Hello, dear reader and part-time user of the Stopgame website.ru! A most interesting topic appears before your eyes, which will only be missed by an insensitive and extremely rude cattle personality. Over the summer I had the opportunity to read many interesting books: from classics of world literature to such masters of modern prose as Stephen King, JK Rowling and Jeffrey Lindsay. I certainly liked all the authors, and I absorbed the best from each one. A few weeks later, the desire to create awoke in me. I tried everything I could: played the piano, recorded covers of various Radiohead songs, tried my hand at acting. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I should definitely start writing books. It doesn’t matter what kind – be it science fiction, or an endlessly philosophical and romantic story.

I want to say that John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, whose works I became acquainted with a year and a half ago, inspired me to do all this. I started with “The Lord of the Rings”, then, six months later (because I used to read only 20-30 pages a day, and I didn’t have much time), I became acquainted with his wonderful fairy tale called “The Hobbit”, and then purchased a collection of short works, entitled by a domestic publisher as “Tales of a Magic Land”. I see no point in talking about the author’s two main works – the novels “The Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit”, because this is the best fantasy – and, by the way, the very first in the world – with which a person has ever become acquainted. But for “Tales of a Magic Land” I can tell you endlessly. In this book there are no cunning intrigues that Queen Cersei is weaving, just as there is no original storyline. However, once you immerse yourself in the magical world of Tolkien, the book will captivate you in earnest. After reading it, you will become the kindest person on the planet for some time. In general, like The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, the book is recommended reading. This is just a gorgeous selection of good, harmless fairy tales – nothing more. But what interesting fairy tales?! In general, Tolkien, by definition, is the undisputed leader among writers working in the fantasy genre. No matter what plot twists Martin makes, and no matter how frank the eroticism in the Witcher series, the warm lamp atmosphere of Middle-earth still retains its leading position.

Let’s move on to the candidate for second place: JK Caitlin Rowling. She seems to be a lady, but how great is her vocabulary and imagination?! Of course, everything is an order of magnitude simpler than Tolkien’s, but among the hundreds of mediocre authors who occupied store shelves with their books, Joan really stands out. The writing style is similar to Tolkien’s, but the conversations are more lively and varied. Although, as mentioned earlier, the books in the series about Middle-earth are my favorite (except for “The Silmarillion” and “Children of Hurin”. They are too difficult to read and resemble the “Bible” from the world of fantasy), Rowling’s works are truly full of variety. It is possible that the adventures of a boy wizard will bore you after you read a couple of books about them (and, mind you, there are only seven of them!), but of all the literary “pop” this is the best. Perhaps all these “Half-Blood Princes” and “Goblet of Fire” will one day become classics, however, it seems to me that this will happen only after new generations stop reading the real classics – Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Conan Doyle, and even Tolkien, in the end! In general, books from the Harry Potter series are at least a must-read. I think you will find it quite interesting to watch Quidditch and the epic battles with Voldemort!

Third the greatest Stephen King takes pride of place. A master of horror, a man who knows how to get into the most hidden corners of your soul… We can talk about him for a very long time, but we will limit ourselves to the most important thing: Stephen King began his creative path since childhood (like me, by the way). Improving himself and unearthing the most interesting historical facts, he creates downright magical worlds. While reading his books, you become immersed in incredibly interesting, mysterious, sometimes even frightening and shocking stories. However, no matter how sadistic and perverted he may be, Stevie remains the favorites of millions of people around the world. It is noteworthy that it is not only teenagers who read it. Adults, men and women (mostly between the ages of 18 and 50) are equally interested in his works. Some of his stories make you think, others make you cry, because who, if not him, knows what real pain and suffering is?? I recently read a collection of short stories called “Darkness – and Nothing More” and another interesting book – “11/22/63”. The first book contains four stories about ordinary people who got into trouble, but in the second everything is much cooler. "11/22/63" is one of King’s best novels. Here you will find spectacular battle scenes, time travel, everyday life, romance, and a detective component. In general, everything you need for a successful book. Read it – you won’t regret it! By the way, in the middle you may get stuck due to the love line being too drawn out, but after a short rest of one to two weeks you will return to reading the book.

So, what does it take to write a good book:

1. It is advisable to learn Russian before you write an uber-mega-super-cool book with triple twists in the plot line.
2. You need to be a well-read person, because, as you know, you need to take an example from someone.
3. You need to have a sufficient vocabulary and know at least a few synonymous words.
4. No need to repeat other authors. It is better to make the book interesting, perhaps somewhat original.
5. Think carefully about the titles of chapters and the work itself. If you don’t follow this step, no one will read your story.
6. You can’t mess up the beginning and ending of a work. One small mistake in these places – and all the work is down the drain!

That’s basically all. If you carefully read these 6 points and memorize them, I think it won’t be difficult for you to write a good story (or story). However, it is worth remembering that not everyone has the gift of a writer – perhaps you are destined to be a pop singer, a competent politician, or a firefighter. In any case, sooner or later, you will find yourself.
Well, if you decide to start writing a book, don’t give up! I wish you all the best and creative success, my dear readers, in the new academic years of 2014 and 2015! Happiness and prosperity to you, dear bloggers!

And now we smoothly move on to the result of my hard work. If you don’t like the prologue, feel free to skip it. The fact is that, when I started writing it, I was guided by Tolkien’s “The Silmarillion”, and wanted to create something similar, but then I came to my senses and wrote an independent work, the events of which unfold in a fantasy world I made up called Feord.

Mountains, streams, forests and peaks: All this together – excited talent. Directing all his strength to a good fairy tale, the Author, like a slender, mighty Atlantean, draws the chronicle in playful paper, cannot take a single step back: “Time, oppressing me, hurried – Day and night almost all the time, Without closing my eyes at night by the fireplace, Feord wrote you a fairy tale about the world.»

