Banquet of the Elite

By
Carmine DeStefano

There was a small town outside a smaller countryside of Europe many years ago that had given access to
many cultures from surrounding areas both inside and outside the continent. The initial idea for the town
called, after a rough translation from its rather elder form of language, “Open Arms” was for the natives
and foreigners to live in peace. For many years, the bright aspiration appeared to have worked out
perfectly as all the inhabitants enjoyed being one with each other while separate from one another.
Generations had passed under the same principals and those who had taken charge some forty years
after the town’s doors were first opened no longer appreciated their foreign neighbors. Many crimes had
been committed by those who were desperate, not getting a fair piece of the economic pie their ancestry
once enjoyed earlier in the settlement. Since those crimes were charged against those of darker skin, wilder
cultures, and more bizarre religious practices, the ones calling the shots twisted the facts to form
propaganda insisting that public displays of criminal punishment be induced.
For several more years, many of those not originally aligned with the primary inhabitants of the land
were reduced to beatings, unfair prison sentences, cruel treatment inside prisons, and ultimately faced death
penalties that were severely inhuman. Those that passed down these judgments enjoyed watching what
was becoming the dwindling minorities along with their families, all of which either started the claims that
these people were destroying the town or fully believed in them.
With many honest citizens having such a hard time living as themselves, there were some that were sent
out to call upon their distant relatives from their native homes to overwhelm the population with their
numbers. Seeing as how the town was still based on democratic vote, it was thought that the town
government would have no other choice but to hear their pleas had they practically overrun the area with
their own groups. What resulted was a rewriting of the town charter that denounced voters whose lines
could not be traced back to the original founders some one hundred and fifty years earlier; leading to a
complete debacle in the outsiders’ voting rules all together.
Thousands of immigrants crammed into the small town in search of resolution and received nothing but
rejection. Their people were being picked apart piece by piece by a ruling mob whose only advantage over
them was their ability to remain composed as a governing body simply because of their laws and their long
standing in the town. The outsider class got together in underground passages to discuss what plans they
could make for a better future. Most of those that gathered decided initially that it would be best to return
to their homelands and forget the whole mess even happened. However, it was soon after decided that
doing so would allow their enemy to win in the brutal bickering contest going on whose beginnings had
become hard to trace. Instead, the group thought it best to use their mass and start a revolution against
those taking advantage of them by force.
What was once a land built on peace became a cesspool of hatred, anger, violence, and a mob form of
civil war. Hundreds upon hundreds on both sides died due to the conflict leaving many bodies out in the
street symbolizing the hell that had become of a once beautiful idea. The fighting lasted for a few more
years with neither side-the natives or the freedom fighters-giving an inch to the other’s demands.
Both lead speakers of the ruling bodies (a young idealist named Goltho Nash and an older war veteran
from the Southern realm of the world known simply as Sudu-Kae) slowly started to understand how their
actions would lead to nothing but pain for their people. Each new day wrought only more death and
destruction to the town’s foundation rather than answers to the core problem. Both privately yearned for
some kind of help from a source they were not sure would ever answer their call.
One early evening, their came a loud rumbling from the hill leading up to a large, thought to be
uninhibited castle that served mostly as a background than anything else. A group of five powerful horses
led a carriage dressed in gold and silver down the hill right outside the large wooden gates protecting the
town from the unknown Northeast forest. The two men standing guard on top of the gate were astounded
by the shining jewels covering the carriage; jewels so abundant and extravagant, they glimmered even after
the sun went down. Immediately, the guards opened the gates and allowed the driver of the horses-a little
old man with blue silk knickerbockers, a blue velvet jacket, freshly shined black shoes, and a triangular hat
made of the same material in his jacket-into the town they had kept closed from his area since it was first
built.
Those who had been arguing in the street stopped suddenly while the horses slowly tipped their hooves
into the town square. The carriage parked between both warring sides lined across from each other before
the little driver went to open the passenger’s door. After the door was opened, the driver stood beside it
and waited while the anticipation of the townspeople increased to incredulous levels. When none of those
watching the display thought they could stand it any longer, the driver finally cleared his throat.
“Good evening all of those here in the great town of Open Arms”, the driver proclaimed in his high
pitched voice. “I wish to present to you all a friend who wishes to discuss the situation that has been
bothering him for years. I give you: Lord Cloverfast.”
With a strong pound, a black leather boot fell onto the first step followed by a man draped in flowing
blue robes that appeared to be filled with unending amounts of layers. His hair was as black as the night
atmosphere, his eyes large, brown, and piercing though not aimed at anyone paying audience to him. He
stood tall, with his right arm folded inside the golden trim outlining his chest from behind his head and
down to the ground it fell onto. Lord Cloverfast’s intensity had been nearly overwhelmed by his height: a
strong six feet plus above a group of people very seldom growing higher than 5’10” themselves. There
wasn’t any kind of gigantism mutating his looks despite his height, however; Lord Cloverfast simply
looked like a common man walking atop stilts.
The townspeople crowded around Lord Cloverfast while he stood before them, still not making any
movement after exiting his carriage. He waited for everyone to accompany him: even those sitting in their
houses that needed the crowd to grow to a high enough volume to be blocking the view outside their
windows. What Lord Cloverfast wanted to say had to be heard by all for leaving his words to hearsay may
lead them into the realms of gossip, which was only for old women telling tales.
As the many different groups came together merely to hear what their awe-inspiring guest wanted to tell
them, Lord Cloverfast held his right hand up high. Those who had gathered quickly ceased their idled
whispering and speaking amongst each other as Lord Cloverfast demanded their attention. “I have come
down her from the mountains because I have felt the pain of this town growing by the years,” he introduced
in a powerful, yet non-threatening voice. “This land was once a kind and gentle land that welcomed
understanding as its true ideology. It appears now that none of the beliefs passed down from your
forefathers exists anymore due to your newest vice known as ignorance. All that has happened here must
be accounted for by those who speak for all of you. I wish to see them now, here where I stand, in front of
all of you. They must answer for their refusal to break this great siege of hate they and those before them
have constructed.”
No one seemed to be capable of even wriggling nervously in their spot as fear of what could become of
them had they been thought of to be those in charge paralyzed them. Every member of the town had been
raised in a community where insolence in any form would result in a public death brought about by torture
as means to use for a deterrent that never came into play. They had nothing convincing them that this
stranger from a separate area would go so far out of his way to announce his disproval in something
without viciously punishing those he felt were behind it.
