Guzozo

Guzozo was the answer to a tricky question. To understand the question I’ll need to spin a tale for you. Would you care to listen? Good, now pull in close and I’ll begin.
Many years ago an eight year old boy named Gustav Grincheux was traveling with his family through the countryside. He was second in a line of four children with one older brother and two younger sisters. His father was a Marquis and they were on their way to attend his eldest brothers wedding. His older brother was marrying the daughter of Lord Vilcus, a Lord from a neighboring land. As is the custom, the wedding was being held by the bride’s father at his estate.
It appeared that the Fates did not favor this union as the journey was plagued with ill fortune. Right from the off, one of the coaches’ wheels broke and had to be replaced. Later, one of the Groom’s Valets took an opportunity to successfully run off with one of the stable boys. And, twice the horses had been spooked by a snake on the road. All bad omens… well, maybe not the Valet thing but the coach wheel and the snakes are definitely bad omens for a journey.
Still, the groom’s party continued on. They paid no heed to the warnings they had been given, and for that there is always a price. Because of all the setbacks, the party was behind schedule. This unfortunately put them traveling through the Forrest of Rouvray after sunset and through the night. Traveling through the woods at night was usually a bad idea but tonight it was worse.
Unbeknownst to the wedding party, the woods were also the temporary home of a group of madmen led by Joseph Fyfe. Joseph was known in the north as the Roadside Stalker. He had earned a reputation for being a twisted villain. He would ambush groups traveling on the road and do unspeakable things to them before robbing them. He would always leave one alive so that his reputation would continue to grow. His plan worked a little too well. He was now being pursued by an army of soldiers ordered to bring him in. He fled south and was, at the moment, watching several members of the Grincheux party set up camp for the night.
You see it had gotten very late and it was a New Moon that night, so it was far too dark to travel. The drivers could barely see their hands in front of their faces much less the road in front of their horses. So they stopped the carriages and began setting up a camp site by circling the carriages around a newly built fire and setting up a canopy. They were in the middle of cooking up some sausages over the fire when Joseph Fyfe and his men attacked.
I won’t go into too much detail here as a lifetime of nightmares might be the result. The Gods know I have lost many a nights’ sleep after I was told. I will say that awful things happened to all of them, and after about an hour of that, they tied Gustav and his three siblings each to an opposing tree, (meaning that Gustav was tied to a tree facing out across from his brother who was also tied to a tree facing out, and his two sisters were done the same way). In the center of this cross section, where all four children were facing, the madmen brought each of the other members of the wedding party, one by one, and slit their throats. They made the children watch each member of their family die. After the last person, their mother, was killed, Fyfe took his men and left, bidding the children a good night with a smile on his face.
It was two days later when the scene was discovered by guardsmen that had been sent out by Lord Vilcus to locate the party. Only one person was still alive, Gustav. He had listened as his siblings had talked to each other, often with reassurance, and then cried with pains from their wounds and from hunger. The last thing he had heard was a voice, probably his older brother telling him, “it will be alright,” and then finally the hours of dreadful silence.
Over the following week many people in positions of power met in committees to decide what to do about the situation. You see, Fyfe had killed the entire noble family. There were no heirs except Gustav who was too young to marry and many thought too mad to stand, much less rule. So in the “interest of the public” the Marquis’ land was placed under the neighboring Lord’s temporary rule, and young Gustav Grincheux was sent to a local Temple to receive treatment and hopefully mend.
The Temple of the Dawnflower seemed to be a good fit for young Gustav. The priests were patient and kind. They were also well versed in the healing arts, but even more importantly they revered the light. The most obvious mental malady that plagued Gustav was an intense and violent fear of the dark, and the Sun Goddesses’ house was always kept well lit.
Over the next couple of weeks, Gustav showed some improvement and the priests had high hopes that the young boy would make a full recovery in time. High hopes…
If you don’t already know, now is as good a time as any for you to learn that life can be a filthy son of a goblin whore, and for no apparent reason it had decided to be just that to poor young Gustav.
Lord Arthur Vilcus had at first been entirely pure in his intentions to help the young boy who had been rescued days earlier. After hearing what had transpired in the forest and seeing the state of the child that was brought before him, Lord Vilcus was filled with sympathy for the boy and embarrassment that this had happened in his lands. He sent Gustav to the Temple to be nursed back to health and then he sent a garrison of soldiers into the woods to arrest the bandits from the north led by Joseph Fyfe. The soldiers returned empty handed though they were able to tell that the bandits had fled further to the south. The south was plagued with many bandits and barbarian tribes, so it would be near impossible to follow them further and harder still to catch them and bring them back. The matter was quickly dropped after that.
