It took 3 years to pry enough power from the sorcerer's grip, to oust him from Fjell-og-dal's throne. It weakened the King's absolute authority, placing much more power in the advisors' hands. Pawel and Olbrecht figured out the people-that is, citizens of no power-were a safe way to hold such lords in check, negotiating a makeshift "commoner's house" that only convened when the lords wanted to hinder the King's power, specifically as arbitration. Pawel sold it as, "If we are going to race towards hell, let's only do so if we're all in."

It was the first hint of how devious the Crown Prince could be, as he had a far better grasp on what the commoner's wanted than pretty much any other man of power. None of them suspected that Pawl could easily outlive generations of other manipulators, either. Eventually, that compromise would be given up on and instead, there would be two advisory seats permanently placed for the untitled.

Those political machinations took a century to wield.

~~~

Back in the third year, those compromises were done because Pawel and Olbrecht wanted to bring Anselm home, but he was the one thing that they couldn't easily budge the aristocracy on.

It had been 3 years, and rumors already washed over the nation.

One farmer's son named Hans had stumbled into Anselm's lair, complaining about how his childhood friend quit talking when her father-a town leader-started negotiations for her marriage to a man she despised. Honestly, if she quit talking to him, he would have still married her off, but she began eating dirt, pulling her hair out, and shrieking at all hours of the night. The town feared she was possessed and it scared off many such suitors.

Instead, the desperate father threw open his own position to an apprenticeship if anyone married the madwoman-provided they could bring her back to her senses, make her speak-hell, even a genuine laugh instead of barking like a dog at all hours of the night.

The young man-also the youngest of 3-wasn't thinking of marrying. Hans was worried about his friend because he felt she could more than take her father's place, didn't need even himself, if dear old dad wouldn't have pushed her so hard to be a submissive wife.

If he didn't care for her, he'd wash his hands of the matter-the father deserved a broken child.

In the end, Anselm gave him a silver-laced gold heart locket on a long chain and said it would restore her mind.

Hans went off with hope in his heart as the too-trusting often do.

He didn't expect it to become a golden goose when he reached the last farm before their village. He almost lost hold of it and the farmer's young daughter tried to help him restrain it safely when her hands stuck fast to the bird.

She panicked to go home as she was in pants for stomping tight the hay piles, not dressed for the village. Hans panicked to bring the goose to his friend, so he ended up dragging her down the road, too obsessed to think straight.

The goose roared at the girl, "If you'll come along, then hang on!"

They passed the first home on the road, and the village bully saw it as a chance to give a swift kick to the farmer's daughter.

No sooner than he did, his foot caught up in her pant's leg and he was dragged forward. He didn't try to keep to his feet, but deliberately clawed the ground behind him trying to anchor himself to no avail.

The goose roared at the bully, "If you'll come along, then hang on!"

The blacksmith has gone home for lunch-the bully was his son-so he grabbed the boy by his armpits to pull him off as he dug his feet in, so they continued down the road with cobbles heaving from the tilling of the smith's feet.

The goose roared at the smith, "If you'll come along, then hang on!"

The village baker was a woman of ill repute-well, not to her face, just rumored so, as villagers were prone to do. She had a tray of loaves she was delivering while displaying far more wares than bread on her tray. Once she finished dying of laughter, she called out to Hans, "Such a sweet goose. I'd love to snatch a feather from it."

The blacksmith was as crude as his son. He kept his voice low as he passed in front of the woman. "I've got something you can snatch."

Instinctively, she smacked the smith upside his head, only to be pulled away in a crab walk that left her in desperate need of managing her wares.

The goose roared at the baker, "If you'll come along, then hang on!"

Soon the butcher and candlestick maker-such a lovely couple-were caught up behind their friend. A cow tried nipping the candlestick maker's bonnet. (What it was doing in town, who knew?) Last of all, a small rat terrier nipped the cow's tail and dangled a few inches above the ground, trying to yip beyond its teeth.

The goose roared at each pause, "If you'll come along, then hang on!"

Finally, they came to where the young woman sat on the road, eating dirt and drooling down her face and neck. The commotion caused her father to come to the door of his home just in time to see her stand and fall upon Hans' shoulder, laughing hysterically at the miserable people stuck to him.

In an instant, the geas let go of the goose and company. Most everyone fell over, save the cow and the dog who refused to let go. The goose slowly shrank back into a heart, but it had changed. Swirls of feathers were etched across its surface and on the back was written, "The one who gives all will receive everything."

Hans placed the necklace around the friend's neck and sanity returned to her eyes. Her father caught them both up in a hug before they could protest.

That youngest son was the first citizen with no prospects to rise to power through the artifacts Anselm made.

~~~

That upheaval continued for 5 years until word came back that what should have been The Golden Flute had become The Pied Piper, and the Lords finally relented on releasing Anselm to recover a whole village's children.

He found most of them quite quickly, but the remaining were the quest of a lifetime to rescue. The effect of his being on the road, going through several kingdoms only increased the wave of stories he released on the population, like a pestilence that granted wishes.

~~~

Pawel married Isolde as soon as she would have him, and turned over the kingdom to his eldest when he was 30, while Pawel became one of the advising lords to wreak more havoc on their machinations-all to his amusement. For the first time in generations, the true heir sat on the throne, and he was a far better king than anyone could hope for.

~~~

Olbrecht took Brina to the far east and explored a new world where they raised a nation of wild men, barbarians of renown that slowly made their way back to the kingdoms as mercenaries for hire. None of them had their father's innocence.

~~~

It took 400 years for the world to lose track of all 3 men. They were no longer princes, kings, or founders of nations, but were weary wanderers, waiting for Anselm to finally lose heart. They weren't like the sorcerer, greedily keeping their grip on a nation. Honestly, none of them could say what they were as the years rolled by.

Stories have it that they are still out there. One traveling musician gained rumors of being an ancient Crown Prince. A wandering judge must be the middle child, a warrior who spoke the truth to everyone in a dispute. A rash of bizarre stories in this kingdom or that kingdom must be the fool-save that they were happening in disparate places that no one could travel to in the time that the mishaps upended civilized societies.

What there was never concrete proof of, was a story ending-not the men, not pieces of Anselm's heart strewn through each kingdom, faithfully repeating their stories.

Perhaps in a junk pile, a locket or mirror could find any poor child who grew up on Anselm's stories and make them a King or Queen.

That was the beauty in the slow deterioration of absolute sacrifice.