Springle sat at his table, staring over at Dracomeer who was casually lounging opposite him, clearly having little respect for his furniture. He wished he could just snuff out the little wizard for good and be done with its bothersome antics, but he knew that he could not face a wizard and certainly not one who was far more of an ancient being than he was.
“You know, it really amazes me, Springle,” said Dracomeer as he sat up and observed a chipped cup in his hand, “the fact that you could easily have had a far more magnificent place than this hovel in the gutter, by sheer right of power, and yet you chose to remain here.”
Springle shifted irritably, “yeah well, my family want to remain here, they don’t want to leave this place. You think I have not suggested moving to a grander accommodation?”
“Ah ha!” said Dracomeer bashing the cup back on to the table, “But that isn’t the case, is it Springle? Come on, just admit it. You can’t move from here because that’s where the memories of your family are trapped, they can’t leave here with you because they don’t exist.”
“Balderdash!” roared Springle across the table.
Dracomeer retrieved a large handkerchief from his cloak and wiped the spittle from his face, “yes Springle, I’m sure the louder you shout against the truth, the more it will hide itself,” he said sarcastically, “but the simple fact is they only exist in your mind.”
“Why are you here!” Springle spat angrily.
“Well,” said Dracomeer as he materialized a goblet on the table, “there is a place you should come to with me,” an old dusty bottle of mulled wine floated off an old rickety cabinet, popped its own cork and poured into the goblet.
“Oh, really now, and where is that then?”
The wizard drank deeply from the goblet and then burped loudly, “the fortress of the Golden Fork.”
The fortress of the Golden Fork was owned by one of the King’s two daughters. The fortress was plated in pure gold and had a rumoured entrance into the famous royal vaults, full of unimaginable riches, but also a place said to be guarded by fearsome ancestral spirits of the royals. Reaching the vaults required one to first make it through the vast catacombs that crisscrossed under the capital, and then past that, one had to make it through the terrifying royal dungeons, a place where only a few who have been held prisoner have ever returned from again, and those who had returned were shells of flesh and bone, having little of themselves left.
“And why would I want to go there?” asked Springle.
“Well, the young princess has summoned me there, she is eager to see us both actually, especially you who she told me to bring. She is planning to go off on a long and dangerous expedition, deep into the perilous Icey Peaks, she wishes to go beyond its borders into lands unknown to this kingdom, and perhaps find new lands or treasures to add to the realm. She heard much about you of course, from me, and all about that sword of yours and both of us see its importance and also its danger.”
Springle begun shaking in rage, how dare this wizard speak of him to this royal and divulge information on his sword that could endanger him and his family, he jumped up and attempted to upturn the table, but for some reason he could not get it to budge, no matter how hard he tried.
“Ah ah,” said the wizard waggling his finger at Springle while also simultaneously downing the rest of the mulled wine, “did you really think I didn’t have precautions against your explosive bouts of anger? Honestly Springle, who do you think I am, some young fool? I know you well, but you must understand the importance of this mission and it is essential we both go on it, and it is essential you bring that sword of yours as well.”
Springle wanted to pummel the wizard, tear him to pieces, hurt him. But he also knew all of that would be pointless, he could not hurt or kill the wizard, he was far too skilled and intelligent for him and so Springle calmly sat back down, evident anger still brimming his face. “I can’t leave my family for so long,” he finally said.
Dracomeer sighed, “now I need you to listen to me, I need to make you understand the reason you even have that sword, or at least the partial reason and from whence we believe it came from, the general direction of its origins you see. A few hundred years ago you, or a man that was you although with a face that was not pale and eyes of crystal blue left this hovel, travelled through what was the farmlands around the capital and vanished into the Icey Peaks, the King’s most despised jester, just gone, puff,” he said, gesturing with his hands.
“I don’t remember,” said Springle, uncomfortably.
“He was gone for many weeks,” Dracomeer continued, “his family upset, scared and getting hungry, the wife wandered the streets and the farmlands asking and asking anyone she could to try and get a sense of your whereabouts, but no one knew, no one at all, not even the wizards, and why should they know the whereabouts of who was then a simple man? People went missing and died all the time, people only cared or knew of it if it were someone important. And so eventually, through desperation of needing food and sprites, she took the missing man’s old bow and arrows and went off into the Jungle lands to hunt in your place, sadly she never returned alive again. A group of huntsmen eventually came upon her body out in the Jungle lands, the body showing signs of having bled to death from multiple stab wounds from daggers all so often used by the Goblins.”