As the days went by, however, the Lord's mind began to turn, click, and coil. The wedding had been a blessing. Lord Vilcus' lands were in a financial recession and within ten years would have fallen into despair. Marquis Grincheux's lands were highly prosperous, and the wedding would have saved Lord Vilcus' people from the looming economic tragedy. There had been many other brides, many of whom would have been smarter matches for the Marquis' oldest son, but Vilcus had been fortunate.
Not only were the two families old and dear friends, but his daughter had actually been the boy's choice. He had apparently become smitten with her at a dinner party a few years earlier and had refused to be matched with anyone else. Lord Vilcus had not been able to believe his good fortune in the matter and had been praising the Gods for answering his prayers. "Praise the Gods and the saintly and noble name of Grincheux," he would belt out at every toast.
Well, as people often do, when the news was good he had thanked the gods, but when the worm turned he believed the Gods had abandoned his people. You see at this moment Gustav was technically the new Marquis as he was the last living member of the entire Grincheux noble bloodline. He was also eight years old and in no healthy mental state to rule. Lord Vilcus could try to marry him to one of his daughters but what if he said no or was unable to speak at all. Without the Grincheux family their homeland would fall apart, and without the union Lord Vilcus' lands would also be ruined. If he made the right choice, Arthur Vilcus could save the people of both lands. If he made the wrong decision, he would condemn both lands.
At this point I think it is important for you to keep in mind, as I explain what transpires next, that this was the dilemma, with all its levity, placed before Lord Vilcus. It might be easy to stand in your shoes and judge the Lord harshly. After all, it was his actions that caused what happened next, but I do not wish to demonize this man. Oh how I count myself lucky that I have not stood in such a place, and had to make such a choice. He was a good man, with bad financial advisers, who gave an awful answer to an already terrible question for all the right reasons, and I will leave it at that.
Since union of their two lands by marriage was too risky, they would have to be united through necessity. If something were to happen to Gustav, Lord Vilcus was sure Gustav's homeland would ask Lord Vilcus and his noble family to accept rule over their land permanently. With so many enemies in the surrounding areas, Gustav's people would be too vulnerable to attack without protection from a noble family. Lord Vilcus allowed himself to feel ashamed for only a moment before he wrote a message and sent it via courier to the bandits of the southern coast. It informed that a large bounty had been placed on the head of Gustav Grincheux, who was currently recuperating at the Temple of the Dawnflower, and on what night would offer the most opportune moment to strike.
On the chosen night no guards were posted at the southern gate. No one saw when the hordes of bandits, marauders, and abominations creeped into the city. No one noticed as they snaked their way through winding streets to the Temple. No one was alerted when all the priests were quietly killed in their sleep. No one knew that the bandits from the south were also members of an evil cult that worshiped a giant hellish worm often referred to as the world eater. The cult had almost been hunted to extinction in the previous decades by the priests of the Dawnflower Temple. The cult had been waiting for a chance to take its revenge. To this very day, no one knows what happened to Lord Vilcus, and as for the city, my conscience will not allow me to repeat the horrors that were described to me.
Do not worry. Our story is not at an end, because luckily young Gustav was not in the city when it was attacked. Earlier that evening, while Gustav sat trying to meditate as the priests had been teaching him to, he had heard a voice. Some have guessed it was a demon, Gustav believed it was the voice of his guardian angel, but I personally believe it was madness. Either way, he heard a voice that coaxed him out of the city and into the night.
Though Gustav was frightfully scared of the darkness, he did as the voice instructed. Though he was afraid of the forest that the voice told him to enter, he did as the voice instructed. He was led through the darkness until he came upon a warm light that breached the leaves, branches, and pitch black night. There also came warm sounds that drove out the crickets, croaks, and quiet, trick-of-the-mind noises that hope to unnerve. Music, singing, and laughter filled the night air as Gustav approached a camp of traveling bards.
Hiding behind a bush, Gustav watched and listened with amazement. While one man played a witty tune upon a lyre, a woman sang a tale of love hunted, found, tricked, and reforged, and another man and woman danced about a fire silently acting out the tale. He had never seen anything like it. He wanted this, whatever it was, and the voice said, “It will be yours.”
With a sudden jerk, Gustav was pulled from his place of hiding and led through the camp to the largest caravan wagon. There sat a middle-aged man in a rocking chair smoking a pipe and setting a pocket knife to work on a piece of wood.
