In-Universe Tale 3 – Novel World Building

The following tale is a bit of world-building for the novel I am currently working on. If you are interested, a description of which can be found on my Instagram page. When I am further along, an updated description of the novel will also be posted here, on the main page of my website.

In the novel, the kingdom is divided into two groups with distinct cultures thanks to a massive dividing river separating the east from the west. And with this tale and various others like it, I was hoping to further develop each people group. This particular piece is a compilation from around the kingdom of the various stories told about one mythical hero.

There is no guarantee these tales will make it into the final manuscript. And, if they do, they may take on different forms in the final product. But for now, these are the first peaks into my current novel with the working title, Long Live the Kings.

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Compiled Tale of Gudtlieb the Journeyman:

SJ Shoemaker
Word Count: 4,096
12/31/2022

My dear King Alaric: May your name be praised and your kingdom forever thrive:

I, the one called Scoy, finest record keeper for Rheicona–though much to my shame not of Rheicona for I was born far away in a land even I do not know–having spent eight years traveling the world in search of the lost histories, now present to you this letter in which I compile every mention of Gudtlieb, the great journeyman, known to the world. I have faithfully recreated each account in my book of records which journeys with me and will be presented upon my return. However, conclusions and summaries need not wait so long.

Know this: incompleteness and estimations riddle my work. However, this is the fullest account of his life ever compiled. Unmatched even as far back as the Rheiconian language shift. A phenomenon for which we are still without explanation. If you were to make another such request of me, I pray you make it the Rheiconian language shift. Think of the knowledge waiting to be gained by such an expedition. Why did our ancestors change their language so abruptly? How was it coordinated? And what connection could be shared between this and the written word that followed shortly thereafter? But I–as often informed that I am wont to do–find myself among yet another digression.

As a starting point, it will be necessary to discuss the universal aspects of Gudtlieb. By this, I mean the characteristics and events from his life that most, if not all accounts, find agreement on. These will be the events I build upon and around as I evaluate each of the admittedly sporadic accounts. His core characteristics are as follows:

1. Gudtlieb is a household name. His name was taught to children at a young age, along with the tales of travel each parent found most fascinating from their own childhood.
2. He is consistently associated with adventure and bravery. By all accounts, he was a great hero whom one ought to emulate. And while it is common enough a feature to bring up here–he was more often than not also associated with brilliance–that will not be a starting assumption on my part due to its lack of universalism.
3. His connections with magic are definitive. Although not always a wielder of magic himself but rather granted magical items for his various adventures depending on the tale’s origin, nevertheless, his association with magic cannot be ignored.
4. He came face-to-face with the gods and is depicted as the single mortal ever to be versed in both the forgotten tongue and the tongue of the gods. However, the extent of his talent with the godly language is a topic of debate. I lean toward the theory of adequate knowledge but not fluency, which I will elaborate upon in time.
5. Gudtlieb was the only mortal ever to slay a dragon. The location, timing, and surrounding circumstances of this feat are as fluid as anything known of Gudtlieb, but that he slayed a dragon is beyond question.

Birth and Early Years

Admittedly there are no facts here to identify concretely. This section is comprised almost exclusively of interpolations of other facts I feel are more strongly established and which must result in these events happening at some point in his past. I must also confess my bias toward the sorcerer-knight dichotomy. So many of our favorite heroes from bedtime stories were on one side of the other of this divide. Were they talented sorcerers? Or were they skilled knights? It seems an insurmountable gulf divides the two paths. But Gudtlieb somehow spanned that divide. For this reason, I am forced to conclude he was both born in Silirich, raised with great familiarity of magic, and also sent away to the Vardola, the Capitol city, around the customary age to train for knighthood.

Were some stories to be believed, he would have also learned the tongue of the gods during this same time; however, I feel this interpretation has less conviction than other alternatives and will therefore conclude this not to have happened yet in his life. I will elaborate further later on. However, there is one point of contention for which I am wont to side with the Theory of Adolescent Divine Training, which is that Gudtlieb must have had at least one direct visitation from the gods during his time in Silirich. This is due to the fact that in every account I encountered of Gudtlieb speaking with a god, they always greet him the same way: “We speak again. Did I not foretell?” Were these words to be taken literally, another meeting must have happened prior that went unrecorded.