PROLOGUE
Long ago, astrologers predicted the coming of a hero, accompanied by a wondrous heavenly radiance. Their name was – Magi Lu’Vete. The ancient priests, living on the misty cliffs of the Tannet mountain spur, were amazing creatures: they were not afraid of either war or the Great Pestilence, for they were surrounded by an invisible dome created by the spells of the most powerful magicians of all Megollania. From their lips it was difficult for an ordinary “child of the earth” – that’s what they called all the inhabitants of Feord – to make out the profound texts. As a result, travelers did not particularly like visiting them. People were poor in language and simply did not speak it, hence their lack of understanding of the ancient people.

The first time the meeting of https://finalcountdowncasino.uk/games/ a man and a Magus is mentioned in the Great Bestiary. Volume 1. The inhabitants of our universe" in the chapter about the Lord of Kaufdom: "And Ser Fietel met the dying old man with a crystal clear friendly gaze, and he brought three types of drink to his lips: water, wine, and the blood of a basilisk, lying side by side with the immobilized body of the traveler. And, quickly descending from heaven, the spirit of the Magus settled in him forever. ». To this day nothing is known about the further fate of Ser Fiethel. There were legends among the peasants that he became the High Priest of the Lu’Wete people; at the princely courts they used to say that he received knowledge that was indescribable even by the standards of the wisest elves, threatening to destroy the world on earth, or spread panic among the people, and was forced to leave civilization. It is worth saying that, in fact, there was no genuine information at all, and people tormented themselves with guesses and were delighted with any tale heard somewhere in the gateway from the bard Clivier – a tall, thin and amazingly talented man with an unsurpassed sense of humor, who loved to intrigue people and earn a couple of handfuls of gold-edged collets on hot news – and from gossiping old women from poor areas.
Later, many more legends about the Magi began to appear, some of which were refuted or listed by His Majesty and the local Ministry of Education in the secret information department in the Bubblestone Book Depository – a magnificent ancient library, barely kept above the water by some kind of spell. At times it seemed that she was floating easily and smoothly a few centimeters above the lake and that only a solid foundation prevented her from soaring into the sky. Its base consisted of wood, the supports cracked and broke every now and then, so newer and more durable ones came to replace them – marble. Things were going badly with the reconstruction: the Delover government was guided only by personal interests and profit, and local robbers constantly attacked the library, trying to plunder it and extract some valuable information from the local guides.

Years, decades passed, legends about the people of Lyu’Vete were gradually lost. The wisest people of this world were forgotten, and only one person remembered them..

These villagers are kind people: They will provide help at the right time, And they will give an excellent present, They will greet guests in joys and sorrows.

Chapter 1
Rural everyday life
One sunny spring morning, in a village called Daxton, an ordinary-looking villager – perhaps a little too neat – after a good 8-hour sleep, according to his own custom, he folded his bed, had a modest breakfast, and immediately went to work in his luxurious garden, which was located right next to his small but cozy hut. This guy’s name was Colin Brandwick. He was slightly thin in appearance: the contours of his thin tiny muscles were barely noticeable. But the strength was comparable to professional fighters – a bunch of trophies hanging in the hallway are proof of this. Brown wavy hair was neatly combed to one side, and the look of his gentle light gray eyes was filled with wisdom given to him beyond his years. Colin always dressed in washed old clothes, but once a year he still liked to pamper himself – and bought outfits at Esmeralda’s Fitting Room. The owner of the store and the sewing factory associated with it knew our boy well, so sometimes she gave him clothes for a simple “thank you”.
Returning to the story about Colin’s daily work, it is worth saying that there was a lot to do, but the young man skillfully managed everything. In an hour of work, he chopped firewood and picked two baskets of apples – with plenty to spare – he even managed to collect honey from the apiary, what can you say?! The guy was a skillful master: young peasant women loved him very much and, every now and then, constantly approached Colin. At first the boy was a little embarrassed by this, but he quickly got used to these unusual features.
After morning work, he often went for a walk through the wooded area, or worked part-time in a local pub: he poured beer into mugs and prepared food. There were no lunch breaks at this job, so he was there only 4 times a week – that is, every other day. Colin spent the rest of his time at home. He loved to collect everything that came to hand: butterflies, books, steel figurines – and this activity brought him indescribable sensations. Its bookshelves were filled to the brim with tomes – thick books about the whole world – and its small tables sagged from an impressive collection of steel figurines.
– The main thing is not to fall asleep over one of these tables. “You could lose your eyes,” his neighbors joked about Colin’s hobby.
There were warriors with spears and fire-breathing dragons; there was also a large figure that stood proudly above the rest. The inscription “Slapster” was engraved on it, apparently the name of some legendary ship; Well, the figure itself was a smaller copy of him, oddly enough.
Every day, after his evening reading, Colin laid out a completely new set of bed linen – by new we mean thoroughly washed and cleaned to a shine – and, extinguishing the candle, emitting a dim light, went to bed.