"What's your name young sir?" asked the man.
"Gustav," said the boy.
"I am Bernardo," offered the man. When nothing was said for a few moments he nodded his head pleasantly and continued, "Why are you out in these dangerous woods all alone and so far away from home?"
"I felt called here and besides I have no home now."
"Where are your people, your family?"
"I have no people."
"Everyone's got people," Bernardo said as if stating something written in stone, but when this was met with silence Bernardo shifted uncomfortably. "Are you from the city near here?" asked Bernardo.
"That is where I was before I was here," responded Gustav.
"Well we are headed there tomorrow and we can help you back to your home," Bernardo finished.
"May I ask," spoke Gustav...
Bernardo quirked an eye and said, "yes."
"What are you people?"
A large, warm smile grew upon Bernardo's full face. He stood fast and gestured widely about the camp, "We are the players," his voice boomed with pride. "We are the minstrels, the dancers, jugglers, comedians, clowns, jesters, and story tellers." He waited for a moment for dramatic effect. "We are bards my boy. We are the singers of songs and the teller of tails, traveling entertainers that bring humor and excitement to every corner of these lands."
Gustav stared in amazement as the bards again started their performances. It went on late into the night until sleep finally took them all. That night Gustav dreamed of painted faces, brilliant tales, and laughing crowds. It was a good dream.
The next day when they came upon the city and saw the horror that occurred there they could not speak. They walked for an hour away from the city before Gustav broke the silence.
"I told you. I have no people," Gustav said.
"And I told you that everyone's got people," said Bernardo.
Gustav looked at him confused.
"We are your people now," Bernardo explained.
They walked together towards a new future. Over the next seven years Gustav trained as a bard and performed in city after city with his troupe. He was an adept comedian, clown, juggler, knife thrower, jester, and acrobat. He was the happiest he had ever been in his life. He brought smiles wherever he went and had all but forgotten the tragedies of his past. He still feared the darkness late at night, but his adopted father and teacher Bernardo always kept a light burning to chase away the evil spirits.
It was a good life and he was happy, but life does not move in a straight line. It moves in circles. If I wanted to be less cryptic, I would say that life has a way of plucking up your past and setting it in your future.
While the troupe traveled towards the next city on their route, they were set upon by bandits. The bandits were led by a man whose reputation had grown into infamy. Joseph Fyfe, also known as Fyfe the Bloody Knife, ordered the charge for his bandits to ride in. Many that were caught unaware in those first few moments fell, but quickly the troupe became alerted to the assalt and rose to defend themselves.
Over the next few moments, blades flashed and daggers flew. Red stains sprayed the countryside as lethal blows were dealt, and for their knowledge of poison application, the bards stood victorious. Fyfe, however, had escaped back towards the hills near the coast were his hideout was rumored to exist in a hidden cave.
After the fight was over, Gustav was brought to the lifeless body of his adopted father, Bernardo. He could not speak for there are no words for such heartbreak. Mourning celebrations for those who fell in battle lasted a week as per their custom, and Gustav attended them but still could not speak. When they buried Bernardo and the others, he briefly broke his silence saying, "You were my light in the darkness. I do not know how I will find my way without you." Then he bowed his head and shrank back to his tent.
That night it was a new moon and the darkness was saturating and treacherous. The wind was blowing up from the coast so strong that no candle could stay lit and campfires had to be put out to keep their embers from being tossed dangerously about the camp. Gustav sat alone in the pitch black interior of his tent shaking and crying. His nerve was shattered by sorrow and terror. He knew Fyfe was still creeping in the prevalent shadows around him waiting to finally take the only thing of Gustav's that he had not already destroyed which was Gustav's life.
Then a voice came.
"Poor Gustav."
Not just any voice. It was the voice.
"Sweet boy."
It was the voice that had offered reassurance as his siblings were dying around him in the forest. He had thought at the time that it had been his older brother’s last words, but it wasn’t.
"You are still scared by the dark and what stirs within it, because you have seen some of what lies there in wait."
It was the voice that led him into the night away from Lord Vilcus' city and away from the horrors that occurred there.
"You shouldn't have to face it. You belong in the light where you can bring smiles to all those around you."
It was the voice that led him into the forest to find his new family, to find Bernardo.
"Let me go into the night for you. Let me protect you from what lurks there. And maybe you would permit me a bit more."
