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Fourteen Sages

A folk tale of Westerland


Westerland is a place of impenetrable swamp and rocky coastline, with the great city of Marienburg as the only real settlement of any size. Marienburg is ruled by a small number of fabulously wealthy merchant families - an elite who derive their power from the oppression of the poor. This inequality breeds resentment and anger, and some of this anger is channelled into songs and stories lampooning the rich and the powerful. This particular story is probably one such satire. I believe the eponymous sages to be thinly-disguised caricature of important citizens, but the passage of time has rendered their true identities a mystery.

Even so, the Fourteen Sages of the story are a real formation of rocky outcroppings to the south of the city. Having visited them in the course of my travels in Westerland, I can say with some certainty that they are an entirely natural landmark. - JWG


In Marienburg, the greatest city in our province of Westerland, in our Glorious Empire, and in the world as we know it, there was a certain merchant named Crught. Now, this merchant was very rich, and employed many people in the city and beyond. So great was his influence that the Elector of Westerland deferred to his wisdom, and even the distant Emperor in Wurtbad[1] paid him tribute. Crught had everything a man might reasonably want, yet still he sought more. He had power, but he wanted the title to go along with that power. He wanted to become Elector. Rich though Crught was, this was a difficult undertaking, and even a treasonous one. He thought long and hard, and for many years, but at last he was forced to admit that he did not know how to go about achieving his goal.

Then one day, a man came to Crught's great palace, near where the Nievalt joins the Reik, seeking audience. This man was short and wiry, with a curious glint to his eye and a spring in his step that belied his apparent age. He gave his name as Powodzenie, and the idea that he proposed to Crught was this: "In this city," he said, "there are fourteen men of surpassing knowledge, skill and imagination. Call them all together, at the promise of some great reward. These fourteen men together will find the solution to your problem."

And so Crught did as the man suggested, and he called together the fourteen sages of Marienburg.

Keque was a lawyer, very learned in the intricacies and insanities of the law. He seldom slept, but roamed the taverns and the guildhalls, day and night, listening in on conversations. Whenever he heard something that might be thought of as a legal question, he would offer his interpretation of the law, in the manner of a priest relaying the divine commandments of his god. Keque was always right, because he had a peculiar yet common form of deafness - he heard only what he wanted to hear, and thus he heard only praise for his knowledge and dedication.

Ghevanno Wolteniens was a loud man, big of voice and angry of manner. He thought himself a great authority on things military, though he had never been to war, and a great artist, though he had little to show in proof. He loved to argue above all else - his method was to shout at his opponent, and to ridicule them when he did not shout. In this way he thought to bring others around to his point of view. And though he was not often successful, still he thought himself important and respected, and thus he was happy.

Rempi Fogrelia was an artist, and a good one too. His works were much-discussed in the bitter-rind dens along the waterfront, even if they were considered unsuitable for viewing by those of nervous temperament. But he was not prolific, and nothing new had been seen from him for many months.

Kismadi was the oldest of the fourteen, and the most talkative. He alone had met each of the others in earlier days, and knew many of their secrets. Indeed, he knew many things about powerful people across The Empire, and some say his considerable fortune originated in blackmail.

Nearl Leghmoster was advisor to the Elector on matters of strategy. He had masterminded the Nordland Conquest[2], which he cited as a great victory but was called farcical by most. His lengthy discourse on the proper composition and use of an army was a required text at the university, but was often criticised as a simple compilation of the works of others.

Daifry had been a soldier, fighting for the Elector in barbarous places. He had won glory in plenty, but was old now, and too fond of the sound of his own voice. As he would tell anyone who would listen, and at great length, he was an expert in all manner of tactical ploys, and a genius as siegecraft.

Goralica was a Tilean scholar, and an author of the Tedirian school. He wrote great works of epic fiction - gripping tales, and well-told, but of such crushing length that few could ever finish them. Goralica himself saw no reason to draw his stories to a close. He was content to continue in the same tale forever, endlessly adding characters and plotlines while resolving nothing.

Skarfus Fuspire was also a writer, though he thought himself a strategist too. He had written much, but some of it was shallow as a puddle, some of it empty as a bubble, and the rest of it clumsy as a drunken beggar. Still he thought himself a clever man, and a learned one, never knowing that professors and generals laughed behind his back wherever he went.