Springle was quiet, he felt an overwhelming sadness enveloping him for reasons he could not understand, he continued to listen.
“You see, unfortunately the wife had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, amidst a growing rebellion, many tribes of the Goblins, both from the Goblin Lands and the Jungle had united and begun marching through the Jungle lands towards its borders facing the royal capital, these Goblins seeing any human from the city as an enemy, had taken her out, likely thinking nothing could come from it, merely they had done it through excitement, but soon it would come back to wound them dearly. You see the missing man returned only a few weeks later, his wares covered in now melting snow and within his possession, a sword that was unnatural, but it had not yet begun taking any toll on him.”
Springle felt like he could see something in his field of memory resembling the story, but it was just so blurry, but deep sadness and now anger was building further.
“The man upon arriving at his hovel discovered a heartbreaking sight, his children had starved to death and his wife nowhere in sight. The man overcome by grief raced through the city, looking for and asking about for his wife, just as she had once done for him when he was gone. Eventually he would come across the truth, a group of huntsmen in a nearby tavern told all, little knowing that by doing so they would unleash something that would change history. The man rushed back to his hovel, the sword seemed to almost be calling for him, he was so enveloped in sadness, grief and anger that he was not thinking straight or with rationality, he was going to slaughter them all.
“And so, he latched on to that sword he had found in the Icey Peaks and felt a warmth, so powerful and strong course through him, the gem presumably blazing bright with a blinding light, and the man then left his hovel for the direction of the Jungle lands, coming upon the vast goblin camps on the outskirts of that Jungle, who were preparing to attack the city the following day, but this would never happen. The people in the city that night spoke of terrible screams and cries emanating from the camps of the goblins, the soldiers of the royal armies stationed on the frontlines of the city, ready to defend, spoke of utter chaos in the ranks of the goblins, as a figure yet unknown to them rampaged through the goblin camps, with uncanny powers and seemingly invincible to all their useless attempts at stopping the slaughter.
“After hours and hours of death the figure of a large man walked out the Jungle, not a single sign of injury or exhaustion upon him, his sword and clothes splattered with the green blood of the goblins, many of which had been killed and the remaining others having retreated off back into the Jungles, from a slaughter of which they’d never recover from. The man became the savior of the city, some saw him as a miracle sent by their gods or that he was a god himself, the King of the time knighted him, gifted him a magnificent set of gold armour and shield, and offered him a place in his army and even his own fortress, but of which was turned down and as such the Knight of the Hovel was born and receded into legend, many believe you now dead for reasonable reasons, the fact that the events happened so many generations ago, but that sword has somehow kept you from being taken by death.”
“Then why can I still see them!” bellowed Springle as he stood up again, his eyes glistened.
“Well, where are they now?” asked Dracomeer.
“They are… they.” For the first time he realized they were no longer sitting around the table, he wondered how long that had been and quickly headed around his small hovel attempting to find them, overturning shelves and kicking around pots and stalls.
“You won’t find them.”
After some more fruitless and desperate searching Springle collapsed back down, it begun dawning on him that perhaps the wizard was somehow correct, memories popped in and out of his mind, still all jumbled up, but it was quite plain to see his family were not around, and the oddities of his wife no longer doing certain things she used to around the house made sense now. But how could his mind have betrayed him like this?
“That sword of yours gave you dangerous and extraordinary powers that night so long ago. I remember surveying the carnage myself in the aftermath, the ways in which so many of them were killed were not all at the swords touch, but also by other unnatural means. Some of the bodies were charred as if by the power of fire, others were strung up in trees as if they had been manipulated by the power of psychokinesis, some of them had been frozen to death in blocks of ice that took weeks to fully melt, I could go on. That sword gave you powers that night that only wizards have ever utilized themselves. It’s why so many of the other wizards despise you, because you have used powers, they believe should have been forbidden to a mere mortal human, and the fact that you seemed to have become immortal irks them ever more.
