Lore: One True King's Journal
These are the words and thoughts of the One True King, ruler and protector of this world and all the Fae, as transcribed by Leywise the Scribe. I put these thoughts to pen so that, if something should befall me, the Fae might still have some chance at survival, if they would but heed my wisdom.
I will say it plain: the Fae are not fit to rule. I do not speak from hubris or contempt. It is a simple fact. If the Fae were to rule the Fae, chaos and destruction would inevitably follow. They are a volatile decoction, most suited for entropy and act best when guided toward some predefined purpose. As their eternal protector and the guardian of this world, it is my life’s duty to provide the world safe harbor from both external threats and from the Fae themselves. It is my duty to protect the Fae from their own worst proclivities.
I record these thoughts, then, as a history of the Fae for the Fae’s own sake. For no being exists who knows them and loves them as well as I.
The Birth of the Fae
I did not create the Fae. On this point, I must be clear, for my words may be easily misconstrued. I have watched over this world since the first mote of it existed, but I am as much a product of its creation as the Fae and everything else.
The Fae came later, birthed of a storm and vigorous from the start. Powerful winds leveled rock and tree that night. Lightning struck fields and turned them to ash. When the storm passed, it left both life and destruction in its wake. I thought the Fae animals at first, predators perhaps, for they hunted and killed with no small skill. Yet as I watched, I realized they hunted more for sport than need. They would often pounce on a kill, eviscerate it, then leave the corpse to chase the next one. It was the chase they hunted more than the prey.
I do not know nor understand what sort of entity would create such beings. I cannot fathom the thinking of a creature so powerful that worlds to them are like songs—created, performed, then cast aside to make room for the next. What I did understand was that if I did nothing, the Fae would destroy every living thing and themselves, until I alone remained, guarding an empty sphere.
If, indeed, even I survived their predations.
So, I interceded. From me, they learned to stand, to speak, to dream. But try as I might, I could not shift their nature. Thus, I too learned from them. I learned what it means to rule the unruly. I learned that evil can only be subjugated through cruelty, and that the wild cannot be tamed if they do not wish it. I, now, am subjugated to them as much as they are to me, for were I to leave them for but a moment, the devastating storm that birthed them would surely, in some form, return.
I fear that my words will be construed as petty condemnation, but I assure you, there is nothing petty about the Fae. Read on and gain wisdom
The Craft of Responsibility
I established roles for the Fae, responsibilities—rewarding them for good performance and punishing them for a lack. This is how they will learn, I thought, through structure and duty. Once they see their work has value, they will be all the more devoted to it.
For some, this was indeed the case. My counselor Nimue, while not Fae, still took to her role splendidly, as did certain members of the Council. But these proved to be exceptions.
I made one an architect. For centuries, she crafted the most glorious structures for her people—gilded pillars and marbled halls. Yet she also crafted devious traps and tombs to ensare[sic] and murder the unwary. I could not stop her. She gloried in it! And though all she created was truly beautiful, so much of it was deadly as well.
Or my chef... I first encountered him slaughtering livestock and decorating the trees with their entrails. The kill was not enough for him. He needed the sights, the smells, the tastes. I thought perhaps he might take to the artistry of cuisine, and indeed he did! But if I am not careful—if even once I accept a plate from his kitchen without asking its origins—I will find myself feasting on intelligent flesh, sometimes even that of his fellow Fae. I know, for it has happened... many times.
You may think these examples anecdotal, unrepresentative of the whole. Surely you, dear reader, can repress your foulest impulses. I assure you, the opposite is true, for I have story after story of my beloved Fae children who inhibit their predilections only to stay out of trouble, only so long as they believe I am watching. Even good Leywise here would turn—does turn—his craft to diabolical contracts, tricks, and even murder when he thinks I am not looking. Yes, he laughs even as he writes this, for he knows the truth.
The Fae are a good people, or can be, but not without one to watch over them and care for them. This has been proven to me many times over centuries and centuries.
And never more than with those closest to me, as I will tell you now.
Dreams and Nightmares
All of the Fae are violent chaotic creatures, and I have contained each one within spheres in which they are useful. And to the most powerful were given the most critical burdens—to make the best use of their abilities but even more so that I could watch more closely over them. For even among the Fae—a dangerous and tumultuous people to begin with—there are those who pose a threat as great as the storm that birthed them.
There is the goddess of dreams, the so-called Nightweaver. Hers is a necessary task, for the volatility of the Fae permeates their very dreamscapes, threatening to leak into the waking world. The Nightweaver is adept at her work, guiding the Fae through pleasure and passion and sorrow. But I can see her true desires as clearly as my own, her penchant toward fear, her taste for the darkness. Her, I must watch over constantly, lest the Fae suffer night and day—lest she find joy in their terror.
And there are others... the Council member who would murder the other two if she thought she could get away with it; the mixed child and his mother, one safely subjugated, one who I fear will never be; the advisor who plots against me—even now, even knowing such plots are in vain.
Given half a chance, any of these would grind their brethren under their heel. These of all the Fae must remain closest to me at all times.
What Must Become of the Fae
There are those who accuse me of tyranny—of cruelty and oppression. They are not wrong, for without an iron fist, the Fae will destroy themselves and all around them. Left to their own devices, they would consume everything, leaving a dying husk of a suffering world collapsing in on itself.
They delude themselves, as if I don’t know what they’re plotting or what they speak about behind closed doors. My closest confidant thinks I know nothing of his intentions to destroy me and take my place, but that is why he is closest to me—so that I know his intentions best of all.
By my own laws, and bolstered by the power of this world, I cannot be killed—not by them, not by any means they have available to them. Yet I fear this one in particular will find a way. All of the Fae are obdurate and savage, but my dear counselor is infinitely clever as well. If a way can be found, he will find it.
And if I am destroyed, this world will not survive his rule. That is why my words must be recorded and these secrets known. There are those among the Fae capable of the wisdom to see within themselves and the strength to change what they find. It will require a tight rein and a selfless resolve, but it can be done.
I pray to whatever being created us that I am not wrong in this. For if the Fae are incapable of change, then we are, all of us, truly doomed.
Update History[edit | edit source]
April 23, 2024 Patch (Patch 417,127)
- UNDOCUMENTED: Changed wording to "My counselor Nimue, while not Fae, still took to her role splendidly, as did certain members of the Council." was ("My counselor Nimue, for example, took to her role splendidly, as did certain members of the Council.")