#author's work

A True Beast

The Knight stood hesitant in front of the beast. It was huge, way bigger than what he was told. “Go slay the beast”, they said. And “save the princess”, they added. 

He was given a sword, and an armor. They wrapped him up in red and purple drapes, the colors of the kingdom. A cloth so rich in hue, and so finely woven, he doubted he could see something like that ever again. Not in a year, not in a decade, not in his lifetime. Then, they put in his hand a wooden shield, and they gave him a map. They shrugged and said “now go”. And then they all walked away. 

The kingsmen, the noble knights, the heads of treasure, the functionaries. Not only one brave enough to go save the girl. They were nothing more than a malassorted group of rich braggarts. “Well, we do not have the time,” they excused themselves, raising their hands with a fake sorry face. “Who will make sure all the money stays in its place?” They cried, with fake worry painted on their brows. 

And so they had put on a poster. A fancy piece of paper, that promised a sum of money, such that most people had never known a number so high.

They got into the streets, and read it aloud, yelling and promising. Then, they grabbed the first boy they could find. One who hadn’t even grown a beard yet.

And they clothed him, and sent him to fight. And he never came back.

So they put on another poster, this time even more decorated. The sum underneath, doubled. Or at least they claimed it as such, because no one could really read what the poster said. They had to trust them, as they were rich, and literate, and knew better. 

Again they got in the streets, yelling and promising, and begging someone poorer to go in their place.

This time they grabbed an old man. “You have more experience,” they claimed. And so he too was clothed, and he too was sent to fight. And he did not come back either.

The third time, they put the poster on a fine cloth. “Silk”, they said. “From the far east”, they agreed. “It cost the King a fortune,” they ended. The sum underneath, tripled. 

And again they went, yelling, promising, begging on their knees for someone else to go die.

This time they chose him, a farmer. So they clothed him too, and gave him a map, and then they went to prepare another fancier poster, for when he too did not come back.

“Why should I go?” he asked before they could disappear at the end of the street. “Because you are brave,” they answered. Because we are too scared to go ourselves, they said on the inside.

“But I am not a knight.” he said, again. “Now you are”, they answered, placing a sword on his shoulders. We don’t care, as long as you are not rich, they thought to themselves.

“I do not know the way.” he objected. “You will see it by yourself when you get there,” they answered with a kind smile. We do not know it either, they said among themselves, darkening their faces. 

“How big is the beast?” he wondered loudly. “Not that big, you will find it smaller than you think.” they asserted, so sure of themselves. It is so big that you can’t even imagine, but if we tell you that, you will remain here for sure, they whispered quietly.  

“Now go and don’t ask anymore questions,” they said finally. And then they abandoned him to his fate.

Now the newly made Knight, stood in his shiny armor, and in his colored drapes in front of a being so enormous, he could not see the end of it. The tail was longer than the longest of streams, and the head bigger that the richest castle. His body alone was the size of a mountain, and his claws were deadly spears. 

“Hello”, said the brave Knight. “I am a Knight, and I am here to kill you, and save the princess.”

“No, you are not.” The beast answered. “You are a farmer, and you are here because you were told.”

“They made me a knight,” the brave Knight insisted, “and I am here to kill you and save the princess.”

“You are a farmer, who is dressed as a knight,” the beast answered. “But if you want to kill me, by any means, you should try.”

“I will,” said the brave Farmer, “because I am brave. I will fight you if it is necessary.”

“You are not brave,” the beast said. “But they are cowards, and for sure you are braver than them. Kill me, and I will not fight.”

This time the Farmer who-was-less-of-a-coward-than-others did not answer. Instead he ran, with his sword unsheathed, right in front of him. He hit the beast, and the sword broke.

“I failed,” the Farmer said. He was very scared. “Now you can eat me.” he added, defeated. “Just don’t eat the princess, but  please wait until someone else better than me can slay you.” And he braced himself for his inevitable end.

The end did not come. Instead the beast laughed. “The princess is safe,” it said. “And you will be too. Just go east, as east as you can,” it added. “She is a good queen, and her kingdom makes fine silk.”

And so the Farmer went that way, walking the same path as the young boy and the old men. And later a blacksmith joined him too, and a widow, and many many others. 

And after them, came the King, the kingsmen, the noble knights, the heads of treasure and the functionaries.

“Oh mighty beast,” the King begged on his knees. “If we walk east and leave you alone, will you spare us?”