Chapter 2
A person who does not inspire confidence

One afternoon, a strange gentleman walked into a roadside pub, where, during his day shift, Colin had rolled up his sleeves and was conjuring over yet another mountain of unwashed dishes. Approaching the bar, the gentleman ordered himself a large mug of mead and commented:
– Pour-pour… Yes, so much so that to the brim. And sweeter… Hic!
– I see, sir, you are completely drunk. I don’t think that another mug of alcohol will somehow defuse the current situation. Perhaps it will make things worse. – the waiter politely explained to the man.
But then an unpleasant laugh was heard, and the stranger, no matter what, went to a cozy table in the corner of the tavern along with his precious mug of sweetened mead.
Sipping a delicious honey drink, the stranger took out of his pocket some kind of amulet, shaped like a crimson violet, and a tiny piece of linen. He sat in a secluded place until the establishment closed and carefully, without taking his eyes off, studied the inscriptions on a piece of fabric.
By the time all the customers had left the establishment, Colin said goodbye to his partner and began to close the tavern. Glancing at the cloudy and, apparently, unwashed window for a long time, he noticed a man in it. The guy immediately returned back and, without hesitation, tried to drive out the eccentric, who was muttering something very strange and no less frightening under his breath. He, in turn, suddenly jumped up from the bench and plunged his tiny dagger, which was hidden in his belt, right into the guy’s palm, thereby nailing it to the table. Colin didn’t just give up: he screamed sharply and howled in pain, pulled the sharp pin out of his bloody hand, and then plunged it straight into the enemy’s heart. In an instant, the corpse, numb and not showing the slightest sign of life, fell to the floor with a roar. Black blood rapidly filled all the cracks between the wooden boards – the flooring of the inn – and formed a huge puddle of rich tar color, from which there was a sharp salty smell of steel.
The boy froze in horror in one place and looked at the man’s dead body for half a minute.
– Crap. Crap! Wha-e-r-r-rt! What have I done? What have I done? No, it’s a dream! It’s a fairy tale, motherfucker! Ahaha – Colin chuckled hysterically. – Bullshit, and that’s all!
The poor guy didn’t want to believe what he had done.
“Now I’ll come to my senses, I’ll go, as usual, wash myself and go to work in the garden.”! Business! Nope, it’s all nonsense. He attacked me? Well, I rebuffed him. What could I do??!
And then he became silent… The young man hurriedly rushed to search the madman’s pockets: in one he found some kind of note, in the other – the same medallion in the shape of a bowl. He also grabbed a piece of burlap from the table, but did not look at it – time was running out.
Taking a mop from the pantry, he carefully wiped off all traces of blood, and wrapped the body itself in several rags and threw it into a bag, tying it tightly.
Then the guy carefully placed all the objects in their places and thus completely erased all traces of the crime.
Having slung a heavy burden over his shoulder, Colin headed towards the forest river, where he intended to once and for all put an end to the absurdity that had happened to him..

Chapter 3
The burden is heavy – life is not easy
The forest was shrouded in a bluish haze, and the crickets, one by one extinguishing their tiny lanterns, scattered among the cozy houses. Colin walked along the green path, dragging a heavy load behind him in a sack. The burden was heavy not only physically, it also weighed on the guy’s soul: his heart seemed to be trying to break out, and his legs filled with lead from such terrible thoughts. Over time, when the young man’s strength diminished, he stopped at the nearest flat stump and sat down on it. When Colin was resting, the stars, barely breaking through the clouds, illuminated the entire valley of the giant mountains with their radiance. And they, like the mighty Atlanteans, held the rapidly brightening sky. The sight was unforgivingly beautiful.
Having gazed at the beautiful and enchanting nature with its charm, the young man closed his eyes, began to daydream and fell asleep..
The eerie and frightening hoots of owls were no longer heard, and the magic crickets hovering in the air were no longer visible – the dawn was closer than ever.
Colin, hastily throwing a heavy bag over his shoulder, set out on the road again. After a two-hour break, he seemed to have perked up, and hope and courage, which had previously disappeared to God knows where, flared again in his gaze. Walking at a brisk pace, the boy whistled and hummed songs to himself:

The Feord Forest is not easy: It is big, worldwide. Covers the darkness at night with Shadow, like a screen, Paths and roads in it So that you won’t return to the house.

On the street, meanwhile, it became brighter and brighter. It would seem that any minute now the mischievous golden sun will appear and fill the river valley with its bright rays. Fortunately, Colin was already approaching his destination – a forest river. The stream was located in a huge clearing, the edges of which were not visible, and went far down the rocky slopes, sparsely spread throughout the clearing (apparently, these were echoes of ancient earthquakes caused by dark magicians and which struck these territories in time immemorial). Approaching the river bank, Colin threw the heavy load straight into the water. The stormy stream picked up the body of that strange man and, without slowing down, carried him into the distance..

Chapter 4
Bad news
Meanwhile, while Colin was returning home after such a tense night, life went on as usual at the roadside inn in his home village. Two dwarfs, avid gamblers, were finishing off their next poker game, swearing and telling their funny life stories along the way. They played not for money, but for pleasure, and thanks to this they were safe until now. Nobody dared to find fault with them, because they looked like stocky men and damn strong. If you get hit by such a gnome once, you will become unfit for military service for the rest of your life.
And finally, the next poker game was coming to an end..
– Grantham, have you ever gone sailing?? You felt those northern snows and the smell of icy air? – the drunken Flop asked curiously.
– Yes, Flop. There was a thing. Nowadays I’m old, but before… interesting things happened to me! – the second one answered him.
– Well, tell me what interesting things happened there. At the same time, I’ll tell you something, teach you some fishing secrets – it’s interesting, after all! – Flop finished him off with questions.
Dwarf Grantham sat, scratched his turnip, trying to piece together the past, and began to tell:
– It looks like this! – he said leisurely. – It was about seventeen years ago. I was, it appears, a navigator at the court of Ser Gilbert, a very noble gentleman. Then I transported cargo to the northern part of the Glaizim Peninsula, which was densely populated by northerners. They didn’t have enough provisions – and, by the way, half of my employer’s family lived there – that’s why they sent me there. Either he carried barrels of fish for them, or dried partridges. In general, what they gave, they transported! And I, frankly, didn’t give a damn about those people, because I worked only for good money, which was paid to me by wealthy miners and the local chairman in exchange for food. One day a curious thing happened to me… But I’ll tell you about it some other time. I’ll go and pour it out, because again the rum can’t stand it even a little – it’s asking to come out, you see!
But before he had time to go and relieve himself, a messenger burst into the tavern, spreading the news throughout the village.
— Ser Laurent was attacked! His poor, mutilated, stoned body washed up on the banks of the river in the town of Cornwood. Our poor gentleman was found by two fishermen just before noon today. All bloodied! – Some peasants actually groaned and gasped.- A week-long complaint has been announced throughout the area, and in connection with this, all entertainment establishments – including yours – will be closed for exactly seven days and seven nights. Please be understanding. If anyone wants, come to Cornwood tomorrow around sunset for Ser Laurent’s funeral.
With these words, the messenger, without even saying goodbye to the stunned listeners, ran up to the horse, tucked in his blue-black shirt, decorated with gilded ruffles on the collar and sleeves, and galloped off to spread the news to the nearest settlements.