The two main spokesmen of the rivaling groups had gotten their positions through showing signs of
courage, which made them come forward for the rest of the people. Goltho and Sudu-Kae walked
cautiously towards Lord Cloverfast expecting the worst but hoping for something not so bad. They stopped
within a strong breath of Lord Cloverfast and lowered their heads in deep respect, as well as paranoia.
They hadn’t the slightest clue what Cloverfast wanted from them but could see the extent of his
disappointment in the sinister lowering of his brow after they made themselves known.
“Are you two young men the reason behind this horrific battle taking place here?” Lord Cloverfast
demanded.
“We are those who stand for our people and have, in turn, been nominated to speak for them kind sir,”
Goltho immediately replied trying to gain favor from the Lord.
“And what is your purpose, young man?” Lord Cloverfast requested, referring to Sudu-Kae who still
barely even maneuvered his eyes from off the ground.
“I speak for those who most desperately need a voice,” Sudu-Kae spoke powerfully while he slowly
raised his head to face Lord Cloverfast in an attempt to turn him against his and his people’s enemies.
Every member of the freedom fighters standing behind the main group of natives at the square and their
families rose in a loud cry of revolution immediately following Sudu-Kae’s statement. They all shouted
together and raised their arms high in the air as Sudu-Kae stared deep into Lord Cloverfast despite his
apparent unhappiness with the reply. So many who had left from their farming still carrying their tools
banged them against the ground to add to the noise of those who had been forced into silence for so long.
Sudu-Kae started to believe that their time to demolish the hundreds of natives using their lineage to take
advantage of them had finally come.
 After the freedom fighters made their numbers and support of Sudu-Kae known, Lord Cloverfast again
lifted his right arm in the air. “Silence!” he shouted above the crowd; his voice ringing louder than that of
nearly three thousand in unison. Upon his call, the entire group of revolutionists became quiet in such a
short span of time, it would have been previously thought of to be impossible had it not been witnessed
then. “There is still a great division between two groups, neither of which should think any more of
themselves or their cause. Whatever has been going on here will stop right now or this town will be lost
forever. The choice is yours.”
Both those deemed strangers to the town and the natives rose scores of private discussion after the
ultimatum had been presented and, for the time being, the fighting gave way to the inhabitants talking
everything over amongst their friends and families.
Lord Cloverfast looked out above every member of the town while rubbing his chin pensively with his
thumb and forefinger. He then turned to Sudu-Kae and Goltho, who remained standing before him both
humbled and intimidated by what their guest had already been able to do. It amazed them how simple
words by a man none had ever seen before could bring about a few moments of non aggression while they
and their recognized ancestors struggled for years just to prolong an even greater struggle.
“I might not be fully informed about what has been going on around here, but I see there is a terrible
debate between your people and yours; both sides stating their disagreements differently,” Lord Cloverfast
deduced privately with Sudu-Kae and Goltho.
“If it would please you, Lord Cloverfast, why don’t you question the great leader of the natives, since
they’re the ones who have started this battle for their own reasons,” Sudu-Kae showed animosity with his
suggestion.
Goltho flinched at the thought of this powerful character standing before him looking for answers in a
fight that had been going on since he was too young to understand its purpose. Having been an inhabitant
of martial law set up for survival of the primarily accepted, it would have been nearly impossible for
Goltho to explain the reason to someone who had pursued peace through means he was not yet in tuned
with. He feared that his inability to elucidate the constructed plight from his people would lead to him and
those of his bloodline being sent out of the home that was rightfully theirs by discovery.
Instead, Lord Cloverfast pointed to Sudu-Kae and, with a shake of his head, explained how it would
have been better for him to tell his side of the story first. Being given the floor, Sudu-Kae went on for
almost an hour about how many of his kind were killed in front of their weeping families simply because
they were different and the years they spent in hiding while the light skinned natives hunted them like
rabbits during the cold seasons. He verbally painted portraits of Goltho, who had always been rather quiet
almost to a timid quality, making him out to be this violent, malicious, slave for war just like his ancestry.
Having been born over ten years before Goltho, and being involved in fighting more than fifteen years
longer than the natives’ uncrowned prince, Sudu-Kae had seen Goltho’s father in action both on the
battlefield and in the courts. There were several details about Goltho’s father Munter that even Goltho
himself had never the misfortune of seeing.
“This is indeed very disturbing,” Lord Cloverfast decided after being given many ill factoids relating to
the entire Nash clan. “There is much we still must discuss, young man, and I invite you and any others of
your group to join me back at my castle to expand our conversation.”
Seeing nothing but deep interest in Lord Cloverfast’s demeanor, Sudu-Kae called to his most trusted
fellow fighters-five men from his homeland-to take the ride up to the castle with him. They all hurried into
the carriage with the great hopes that their problems would finally be settled and their best interests
completely satisfied.
Before heading back to his home with his esteemed guests, Lord Cloverfast looked crookedly at Goltho
and grumbled, “I will finish my talk with you upon my return.” He then fit himself in the remaining room
inside his carriage and ordered his old driver to ride back up the hill towards his castle. The little old man
jumped up on the seat behind the five horses and shrieked loudly for them to ride with great haste. The
carriage then spun and burst through the still opened gates and disappeared a couple hundred yards into the
unseen area of the windy hill.
Every native that saw Lord Cloverfast’s displeasure with Goltho gulped tremendous anxiety after he
swept off into the night. The freedom fighters still standing in the streets began to hoot and holler in an
uproarious celebration of a liberation they hadn’t yet won. Just the idea of their oppressors tasting true
justice according to their beliefs was enough for them to appreciate life too much to start another fight that
evening. There was no indication as to what would happen with Lord Cloverfast and his appointed guests
or when his resolution would be announced, but mostly those attending thought the next day held the
answers. Everyone slept in their homes that evening, but only the outsiders rested comfortably while the
natives rolled around wondering what would become of them.
As many thought, the next day brought about the same sort of entrance from the extravagant carriage
exploding down the hill outside the back gate of the town. What would happen after Lord Cloverfast
returned to them was still a great mystery, but the urgency of his horses’ gallop suggested he needed to
announce his meaning immediately.