Knighthood

The list of exploits from Gudtlieb’s time as a knight derives almost exclusively from the west. According to the area of Waldbach and its surrounding villages, he stopped an invasion of sirens from stealing away the men of Rheicona with their songs. He seduced their leader and threatened to hang her on a drying rack until her hoard relented. In Charmont, there is a tale of him spending a week tracking a unicorn and another solid day hanging from its back as it ran about the kingdom. Eventually, once it had calmed, he presented it as a gift to the king.

He likewise performed admiral knightly tasks of less magical feats. This includes fighting for the crown in numerous battles against invaders from east of the Rheiconian border, defending villages from wolf attacks, and saving the king from assassination–twice. Although due to the number of similarities between the two accounts–one from Langsel and the other from Winhommel–it is difficult not to view them as a single tale that diverged and accumulated new details with retellings until distinct.

The above list is the vast majority of what I shall deem his “standard” exploits as a knight of Rheicona. And while they already present a handful of key insights into his character, I shall first list a few knightly tales that do not fit quite so neatly into this categorization.

To begin with, from Turnlare, they preserve a story of Gudtlieb fighting a rogue giant that followed the great dividing river upstream, terrorizing all who he came across. When Gudtlieb confronted the giant, he drove his sword into the giant’s back. And while the sword sunk down to and including the hilt, the giant offered no reaction, however slight. Upon determining it lodged permanently within, Gudtlieb conversed with the giant and presented him with questions that confounded even the greatest of philosophers until the giant’s head hurt, The giant then fled to avoid more questions. Beyond the apparent oddity: this story comes from our east; it is one of the few knightly tales that demonstrate his brilliance. Most knightly tales focus on his bravery and brutal skill with the sword. But let this serve as an indication of eastern tales to come.

There is also the tale of Lubin the Lonely, which remains the last preservation of a tale from what must be presumed to be Gudtlieb’s early career as he acts surprisingly out of character. The custodian of the king’s great library called upon Gudtlieb, so the story goes, to seek out and find a great book of magic. Gudtlieb retrieved the book as requested but refused to turn it over without ample payment. And when payment was not provided, he hid the book where no mortal would ever find it. Later, as Lubin’s final test of knightly virtue, he was tasked with retrieving the concealed book and completing the quest Gudtlieb left unfinished. However, in that tale, Lubin’s journey took a path into the heart of the Wastelands, and he never again returned.

Finally, there exists one tale from abroad, in a town far west of the Rheiconian borders whose name my tongue could never pronounce nor have I ever seen written out. This tale is always coupled with Gudtlieb’s meeting with the Queen Dryad of Trorau Forest. And while I elaborate on that tale below–as it seems the great turning point from knighthood to sorcery–this accompanying tale has no apparent counterpart within our borders. It is also worth noting that these foreigners to the distant west believe that Gudtlieb married the king’s daughter and that she accompanied him when he left Rheicona. Which is obviously ridiculous as we would have a record of such a union and departure. Regardless, as the tale goes, the princess was captured by goblins. And Gudtlieb spent four days tracking the goblin mob across the kingdom. And while he eventually caught up to them–slaying every last goblin before carrying the princess home–it was not soon enough. For she snuck out during her final night of captivity and ate the goblin’s wretched food. According to them, it is this food which makes her deathly ill–requiring the Heart Tree branch to cure–and not poison from the Queen Dryad.

Of note in the vast majority of these tales, Gudtlieb constantly runs into family and friends from his youth. And in most of these meetings, his companions express excitement or disbelief when they learn of Gudtlieb’s status as a trusted knight of Rheicona. This leads me to believe he must have had a poor upbringing. Otherwise, was he from a noble family, becoming a knight would have been the most ordinary thing in the world. This is the first–although not the most damning–reason I doubt Gudtlieb was perfectly fluent in the tongue of the gods.