Vilcan was the youngest of the group, and as a result he was the most eager to impress. He could speak with enthusiasm on any subject, and even though his knowledge rarely matched his passion he was hard to dislike. Yet there were dire rumours that his youthful innocence was just an act, serving only to conceal his murderous ambition.

Ringbi was a skilled engineer - he built many wonderful engines and mechanical contraptions, and he decorated them with much artistic skill. But he fixed his prices far beyond what any normal person could afford, and the materials he used were shoddy and often stolen.

Hyppygompi took the works of writers and artists, and arranged them in ways that were appealing to the eye and pleasant to the soul. He owned the Marienburg Herald, and used his position as editor to attack those who crossed him with the harsh weapon of satire.

Tamchan was an old friend of Crught's. Like Crught, he was a successful merchant, but Tamchan also thought himself a skilled tactician. He was often to be seen at the university, peddling some new treatise on the proper use of artillery or the best method for driving off harassing cavalry. Few listened, because the ideas were either unoriginal or impractical.

Magnub was short, round and bearded, and had made his fortune from goldmines in Averland and the Border Princes. Those who had tried to set up in competition with him had found that their wells ran dry and their food deliveries were hijacked by bandits. He was a master of economic warfare, turning bustling colonies into ghost towns and merchants into beggars.

Zak was a famous critic. He was always present when a new play opened, or a book published, or an exhibition begun. And he was always ready with a cruel word or a cutting phrase, because more than anything he loved to belittle the efforts of others.

And so the fourteen sages were assembled in Crught's dining hall, and they partook of a vast and expensive meal, and consumed an enormous quantity of the finest Bretonnian wine. When the meal was over and each man sat with a brandy, contemplating his full stomach, Crught asked them his question. How might a man go about supplanting the Elector without exposing himself to danger?

The result was pandemonium. Each of the fourteen had his own opinion on the correct answer, and each declaimed it loudly. And of course, each was different. Time wore on, and still the sages harangued each other, decried each other; championing their solution as perfect while dismissing those of the others as feeble and unworkable.

Crught could stand it no longer, and fled the dining hall for the peace of his solarium. Waiting for him there was Powodzenie, a knowing smile upon his face. "What use are these men to me?" screamed Crught, "Whatever question I ask them I receive fourteen different answers!"

"Ah, but I was expecting this," Powodzenie replied, "and I have prepared the solution to your problem. And indeed, the solution is a solution." He drew out a phial of pale blue fluid and handed it to Crught, "Put this into their brandy, and their minds will become firm and immovable as mountains. You will have the answer to your question then."

So Crught called a servant, and the blue fluid was added to the drinks of the sages. Crught called a toast, and all fourteen men drank at once... and at once, something began to happen. Each man halted in his movements, like a man rigid with recent death. Greyness flowed across their skins. Before Crught's horrified eyes, the fourteen sages of Marienburg turned into blocks of stone.

Word spread quickly through the palace that evil magic was at work, and all of Crught's servants and soldiers fled out into the night, leaving him alone with the silent rocks. Only Powodzenie remained, his face now crooked as a devil's. "Well now, my work is done. The fourteen sages are of one mind now, though it is a mind of granite. To you my friend goes a special privilege. You are coming home with me."

And so Powodzenie took Crught down into hell[3], and the palace burned to the ground that same night. Only the fourteen stones remained, out where the Nievalt meets the Reik. And there they shall always be.



[1] This story is clearly set at a time when the Imperial Crown rested with the Electors of Stirland. This must surely have been after the Otillian Secession from The Empire, but before the collapse of the Electoral system in 1979.

[2]Westerland and Nordland have a long-standing antipathy, and have often engaged in small-scale conflicts, many of them naval. In either province, one can meet nobles who spuriously claim lands in the other - most notably the Nordland Elector's assertion that he is Prince of Marienburg, which is both absurd and unsupported.

[3]It is generally assumed that 'Powodzenie' is intended to be some form of demon, but I suspect that he is in fact a more powerful entity - perhaps the devil-god that some call 'the Changer of Ways.'