CHAPTER ONE. A flea in the flock.
The land now known as Dickendoof emerged in the aftermath of the Roman Empire's collapse. This once Roman province transitioned into a landscape dominated by Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, an era rich with fascinating stories and historical shifts.
In the early 9th century, these kingdoms faced repeated onslaughts from the Viking invaders. King Alfred of Wessex emerged as a heroic figure, leading the resistance and ultimately establishing a period of relative peace. The fruits of his efforts bloomed when Æthelstan, his grandson, successfully unified Dickendoof under his rule in 927. (If this sounds like English history, it's because the typesetter was drinking heavily when he set this up.)
But the life in medieval Dickendoof wasn't a tranquil one for everyone. Amidst the serene pastures and rugged landscapes, there were tales of struggle and hardship. The story of Earwig, a knight, and Fardel, a humble peasant, comes to mind.
One day, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Earwig met Fardel near the edge of a muddy field. The peasant’s calloused hands were hardened by the harsh reality of his labor. "How do you fare, Fardel?" Earwig asked, shifting in his shiny armor.
"Weary, Sir Earwig. The King’s tax collectors came again. They've taken nearly half of my crop," Fardel replied, his eyes reflecting the hardship of his life.
"Half? That's too harsh," Earwig murmured, realizing the burden the crown placed on its people.
During the reign of the Normans, which began with the famous battle of Hastings in 1066, the feudal system had firmly taken root. The common folk like Fardel were required to give a significant portion of their produce as tax, or rent, to the noble lords who, in turn, provided military services to the King.
Earwig, a knight, was caught in this intricate web. He was responsible for protecting the realm, but also understanding of the troubles faced by peasants like Fardel. The Knight-errant mused, "I shall bring this matter to the court, Fardel. The peasantry's struggle ought to be recognized."
"Will it matter, Sir Earwig? Will they hear us?" Fardel asked, skeptical.
"We must try," Earwig asserted. "The realm thrives on its people. They cannot be left to suffer."
Such exchanges gave birth to the Code of Magnesia in 1215, a crucial document in Dickendoof's history. It limited the monarch’s arbitrary use of power and established the principle that everybody, including the king, was subject to the law.
Unfortunately, the law didn't entirely ease the peasantry's plight. Further rebellions, like the Peasants' Revolt in 1381, echoed the constant struggle between the rulers and the ruled. However, these events gradually shaped the societal structure and governance of Dickendoof, leading to the development of more balanced systems and the slow march towards a more democratic society.
Dickendoof's medieval history is a saga marked by kings and knights, peasants and serfs, battles and rebellions. It is a story of hardship, resilience, and evolution. It’s in the tales of people like Earwig and Fardel that we find the true strength and spirit of this land, the heartbeats that echoed across the realm, and the voices that refused to be silenced. The narration of this history, written with quill on parchment, has withstood the test of time, allowing future generations to reflect on the struggles and triumphs of their ancestors.
So wrote Underlip the Scribe, many centuries past.
We haven't time to do a full workup on Underlip the Scribe right now. There's a pot of fudge working to a boil on the hallway radiator that needs attending to. Suffice it to say that this intriguing story, for the most part, is cribbed from Underlip's magnum opus: Holus Molus.
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In the vast, rugged landscape of Dickendoof, nestled in the heart of Medieval Europe, society exhibited a hierarchical structure that was both compelling and inherently stratified. Knights, like our Earwig, served as the stewards of the land, dispensing justice and ensuring the peace. Peasants, such as Fardel, worked the fields, cultivating the fertile ground in return for protection and relative stability. Yet, as tightly knit as this social fabric was, it found itself rent apart by an unexpected threat – dragons.
One day, as Earwig strode through the bustling marketplace, he bumped into Fardel, who was visibly perturbed.
"Fardel, why so pale?" asked Earwig, seeing the worry etched on the peasant's face.
"It's them dragons, milord," Fardel replied, his voice trembling. "They're devourin' folk left and right. Me own cousin, Bertie, was taken just yesterday."
"I've heard tales, but how many are there?" queried Earwig, gripping his sword hilt instinctively.
"There be seven, milord. Seven fire-breathing devils tearing through our fields, our livestock, our kin," Fardel declared, a bitter resentment lining his words.
Recognizing the need for swift action, Earwig called for a council. Nobles and commoners alike gathered to devise a strategy to rid Dickendoof of the dragons. They concluded that they needed a special weapon, a weapon made from the metal mined from the highest peak of the nearby Iron Hills.
This plan set into motion, the community sprang to work, rallying together in the face of danger. Miners braved the treacherous cliffs to extract the needed metal. Blacksmiths hammered tirelessly, forging a blade strong enough to pierce dragon scales. This shared effort showcased the unity of the Dickendoof society - nobles, knights, and peasants, all working together for the common good.
When the weapon was finally crafted, it was bestowed upon Earwig. He journeyed to the dragons' lair and, after a hard-fought battle, succeeded in ridding Dickendoof of the monstrous threat. The dragons were vanquished, and the kingdom breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet, amidst the victory, a chilling realization dawned on them - the dragons were not a natural menace but a creation of the wizards, the supposed wise men of Dickendoof. The wizards, cloaked in their enigmatic power, had unleashed this terror, playing with lives as if they were mere chess pieces.