Were you to allow me room to elaborate, dear King, I would draw attention to the severe lack of existing information on the godly language. Were we to speculate which library held the greatest amount of knowledge regarding the tongue of the gods in the time of Gudtlieb, we would obviously conclude it to be the great library of Vardola. And who had access to this great library? Not any random nobleman, I assure you. Only the most trusted of the king’s guests and exclusively upon his permission. Which would mean the first opportunity Gudtlieb would have had to learn such knowledge, excluding divine intervention–which I am aware, given Gudtlieb’s status is a notable assumption–would have been very late into his knightly career.

Trorau Forest

The events of this tale that I propose hold the most historical backing are unique to me, not aligning precisely with any of the versions which exist in Rheicona. Although for transparency’s sake, I suggest that Wickport’s version be most similar to my own. To begin with, I believe that the Queen Dryad must have known of Gudtlieb’s close relationship with the king and had access to the great library. Otherwise, how unbelievably coincidental it would have been to have called upon the only person in the kingdom, likely the only one in the entire world, who was capable of helping. Therefore, at the start of this tale, as the king’s daughter falls ill with an incurable sickness, I am already deviating from the most popular versions of this tale. Unlike the west, who claim this sickness came from Goblin food; Waldbach and Silirich alike, who claim it an illness since her birth; or even Herregen, who claim the sickness had no known cause, I find it most likely to be from a poison delivered by dryad spies.

Naturally concerned for his daughter’s wellbeing, the king felt he could trust such a monumental task to only his best and called upon Gudtlieb. And after riding so fast and ceaselessly that his horse dropped dead from exhaustion, no physician in Rheicona could help her. So, he turned to magical cures. And one stood above the rest: A guaranteed cure to any sickness known to man. This was Gudtlieb’s first self-made quest: To journey into Trorau Forest. It sat–and still sits–on the eastern border with no paths or roads beneath its dark and infinitely thick canopy. At the heart of this forest was the Heart Tree of the Queen Dryad herself. While it lived, the Queen could never be fully slain. Her heart tree was the source of her near-immortality. She would be aggressively protective of it. And her subjects would be equally protective of her. But could Gudtlieb gather a single branch and peel the bark into a stew, it would guarantee the princess’ full recovery.

I, likewise, will differ from most versions in his means of entry. Although I have no doubt in Gudtlieb’s combat prowess, there are too many dryads in the Trarau forest to imagine he single-handedly chopped all he came across into kindling. As much as I enjoy the imagery–especially as it is depicted in the halls of the Vardola Palace–I find it even more fantastical than dragon slaying. Instead, I suspect he snuck carefully to the heart of the forest. This would also explain the Queen’s congenial nature in many retellings. So, he arrived at the tree, and before he could pluck a branch of the Heart Tree, the Queen confronted him.

Here, all but Doetin agree. According to this small farming town, Gudtlieb fights and kills the Queen herself, unaware of her regenerative abilities. But this is a minority view that does not align well with his following mission without a trail of justifications that stretch further than the scroll of Gudtlieb’s life story. Instead, I agree with most accounts that she offers it freely upon his oath to take upon a mission in her name. The mission: to summon one of the four creator gods. After their death at the hands of Brishan, they left this plain with no intention ever to return. But the dryads now wished to join them. Gudtlieb would thus summon a god, ask them how to ascend, and deliver their instructions back to the dryads. Gudtlieb swore to do so. And he returned with bark enough to cure a single person of a single sickness. The princess was saved.

Slaying the Dragon

I hardly think I need explain this tale as its surrounding circumstances have been clearly established, and its specifics are perpetually unknown. In my proposed versions of events, Gudtlieb determines the summoning to a god to be impossible without a gesture that demands their attention. So he sets forth to slay a dragon. The great chimera of the gods, made by all four creation gods in each of their images, combined with the eel of the ocean and falcon of the sky. 6 in 1. And with the breath of magic, as the creation gods once held so long ago.