Lord Cloverfast sprung out of his carriage, without his driver opening the door for him, and spread his
arms far out in the air. “There has been an agreement that will benefit everyone here in town,” he shouted
with glee, replied by an uncertain hush from the crowd. Everyone waited for him to go on with some kind
of doctrine that might be written down after he stated it, if it hadn’t been already. Instead, the company
surrounding Lord Cloverfast got a smile and an open invite to a great banquet: the largest banquet the town
had ever seen. That would be the first steps towards true peace: having every member of the town sit
together, talk amongst each other, break bread with one another, and share the terrific eats Lord Cloverfast
promised them. On the menu would be rare vegetables found only in the forest outside his own property,
the sweetest, finest brew that side of the continent, and a whole lot of meats to savor the immense appetites
of people who hadn’t the chance to fill themselves with so much fighting going on around them.
Although the conclusion to the Lord’s great mystery had been more of a puzzle than it was before, the
thought of being able to eat so much good food was enough for everyone to refrain further questioning.
None of those that had heard the announcement, either from the natives or the freedom fighters, cared much
about having to share with each other seeing as how it didn’t appear as though they had a choice. Lord
Cloverfast presented the banquet for all comers that were willing to let their differences aside even if it
were for just one night.
With the tremendous amount of food being advertised for so many people, all members of the
community pitched in with the preparations. Since no one was asked by Lord Cloverfast to bring anything
other than themselves, all the people had to do was put their tables together in as many rows as it took to
make room for almost four thousand. Those that helped were able to forget about the generations of hatred
passed down to all of them simply because of an idea that satisfied their gluttonous needs. People worked
together, talked to each other, laughed amongst each other all in the name of the banquet that those
attending considered to be only for an elite class set aside by Lord Cloverfast himself. His great devotion
to the well being of their town made them believe as though each individual was special in their own way
and, although they would have to put up with their enemies for an undisclosed length, in the end, he would
choose them to be spared from his punishment. Though there were thousands of smiles in the town, most if
not all of them hid their wicked aspirations of seeing what they thought didn’t belong being eliminated for
good.
When all of the preparations were made, Lord Cloverfast welcomed five other carriages through the
main gate, which carried the food he promised. Truly, there were pounds of produce the likes of which
none of the inhabitants had seen before, barrels of a brew that flowed almost with a creamy texture, and
fine looking meat that made everyone’s mouths water even before it had been set aflame.
The attendance celebrated the great feast with song, dance, and an excess of what their host had served
to all of them. Everyone had drunk until they could barely stand, ate near the brink of gorging to death, and
danced their limit before they lost all they had eaten. It was, without a doubt, the greatest celebration the
town had ever known, and the best part of it was they celebrated for nothing more than simply being alive.
It was a sight the great Lord Cloverfast, who sat at the head of the main table, truly enjoyed as he chuckled
the night away while the townspeople went on with their party seemingly aside from him.
As the night started to wind down, a few members of the freedom fighters approached Lord Cloverfast
hoping to talk him more on their side as well as find out where their leader had gone. They went to him
with their curiosities and Lord Cloverfast indulged them with another invitation up to his grand castle. He
kept everything he wanted to a secret as he dazzled each of the six that went to him with exaggerations of
each room his tremendous establishment housed and the history behind them. His ability to create such
interest had the six members begging him to take them back up to his castle that night after he had called an
end to the party. Instead of making them wait any longer, Lord Cloverfast willingly led them into his
personal carriage, where they were told only royalty had been before. They merrily jumped in their
designated places not caring about those they left back in town, having not told their families where they
were headed or when they would return.
Goltho, staying as far from the rest of the party as he could while still eating and drinking his share, kept
a keen eye out for Lord Cloverfast’s movements. When he saw the members of the freedom fighters be
taken up to Lord Cloverfast’s castle, he dropped the mug he had been drinking from in shock. He could not
believe that, once again, the Lord appeared to have placed the foreigners before him and his kind who were
the rightful inhabitants of the town. He didn’t make a big to-do about what he saw, fearing that doing so
would anger Lord Cloverfast into completely banishing him and his people right at that moment. What
Goltho did in his more intellectual manner was create enough distrust in Lord Cloverfast as he needed to
mark off anymore inexplicable practices he might get involved in.

A few days past before Lord Cloverfast returned to the town of “Open Arms”, and by then, whatever
little peace there was between the two sides had already diminished. Without any true form of strength in
leadership for the freedom fighters, the natives took advantage by setting up attacks and defusing the
morale of their enemies. Many houses were set afire, leaving outsiders to have to hide in caves around the
town simply to avoid being slaughtered or enslaved. Whatever positive effect Lord Cloverfast’s presence
was initially believed to create for the outsiders seemed to disappear upon his absence as their defenses
started weakening more so than they had since their resistance was set in motion. Once again, those that
were looking for redemption set up shrines in the name of Lord Cloverfast hoping his return would liberate
them from the war mongering natives. Their hopes and prayers seemed to be answered when his carriage,
along with the other five that accompanied him previously, emerged outside the back gates of the town.
When the outsiders who were left to running returned to the town at the sound of the welcoming horn
marking Lord Cloverfast’s arrival, they saw the tables set up as they had been for the first banquet. Again,
there was more mystery cloaking the intentions of the great Lord Cloverfast as he came back without the
six that went up to his castle with him the last time and refrained from answering any questions about his
decision towards what to do with the town. Instead, he was overcome with happiness at the sight of the
town fully accepting his unannounced return and the preparations made for him with little opportunity to do
so. According to Lord Cloverfast, the people of the town showed they could do anything if they put
together an effort that banishes all dissimilarities with one another.
There was much dancing and celebrating, in this instance all in the name of the Lord who sat upon his
mighty seat at the head of the table put together by the natives during their waiting for him. Everyone
shared in the joy of his company more so than when he first brought up the idea of putting together a
banquet; leaving less time for them to stuff themselves with food and brew beyond the point of
accountability. The vision from inside, in the perspective of the natives throwing the banquet, was one of a
marvelous spectacle worthy of a painting for all to see for thousands of years to come. For the outsiders
migrating back from the woods just outside what used to be their homes, what they saw was maddening,
sickening, and above all empty. It appeared as though there wasn’t any place for them inside this grand
feast despite the fact that they had been suffering more than anyone else inside the town.
