The King and the Witch of Eight Great Sins - A Fauxry Tale

The King and the Witch of Eight Great Sins - A Fauxry Tale

There once was a proud, noble king, pure of heart, quick of mind, and strong of body. He ruled with a firm but fair hand, and was generally beloved by the populace, and not without cause.

One day, this king found a dull pain settling within his foot, for his new boots did not seem to fit quite right. He consulted his best friend since childhood, now the general of his armies, a man much like himself in many ways. "Oh Lord General!" he asked, smiling of course, for the use of their titles between them had become something of a joke. "My left boot doesn't seem to fit right."

"Well, maybe you should see if it fits left," the general answered, earning himself a light and affectionate strike to the skull.

"You know very well what I meant," the king said, and the general simply smiled and nodded. "Well, ever since I had them brought to me two days ago, my left ankle has begun to ache when I walk in them." The general rolled his eyes.

"Well, you obviously just need to break them in," he explained. "Join the men in their drills today! Your shoes will fit perfectly by the end of it, and it will do them good to see their king alongside them." The king had done this before, of course, since he had to know how his men fought to lead them best, so he agreed. At the end of the day, however, his ankle hurt worse than ever. The general shrugged. "In that case," he declares, "I have no idea what the problem is."

Taking this problem he was faced with to his archmagus, he asked, "Wizard, might you cast a spell upon these shoes? The pain they cause me is becoming frustrating." The archmagus gave his assent and wove an enchantment upon them that his steps would be light, his soles protected, and so forth. And indeed, his heels and soles were fine - but the ankle retained its dull ache.

On his way to his quarters after a session of his court one night, his grumbling about his foot caught the attention of the archbishop of the state religion. When asked what aggrieved him, he explained his problem to the archbishop.

"Pray," the archbishop ordered, "That you may find yourself in no pain when you walk even the most dangerous and harrowing of paths. Humble yourself before the divine, and you shall be granted relief."

Even after two days of intensive prayer, the pain remained. Desperate, he went in disguise with two guards to the edge of the woods to seek the Witch of Eight Great Sins. The Witch of Eight Great Sins was a being of great and terrible power, one who had used her arcane knowledge to dishonor the gods and mock the laws of mortals. It was said her voice alone could ensnare a man, that she could kill with a wave of her fingers, and that she had flayed the skin from even mighty archmagi and rulers who had the gall to beseech her for aid or answers without showing proper respect and bringing offerings. Her identity had long since been lost, and she was known only for her crimes against all natural orders.

At the border of the wilds, a hut grown from the very branches and roots of the trees around sat, thin blue smoke quietly pluming from its chimney. A darkness churned and thrashed around the hut like a living thing, and the king was terrified to face it - but even more terrified of looking like a coward before his two guards, who only stood with him here because of their extraordinary loyalty.

He knocked twice upon the door, and a deathly silence fell, as though even the woods were listening for the response of the Witch of Eight Great Sins.

"What is it?" a woman's voice from inside finally called out.

"Well, you see... I have gone before my General, my Archbishop, and my Archmage, but none have been able to-"

"What IS it?" the voice interrupted. The king's breath stopped in his lungs. He wasn't used to interruptions when he was speaking, but this woman knew no respect for any, living or dead.

"Well, my left shoe has been causing my ankle to hurt..." he explained.

"Are ye bloody daft?" she cut in once again. "Go to a cobbler, you bloody moron! Don't waste my time with this!"

Outraged, the king declared. "Speak to me again so and I will have your head!" And she replied to him, her voice booming out like dragon's fire:

"I'm making dinner, and your soul just might be part of my stew if you don't take your trivial issues to someone else! Geroff my lawn!"

At that threat, the king blanched and called his guards to him. They left immediately. Upon his way back, the king stopped by a cobbler. When he explained his problem, the cobbler measured his shoes and his feet, told him, "Oh, they're jus' fitted wrong," and fixed them in five minutes. The King never spoke a word to anyone of how his shoes had been fixed.

And that is the story of the King and the Witch of Eight Great Sins.