, unable to ignore helping those in need, keeps finding himself in various new places across the Lands of Aelderon. In the process, he stumbles upon a powerful seer in the woods residing in a grotto. She finally cues him in on what the Token of Fate is and its true nature.
Ch. 12 - The Weight of a Small Thing
The Token of Fate is a powerful relic created by the Elder Gods to control Aelderon’s fate. In return, its bearers are often pulled in the direction of fated events, one that usually decided the fate of Aelderon.
Ch. 13 - Misgivings of a Farm Boy
Tristan begins to question everything. Why the stranger gave him the token. If his decisions have truly been his. If he’s headed down a road that isn’t even his. He doesn’t know. And it terrifies him. But the spark of helping those in need... he never loses that. Never doubts that it’s his. Not once. That singular thought, grounds him in place.
Ch. 14 - Ashes of a Stranger
The seer has pieced together what she believes are disruptions--certain fated events that someone keeps meddling with. Tristan hears this, and is visibly unsettled by it. Still, he attempts to reach the so-called disruptions before they occur.
Ch. 15 to 20 - A Race Against Time
With each journey across the Lands of Aelderon, Tristan encounters this so-called someone, a figure clad in a shadowy aura. Each time, Tristan is left to fix the damage said figure had already wrought, all of which he succeeds at. As a result, the war slowly comes to a close and Aelderon begins to regain some semblance of peace. Tristan equally begins to gain more recognition as a hero, though he never indulges in it. A single disruption remains though, and Tristan hopes to reach it first.
After about six hours of focused work, Niall let out a contented a sigh as he finished up the last Chapter of the third act.
Albeit he’d made the outline a week ago after he’d arrived at the hotel, he hadn’t gotten the chance to truly work on it.
Considering filming had also been taking most of his time, it was only natural that he was spending less time on it.
Added to that, [The Token of Fate] wasn’t just a copy-paste of what he had previously written before his regression, but rather a genuine rewrite meant to amplify the book to new heights.
Hence, it only made perfect sense that things were as they were.
That said, the young actor was certain that he’d be done with it before the month’s end, especially since there was only one more act left for him to write.
Added to that, he would soon be rounding up his scenes on the set. That meant more time for him to focus on the novel.
Leaning back into his chair though, his gaze resting on the ornate ceiling, Niall thoughtfully muttered to himself;
"Two major scenes left, huh..."
"I’d better comb through my memories. See if there are any worthwhile opportunities I can take advantage of."
* * *
The crew was back at the Forest of Dean in Puzzlewood, England.
Given they’d needed to construct a functional set around a mid-sized gorge--and also suspend a reinforced rope drawbridge across it--it had taken nearly a month just to secure permits, environmental clearances, and safety approvals.
Another month went into the build itself.
Steel support lines had been discreetly anchored into the rock face beneath the bridge to carry weights beyond what the ropes alone could handle.
Hidden platforms, rigging points and a wide net were also installed along the edges and across the gorge underneath the rope bridge for stunt coordination, camera angles and safety measures.
Additionally, sections of the bridge had been duplicated on stable ground nearby for close-up shots and controlled fight choreography.
All of it, all for two scenes both heavily centered on Julien.
Granted Igraine and Uther would be present in one of said scenes alongside the supporting cast, the focus would still inevitably be on the stoic knight.
Afterall, it was the scene that would fix the natural progression of Igraine’s growth from naïve princess to wise, pragmatic queen as Niall had pointed out in the script-reading session.
Currently standing next to the director though, Niall listened intently as she spoke.
She had reset the take twice now because she’d felt it needed a little more punch.
"I’ve been thinking," Ivelia flipped through the script in her hands.
"Julien quietly gives the speech to Igraine halfway through the bridge before turning back to intercept Mordred’s knights,"
Niall nodded as the director continued;
"Why not flip that instead?"
"You mean Julien should stay, hold position and wait in defense whilst giving the speech as Mordred’s forces close in?" Niall immediately picked up on her thought process.
"Exactly," Ivelia nodded once in approval as she added;
"It’d require a shorter take, yes,"
"But it’d also tighten the plot, increase the stakes and amplify Julien’s defining trait while also delivering a heart-wrenching gut punch to both Igraine and the audience,"
"Also, you’re such a joy to work with, you know that?" she remarked with a small, approving grin.
"I aim to impress," Niall respectfully replied with a thin smile.
"Good. You’ll go very far with that attitude." the director said and then gestured for him to move into position.