Without designating a vote for a vocal, military type leader as they had before, several of the outsiders
that came together shouted out with anger, silencing the celebration that was going on. Everyone inside the
party began to fear what else the outsiders were planning to do now that their numbers were brought back
together and the natives were not ready to fight. After all of those keeping the foreigners away had been
frozen with fear, the foreigners ran to Lord Cloverfast, fell to their knees, and begged with their two
thousand plus different voices for the answers they had been looking for.
Lord Cloverfast rose from his seat carrying an expression of intense anger at the sight of rightful
inhabitants having to sneak back to their homes after an unwanted exodus to unsettled land. He heard the
many cries from the pitiful lot that had thrown themselves at his mercy and decided that something had to
be said in retaliation for the hurting masses. “All of you here who have dined and celebrated in the name of
peace still have much to learn about the meaning of the word,” he insisted. “Their people are also a part of
this town and must be shown the same amount of respect as you. Therefore, each one of them shall be
brought up to my palace where they will all enjoy pleasures the likes of which none of you will ever know
while you’re holding tightly around your petty disputes. I will take six of you back up to my palace with
me every day and, at the end of every month, I will return myself to see how this town has endured. If
there is no improvement upon the conditions, I will continue to take up six members of those foreign born
to my castle and return at the end of the month once again. Until all of you here learn how to evolve passed
your hate filled hearts, none of you will know of the splendors these before me will.”
His decrees, though somewhat cryptic, were solid, to the point, and impacted the natives more so than
any spoken from their town leaders of the past. Lord Cloverfast called for the carriages to open the doors
for six of the outsiders that came to him first in the pack and sent them back up the hill. Before he left the
town in his own personal carriage, he turned back towards the townspeople still standing in awe of what he
insisted, shook his head in disappointment, then hopped into the carriage before it took off. After he
disappeared, the remaining outsiders appeared to walk with more of a strut, feeling as though they had
become the ones chosen above all others of the personally assessed elite. Their cocky demeanor only
enraged the already hostile spokesman of the natives, Goltho, into ordering an attack that would drive the
remaining outsiders back into the woods where they crawled out of beforehand. “If that man wants to
choose you over us, then let him do it,” Goltho shouted in pure malcontent after he accounted for all of the
outsiders being chased back into their caves. “This is still our town and we will not have you try to
humiliate us in it. Let him favor you once every month, but while you’re down here with us you stay away
from the rest.”
His people followed the charge he led, though many of them wondered if such actions were the reason
they would not be a part of salvation like their outsider counterparts had been. It seemed strange to them
that someone of such high standing as Lord Cloverfast would welcome in the lower class of people who
overran a town that was never actually theirs primarily. Someone who owned land himself, like Lord
Cloverfast, should have appreciated that which their ancestry founded and welcomed others in to a certain
degree only to have it taken away from them. There had to be something that made him unhappy with the
natives of the land that appeared to be so content and at ease when they were left alone during the last
banquet. As had their leader Goltho before them, the rest of the natives decided to look deeper into the
actions of Lord Cloverfast while keeping an eye on his reaction towards Goltho himself. If there was
something about his decisions that kept the Lord from choosing them, they would have to challenge his
position amongst the people.
When Lord Cloverfast returned for the next banquet, he came with the same exuberant glory as he had
his last visit; apparently setting aside whatever differences arose when the foreigners complained to him
personally. They were still banished outside the town and, once again, gathered into the town when they
heard the celebration going on. The only difference was Lord Cloverfast had already been prepared for
them; especially the six he originally dictated he’d be gathering to take back up to his castle. None of the
outsiders chosen hesitated as they thought anything was better than how they were living much less the
inside of an extraordinary castle. The six were brought back with Lord Cloverfast without any of the bitter
drama that came about during his previous visit and all was returned to the way things were after he left.
Goltho and his minions chased the wandering foreigners back to their hiding places somewhere off into the
forest on the south side of the town to wait for the next elite six to be taken away.
As he had announced, Lord Cloverfast would come back to the town every month throwing large
banquets in great cheer over a celebration no one actually knew the meaning of. At first, there was much
debate among the natives about the Lord’s intentions with their town and his decision to choose the
outsiders above them to accompany him to his castle afterwards. However, as the months passed into
years, the population of the outsiders slowly dwindled into almost obscurity without any mention of their
names or whereabouts again. There were occasions when the outsiders would run amuck during the
celebration calling for answers as to where their group members had gone, but all were silenced after Lord
Cloverfast whittled visions of paradise only a few miles north in his home for those he brought with him. It
seemed to everyone on both sides, as the years wore on, that this eccentric Lord Cloverfast had brought
about a settlement between them they could have never decided on by themselves that benefited both
parties in the end. For the outsiders, they were given a chance at a perceived better life and the natives
were methodically getting rid of them for good.
While Lord Cloverfast pulled Utopian veils over the eyes of everyone else involved in the town, Goltho
still needed to get to the bottom of what had been going on. It didn’t appear to be fair that so many of his
family members died trying to restore a perfect existence for their people when all the town needed was
input from one man. Whether the town was becoming a better place due to the influence of Lord
Cloverfast, his seemingly flawless methods left a lot to be desired.
There was much more distrust between Goltho and Lord Cloverfast during the town’s tenth anniversary
of his arrival. It was announced proudly by Lord Cloverfast and many of the townspeople that they had
completely cleaned the town of Open Arms from outside influence following his eleven year plan that
wiped out their population by his hands or the unfulfilled of the foreign masses remaining picking up and
leaving on their own. Goltho caught a glance at many of the foreigners sneaking up to Lord Cloverfast’s
castle in the middle of the night only to be running off scared, grabbing their family members and escaping
deeper into the woods. Some of those that tried to find the wonders of his castle without an invite also
vanished like their predecessors: a peculiar fact that did not sit well with Goltho himself. His problem had
been solved without him needed to do much work, but simultaneously things didn’t seem right. Although it
didn’t bother him terribly that his town was taken care of, he still had the thought of what happened to
those that had vanished gnawing away at him. He was willing to leave well enough alone considering his
enemies were inexplicably eliminated until Lord Cloverfast made another important announcement.