Gudtlieb would not have taken on this task without help. As great as he was, he was still mortal. Magical elixirs, enchanted armor, mythical weaponry. No two tales agree on anything beyond their necessity in some form or other. Likewise, where the battle took place or specifics, I cannot say. Personally, I am fond of the tale where after being slashed fatally across the chest, he climbed into the dragon’s mouth and stabbed his sword upward into the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Then they sat there, alone in the woods, discussing philosophy until one or both of them succumbed to their wounds. Gudtlieb barely survived the eight days and nights, but he managed to win in the end and was healed by the gods as a sign of respect for doing the impossible. But nothing supports this version of events above any other. In the end, he won; that is all we can be certain of.

Instructions Misdelivered

It is at this point in the story, by the grace of the gods, most versions align neatly until the very end. The dragon was slain. Gudtlieb successfully summoned the gods. The famous line previously mentioned is spoken: “We speak again. Did I not foretell?”. He made his request for instructions on ascension. And the gods responded in their tongue, a single sentence. The translation is thus:

“Dryads and dryads alone, travel two weeks’ journey east [sic] and look for the floating lights for guidance.”

Then the gods promised to speak again and vanished, and Gudtlieb dutifully traveled back to Trorau Forest. The message was conveyed, and they parted ways.

But you and I both know how this story ends. That was not the translation. For the gods intended a journey west, not east. Gudtlieb had mistranslated the message. Some clain Gudtlieb intentionally misdirected the dryads. And it is gloriously entertaining to see their feats of acrobatics as they twist themselves into knots and jump through flaming hoops of nonsense to dissect his reason for this misdirection. I admit bias here, keeping their foolery beyond arms reach, but I propose a more obvious answer. Ignorance, not malice, lies at the heart of this story. Where he less than fluent–perhaps say he only recently came into access to the only library in the world containing transcripts of the gods’ tongue–there would be no mystery to divine. He, a mere mortal, was mistaken. But, some wishing to be scholars will do anything to contradict the literature.

Sorcery

In much the same vein as the numerous tales of his knighthood, his exploits as a sorcerer are numerous and self-contained. Meaning it would be difficult–if not impossible–to place them in chronological order amongst themselves. However, I can place them here in the broad timeline of Gudtlieb’s life. After he delivered the message but before he departed from Rheicona. This is down to one simple detail consistent throughout his magical tales: The magical items he possesses in each of them. He is always described as possessing this-or-that magical item which he used to slay the dragon. The dragon slayed in the course of delivering a message to the dryads, which must have happened after the princess’ sickness, which must have happened after the king’s assassination attempt, which must have come after many knightly deeds. By making a few logical deductions and well-placed assumptions, these events fall neatly into my composed timeline.

Among his notable feats as a sorcerer are the following tales; again I remind you that each account has been taken down precisely in my official book of records, which will be arriving Vardola at my side upon my return. Please accept these brief descriptors as sufficient until such a time. In Eekren, Gudtlieb was said to have taught the Rheiconian army his spell of berserker rage, which was taught to him by a fairy leading up to his battle with the dragon. Perpilac has an interesting tale of Gudtlieb commanding the weather, calling down rain with his staff which dealt the finishing blow to the great dragon. Thus, he stopped a long drought that affected the land in those days. However, the rain would only continue so long as Gudtlieb remained standing outdoors. In my humble opinion, the efforts of the townsfolk impress far greater than Gudtlieb’s own in the tale. I look forward to hearing your response to the full text, dear King.

There is a tale that comes from our neighbor kingdom to the east of Feldstatt, Norstanshahr. Speaking a different tongue, they called Gudtlieb by another name, but the actions are undoubtedly his. Gamal, as they call him, fended off an invasion put on by the king of Norstanshahr. While the Rheiconian king was aware of the threat, he was too slow in deploying troops; Gamal (Gudtlieb) was left to defend the eastern border on his own, so he poured out his infinitely replenishing potion of protection upon the graves of Feldstatt. For four days he fought off the invaders alongside his army of skeletons. And for four nights, he poured his potion upon the bodies of the fallen from both sides. The day after, every reanimated body fought for Gamal regardless of which side they originated.The invaders soon relented and retreated, unwilling to give another man to strengthen their opponent’s side.