It was the voice that told him he would be a bard and was now..., "Wait, what? What do you mean?" Gustav said as his head lifted from his crossed arms and his eyes darted about the darkness.
"I mean that you would not have to fear the darkness again. You could live in the light always. When the darkness comes, you will go to sleep and I will take care of anything that needs to be taken care of."
"And what did you mean about a bit more?" Gustav asked as he shuddered slightly.
"There is one out there who deserves the swiftest and strictest justice, one who needs to hear the gavel fall. There will be others from time to time. Your business should be smiles and applause. I'll attend to things when they get... messy."
Gustav knew somehow what was being said though his rational mind was having a hard time reconciling it. "Who are you?" Gustav asked because he needed a name, an identity. His mind needed some kind of identifier for this voice.
"I am the grinning judge, the magistrate of the Midnight Court, the jester most judiciary, but you may call me Guzozo. Now all you have to do is say yes."
Gustav thought for only a brief moment, but then his face went placid and he spoke. "Yes."
*****
Fyfe had been asleep for several hours. It had been a little over a week since he had sent his men to attack the bard’s caravan. He had heard his men talking about turning on him after the next job, so he made sure to pick a target that would finish his men off for him. It worked perfectly. He had spent the last few days making plans for a trip south to collect new men, and the last few nights sleeping soundly like a man without a worry. He awoke this night to a very different feeling. He heard someone singing...
"Round we go, the world is spinning.
When it stops, it's just the beginning.
Sun comes up, we laugh and cry.
Sun goes down and we all die."
The song was repeated again and again by someone moving around beyond Fyfe's vision along with sounds similar to someone setting a dinner table. Fyfe immediately tried to get up, but he found that he was strapped down to some kind of table. When the sound of his struggles echoed through the cave, the singing stopped, and Fyfe suddenly wished he had been quieter. For several desperate moments he heard nothing except the drips of water that fell from the cave ceiling and the ocean crashing against the base of the cliffs outside.
Then suddenly a white face emerged from the darkness that engulfed him. It had, he thought, black eyes and a grin that stretched from cheek bone to cheek bone, and between its black lips, sat bright white teeth. They were the kind of teeth that belonged to a predator. The thing or man maybe, was also wearing a long black robe and a white wig like a barrister. Then he suddenly spoke.
"I see the gentleman is finally awake. I thought that you were going to sleep the whole night away, and that I might have slipped you too much sleeping tonic. You already slept through your trial, but you don't want to sleep through your sentencing do you? Of course you don't. Well let’s catch you up. You were found guilty of course. After all, the judge himself was a witness to several of your crimes. Sure I guess that's not what one would call impartial but hey what can you do? The system may not be perfect but it's the only one we got. Am I right?"
The weird clown began laughing hysterically while slapping his thigh. Fyfe tried to scream but found that his mouth had been gagged.
"Oh but I jest. Where was I? Oh yes, the witness, or judge in this case, saw you commit several crimes of a truly unwholesome nature. Isn't it strange that you have no idea who he is while your face is seared so permanently into his memory? Have you ever heard the name Gustav Grincheux?"
Fyfe shook his head no and began quivering uncontrollably. Again, the mock judge laughed insanely.
"You see. How odd it is that one person can have such a powerful effect on another person's life without that person even knowing or caring. You see you did some awful things to Gustav when he was only eight years old, and then you tied him up and forced him to watch as you and your men did some awful things to every member of his family. You left him for dead, tied to a tree with his older brother and two younger sisters. The image of a crow pecking out and eating the eye of his lifeless little sister’s body still haunts his nightmares. Two days later, when they were found, he was the only one left alive. He's been afraid of the dark ever since, because he knows you and those like you lurk in the shadows of night waiting to devour."
The clown's smile got bigger and his teeth gleamed brighter. Then, suddenly, he jerked out of Fyfe's area of vision and into the shadows. He could hear him move around and mumble, hum, and sing, but he could not see what he was doing.
"As you can imagine, those are some pretty serious charges.”
Then the clown sang a line from his song, “Sun comes up, we laugh and cry.” Then he started speaking again as if there had been no interruption.
“Ah, we will need this. Oh, sorry I keep getting distracted. I've never actually had a captive audience before, and I seem to be forgetting my manners. Or perhaps I'm intentionally building suspense.”
The clown again burst into a fit of maniacal laughter.
“Anyway, so your advocate pled guilty for you and threw you at the mercy of the court, quite literally in fact. That's how you got that bump on your forehead. I almost disbarred him on the spot, but instead I just gave him one of my famous stern looks, and he knew exactly what it meant. Then the officer testified that you didn't even have the manners to be conscious during your arrest, and I must say he had a point, because you weren't even conscious during his testimony.”