“My friends,” Lord Cloverfast greeted during the end of the feast while tapping his glass with one of his
utensils to gather attention. “Your fight is finally over after those who tried to take your land had been
removed permanently from your home. It is a time of celebration for all of you, which will lead me to my
next great gift I present to each and everyone. I am going to open my castle doors to a select six of you
every month, which will be done at random. I assure you that all of you will see the salvation I hold in my
palace in due time, but the process will be slow and precise. Patience will undoubtedly become your
greatest virtue.”
The town rejoiced at what had been presented before them, forgetting how the promise of such salvation
was given to the now undiscovered freedom fighters that went with Lord Cloverfast only not to return.
Though many of those in attendance revered in the idea of being the true elite class selected to be by the
side of Lord Cloverfast, Goltho remembered how so much was offered to his enemies. He was not so
willing to forget the past as his fellow natives had apparently done over and over again since Lord
Cloverfast made his initial appearance. The Lord’s next odd twist was something Goltho took note of just
in case he needed to explain a reason for his people to keep him out of their town forever.

A month had come and gone since last the town saw him and, as he promised, Lord Cloverfast revisited
with carriages welcoming six special visitors to his estate. After their fine dining and celebration, Lord
Cloverfast announced which people would be going back up with him: six poor souls who were thought of
to be grown up handfuls simply because they were mentally incapable of acting their age. There hadn’t
been a way to understand these six individuals’ condition, so the townspeople pretty much ignored them
and their unique needs. According to Lord Cloverfast that evening, however, he went on about how they
were the first chosen of the many he would bring because they were so special. They had the same gifts as
everyone else but their being different in the way they are makes them appreciate their gifts unlike the rest
of the population.
With a wave of his hand, Lord Cloverfast called upon six mentally handicapped adults to ride up in the
carriages with him back to his castle. With a tremendous amount of glee, the six that were called upon
jumped into the passenger seats while Lord Cloverfast glided into his. The calls by the drivers were given
in unison and, with a loud crack of their whips, their horses raced back up the hill they came from.
All those left behind wondered with great anticipation how astounding everything would be inside the
Lord’s castle. They talked of how fortunate those they had considered to be the lowest form before had
been simply because they were able to take the trip first. Whatever had been set in place for them up in the
castle was too much for most of the inhabitants of the town to be able to bear during the indefinite duration
it would take before they saw it themselves.
Each month that Lord Cloverfast made his heroic entrance into town, there would be another celebration
of the ongoing peace in Open Arms. There would be a great feast, as usual, that began with a prayer for the
happiness spread throughout after the dire matter had been taken care of, then a brief period of song and
dance before the calling of the six. Upon every month there was a calling, those being taken were six
mentally handicapped adults heading to the castle with Lord Cloverfast, and none of them ever returned.
Once the very few born with mental inabilities had been taken, those with the physical handicaps were next
to be brought back to his castle. There weren’t that many who were home or chair bound due to illness or
birth defects and even fewer were bed reddened, so after the few months of extraction, Lord Cloverfast
began taking the helplessly uneducated.
There were a select handful of grown men who could never grasp the concept of reading, writing,
mathematics, or anything else that was required in the town’s farming. Many of them lived out in the
streets or wandered around the forests looking for scraps to pick off of; dwelling in the depths of a sorry
existence because the few teachers in the town hadn’t the patience to help them more than the larger
number of students. When Lord Cloverfast made his foremost appearance bringing food for thousands,
many of them round up from the shadows and the gutters just to get a morsel greater than what they were
used to. Being so caught up in the celebratory atmosphere, no one from town really paid mind to them
picking off meat bones and eating severed heads of vegetables. However, under normal circumstances,
those that were exiled due to their lack of benefit according to the common idea of the word were treated
with the same respect as spreading bacteria. Many of those found outside the back door of someone’s
house were chased off with a broom like an animal only to be forcibly returned to the bowels of town they
came from.
Those who were unable to educate themselves and left out in the dark were overjoyed to see they were
finally given a chance. There were only a few of them-ten to be exact and everyone in town knew their
names and what family they were disowned from-and after two months, the few of them were gone for
good. Again, seeing as how no one wanted anything to do with that band of people, their whereabouts after
being taken up to the castle was of no concern. None that were actually handpicked by Lord Cloverfast’s
were remembered in any way seeing as how those still in town considered it a tremendous load off.
The month following when Lord Cloverfast took the last remaining group of vagabonds from the town
back home with him, he welcomed aboard the elder states people. Everyone who had passed the age of
eighty, whether their condition was top notch or failing, were brought up with Lord Cloverfast to his
establishment. There were at least a hundred members of the town that fell under the latest dubbed
category of “worthy individuals”, some of whom were connected biologically to Goltho either directly or
indirectly. Either way, Goltho had become a lot more aware of the fact that Lord Cloverfast, whose age
and origins had yet to be revealed, was slowly making the town into a reflected image of himself. When
the last six of older people had been wiped clean from Open Arms, Goltho worried about what would be
considered “worthy” then.
With Lord Cloverfast ridding the town of elders, many of the people left began to understand the trend:
how those who travel to the castle with the Lord never return. It wasn’t as if his efforts were going
completely unrealized before, it’s just that those living in town were too preoccupied with the war amongst
the outsiders and had to get over their uncertainty as to what Lord Cloverfast was planning. After he had
gotten rid of that rival group, the others that succeeded them were thought of to be nothing more than lead
weights upon a, what should be, perfect society. Lord Cloverfast’s intentions of withholding his true
reason for the calling of separate groups did not have to be donned in such alluring ways. The people that
were left in the town believed they had truly become elite above everyone else and saw his apparent
beckoning of special people as proper methods to take in getting rid of what was unnecessary in their
utopia. Those that were handicapped in some way, the wretchedly poor, and the horrifically old contained
no real significance in maintaining the flow of the town. It was because of this idea that none of the people
in town blew any whistles when any of their own family members were called upon: they were becoming
tired of having to care for those specific types anyway.
Most of the town still celebrated without any hindrance of their bright emotions during the monthly
banquets even if their older family members were to be the next in line. Lord Cloverfast no longer treated
the matter with a great deal of prestige; he basically rounded up six people as if they were cattle into his
carriage and rode off with them.
