=><=
## Welcome. <h2>
## The challenge awaits you. <h2>
Who are you?
[[The determined warrior->warrior pt. 1]]
[[The illustrious rogue->rogue pt. 1]]
[[The fair maiden->fairmaiden pt.1]]
(set:$person to 'fairmaiden')[
It is a beautiful, cloudless morning as you, the (link-reveal: "fair maiden")[
- a descriptor that is not wholly accurate -] rise.
You brush your hair. You wash with rainwater. You pull nettles from the windowsill to make soup, hands burning.
The tower walls are cold to the touch. Autumn has descended and the forest below is aflame with burnished copper and ransom golds. A day made for walking, if such days were still possible.
Down below, someone cries, "Fair maiden! I call upon you."
Always a goddamned fair maiden.
You could try to (link-reveal: "change the story")[, but being a fair maiden has never been about you. You had a true name, once, though now you are barely a first daughter and even less a sister.
You peer out of the window. Your brothers guard the base restlessly, six men you thought you knew pacing back and forth under the sun.
Are you being rescued?
But, as usual it is just the rogue, coming with another dead man who has not yet realised his own imminent demise.
"I am here to tell you of another warrior. They are... different."
[[**Wearily, you agree to see them once more.**->fairmaiden pt.2a]]
[[**No. There are no more heroes for you.**->fairmaiden pt.2b]]]]
(set: $person to 'warrior')[Weeks on the road, you are the youngest child of three.
All for a hunt. The sleek, elusive rumour of a maiden in a tower, locked up against her will. Reeking of magic and pain.
In a tavern, you gather whispers like pearls on a string.
(link-reveal: "Pearl 1: ")[She is a golden goddess, too tempting to ignore - locked up for own sake.]
(link-reveal: "Pearl 2: ")[She is damned, a changeling in bats' wings.]
(link-reveal: "Pearl 3: ")[She is bound by a witch, a dragon, a song of regret.]
Nothing has the (link-reveal: "rub of truth")[ - that no one, not even your brothers before you, comes back.]
You reach a tavern and sit, expecting more drivel from bored drinkers. Instead, you find yourself catching the eye of a young man - the local rogue, no doubt. He beckons you over.
"Looking for the maiden?"
You try not to show your shock. After all, you've told no one of your purpose.
"Your brothers came this way. You look like them."
A pale imitation of brawn and cunning, first-son swords and second-son shields. You hold hand-me-downs of both.
"I can help you," the rogue says, tilting his palm upward. "For a price."
[[**(You don't really trust him, but...) "Sure, I'll bite."**->warrior pt. 2a - why not]]
[[**(He may have helped your brothers to an early grave, so...) "Forget it."**->warrior pt.2b]]]
(set: $person to 'rogue')[
In a darkened tavern, you sit in the corner, waiting. It is never quite apparent what you're waiting for - or who - until (link-reveal: "the moment presents itself.")[
A warrior walks in, well-muscled with broad shoulders. Armour clinks with every footstep.
You wait for them to make eye contact before you introduce yourself.
"Looking for the maiden?"
Their shock is palpable, but you exhale slightly, relieved. You were right.
But then again, you are always right in the end.
"Your brothers came this way. You look like them," you say by way of explanation.
First-son arrogance and second-son desperation. He has seen it all before. Except maybe this.
"I can help you. For a price."
[[**"Sure, I'll bite," they say.**->rogue pt. 2a]]
[[**"Forget it."**->rogue pt. 2b]]]]
(set: $warrior to 'warriorac')[
"Why not indeed?" the rogue says."Come with me."
Even as you step outside the tavern, away from the smoke-lined interior and dim candles, you wonder if this is a good idea. The rogue has seen your brothers. He may know why they never came back.
He may be the reason they never came back.
The path you take snakes through the village, past the borders of the forest to the unknown wilderness. Silence lies heavy between you both. The awkward silence compels you to (link-reveal: "small talk.")[
"How did you come to know the maiden's whereabouts?"
The rogue winks. "Family secret."
"Are there dangers to be aware of?"
"Only if you perceive them as such."
You sense that more questions will only result in equally vague answers. You clench your fists.
The path eventually breaks up into forest floor, but it does not matter. Above the rim of trees, you see a stone tower, stretching unnaturally towards the sky.
The rogue waves you in its direction.
"I will go ahead and introduce you, but the undertaking is all your own," he says.