The society of Dickendoof, after surviving the dragon onslaught, stood together, united in their denouncement of these wizards. Earwig, victorious yet contemplative, addressed the crowd, "We knights and yeoman, we nobles and peasants, have labored together, fought together, and triumphed together. But it is our wizards, the ones who should have been our guardians, who brought this havoc upon us."
He paused, looking out over the silent crowd, "These wizards, who toyed with the natural order, who bred fire-breathing beasts to terrorize our lands, they are the true menace. A menace we shall no longer abide."
His words echoed across the kingdom, a strong and irrefutable indictment of those who had so callously endangered them. It signified a turning point in Dickendoof's history, a period where society recognized and repudiated the reckless wielding of power. And so, with new resolve, they began rebuilding, learning from the past, and standing firm against those who would disrupt the harmony of their land.
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If we bother to look at other original sources on the early chaotic times of Dickendoof, we won’t go far wrong by quoting an ancient mage known as Woodruff the Wizard. He was a chatty old bird, whose scribblings on wizardry are currently housed in the National Archives at Happy Landings, New Bipple. He has some interesting things to say about the wizard problem that plagued the early Dickendoofers. We quote him at length and verbatim,bad jokes and all, for historical accuracy and because we’re too darn lazy to edit this windy melange:
A Whisker-Twirling Discourse on Wizardry
Ah, there you are, curious stranger! I am Woodruff the Wizard, purveyor of the perplexing, wielder of the wondrous, and not to mention, the honorary custodian of the Cursed Coffee Pot of Calcutta. Let's bend a few corners of reality, shall we?
Being a wizard is not just about the flashy staffs and billowing robes. It is a state of being that is akin to winning the lottery, but instead of money, you receive a ceaseless torrent of eccentricities. Ah, how marvellously madcap it is!
The first thing you must understand is the importance of the beard. A wise man, Hocus P. Pocus, said in his seminal work "Beardonomics: The Facial Fuzz of Wizardry," "A wizard without a beard is like a cat without its whiskers - it simply isn't done!" And to that I say, cheers! I've had more birds nesting in my beard than I care to count. Once, I found a nest of miniature unicorns! A miracle of the highest magical order, if I dare say so.
Wizardry isn't just beard-growing, though. There's the mastery of magic to consider. Just last week, I attempted to summon a loaf of bread and ended up with a very disgruntled, carb-phobic dragon in my pantry. He and I had a very insightful conversation about the perils of gluten.
Alchemy is another core aspect. Now, let me tell you about the time I accidentally brewed a love potion instead of my morning coffee. Everyone in the village, from the stoic butcher to the aloof librarian, fell head over heels for the town crier. 'Twas a spectacle indeed! Sir Smokes-a-Lot, a renowned alchemical scholar, once said: "The bubbling brew within a wizard's cauldron mirrors the swirling madness within his mind." I can't help but nod in fervent agreement every time my coffee maker belches out a rainbow.
Then there's the quintessential art of divination. It might sound glamorous, but let me assure you, the tea leaves are rather moody. In the wizardly bestseller, "The Sneezy Seer's Guide to Grumpy Grains," Mysterio the Mystic advised, "Divination is the delicate dance of courting the chaos of the cosmos." Well, I once danced with the chaos, and it left me with two left feet. Literally.
However, it's not all tea leaves and transmutations. There's a softer side to being a wizard, like managing your mythical menagerie. For instance, my phoenix, Percival, is afraid of heights, and my pet basilisk Basil has a terrible case of stage fright. Tending to them teaches me the magic of empathy. It's a charm you won't find in any grimoire.
Then comes the final, and perhaps most crucial, characteristic of being a wizard: our insatiable curiosity. Sir Cognito, in his enlightening tome "The Wizard's Ever-Questing Eye," puts it so aptly: "A wizard's mind is an unending spiral, always circling towards the next enigma." One minute I'm investigating the uncanny correlation between goblin economics and moon cycles, the next I'm chasing a thought that leapt out of my own head!
Ah, I digress. Time's a precious commodity in the wizarding world, particularly because it has an uncanny knack for knotting itself up when you least expect it. But even as I traverse the chaotic cosmos of magic, these humorous hiccups serve as the breadcrumbs on my spellbound journey.
So, dear reader, being a wizard is not just about the flashy pyrotechnics and miraculous manifestations. It is about living a life filled with the unexpected, the uncanny, and the utterly unexplainable. It's about embracing the chaos and dancing with the bizarre. It's about finding joy in the journey, even if you're just following a trail of breadcrumbs through a labyrinth of lunacy. Now, if you'd excuse me, I believe my coffee maker just belched out a unicorn…
~
After rereading the above tripe from Woodruff, it’s no wonder Sir Earwig wanted to exterminate the whole tribe of warlocks. Not only did they bring dragons upon the land, but they were spreading logorrhea like mad.
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The end of the first chapter of this fantastic history seems an appropriate place to explain who is actually writing this book. It's a group effort by the Writer's Gulden. We are a group of writers dedicated to the spread of mustard. And so from time to time you will notice subliminal messages encouraging you to use more mustard.
I am Arthur Pennyroyal; duly elected secretary to the Writer's Gulden. Most of this fantasy is being cobbled together by me, although I'll continue to use "we" when I wish to interject something. Makes it sound more majestic and otherworldly. We hope for bestseller status for this book, since mustard is getting way too expensive. And we use a lot of it during our meetings.
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