Goltho was appalled as to how those he had tried to govern waved their hands at the thought of their
parents, grandparents, and great grandparents being carted off to their still unknown deaths. He saw the
entire process from the very beginning as the most disgusting act performed by anyone in the history of the
town, and it was being done by a person who should have had no say in what went on behind the tall gates
blocking Open Arms off from his land. The matter did not become extremely dire to Goltho, however,
until after the last six of the elders had been taken away.
During the banquet after the last of the six elders were removed completely, Lord Cloverfast rose from
his designated throne at the head of the main table with another group to be announced. He put his hands
up high in the air to gather the attention of all those feasting, who after his many years of cleansing
dwindled in numbers from almost one thousand to less than six hundred. “I have come to visit this land
many times in the last two decades and have seen a great deal of evolving from each and every one of you.
You all were nothing more than frightened cubs searching for some place to hide your heads in shame, and
now you have grown strong. You no longer fear for what might become of you and you no longer wait for
the world to hand you what you feel you deserve. Most of you are exactly what I hoped you could be in
every way, but there are some that still do not wish to strengthen themselves due to a great deal of
ignorance that could be traced back through their roots. It is because of this ignorance I must make my
final decision on who is to come with me to my castle and face their judgment,” Lord Cloverfast babbled
incoherently while the crowd looked on with great interest.
The sight of what was left of his great town hanging helplessly off of every last idiotic, inaccurate
statement this Lord Cloverfast spit out truly became the clearest picture in Goltho’s perception. He could
tell now that none of those around him had allowed any amount of sense to direct their higher level of
thought. Whatever little Lord Cloverfast did over the course of nearly twenty years, and whatever
happened to those he did it, had become more precious than diamonds to his naïve natives. Goltho could
tell that no matter what Lord Cloverfast said next, everyone sitting in this banquet would have carved it in
stone and hoisted it over their heads calling it the ultimate law.
With a hark upon his mouth and a wave of his hand, he summoned all of those whose hair and eye color
were of the lightest tones. Since Lord Cloverfast, and most of the population, had been of black hair,
brown eyes, and a dark complexion, anyone that could have been dubbed “albino” was the next in his list to
be taken up to the castle with him. According to Lord Cloverfast, they lacked the mental capacity to
understand what he and the rest of the town truly thought would make for perfect unity.
Six light haired, light eyed individuals of equally light complexion were then taken by the drivers, who
were assisted by those in attendance, into the carriages to be carted off forever. No one, not even those
related to the six, had the scruples to so much as shutter at the sight of six people being carried, dragged, or
pulled against their will: men and women alike. The scene was something that Goltho, despite the severe
change of heart by the rest of his people, had to turn away from since he knew his number would be called
earlier had he spoken against it.
Slowly, but surely, the townspeople started to slip into a haze of extreme self assurance, with those of
the physical characteristics not appreciated being the only exception. Everyone who shared the same
appearance as Lord Cloverfast knew they would be left while he extracted the remaining filth of the town
that, according to him, were the reason Open Arms had been incapable of finding true peace. The selection
process turned friends against each other, turned family members against their few dissimilar family
members. It was a picture of pure repulsion in Goltho’s eyes, which led him to call a town council he
entitled “The Council of Extreme Severity”. All the townspeople were brought to the center even though
the building itself was only put together to fit a maximum of four hundred. The remaining five hundred
plus somehow fit inside as they were all interested in hearing what their leader, whose role seemed to fall
into the realm of unnecessary during recent events, had to discuss with them.
Having everybody in town at the feet of the stage he spoke upon gave Goltho a surge of passion behind
his opinions. He wanted to sound just as boisterous, just as important, and just as sure of himself as Lord
Cloverfast had, believing that even he could bring back sanity in his fellow man using the wiles of the
Lord’s charisma against him. Dramatically, Goltho accentuated points he felt of high importance with
obvious hand gestures; instilling a flair about him his normal reluctance never had before. He insisted that
all those who are of the physical appearance Lord Cloverfast had suddenly turned against, as well as
anyone related to them, needed to stand up to him and stop this never ending round up of people he didn’t
like for reasons not fully specified. “We must not let another person foreign to our land bully us or
manipulate us into thinking things we wouldn’t have thought of in the past,” Goltho made clear. “This man
told us he was going to punish us because of how we treated the freedom fighters, then after they are pretty
much wiped out by his hands, he makes it seem as though he is some kind of hero succeeding in some great
scheme he never informed anyone about. Now he’s taking those that don’t have the same hair color as him,
the same eye color as him, the same skin color as him; turning us against our own native brothers and
sisters and feeding them to whatever lions he’s got up there.”
Great commotion came over the crowd after Goltho’s last remarks from advocates of both sides, albeit
rational or flat out senseless. Many that perceived themselves to be favored by Lord Cloverfast jumped
from their seats or stood forward from their standing room places waving their fingers at Goltho claiming
him to be a lover of ignorance; a supporter of all things that do not belong. Those who had already lost
members of their race battled feverishly against those opposing Goltho demanding that they all listen to
what had been said. What was supposed to have been a meeting of minds became nothing more than a
vocal frenzy of two extreme sides, none of which really wanted to get to the bottom of anything outside
each other’s throats.
The Council turned out to be a total bust as Goltho was left alone at the podium up on the stage while
each member of both sides ran off hollering profanities near the point of a brawl breaking out while
heading into their homes. Goltho sat down at the base of the stage and looked out towards the wreckage of
broken chairs caused by the tremendous amount of people pushing off their seats hotheadedly as their inner
convictions were being questioned by those they recently learned how to hate. He knew now that there was
no hope unless he did something to save what good was left of his town, though he wasn’t exactly sure
what it had to be. Goltho pulled himself from off of the stage floor and gave up any optimism of figuring
out anything worth getting involved in as he was still not clear what kind of strength Lord Cloverfast had
up in his castle. There wasn’t any plausible way of challenging the Lord either mentally or physically in
his own town for he knew most of the people were on his side. Though he knew his obligation as a leader
was for the benefit of his people, as a person he feared what would become of him had he tried something
drastic.