Chapter 5
The road home
It was getting dark again, but now Colin was not walking into the wilds of the forest, but on the contrary – to his native village. Along the way, he constantly met crickets, bark beetles, and even predatory owls hunting for straw mice.
Why are mice called “straw” mice?? – you ask. They are not straw in the literal sense and do not consist of hay, but like all other creatures – from flesh and blood. A long time ago, when two moons met on the day of the summer equinox, and when people did not have the usual shoes – don’t count straw slippers – mice lived in villages. Yes, they didn’t live, and one might even say, they managed, for every peasant woman, seeing a pack of hungry and terribly ferocious red-eyed mice that filled her own house, was horrified. Why was she horrified – you ask?? Yes, because when she came home, all her straw hats, slippers, galoshes, and in general all the hay that could be found either at home or in the stable disappeared. It was fun when it turned out that the mice had their own “king”, and they, therefore, paid him tribute! It would be nice if these mice carried vegetables and fruits! But everything was much more complicated… They built a straw castle for their king – so much so that any person would open his mouth in surprise at the sight of these mansions. Naturally, the peasants still found the royal palace, but it was too late – the mouse spies reported everything to their master and safely disappeared with him. So I confidently declare: rodents are called “straw” only in the village of Kolin. The rest of the people of Feord, I think, were wildly lucky, because their property would look simply terrible after the mouse raids. But let’s not delve into such secondary information, because when Colin came to his village, a surprise awaited him there. I’ll tell you which one later, because Colin was still walking, and walking along forest paths. He turned now to the right, then to the left, simultaneously hearing some rustling in the bushes and behind him. Well, at least I didn’t get lost – you can expect anything from forest wolves. Fortunately, over time he eventually moved away from these vile suspicious sounds.
It was already dawn, and Colin was approaching his native village. You could hear assorted roosters crowing at the top of their lungs, sheep grazing and pigs grunting heart-rendingly, ready to be served on the table at any moment. A light breeze blew, the guy felt the pleasant smell of forest herbs, goosebumps ran through his body.
As Colin approached the house, he, as was his habit, looked into the blue mailbox, similar to a desk drawer, but slightly rounded in shape of the lid (it was also decorated with a bright red handle). The boy saw a letter in it and read to himself:
"NEWS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM OF FLOATWAY
We hasten to inform you of the tragic death of Ser Laurent. His funeral will take place at sunset tomorrow. We ask you to come to this event and bring as many people and flowers as possible to pay respects.
Sincerely yours,
Court messenger Ettoni"
The news was not pleasant, but Colin, to tell the truth, no longer gave a damn about the royal army, his servants, and everything else that related to politics. The guy lived his calm village life, because all this, as he says, was absolutely uninteresting to him.
By the time Colin finished reading the letter, he noticed that he was pretty hungry – after all, he hadn’t eaten for almost two days! There was nothing to eat at home, so he decided to go to a paid establishment. Having chopped off a couple of pieces of corned beef at home, which, according to the guy, “you can’t find anywhere,” Colin went to the tavern. However, when the young man approached this tavern, he saw a sign that said “CLOSED.”.
– Well, closed means closed. To hell with it! – and Colin went back home to cook himself something quick.
While the young man was walking back, he heard a lot of details about the death of Ser Laurent. The letter that came to him did not indicate the exact information, but now he heard news about the Kamenka River and about Ser Laurent himself – they said that the man was dressed “newly.”. All the facts confirmed that a few days ago Colin met with this “gentleman”, and that it was he who killed Ser Laurent.
Arriving home in snot and tears, Colin washed himself, poured himself a mug of good wine and, eating corned beef, blew out three bottles in a row. Drunk as hell, he extinguished the candles and went to sleep.

Chapter 6
Preparations
Have you ever wondered what style of music could be prouder and more militant than fanfare?? If not, think about it. All the kingdoms of Feorda had a tradition of holding the most solemn ceremonies, namely the death complaint¹ of some famous gentleman and royal tournaments with bloody battles, dragons and other overly masculine and brutal affairs exclusively under fanfare.
So that’s what I’m talking about… The fact is that the very next morning after the hangover, Colin stood cheerfully on his feet… from the loud, annoying royal fanfares… They were so well polished and polished that their song could be heard far away (of course, not in the literal sense, but the sound definitely spread 70 miles – no less). It was not only about the thorough cleaning of these musical instruments, but also about the material from which they were made. And it was, I remember, lunar ore, that is, lunar metal, also known as Andaril. In appearance, it looked more like silver, and the characteristics of the item made from it depended only on the skill of the blacksmith, however, it is worth noting that in the hands of a skilled craftsman, this metal produced some of the best swords in all of Feord. Only two such swords could be found throughout the world: one was in the personal equipment of the High King Roderick, and the second lay in the Tomb of Norwall – one of the capital cities of the Supreme Kingdom – in the tomb of the first High King.