With a curt nod, Niall did as he was told.
The director on the other hand, moved quickly across the set, informing the assistant director, stunt coordinator, cinematographers and key production crew of the adjustment.
And though it meant the duplicated sections of the bridge on the ground floor would now be useless, everyone seemed of unequivocal agreement to the changes.
As a result, said changes were relayed quickly to the required actors, marks were shifted slightly, timing cues were adjusted, and one of the assistant directors walked the extras through the altered sequence of entry.
About an hour later, everything was settled.
"Quiet on set!" Ivelia called, her voice carrying cleanly through the forest.
The scene they were about to shoot was one of the last scenes of the second act.
Following up from the middle of the second act when the betrayal had happened, the scenes leading up to this particular scene had all being fraught with survival of thrilling intensity and suspense.
It had essentially been a race between hunter and hunted--with the Knights whom had sided with the princess being the hunted and those whom had sided with Mordred, the hunters.
In a desperate attempt to gain a huge gap on their assailants, Uther had proposed that they cut off the rickety rope bridge they’d come across.
Given their horses were unwilling to cross the bridge, they had no choice but to cross on foot.
However, knowing fully well they couldn’t all make it before their hunters caught up to them, Julien proceeded to defend the bridge as Igraine and the last of the knights made their way over.
It was also at this point that the Personal Knight bade his Princess farewell.
"Slate!" Ivelia called out.
"The Promised Queen. Act 2. Scene 7. Take 3." the clapperloader called out.
"Action!" came the magic words from the director.
The old rope bridge creaked precariously, swaying gently as Igraine and Uther slowly made their way over.
Heart seemingly beating out of her chest, Igraine continuously hyperventilated, willing herself not to look down as bits of wood planks broke off into the rushing water below.
"Keep your eyes forward," Uther said firmly.
Guided by the young duke whom was firmly gripping her palm, the duo slowly moved towards the other end of the gorge.
The other knights followed suit, their hearts in their throats as they carefully frayed towards the other side of the bridge.
Julien too, took his first step onto the bridge, only to hear the shouts of their assailants behind them.
"There! I can see them!"
"Move! Don’t let them escape!"
Realizing there was no way they could all make it before their assailants pounced on them and equally cut the bridge as they themselves had been planning, Julien took a step backwards.
Then, features hardening, his expression gradually settled into something more resolute.
Driving the tip of his longsword into the earth, he rested both hands atop its hilt, his shoulders squared as he planted himself firmly between the bridge and the approaching threat.
Uther whom was barely a quarter through, glanced over to check if everyone was behind him, only to have his eyes widen as he saw the stoic knight standing with his back faced to the bridge.
Igraine, having clearly noticed this, similarly glanced behind, her eyes widening in realization!
Before she could even say anything, Julien’s voice rang out, clear and filled with unshakable conviction;
"My Princess--"
"No, My Queen." he corrected himself with a striking certainty.
"I swore an oath long before I ever understood what it would cost me."
"To serve. To protect. To place crown before self... always."
For a brief moment, Julien paused.
Then he continued, his voice lowered, more personal, but never wavering in its strength;
"And I will not lie to you... there was a time I wished that oath had been different,"
"A time I wished I could have stood beside you... not as your knight... but as something more,"
"But that was never the path I chose." Julien’s voice regained its original strength.
"Because the moment I took that oath... I chose you anyway,"
"Not your hand... not your heart... but your future,"
At this point, the first figures began to emerge at the edge of the clearing. Yet, Julien did not turn.
Instead,
"So listen to me, and remember this, not as a friend... but as your knight," his voice carried cleanly across the gorge, stilling Igraine with resolve as streams of tears continuously trailed down her face.
"You are not allowed to break here,"
"Not for me. Not for them. Not even for yourself."
"A Queen does not have the luxury of falling apart when her kingdom demands she stand."
Then, with an unshakable certainty, he added, the wind shifting faintly through the trees as it carried his voice clearly across the distance.
"You will grieve... but you will walk."
"You will fear... but you will lead."
"You will doubt... but you will rule."
"Because that is what it means to carry a crown."
"So go," he finished, his voice rising, not with franticness, but with unwavering belief.
"Live, and rule."
"And heavens guide me, I shall be right behind you this instant." Julien’s lie landed softly but firmly as he raised his sword for battle.
No sooner had it, their assailants burst into the small clearing alongside Mordred!
"Cut!"