For months, Lord Cloverfast made his appearance in town just to serve his fantastic meal and bring back
six other insufficient people. Goltho watched in fear as more and more were taken of all ages detailing
how, aside from appearance, Lord Cloverfast had no prejudices with who would accompany him. Every
last blonde hair, blue eyed person in town was taken six at a time for the following few months, and none
were chosen based on surnames or relationships. There were instances when parents were chosen before
their children, children before their parents, partners chosen separately, siblings forced away from other
siblings, and other picking orders of different monstrosities.
There didn’t seem to be anything Goltho could do for his people, or at least any real reason for him to
take matters into his own hands, until the last of the pale skinned group had been totally wiped out. Lord
Cloverfast marked the end to that persecution by rising up from his chair before its celebratory banquet and
made it clear that his next, and final, group would be those that were somehow affected by the departure of
the ignorant. Those who shared some kind of resemblance, however small it was, to the last, therefore
making them unnecessary to the town as well. Lord Cloverfast then spoke of how those with hair and eye
colors even slightly lighter than the truly elite should no longer be a part of the town. They too had fallen
too far from the evolution of black haired, dark brown eyed people first inhabited the land and were, thusly,
the real chosen people to carry on Open Arms’ traditions and lifestyle. It was not left up to debate in
defense of this last group of unwanted souls; even an argument how the elite matched the description of
Lord Cloverfast himself.
When Goltho heard of the Lord’s last great insane remark, he pushed himself up off from the wall of the
house he leaned against and started barking out against the claim. The crowd that had gathered was already
causing a great ruckus between the few hundred picked and the few dozen outsiders left. Everyone in the
town currently, with Goltho being the only exception, had worked so diligently in preparing for Lord
Cloverfast and blindly heeding any calls he gave. Suddenly, none of those falling under his choice of
remaining ignorant inferiors mattered and they too were being turned against immediately after the Lord
made it seem better do to so.
Six members were pulled from the tables from under their chins by the overpowering drivers of all six
carriages brought down with Lord Cloverfast. None that were thrown into the carriages had ever noticed
how each one was built like a prison on wheels; equipped with bars on the openings on both sides as well.
With all of the scapegoating going on the last near twenty years, there wasn’t a soul that cared enough to
take note in the dense haze of night the distinct details of the carriages. The only thing that mattered to the
people remaining were those who were supposedly ruining their town had been gotten rid of for good.
With the six members locked away, the chosen people in town used whatever scraps of food they had
left from the banquet to throw into the bar slots through the windows while they taunted and accused madly
at the prisoners. All those who fit the description of the next in line to go started to creep back into their
houses hoping against hope that they would avoid harassment from those who knew full well where they
lived and worked throughout the course of each day. Although what had been left of the population in
Open Arms was a lot less than the number during its period of civil battle, the townspeople had become
more hostile towards their enemies, making the sight of the town all the more horrifying from the outside.
Goltho watched his beloved home begin to fall into an unruly mess of angry citizens lighting up torches
from the few burning candles to set houses on fire. Sixty or so brown haired, light eyed people were sent
scurrying away like rats while their darker counterparts raced them out into the forest as Goltho had led
during the extraction of the foreigners. He put his hands to his eyes, hiding the tears that stormed out from
their ducts as he could see himself doing the same to people no guiltier than the children, women, elders,
handicapped, and downtrodden before. It was a sight of pure madness and horror Goltho waited to be
brought about to him after the mob noticed his presence-especially his physical characteristics-once they
had completed their initial charge to remove all of his kind out of town.
Many returned to their houses without the energy to turn their aggressions to Goltho after their initial
removal of those less “evolved” than they. There were few that called him only to spit an obscene
comment, or even something more natural and disgusting, to him. Overall, Goltho realized his service to
the town, along with his forefathers, was enough to get him somewhat off the hook prior to his sentence to
Lord Cloverfast’s castle. He still had so many different uncertainties about the whole “sentencing” process
that needed to be discovered; especially now since his days were directly numbered. Goltho assumed that
if he uncovered something so ghastly in the Lord’s castle, maybe he could bring his townspeople back to
sagacity before anymore died in vain. He hoped now that his old leadership skills could form a charge
against Lord Cloverfast and whatever drones he had with him while there was still some time left for him.
Long before the sun rose, as well as long after the town had turned its lights out for the evening, Goltho
took up his necessary gear and headed out to Lord Cloverfast’s castle. He needed the proper footwear, a
rope, and a pulley to climb over the gate without stirring anyone nearby. After he threw himself over the
back gate without much trouble, or noise, he carefully stalked up the windy hill with enough speed to make
it to the castle door without morning even showing a hint of itself yet.
Goltho caught his breath while hiding behind a tree only a few steps from the castle, which became the
perfect lookout spot for him. From his vantage point, it was the first time he ever got to get a good view at
the castle closer than the usual distance, and with a better attention to its niceties than previously. It was an
eyesore in the greatest degree: built from grayish rock to form two plus stories of pure uninviting horror.
The windows were shaped in the traditional pointed top but were completely black, not showing any signs
of stain glass or even light from the inside. The door was dropped open to create a bridge used to cross
over the stinking, festering moat bubbling excessively loud around the bottom of the castle.
It alarmed Goltho more than surprised him that, even with the entrance wide open, there weren’t any
guards blocking the way. For some reason, Lord Cloverfast almost welcomed visitors into his domain
though the castle’s exterior would have suggested otherwise. Initially, Goltho assumed he was going to
have to plot out some intricate way of getting inside, but all he had to do was walk cautiously just in case
someone had been hiding behind the front entrance.
When Goltho entered the door, he became more terrified by the main hall, which was covered in
cobwebs and broken old sculptures that exclaimed a meaning far worse than simple lack of cleanliness.
The interior was practically pitch dark with the only faint glow emitting from the room across the large
staircase straight ahead of where he stood. Goltho’s chest started to pound like a hammer beating scalded
metal into shape once his sights caught a hint of what lied ahead.
No matter how careful Goltho took his steps, the bare granite floor’s dustings caught the soles of his
shoes to create a loud sweeping noise each imprint. He tried to cover it up by tip toeing, but even the front
ends of his feet could have been detected by anyone standing watch somewhere nearby. In order to avoid
any sort of witness, Goltho got on all fours and crawled the rest of the way: even up the hard, uneven
staircase. With every sharp pain that drove through his knees and every jagged pebble that bore into his
palms, Goltho convinced himself to move on for the better of the town his father left under his domain. His
great sense of responsibility made Goltho carry on with his task even though his inner fear outweighed the
bitter agony of his hands and legs.