“The wizards of Magika also want that weapon of yours, but have as of yet not devised a plan of getting it, the original plan was to wait for you to die, but of course that never happened. Many of them believe that your sword is a weapon forged by the Three Original Wizards, and the Magika family want it, believing that it is destined for them and is what they need to launch a new rebellion against the royals, allowing them to return to the days of the independent Magika Empire, before the Great Conquest of the first King overtook them and subjected them to being citizens of the realm.”
Springle had heard the story of the Three Original Wizards, one with the power of fire, one with the power of arcane and one with the power of ice, many had in-fact heard of it. It was the stuff of legends, something that had supposedly taken place long, long before Springle was born, even longer so before Dracomeer himself had been born. Those wizards were said to have come from the Nightlands across the sea and founded the land of the Wizards where modern-day Magika sits, and they were said to have invented the first spells within these lands, and trained the first wizards, and also were said to have performed many other amazing feats, before madness drove them apart, no one knows what happened to them after that. Many on Magika maintained that one day they would return and help Magika fight for its freedom and crush the royals.
“The Princess of the Golden Fork is the most reasonable of the King’s seven children and a formidable warrior to boot. I came to her to confide on the terrible ability of the sword you had found and she agreed that part of our expedition would include searching for where it came from and disposing of it for the good of us all. The King and his other children cannot be trusted as it is likely they would want to claim the sword for the monarchy and then who knows what terrors it’d be used for beyond that outcome. Of course, they all know the sword exists and have learned over the many years of its likely power and ability but just like Magika and their loyalists they have not yet come up with a plan to seize it, which is why it is important we must leave with haste as soon as the morning is young as I fear both parties shall attempt the swords acquisition soon.”
Springle laughed almost hysterically, “I’d like to see them try.”
“You might,” Dracomeer responded, “but no else would want to see that, not around here with the destruction it’d cause. Which is why we must leave, the sword endangers everyone, not just in this city but all across the realm and far beyond, the implications are grave. The more one uses the sword, the more corrupted they become, as is evidenced with you not just mentally but also physically,” he said, pointing at Springle’s face.
Springle looked away, feeling shame.
“It isn’t just the dangerous power it wields or the terrible corruption it causes in its users, but the prospect of eternal life for non-wizard folk and the swords ability to collect pivotal information in history is another reason it is desired and another reason it is so dangerous, the prospect of a tyrant with such power, such information and the ability to live forever is unimaginable to comprehend, they would be unstoppable. Which is what makes you so interesting.”
Springle looked around his hovel, he had remained a simple man despite having such vast power over the centuries, he knew what the wizard was getting at.
“You, for whatever reason, seem to be highly resistant to the swords corruption, as evidenced by your simple way of life and lack of desire to control everything. I would hazard a guess that your obsession with killing goblins may have perhaps played a part in stemming its corruption, I can only think that your will for revenge was so strong that the sword was changed towards that particular focus and led to your perpetual slaughter of goblins every day for centuries. I dare say your mind is powerful enough to stop the sword from carrying out worse atrocities thus far, but we can’t count on that remaining the case forever, as you are very slowly being corrupted by it.”
Springle wasn’t stupid, although perhaps he could be a bit of a slow brute at times, the years had still made him wiser than he once was, he knew the graveness of what Dracomeer had told him. He also felt very empty, like a massive hole had opened up in his chest, where his heart should be. It reminded him of the last time he had that feeling, when he had discovered his dead children. His family was long, long dead and delusions had made him think they were still around.
“Well,” said Springle standing up tall and seemingly imparting heaviness, “there is nothing for me here anymore. We shall leave at the crack of dawn as you say. I do not want to see this place ever again after we leave.”
Dracomeer smiled, “now that’s what I’m talking about. You shall become a renewed and much grander knight after these extraordinary events come to their conclusion. Indeed, we shall depart as soon as the sunlight peeks. The princess shall be waiting for us at the Golden Fork with her retinue of most trustworthy individuals, and we shall join them and head off into the unknowns of the Icey Peaks. It is a destiny, I guess. Now, do you mind if I crash here for the night?”
Springle nodded solemnly and then left into his sleeping quarters to prepare for what was to come.