He disappears into the undergrowth. You wait first five minutes, then ten - enough time for an introduction, you figure. Deep breath. Chin up. Keep your wits about you.
(link-reveal: "Remind yourself why you're doing this.")[
For your brothers. For a maiden locked up against her will.
(link-reveal: "...")[
To prove yourself.
[[**It is time to approach the tower.**->warrior pt.3]]]]]]
(set:$warrior to 'warriorrj')[
He raises his eyebrows. "Suit yourself."
You exit the tavern, and with each passing second you wonder if you might have been better off with the rogue's help after all. But when you turn back, he is gone.
Would he have made a difference? Now you'll never know.
(link-reveal: "But you press on.")[
You come towards several forked paths - routes that your brothers may have taken. But you can't be sure. You take a handful of pebbles and throw them down as you go along, turning back at each dead end.
The sun rises, peaks, descends in the sky.
You wonder if maybe this was how it ended for your brothers after all, if they were swallowed by this endless forest. Failures before they ever showed up on a maiden's doorstep.
(link-reveal: "Then, you catch a glimpse over the treetops.")[
Slate roofing, unnaturally high. A wisp of smoke. A window and a figure beyond.
[[**You ready yourself and approach the tower.**->warrior pt.3]]]]]
(if: $warrior is 'warriorac')[By the time you reach the tower, the rogue is nowhere to be seen.]
(if: $warrior is 'warriorrj')[Hot and sweaty from an uphill climb, you reach the base of the tower.]
Six men stand in front of it, a human wall clad in golden coats.
"We are six of the seven," one says, "and our sister cannot leave the tower until she has dressed all of us."
"All of us," another agrees.
"Though you may challenge us if you like."
One flexes a shoulder. "We give you fair warning."
"You will not survive."
"In fact, it will be bloody."
"Painful."
"No man can cut us down."
"Is it worth it?"
A question you've been asking yourself all this time.
[[**Agree to the challenge.**->warrior pt.4a]]
[[**Walk away.**-> warrior pt.4b]]
(set:$rogue to 'rogueac')[
You take the warrior most of the way, treading through well worn paths that nevertheless foil so many other travellers. Memories strike you at every turn.
Here is where someone turned back.
Here is where you stopped to talk with another, their nerves tangled up in yours. Back when you believed in a hero.
And here is where the first brother, the eldest - first-son arrogance prompting him further - ignored the advice that you have long stopped giving. What is the point if it still pushes them towards the grave?
You reach the end of the path.
"I will go ahead and introduce you, but the undertaking is all your own," you say.
[[**You leave the warrior and head towards the tower.**->rogue pt. 3]]]
(set:$rogue to 'roguerj')[
Of course they would reject your advice.
"Suit yourself," you say.
They head towards the forest with uncertain footsteps, pausing at the first of many diverging roads. Time might see them to the tower, or to an unpleasant death hastened by starvation.
But you think it might not come to that.
They are different. There is a certain... otherness about them.
[[**You head towards the tower.**->rogue pt. 3]] ]
You reach the bottom of the tower, ignore the men in golden coats that they should never have called their own.
(if:$rogue is 'rogueac')[How long will the warrior wait, you wonder, before giving in to curiosity?]
(if:$rogue is 'roguerj')[How long will the warrior take, you wonder, if he ever gets here at all?]
You call up to the maiden, regret singing with your words. If only you'd known. Spells are all very well, you'd once thought. Straw into gold, poverty and pain to riches and comfort.
Now you think poverty might be better than what you've really given her.
"Fair maiden! I call upon you. I am here to tell you of another warrior. They are... different."
She pauses. (link-reveal: "Considers.")[
Though it never matters in the end. The warriors appear whether
she believes in them or not.
And you are free to leave. You have always been free to go where you wish, hand over magical blessings and curses. You walk the path of betrayal without betraying, of mending wrong with more wrongs.
You could, after all, have tried to rescue the maiden. You could have tried to play the hero, be a warrior.
But walking away is easier.
[[**Play again?**->welcome]]]
(set:$fairmaiden to 'fairmaidenac')[
"I am tired of these mock heroes."
"You would rather sit up here and spin?" the rogue says.
Endless spinning. Some days your hands are so raw they weep blood and pus, skin burning and breaking. In many ways your hands have become strangers' hands. On the rare day, agony feels like feathers.
But you must keep spinning. A coat for every brother. Straw into gold, straw into gold. A rogue's blessing gone awry.