After Goltho climbed up the stairs, he walked through another doorway into a room filled with lit
candles in a perfect circular pattern. There were paintings and tapestries covering every inch of the giant
wall encompassing the place he stood in from the middle point where he entered all the way up to the
barely seeable top back down through the earth into a dark hole. It puzzled Goltho why the main hall
would be such a disastrous, blackened mess while the winding staircase to seemingly nowhere was in
perfect condition. Either way, Goltho took the next staircase located to his immediate left up towards the
only other area that seemed to have light in it.
From the place where he was walking, Goltho could see other doorways on specific points of the levels
beneath him. There had to be at least ten doors on only one winding case: though the stairs themselves
would break off into flat walkways on each level. Where Goltho imagined he had to go was somewhere
along the top few levels some seven from where he entered the dizzying room.
Goltho finally got up to the spot he found the supporting light source from the main level and saw a
rather snug hallway with candles sitting within oval cutouts along both sides. He was going to turn back at
first and head downstairs but heard some strange noises coming from deeper into the room. He took his
time walking through the hallway while the initially inaudible sounds grew to moans of exhausted human
agony. Although there was only a great ambience of combined voices, Goltho’s knowledge of his
neighboring citizens could identify familiar sounding individuals. At that point, he didn’t care who would
have found him had he made too much of a racket: he needed to pick up the pace and get to the source of
the sound immediately. Goltho began to run down the hall, which didn’t appear to be ending no matter
how long he went at his fastest rate. Without any kind of warning from the architecture of the room,
however, the hallway ended and Goltho had to stop himself before he ran over the guardrail protecting him
from falling into the chasm below.
When Goltho hit up against the thin guardrail, the sounds of people almost exploded all over the
expanded room. He could hear whipping, groaning, and some kind of sheering noise that could only be
figured out had he looked down and seen it himself. As Goltho slowly peered beneath where he stood, he
could see many of those that had recently been taken from the town lugging heavy looking rocks attached
to chains bound around their necks. There were the six just brought from the town all connected together
walking in a circle in some sort of pen that looked similar to the type cows and other livestock are held in
as they’re being fattened up to be killed. Every other step taken by the people was stamped by a whip from
one of the six drivers that took them up to the castle while the other five appeared to be sharpening knives
somewhere outside the pen.
In back of where Lord Cloverfast’s servants prepared their utensils, Goltho could hear the cries of
people begging for mercy, which were quickly silenced one by one. Soon after, a large, fully muscled,
hairy looking creature with as big a moustache as he had a face came hobbling out of the back covered in
blood spurts across the heavy looking apron he had thrown on top of him. “All the ones he brought last
month are ready,” the man croaked to the five drivers sharpening different kinds of knives. “Let me gut
and slice these up for the Lord’s next trip down into town.”
Goltho held his hand up to his mouth and grasped around tightly wanting to clench hard the shriek of
terror about to fire out. His eyes wandered all over the lower reaches of the room he stepped in as he nearly
lost consciousness after the extreme emotions circulated through him. It was then that Goltho noticed the
tall slabs of meat already hanging high above the barn like area where the six that had been recently taken
were still pulling around the giant weight. Each one of the slabs appeared to be carved from opened torsos
of a similar source though the source did not appear to be any kind of animal nearby. Had Goltho wanted,
he could have seen the same flesh color and form on himself had he simply lifted up his shirt.
Quickly, Goltho raced out of the castle, still without meeting any kind of resistance, and back over the
gate into town. He tried as hard as he could to make a commotion that would awaken the townspeople so
he would be able to reveal to them what really happened to the foreigners, the handicapped, the elderly, the
poor, and the lighter group of natives. He had to let everyone know that they were being fooled by a
monster who was serving them their own during these magnificent feasts said to be put together for the
elite. It was nothing more than genocide, and the most sordid, grotesque method of achieving such an
inhuman act.
While Goltho frantically tried to warn the people, they casually made their way out to their porches
watching their once proud leader become nothing more than a whimpering, pathetic ignoramus. They
figured Goltho had belittled himself to childish jealousy and made up this wild story just to replace Lord
Cloverfast in their trusting hearts with him as an almost ideological figure.
For an unmeasured length of time, Goltho cried to his people until the sun started to rise and his voice
was becoming hoarse. Nothing Goltho said could turn anyone back into supporting them for Lord
Cloverfast’s magic had already worked over their intellect. Goltho stopped his attempts after he saw the
disregard in the eyes of his once thought to be fellow man with the accusations he made so convincingly.
He knew then that none of the people actually cared about what happened with the others as long as they
were chosen above all else by Lord Cloverfast. Goltho could feel his legs ready to buckle as the realization
that the once peaceful town open to all comers became a hive of corruption, hatred, and pompous self pride.
Every member of the town lost their heart for those that even rivaled their appearances in the slightest for
they supposedly were better.
Behind Goltho, Lord Cloverfast emerged from outside his carriage that quietly entered the town in
search of its next prisoner. Lord Cloverfast originally planned on adding Goltho to his pile with five
others, but after Goltho’s snooping around that could have caused another resistance of less worthy, he
figured he would make a special visit for just him alone. It would be a sign of the beginning of the end for
those newly dubbed beneath the elite had they lost their only member brave enough to stand against him.
“As you can see, Sir Goltho, none of these people feel the need to listen to you anymore,” Lord
Cloverfast stated plainly. “They all know the truth now because of you, even after you tried to give them
some other form of it: you no longer belong here. They seem to be happy, but you and your kind are the
only ones making it difficult for them.”
Feeling a tremendous urge to kill Lord Cloverfast in front of every minion suddenly biding to his will,
Goltho turned to him showing nothing but abhorrence in his already saddened face. Instead of making
matters any worse for the rest of his kind, however, Goltho accepted what fate had given him. He dropped
his head in defeat and walked passed Lord Cloverfast, who was presenting the opened back door of his
carriage already. Goltho then looked back at the town he once loved despite all of its hardships and saw the
peace he would have given anything to undo. As the door shut him into the carriage with Lord Cloverfast
by his side, the members of the town went on with the rest of their day forgetting everything Goltho had
done for them and anything he revealed moments before.

THE END