– Tram-ta-tara-raram! – the unbridled fanfarists began to shout.
When will you finally shut up??! – Colin muttered. — The royal henchmen are tired of playing these ridiculous musical instruments every month. Every six months, when some big shot dies, they start ringing. And in general, go to hell! My head is pounding, I’ll go take some honey cakes – it will at least relieve the pain and nausea from yesterday’s gatherings.
And the guy trudged to his pantry. There he found a bunch of junk that prevented him from walking freely around the already small room, but he felt sorry for it: some things came from his mother, others from distant relatives. It’s somehow inappropriate to do this: throw away your grandfather’s tea set made of crystal from the Mountain Lakes or a vase straight from the peak of the Seven Winds. That’s why Colin kept everything for a rainy day – maybe it would come in handy!
And in the end, after ten minutes of searching for honey cakes, he found the medicine he needed (And he grabbed a little more, and a little more, and a little more… – so that he would definitely recover!). He took the drugs little by little, eating a slice per hour, so as not to cause a honey allergy – believe me, this happens! After about 6 hours, he stood cheerfully on his feet and walked around his small but cozy house, writing poems for his first collection – he planned to call it “Cape Fox”, since most of Colin’s poems were about the structure and characteristics of the life of these particular animals. He had barely managed to finish writing the last quatrain when a messenger again appeared in his village and called with him all the peasants who were ready to go to Ser Laurent’s funeral. Due to the fact that Colin wanted to finally be convinced of what he had done and was considering his next steps, he had no choice. The young man equipped his horse with a coil of rope, a tiny hatchet and a couple of wooden cans of canned fish, as well as other things, but not so important.
The whole column set out with Colin at noon. She – and our good friend, of course – had a road ahead that was not so long, but dangerous and devilishly exciting!

Chapter 7
swamp predator
It was slowly getting dark. The sky was surprisingly clear, but the entire column seemed as if someone was waiting for them – the silence that accompanied their journey almost from the very moment they left the village was painfully ominous. It was only the fifth hour of the journey, and some people were already falling off their horses from melancholy and a powerful, irresistible sleep that was creeping in from God knows where. During the entire time the column spent on the road, the only representatives of the flora encountered were shrubs and solitary trees, scattered across fields and tiny forest meadows. If you don’t pay attention to all the changes, even the slightest ones, that have affected the convoy over the past few years, then, in principle, everything went according to plan: so far not a single person has managed to veer off the path. But wait… Now, from a distance, they began to vaguely distinguish not the bright green lush blades of grass that abounded in the lands familiar to peace-loving peasants, but some shabby, tattered faded green shoots. After another 20 minutes, mint-colored water lilies and reeds are visible, and the convoy itself, in fact, is now walking, clattering on the vile, foul earth. The stench in this swamp was thick, and there was not a trace of a single living creature except hornitods (If anyone doesn’t know, these are gray-brown-crimson toads, covered with smooth scales, with small horns on their foreheads). After some time, all the villagers, walking one after another in a narrow column stretching for fifty meters, began to get bogged down in a viscous quagmire, and their speed of movement slowed down by about two – or even three times.

And now, not far away, a thorny crossing was visible, to which the entire convoy had been heading since noon – but, as you know, at the end of travel, various situations very often happen (Some of them carry terrible consequences). This is exactly what happened to our heroes. From a fetid swamp covered in gloomy fog, out of nowhere, a monster emerged. In the bustle and panic, people abandoned their horses, carts and all provisions, and they themselves ran wherever they looked. One elderly man managed to get stuck waist-deep in a quagmire (But the poor guy was unlucky!), some villagers tried to hide in the reeds, while the rest, as befits intelligent creatures, rushed to run. Of course, not everyone ran away. Some people were eaten with great pleasure by the octopus that emerged from the swamp. Others were simply smeared by the monster on the ground.
In general, it’s worth saying that the monster looked simply disgusting. On his head he had small slitted eyes, under which his mouth was immediately located. Three rows of teeth made his face even more disgusting, and the stench that surrounded this monster could have warped half the royal family if it got there. In general, the only thing worse could be a meeting with a dragon (Well, or life imprisonment in a prison in a poor area of ​​​​Norwall).
While the poor women were saving their utensils, the swamp monster increased to truly gigantic proportions. No, it’s not that it began to grow like bread with yeast, but simply showed its true growth, crawling out.
Numerous fangs were supplemented by equally numerous tentacles. Each of them decided to frolic (For, as you know, monsters do not have special intelligence and intelligence), and squeezed one person in a tight embrace. People, by the way, now seemed like some kind of small fry compared to the gigantic octopus. The monster squeezed them, probed them, cowarded them… As they say, it did whatever it had the brains to do.
The atrocities continued until a few minutes before the total destruction of everything and everyone, Colin arrived in time. One swing of the sword, a second, a third – and the monster, cut into four weighty slimy pieces, fell on its face.

