Z's Grimoire

I would like to thank J. so very much for providing the inspiration for this tale. It was really fun working through his experience and converting it to this tale (so much fun it got split into two parts, Part 2 will be out soon)!

If you have a story you would like to be shared in my storytelling style reach out here or through Ko-Fi!

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This is the tale of a man who was once the king’s chosen. He had been bestowed a great title in return for accepting a mighty responsibility. The king was confident the man’s experience up until this point would not only carry him and his soldiers to glory, but also advance the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately there were a few things no one had considered. While his experience was undeniable, his skills unquestionable, and his resolve of the hardest steel, he was a stranger in the king’s land. He was to be the king’s chosen, a fierce warlord put in place to mold the king’s elite units into mini versions of himself. However to those very same elite units, he was just a stranger. An outlander brought in to lead solely based on reputation; they resented that he had not grown up within the court system, he did not experience the trials of knighthood and he simply knew nothing of the kingdom, its traditions or its people. This resentment brewed mistrust.

Prior to serving the king, he had served as a mercenary warlord for many of the tribes in the lands just outside the kingdom. His name was known and respected for being a determined man who always achieved his goals, fiercely loyal to his principles and his allies. The king anticipated that once that loyalty had been pledged to the crown, his ethics would be instilled throughout his elite guard, then the castle and one day throughout the kingdom!

What no one accounted for however, is that in the outlands might is right. He was incredibly experienced, no question, but he commanded loyalty in the outlands through sheer force. His might proved his right to lead and while you knew you could always depend on him when fighting side by side, you also knew he was not your friend, only your temporary ally. You also knew you must follow or suffer the consequences. He came in a stranger and expected to command loyalty in the same manner.

His harsh nature prevented him from forming relationships or even listening to others of a lower rank. The men assigned to his command never came to trust or even respect him, as he did not respect them, and one day that mutual lack of respect nearly cost the kingdom everything.

One day he was ordered to take his men down to the lakeside village to clear out an infestations of demons. This would be his first visit to the village and despite being told to take the eastern trail he insisted on traveling south through the enchanted forest. He had been warned that the forest was not a place to enter carelessly but put no faith in what he dismissed as pointless superstition.

As he led his men out the southern keep gate, the whispers began within the ranks immediately. Everyone knew the mission, go to Aubreey, kill the demons, cleanse the land and come home… So why were they traveling south? The only way to reach Aubreey was through the forest, and surely even HE couldn’t be that arrogant. As they continued marching south and the tree line of the forest came into view on the horizon, an eerie silence feel over the troop, there was no doubting what he intended now, and there was no question what they would need to do.

No one wanted to be the soldier to stand out of line, no one wanted to be the first to speak, but with the forest now just meters away, someone had to:

“Halt!” cried Sir Rowley “We cannot enter these lands! There is dark magic within the trees!”

The commander scoffed “Dark magic? You still believe in such things? The only darkness in this world is the weak willed who cannot follow simple orders.” He sternly glared at each of his soldiers, making sure they heard his words before continuing. “We. March. On.”

Next it was Lady Millesant the Huntress who protested “We will march to our deaths if we follow you further. To pass safely there must be harmony in the ranks, and you sow only discord.”

Enraged at the perceived disrespect he snapped “Enough of this nonsense. I am marching forward, those wishing to see our mission through will follow, anyone else is no longer my concern.” he turned and began to march, fully aware there would be no footsteps following behind him.

Once he was far enough in that he could no longer hear the voices of his soldiers calling him back, he stopped for a moment to finally take in his surroundings. He was perplexed that his men were so hesitant to enter this space, as it was simply gorgeous. Ancient pine trees of the deepest emerald surrounded by lightly glowing blooms of rich amethyst and ruby, the towering canopy blocking out the sun, yet the glow of magical blooms provided all the light necessary. The path was level, no major rocks or inclines to be seen, and there did not appear to be any signs of dangerous wild life. It was so peaceful, calm, quiet and beautiful. Why were they so afraid?

It was so beautiful. It was so peaceful. He felt so calm. Until he realized it was not quiet, it was silent.

There was no wind moving through the trees. There were no birds or animal calls in the air, not even the sound of an insect buzzing by. Preparing for an ambush, he adjusted his gauntlets, but his stomach dropped as the distinct sound of the chains and straps being adjusted did not reach his ears. He stomped his feet and once more heard nothing. Worse yet, he did not feel his foot impact the ground. For the first time in a long time, he felt fear.

He turned to run, unsure of what was happening, but recognizing all the same his men were right to have protested entering. Just as that realization dawned in his head an ear piercing wail ripped through the suspended stillness of the forest, shattering the silence and causing the very earth to quake. Suddenly a torrent of dark magic to begin to erupt beneath his feet.

Witnessing the cataclysm unfolding before him, he did the only thing he could. He ran. He located the path he had followed in and began running as fast as he could. When he once more heard the shriek, this time more localized, right behind him, he briefly glanced over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse at the horror crawling forth from this nexus of energy.

All he saw was a swirling torrent of purple crackling haze cloaking the figure of a horned woman wielding a scythe. He did not take the time to notice her features further…

He kept running.

Reaching the edge of the forest, he did not break his stride, he continued at a full sprint making his way northward to the castle. Every so often glancing behind to ensure whatever spirit had been awakened was not following him. Nearing the edge of the castle towns walls, he was surprised to see the main gate closed. It was only midday, there was plenty of daylight left and there were no raiders in sight.

Approaching the gate he noticed there were six guards, triple the usual allotment. They also appeared to be in full heavy armor, not the usual watch guard regalia. He sounded a greeting and instead of receiving the expected reply, they drew their swords, instructed him to lay down all weapons and moved to surround him. He had been named a traitor to the crown and was to be brought before the king immediately upon his return.

It is a good thing he felt fear in the forest. For if he hadn’t, he might have tried to fight his arrestors off. But he still felt that fear, he did not understand what had happened, and he accepted that maybe it was past time for him to listen.

He laid down all of his blades, removed his gauntlets, cast off his helm and proclaimed he would offer no resistance. He was shackled and lead through the castle town directly to the palace, unsure of the fate that awaited him, but hoping it was not too late to right some of his mistakes.

To be continued…