Then the clown sang another line from his song, “Sun goes down and we all die.”
Fyfe knew what was coming. This madman would end him if he didn't get his hands free. The freak had tied them so tight they were numb but Fyfe had been slowly working them loose.
"The trial went on and we discussed some of the other crimes you are famous for. Because you love to leave a survivor to increase your notoriety, it was easy to keep track of your misconduct. Well needless to say the jury was shocked. Not only were you a brutal murderer, but you also have a tattoo of a butterfly on your back that you try to keep hidden.”
The clown laughs for a bit and then says in a mocking tone, “Fyfe the Bloody Knife. More like Fyfe the pwetty wittle butterfwy."
Fyfe's face was red with anger but one of his hands was almost free. He couldn't wait to get it clamped on that fruitcakes throat.
"Oh but I’m just kidding with you Fyfe. You are certainly no butterfly. The jury agreed of course, and you were found guilty of all charges. And, now we come to the present, which is your sentencing."
The clown's face came back into view with that same stupid grin, but Fyfe's hand was free. He was just waiting for the maniac to get closer and he obliged. The clown got within arm’s reach and Fyfe didn't wait. His hand flew at the freaks throat, but something went wrong. The clown had an even bigger smile. He didn't grab onto anything. The clown lit a candle in a nearby lantern to provide just enough light for Fyfe to see. All of his fingers had been cut off. Then a flash as the clown pulled a hammer and iron spike from behind his back and nailed Fyfe's arm back down to the table he was strapped to.
"I used another toxin to numb your hands. I thought it would make a nice surprise if you managed to break out of your bonds and looky-there I was right. Don’t worry though. I didn't use the toxin anywhere else."
The clown unrolled a set of knives, scissors, and other assorted blades onto Fyfes chest so he could see them.
"Joseph Fyfe, you have been found guilty by a jury of ghosts, hallucinations, and shadows, in other words, your peers. For the ferocity of your crimes and your inability to have remorse for your deeds, it is the decision of this court that you be sentenced to death by torture and may the devils that bore you up enjoy feasting upon your soul."
The clown then pulled the wig from his head and replaced it with an executioner's hood. He then leaned over Fyfe’s face, gave him a wink, and blew out the candle which sent the cave back into complete and utter darkness.
"Now let's play!"
*****
Screams could have been heard over the sound of crashing waves that night by the coast. They filled the night air for hours, but no one was on the road, hills, or nearby coast to hear them. A piece of meat was found staked to a wooden post by the road the next morning. A message stuck to the post by a dagger claimed it was the remains of Joseph Fyfe, and that this was the fate that awaited anyone who thought torturing and murdering children, defenseless travelers on the roads, or bards of this area was a good idea. Most people initially dismissed the message, but six months later almost twenty bodies had been discovered by the road, staked to posts. Each had a message claiming it was a different bandit that operated in the area, and each contained a warning to others that they would become warnings of their own if they did not heed.
Many people had thought it was a hoax at first, but soon they believed. Bandit raids which were common in the area had almost vanished. Many notorious bandits that had been identified by the bloody messages were never seen or heard from again.
There were also rumors that had spread from criminal elements of the nearby cities and towns. The rumors were of a Shadow Magistrate that would come in the night to bring you before the Midnight Court and the Grinning Judge. They said that all your crimes are laid bare before you and you are made to answer for every one in kind. Your crimes are said to cut into your flesh and when all your crimes are answered for there is never any flesh left as the Shadow Magistrate only arrests the most wicked of criminals that the lawful Magistrate can not catch.
There are also rumors that the Grinning Judge is an assassin that works for the bardic families of the region. If a bard has been wronged he can speak the name Guzozo and all bards will pass it on that the name Guzozo has been spoken. Within a week the one who harmed the bard will be punished. They say that if you are on good terms with the bards they will say the name for you but that you will have to pay for Guzozo's services and they had better be justified or he might come for you instead.
So what is the question? How does a boy that has seen more horror in his life than most could possibly imagine find the strength to go into the night, catch those horrors, and send them back to the nine's before they can hurt anyone else? As I said at the beginning of this tale, the answer is Guzozo. Now I take my bow dear listener and thank you for hearing my tale. If it moved you to cry, laugh, or shiver in its telling please show your appreciation with a few coins for my hat.

Thank you for reading. I.C. Hannah