It's easy to hate something, or someone, when you are lied to your entire life about that thing, or person, by someone who hates them, or is very jealous of them. So when this kid, barely into their teens, confronts Wraithvine with a head filled with the lies they were told their entire young life, well, what's a caring, fairly kind, wizard to do? -- Anon Guest
Even the organisations with the best of intentions have their dropouts. They try their best, but some people are just determined to never accept certain things. A prince, old enough to know luxury and believe in the promise of inheritance, did not take kindly to the generosity of the Honour Guard.
Prince Faustin didn't like an absence of privilege, and ran away from the Honour Guard as soon as he could. He fell in with similar young blades who felt themselves badly done-by in the world.
They each had their complaints, but it all boiled down to every single one of them not being handed whatever they wanted on a silver platter. Money, power, fame, or the attention of those they desired. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that they were wont to blame everyone but themselves for what they believed to be missing.
"Elves," said one of them. "Don't get me started about Elves. Far too perfect with their perfect skin and their perfect hair and their perfect grace. Too snobby by far for anyone who's not an Elf." The lad speaking was Human, and had not invested much time into self-care. Not even the basics like brushing his hair or his teeth. And especially not bathing on a regular schedule.
"I know one Elf I'd like to get rid of," growled Prince Faustin. "It ruined everything. Got my dad killed. Got mother exiled. I haven't seen any of my brothers and sisters since I got dragged off to the alleged 'honour guard'."
"Weak-willed do-gooders who ruin everything, them. They destroyed my da's business. He was just giving people jobs and making goods at competitive rates. Once they were done wrecking the economy, there was nothing for nobody." He did not mention that the business in question had laid an entire fertile valley to waste. "If all everybody does is give things to people who never earned it, then there's no motivation to get any better or do any better."
"You know who started the so-called 'honour guard'?" wheedled Prince Faustin. "Same creature that ruined my kingdom and made me an exile. Same Elf who's likely turning maidens away from good lads like our Norvin."
Now the group turned towards him. There was nothing like an audience for a Prince. It may yet make him believe he could rebuild his kingdom. Starting here.
"I'm talking, of course, about the malevolent plague on this world known as... Wraithvine."
They didn't start with the immortal wizard. For a start, they couldn't find hir. They went after far easier targets. Roaming players who portrayed the legendary Elf. Theatre people who did the same. An author or two who wrote tales about hir.
With each death, they gathered more followers. With each terrible massacre, they gained more fame.
There were always people who thought they were done wrong by the kind who did the right thing.
Prince Faustin's fame burned brightly and fast. Like any wildfire, his movement spread quickly. Like any wildfire, it was doomed to burn out. Especially when confronting a Wizard who had eons of experience.
None of them came to harm. That simply was not Wraithvine's way.
They came to a labyrinth of confusion. A realm that would not let them escape without confronting their own truths. One that would not let them free until they accepted the answer to one question:
Why are you really so upset?
They could have anything they needed in there. Food. Water. The companionship of others like them. There were even beds in which to rest. The one thing they did not have and did not want was the truth.
They were really upset because they were all spoiled brats who never worked for a single thing they got. They were upset because the world didn't gift them anything, tantrums or not. They were angry because the world they wanted was not, in any way, reality.
They were cross because screaming and crying had stopped working.
Those like Prince Faustin are drawn to a special doorway before they could cause any damage. It has words over the lintel. Enter me for what you deserve.
Some get out, changed men and boys alike. Many remain until their dying day.
The world does not miss them.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / koya979]
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