Chapter 8 The Coming of Glory
And then he said:
– People, you have nothing to fear. As long as I exist, there will be peace on earth.
The speech sounded so pathetic and eloquent that the children jumped and clapped their hands, squealing with delight and thanking their savior; thanks to the only person who was able to come to the rescue, being at the very beginning of the column and arriving just in time.
The wives fell to their knees and expressed gratitude to the real hero – in appearance he looked like a collective farmer, but how courageous! Their faces broke into smiles, they showered the hero with praise and bowed again – and so gracefully and synchronously that the best overseas dancers could envy them. It seems that Colin made the day of all these happy villagers – how sincere and long-lasting were the praises! I think the guy did not expect such a grandiose event, because just yesterday he was serving customers in a pub, and today, with his hands on his hips, like an important person – which he certainly was – he proudly walked between the rows of jubilant peasants and saluted them.
“I’m not at all against having a feast thrown in my honor, but… not this time.”! We need to get together, otherwise we might get into another mess again. I guess you didn’t really enjoy fighting the giant squid. Right?
And then came the exclamations: “Yes, Colin. You are right!", "That’s right, guy, I like the way you think" and "Let’s reel in the fishing rods, otherwise we’ll soon come across a crowd of cannibal mosquitoes!»
– Yes indeed! I see it was hard for you… But I cannot give you time to recover from what you saw, because as long as we are in these swamps, there can be no question of safety. So, either we pack up and quickly leave here, or in half an hour we will be left with “horns and legs”. Choose, good gentlemen: life or painful death?
People were so scared that they packed up their most important things within about thirty seconds and set off.
Of course, Colin, although he differed from ordinary villagers in his audacity and the makings of a leader and spiritual mentor, at heart he was a calm and kind person, for which it was impossible not to love him. Such two seemingly completely incompatible qualities managed to take root in the body of one person – miracles, and that’s all!
After ten minutes the column made its way through the thorny thickets of the swamps, and soon emerged into the fresh air. Two hundred meters in the direct direction a boat station was visible – in fact, the very place to which a crowd of hungry, exhausted people had been heading since midday.

Chapter 9 Norwalk at its best
The whole crowd of people rushed to the boatman with joyful exclamations, however, before everyone had time to scatter, Colin, as befits a real leader, gathered the peasants into a heap and ordered them to move at a measured pace so as not to “accidentally trip over a stone and break their nose” (mostly this phrase was addressed to children, but adults also decided to listen to the guy’s advice). Everything went well – after 5 minutes people were lined up near the boat station and were waiting for Colin to pay the carrier (usually the cost of transportation was 1 collet per person, but this time the boatman had a huge catch, and he agreed to transport about eighty people for fifty gold-plated coins; surprisingly, it’s a fact: a mug of mead cost the same, but at that time travel on various means of transportation was disproportionately expensive).
In general, the transportation went without incident, but the ship moved extremely slowly, and our hero, along with his retinue, managed to get to King’s Landing in only half an hour.
As people exited the giant shuttle one after another, a not very pleasant sight unfolded before their eyes: the city was buried in acrid gray smoke coming from the giant steel mills that occupied almost the entire port area. Yes, at first glance, Norwall might seem like a dirty and corrupt city, however, after passing through all the poor neighborhoods and residential areas, people saw a huge royal palace, proudly towering above the rest of the houses. An observation tower was built at the edge of the left wall, the top of which was decorated with a chic scarlet canvas flag. By the way, it was dotted with yellow stars, the total number of which indicated the number of kings who had ever ruled Madland.
The situation became tense: the guards surrounded our heroes as soon as they approached the palace. But after asking and finding out what and how, law enforcement officers allowed Colin to see King Volgriff. Colin faced a rather difficult task – he needed to confidently conduct a conversation with the king and at the same time manage to select beautiful expressions. And, it’s worth saying, even though he was a rural guy, our brave warrior expressed himself skillfully! All his speeches were full of pathos and variety! In view of all this, the king decided that Colin deserved, at a minimum, to be awarded the Order of the “Hero of Madland”, and later decided that our brave boy would become a hero not only for his village, but for the whole country.

– From now on until the end of your mortal life you will be called not just Colin Brandwick, but Colin Brandwick, the Right Hand of the High King! And yes, I give you the nickname “Chrysostom”, because your language is too sharp and susceptible to phraseological units! In general, you are a master not only in martial arts, but also in politics, son.
– Thank you, my lord! I pledge my allegiance to you from now until the end of my days. I am ready to bear the burden of the king’s deputy and be the support of yours, as well as your entire family!

That’s how Colin suddenly became the Right Hand of Norwall and, accordingly, a country called Madland. A very unexpected move, if, of course, we take into account the fact that Volgrif was always a vigilant and rather scrupulous person. Previously, it was believed that hiring a collective farmer was an outrageous thing, because there are enough good managers in the capital. But that was not the case! The king, apparently, felt that a conspiracy was being prepared around him, and managed to insure his throne with the help of the loyalty and simplicity of Colin, who could not be bribed, for he was a man devoted to his homeland and knew that corruption never led to anything good! Corruption flourished under High King Robar II, when every person in power in the palace and responsible for the standard of living of the people of his country shamelessly plundered the state treasury. In general, there were enough embezzlers to this day, but the new king – the one whose name is Volgriff (which translated from the ancient language of the Magi means “aspiring”, “persistent”) – still slaughtered the rats. However, it turns out that not all..

Chapter 10
Farewell to Ser Laurent
After Colin told about all the hardships and adversities that, in spite of everything, he and his group managed to overcome, King Volgriff postponed the funeral of Ser Laurent. It turns out that this gentleman used to be a respectable man and also served the king. Well, although, how can I say, he served… He served to serve (and, in order not to arouse suspicion, he did everything that was required of him on time), but there was only a dark side to this gentleman! People gossiped about the fact that he leads some kind of secret life and really likes to communicate with all sorts of troublemakers, dressed like jesters in purple robes. Some people used to say that they were members of a secret organization (perhaps a sect), and others said that they were the most inveterate impudent and swindler; one could also hear that he was a mercenary, and his orders came from the Ruler himself. In general, the situation remained unexplained, because the king simply turned a blind eye to it, and Laurent soon – attention! – disappeared somewhere. A couple of months later he was found dead along the banks of the river in the town of Cornwood, located near the capital, and an investigation was even launched into this matter. But no one found any evidence, and the roots of ancient occult organizations go back to antiquity. In general, the secret was, as they say, shrouded in darkness..
However, here, out of the blue, the brave Colin appears, who is a master of martial arts, and also knows a lot about weaving intrigues, for he was an experienced and well-read guy. We can say that this was right in his favor, because only he could cope with this situation – and no one else. In general, I won’t go into details, because this is a long and, I must say, very tedious matter.
The next morning, all the people who came to the complaint about Ser Laurent, also called the funeral, listened to long speeches by the priests. They, in turn, read prayers from long scrolls and talked about “what a good person he was.”. Of course, good… Except that he probably joined the ranks of self-taught sectarians and stabbed Colin’s hand right through with a knife. With the exception of these two aspects, he was a decent and reserved citizen, no doubt. That’s just what lies behind the quiet mask? Have you ever wondered? Usually such people weave intrigues. Usually they are the ones who betray their leaders, having previously lured the kings’ confidants to their side. In general, it seems to me (and it seemed to Colin) that this gentleman was planning something very, very evil. What is not yet clear, but most likely it was the removal of Volgriff from his position – the position of the High King – by ascension to heaven. Not a very humane way to solve the problem, I tell you. Although everyone knows for certain that in our world rats make up a good third of the total population. The same thing was happening in Colin’s world..