Gudtlieb is also reported to have regrown the barren fields of Gorzona, put entire armies in a deep slumber in Erbeurg, and set up a shop where he enchanted weapons and armor using the flame of the gods themselves in the old forge of Evermel. In each of these tales, Gudtlieb is demonstrated to be wise and considerate, a far cry from the warrior Gudtlieb was in his youth. This has led many to speculate what could have caused such a dramatic change of character. And while a few, more imaginative historians will claim Gudtlieb was one of a pair–twins from birth with parallel but distinct paths in life–I find no evidence of such within or without Rheicona. Others speculate that this was a direct result of his meeting with the gods; some even go so far as to claim he was magically castrated the moment he looked upon their form. But I remind you of the meeting he must have had with the gods as far back as his youth in Silirich. Instead, I offer an alternative espoused by no other: In facing the dragon, a task I reiterate was thought impossible until his battle was won, Gudtlieb stared into the abyssal eyes of death, and neither flinched nor was lost within. No man would be the same after such an encounter. In short, he was rapidly aged by the great effort of winning an unwinnable battle.

Departure

After a great many years, the dryads returned to Rheicona in a horrible rage. A great slaughter accompanied their arrival. The entire city of Birsthal, once known across the kingdom for the large iron mines, was obliterated. To this day, no human being has set foot within. It was not long before Gudtlieb was called upon to confront the furious dryads. Now an elderly sorcerer, he arrived with stacks of magical items and enchanted weapons, but even this was nothing against a whole army of dryads. He was set upon in moments, disarmed and constrained. The Queen Dryad let her anger be known. He had given the wrong instructions, and the many years they had been absent from Rheicona were spent futilely chasing down a second chance to ascend to the heavens. And when every last vestige of hope had been exhausted, they returned to take revenge on the man who took it all away from them. Gudtlieb, then wise beyond his years–and of those, he had plenty–convinced the dryads that he was not wrong. There was no mistranslation, for in the grand scheme, there is nothing but distance separating east and west.

So the dryads forced a final quest upon Gudtlieb. He would begin walking east. And when he walked so far that east became west, he could return to Rheicona. Then, and only then, would the dryads leave the kingdom and never return. Gudtlieb, seeing no alternative, agreed to take on their quest. And he left eastward on a tremendous journey.

The tales of his journey recovered over these last eight years, dear King, are of utmost excitement to me. Brand new tales brought to your kingdom for the first ever time. Tales of Ganix, the mage-warrior, riding on a golden throne across a desert, held aloft by an army of hypnotized slaves. Of Gaddiel, the witch doctor, offering mystic healings to the poor vagabonds unable to pay their way into the larger cities for medical treatment. Of Gauri, the gladiator, who wielded a sword with his mind alone, fighting more fiercely than any man without once rising to his feet. Of Ganesh, the wizard who sailed his raft across a windless sea at impossible speeds using nothing but his magic-infused breath. And many more. It would seem wherever I travel, Gudtlieb, by one name or another is known and praised as heartily as within Rheicona.

It saddens me not to know the end of his story. If he returned, at long last, and drove away to dryads. And if so, what amazing tales have we yet to discover? But, tracing his route, I too found my east has become west. I have encircled the world and now find myself in a familiar kingdom to Rheicona’s west. And in that time, these new tales of Gudtlieb have flowed as readily as our great river. He must have been successful, for I cannot fathom a man as mighty as he stumbling while so close to completion. It is my opinion–surely biased and with no evidence yet to support such claims–that Gudtlieb completed his final quest.

I eagerly await my completed records’ return to the great library of Vardola, its binding easily twice as heavy as when it started, for its pages are now drenched with ink.

Your, loyal keeper of records and journeyman servant rich with new fountains of knowledge,
The one called Scoy