Your opinion no longer matters, anyway, because before too long, the warrior comes into the clearing, stands opposite your brothers in gold. Sunlight glints off their sword.
At first, you turn your back and ignore them.
(link-reveal: "But as the minutes drag on, something amazing happens.")[
The agonised screams are from your brothers.
The warrior is winning.
[[**You lean over to see what you should have seen all along.**->fairmaiden pt. 3b]]
]]
(set:$fairmaiden to 'fairmaidenrj')[
"None of them are different," you say. "Not in the ways that matter."
Truthfully, they are all the same to you, marching namelessly, facelessly to their deaths at the hands of your brothers.
"You would rather sit up here and spin?" the rogue says.
Endless spinning. Some days your hands are so raw they weep blood and pus, skin burning and breaking. In many ways your hands have become strangers' hands. On the rare day, agony feels like feathers.
But you must keep spinning. A coat for every brother. Straw into gold, straw into gold. A rogue's blessing gone awry.
Your opinion no longer matters, anyway, because before too long, the warrior comes into the clearing, stands opposite your brothers in gold. Sunlight glints off their sword.
You turn away, plug up your ears to muffle their death. And in the evening, when night is supposed to broker sleep and peace, (link-reveal: "you spin.")[
And spin.
And spin.
[[**But straw is not all you know.**->fairmaiden pt.3a]]
]
You have to do this. For your brothers. For the maiden forever stuck in her tower.
You flex your fingers and tighten the grip on your sword.
No man can cut us down, they said, but your sword runs through their golden coats like sand, like air. It runs through each brother a little harder - closer to pig.
They gasp and cry out, "No man! No man can cut through our golden coats!"
But you are not the third of three sons, and it is easier to believe a man with a first-son sword and a second-son shield than a woman with revenge in her heart.
They die all too easily, and when the last of them falls, the golden coats give way to straw. Your eyes narrow; this is not the first time you've seen magic come to this.
"You are free to leave," you call out.
Moments later, a rope drops from the window and a young woman climbs down. She is not what a fair maiden should look like, but then again, no woman is ever really a fair maiden except in a captor's eyes.
"I came for my brothers," you say. "But I came for you, too."
She is free. And you are free, too. Free to become a first daughter once again - if you choose it.
[[**Play again?**->welcome]]
No. It isn't worth the pain. It won't bring your brothers back.
You drop your first-son sword and second-son shield, your hand-me-downs from another life. There may be other maidens, other towers and challenges to climb, but you will no longer do it with their weapons.
You take one final glimpse of the tower. The maiden does not watch you as you leave. (link-reveal: "It doesn't feel like the right choice, but you've made it anyway.")[
[[**Play again?**->welcome]]]
Nights pass and under the moon's weary eye, you spin.
Nettles. Poison passing through your fingertips and coming out on the other side as the hemline of a cloak. The curse that was suppposed to be a blessing has come with an interesting side effect.
Even if no one has told you, even if the rogue himself does not know, you have tucked the secret inside yourself for weeks now. Every time you close your eyes, birds flutter against the cage of your eyelids. Talons claw you in your sleep.
And now, (link-reveal: "it is time.")[
You finish the hem of your nettle cloak.
You take off your clothes, shivering in the chill.
And you eye up the nettle cloak that will cause so much pain. But you are strong. You have always been stronger than your brothers with their impenetrable gold cloaks.
You settle it around your shoulders, mottled green against milk pale skin.
Already everything burns. You sink to the floor, only halfway to the window. Your shoulders contort as your body shrinks to a smaller size, then another.
Grasping whatever sanity you have left, you drag yourself towards the windowsill as quills push themselves upwards from your skin, as fingers fuse together and grow scaly.
(link-reveal: "As the breeze tempts you to take flight and leave.")[
And now you can.
[[**Play again?**->welcome]]
]]
Your brothers die like cattle, like the criminals they have been for so long. Golden coats flake back into straw and you feel vindication so fiercely you bite through your already bleeding lip.
"You are free to leave," the warrior calls out.
This mad, impossible warrior woman that you have longed for, and longed to become. Free from the threat of your brothers, you gather your rope and descend, tasting freedom for the first time in so many months.
"I came for my brothers," the woman-warrior says. "But I came for you, too."
Freedom. You see freedom in her eyes, in her first-son sword and second-son shield, in the helmet that disguises a lighter voice and a struggle that started before she ever left the womb.
A freedom that you, too, could possess.
[[**Play again?**->welcome]]