The funeral lasted an hour, and the priests finished reading their last prayer – saying goodbye to a “wonderful” person, in their opinion. When they had finished all this religious fuss, Volgriff walked up to the body of his former – so to speak – colleague and, as was customary, kissed Ser Laurent on the forehead. Later he stood in approximately the same place where the priest stood, talking about the bitterness of the loss of a good man and a faithful servant, and poured out his soul to all the assembled people as best he could. For the most part, this concerned the fact that all this happened through his fault, because it was he – that is, Volgrif – who did not monitor the quality performance of the assigned tasks by his employees. However, he placed some of the blame on the shoulders of the now deceased Laurent. There is a saying that “they either speak well of a dead person or not at all,” but this really did not concern our king – he was not a superstitious person and did not welcome religion, but he came to terms with all this, since people had already gotten used to these things.
And everything would be fine, but this is just life, and there are no “happy endings” in life. Everything went as usual until the king finally said goodbye to Ser Laurent and called the gravediggers. That’s where the disaster happened! The fact is that gravediggers always dressed in black robes – this was the custom – but this time four people in dark purple robes came out and, before they began to nail down the lid of the coffin, a gang of seemingly helpless, but in fact physically absolutely healthy people attacked the poor old king. Well, the poor guy got it! Three knocked out teeth, numerous bruises, two broken ribs and a punctured lung – that’s what the autopsy showed. Unfortunately, he was unlucky, because a vital organ was damaged (and the king, it must be said, is an elderly man). The old man died on the same day that the damned one, Laurent, was buried. Colin did not have time to save him, just as he did not have time to deal with the gang of necromancers. The only thing he managed to do was catch a glimpse of the gang leader Horace, who had disappeared with his henchmen into the portal. Colin – and two volunteers who decided to follow their ideological leader – dived into the portal after the dark magicians, who coldly dealt with the High King Volgriff – an honest and respectable man.

Chapter 11 (Epilogue) At the last line
There was a loud bang. Our heroes didn’t even feel how they had been transported across half the globe, and instantly found themselves in a damp, stinking dungeon. Colin and his two partners – Henrik and Theobald – were stunned – for the first ten seconds the guys did not utter a single word, because they were both frightened and surprised by the realization of the fact that magic still exists, and all the gossip circulating around the capital and other populated areas is the absolute truth. Perhaps the people who spread rumors about religious sects went a little overboard with the description of all this dregs, but basically they were still right.
The walls of some incomprehensible cave (perhaps a sewer), in which our brave heroes were now, in fact, were now, were crowned with huge golden flags with a crimson symbol – the Elyphean Chalice. Theobald informed Colin of the name of the emblem. He said that as a child, when his mother took him to church, there were lectures about this ancient lost artifact. The books said that one of the Gods, Widmerland, used to drink from this vial. If you delve into the details, he was a member of the Circle of the High Gods, and Widmerland was responsible for the people of man. He regulated the standard of living of people – as they say, he did everything for the benefit of society. But one day he acted too recklessly – he endowed people with language and writing – for which he was expelled by the other Gods. There were rumors that it was he who founded the Circle of Priests of Lu’Vete, but this is a rumor – nothing more. The gods gradually faded into the background – they simply ceased to interest people. No one new was appointed to the position of Widmerland, so the fate of humanity depended only on the people themselves – no one else could forcibly interfere with the fate of the most intelligent living creature on the planet. Religion remained the same, but modern man did not dream about the Deities like his predecessor. The time of the Gods was running out, and if faith in them ceased, their existence would also end.
Colin felt for his blade in the darkness, took it out of its sheath and tried to get used to the pitch darkness. Until his eyes finally adjusted, at least two minutes passed. Henry and Theobald dug up a torch in the corner of the underground room, set it on fire and handed it to Colin, so that he would lead the process and command the two daredevils. People always trusted the guy with their lives – only Colin knew how to raise morale. He’s the only one who still hasn’t come to his senses. Colin was always a simpleton at heart – which cannot be said about any other commander.
In fact, the boys didn’t have to walk for very long. Two turns to the right, a corridor a hundred meters long – that’s the whole way. Having walked such a short distance, the company found itself in a fairly large hall with high ceilings. The walls were decorated with the same eccentric banners, but in the center of the room stood four men. Judging by their appearance, they came for peace negotiations (although this was quite difficult to believe – especially considering that ten or fifteen minutes ago these strange sorcerers dealt with the High King in cold blood). The man standing in front gave a signal to his men, and they retreated to the wall. Then he lowered the hood of his robe and saluted our brave men.
– Hello, dear guests. My name is Horace, and these are my three students: Simon, Sigil and Broderick. If something interests you or worries you, you are welcome. And yes, you can ask your stupid questions, because I have yearned for them over the years.
Colin hesitated at first and thought that the necromancer was preparing another cunning trick, but after a couple of moments he decided to start with a question of paramount importance:
– Why did you kill King Volgriff??
– I see you came here just for the answer to this question, right?? – Colin looked at his companions and nodded hesitantly to the man in response. – Well, let’s start in order. We are members of an ancient occult organization called the Elyphaean Brotherhood. The name, of course, does not shine with originality, but it is taken from history and justifies the symbolism we have chosen on our coat of arms. I know that your friend has already told you about the Gods, the expulsion of one of them and the Elythean Cup – the symbol of our Brotherhood – but the following information will blow your mind. The thing is, Widmerland didn’t die. Not at all! He’s still alive! And he alone can help us restore balance in the world. Feord is too dirty and we are trying to change it for the better. The fact is that in large cities medium and small businesses are thriving, which prevents ordinary people – employees of educational institutions, entertainment centers and everything else – from living and enjoying life. Some of them are seriously ill, while others simply have to survive. The treasury is looted, the death rate exceeds the birth rate, and people are dying like pigs in the streets. Nobody needs them, and it’s very sad! But we have a chance to make things right. I can restore order in this world – for this I destroyed the King and sent you here. The fact is that now we are in an ancient temple, within the walls of which the spirit of Widmerland was sealed centuries ago. If we free him, he will return to his Heavenly Throne, give his brothers what they deserve and restore peace on earth. If you are ready for global changes, then please give me your medallion that you received from Laurent. Don’t swear, I sent him to you. In life he was a person of no consequence, and after his death everything goes on as usual, as you can see. I’m going to do it this way: first I will connect my ancient scepter with the golden ball that I stole from Volgriff. Then I’ll place it on a square pedestal. A passage will open. Only two of us will go in: you and me, Colin. We don’t need extra eyes and ears. And yes, first we will collect all five medallions – we will need them soon. We will insert them into the recesses on the wall that will block our path, and wait about ten seconds. Doors sealed with the help of magic and ancient mechanisms will open, thereby allowing us inside. There is no point in telling further – you will see everything yourself. Now that you are convinced that I do not wish harm, but came here only because of my destiny, let me lead you to the Vault of Truth. And may our secret not be revealed. If you violate our agreement with you, humanity will face immediate destruction. Listen to me – and then you will be safe and sound.
Colin and Horace did everything as planned: they placed the golden ball and scepter, having previously connected them, on the pedestal; then, having inserted the medallions into the slots specially designated for them, they went inside the Vault. An amazing picture opened before their eyes: the whole room was drowned in a blue glow, and in the center, imprisoned in shackles, stood the spirit of Widmerland. His back was decorated with huge wings, and tears flowed from his eyes. It is not known for certain why God suddenly – although expelled, but still – began to nurse and hang his nose. It is clear that Colin and Horace freed Weed, and he, in turn, became really prettier, but still, his character was strange. The shackles evaporated in a blue glow, and Widmerland himself took the form of an aquamarine phoenix and, with a piercing whistle, rushed through the walls and thick layers of the earth’s crust towards Heaven. Within a few seconds, everyone who stood in the Storehouse of Truth felt that spring cleaning was taking place somewhere in another dimension. It is possible that this was all a figment of Colin’s imagination, however, it seems to me that Horace experienced all this himself.
A few minutes later, satisfied with their work, Colin and Gore – let’s call him that – returned to their comrades. Everyone was safe and sound, and after such a grandiose event the conversation lasted for about half an hour. To prevent the guys from standing – we are now talking about Colin, Henrik and Theobald – Gore conjured three wooden chairs for the guys. The necromancers themselves did not need rest – they were trained people and knew how to conserve their strength. You could say that life was in full swing from them! No matter how rude and intimidating the word “necromancer” may sound, our necromancers were kind people, but a little mysterious. Perhaps they were hiding the fact that a global catastrophe was awaiting people soon, or perhaps they were simply gloomy and battered louts. The only thing Colin managed to get out of them was that their organization has been cooperating with the Circle of Priests of Lu’Vete for a long time. In principle, the guy didn’t need anything more. After a short period of time, he and his two faithful comrades stood at a new Portal, opened with the help of the efforts of four powerful sorcerers. The two sides exchanged firm handshakes, and then Colin, Henrik and Theobald disappeared into a black hole, the edges of which could not be seen, and immediately found themselves in the square where the murder of the King was committed. It is clear that Horace and his gang acted somewhat vilely, but it was worth it! It turned out that the King was not such a good person. He put everyone who contradicted him in a local prison, and people died there from sudden death, having become infected with tuberculosis and other infectious diseases.
The joyful crowd, seeing Colin appear on the horizon, asked him a couple of questions, and then, having received a worthy answer and comments about the situation, with satisfied exclamations they lifted him up and threw him three times, shouting “Hip-hip, hurray.”! Glory to Colin, the new High King!». And this was somewhat unexpected – Colin did not know that from a simple villager one could suddenly turn into a great ruler. It seems that a fairly short time has passed since the death of the old king, but people did not bother with it, and did not even arrange a magnificent funeral for Volgriff – they say, the relatives will handle it themselves. But the whole city celebrated the ascension to the throne of the new Ruler – Colin Brandvik. And there was no end to this feast. The beer flowed like a river, the girls admired the new High King, and the kids rejoiced that, for once, they were not the only ones having fun. Soon the young king found himself a bride, and a year later they got married. In general, Colin’s life was a success! And no matter what anyone says: if you are a confident and purposeful person, you will achieve anything. The main thing is not to turn off the path if you are already halfway to your cherished dream!