Aurum:

There are very few ways for a girl to better herself in an ever-changing world, other than to marry. Unfortunately for Signor
Bianchi, his daughter had no such ambitions. He had introduced her to several suitors-none of whom she fancied-and his
patience was running out. The next time he was summoned to court, he took he is daughter with him. Once granted an
audience with the King, Signor Bianchi announced that his daughter could spin wool into gold. Impressed but weary, the
King promised Signor Bianchi’s family an impressive ancient title if she could perform the task in one night. The daughter,
still in shock of the lie her father had told, was dragged away to the top most tower of the castle which was filled with
finely spun wool. The wooden door was closed and a key groaned with fatigue as it was turned in the lock. She sunk to her
knees and began to weep for she knew that if she could not perform the task then her life would pay the price. How was
such a task to be done? Alchemists had been trying for years to do such a thing without any success. A slight cough broke
the silence in the chamber and she looked up. Sitting on the window ledge, gazing out into the moonlit sky was a man. He
wore all black save for a jewelled pendant hanging from his neck. “Why do you cry, sweet one?”
“Because my father has condemned me to death” she wailed
“That surely cannot be so” he replied with mock sympathy moving to her side and inspecting the spindle.
“It’s true. I have to spin all this into gold or the King will have me killed” There was a moment’s pause before he replied:
“I will spin it for you,” the girl’s face filled with joy, “If you promise me something in return”
She stared at him blankly; “I only have this, which is worth practically nothing” He leaned in closer, examining the necklace
she offered. She was right. It was worthless
“One single kiss will suffice” he said after a moment,
“A kiss?” she repeated not even attempting to hide her surprise. He leaned in even closer and brushed his lips to her. With
another soft laugh he pushed her aside, sat down in her place and begun to spin. She tried to stay awake to watch the
miracle he was about to perform but before long the hypnotic spinning of the wheel and soft turning sound soon had her
drifting into sleep.

She awoke to greying light of dawn streaming in through the small window. Looking about her, there was nothing to
behold save for piles of golden thread. She called out for the mystery man to thank him, but he was not with her. Presently
the key turned again and the guards filed in. Stunned by what they saw, they took her and some samples of the gold to the
King who was just as astonished. After consultation a snivelling senile man on his right he addressed her and Signor Bianchi
once more. “I am pleased that you did not lie to me, Signor Bianchi, so I have a second proposal,” He looked to his son on
the left, “If she can spin a second room into gold, she will marry my son” Signor Bianchi beamed from ear to ear but before
either the prince or herself could argue she was whisked to the other tower. The room she now found herself locked in was
easily twice as big as the first. After what seemed like years, she heard the cough again. The same man was sitting once
more on her window sill. “Any luck?”
“Please, please help me. Or show how you do it. I shall never ask anything of you again”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin then said: “Since I enjoyed my last gift, this time you must promise me yourself”
She said nothing, “I wish for you to marry me” he repeated
“But I am promised to another”
“Then, as a compromise, you will promise me your first born child” With a grave nod, she accepted. Just as the last night,
he set to work and as before she promptly slipped into sleep.

When the guards re-entered, the room as once again filled with gold. The King hastily went about arranging the marriage.
Many months of marriage flew by happily for the new couple until the much respected king passed away. Much sadness
was followed by the welcome news that the young Queen was now expecting a baby. And the mysterious man had been
quite forgotten.

The Queen gave birth to a healthy baby boy, securing the family bloodline for another generation. Her husband, now King,
declared a day of celebration across the kingdom to bless the arrival of his son.

That night she was singing softly to the tightly wrapped bundle in the cot rocking it gently from side to side. She heard a
cooing sound coming across from her, and looking up expecting to see her husband the blood drained from her face as she
saw Him. He leaned in and lifted the babe from its bed: “He is beautiful,” he grinned at her, “He even looks a little like me”
he supported the weight of the child on his forearm he drew up its face up against his, “He will make a wonderful pupil”
“You can’t have him” she said quietly,
“A deal is a deal, there is nothing more to discuss”
“But I love him”
“You should have thought of that before you agreed” he stated mater-a-factly,
She looked about her frantically, “There must be something I can do?”
He took three steps back and returned the babe to its bed, “Let’s play a game,” he paused slightly, “you have two days.
And within those days if you can discover my name-you may keep your child” she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief
When she opened them again to ask how exactly she was supposed to find out his name, she found she was alone in the
room.

The next morning she scoured the vast library for any names that would have significant meaning. That night he appeared
just as she expected. Once he invited her to proceed she rattled off every name she could think of. With each name he
smiled and shook his head. Finally her mouth gave out and she sunk into the bed. “Did you really think that I would allow
you to discover my name if it would be as easy to guess as that” he reached out and stroked her cheek. When he withdrew
his hand he held a lock of hair entwined in his fingers, “I hope you don’t mind” then he was gone. Dropping her head into
her hands wondering where else she was going to find his name. The next day she made inquires around the town to see if
anyone had had a similar encounter with the mysterious man. That same night and she repeated the same process as
before. But once again all her answers were met with rejection. Just before he vanished he said, “I’m looking forward to
tomorrow night” That night she cried herself to sleep.

The King had begun to suspect something was wrong with his wife. She seemed distance and unfocused, whenever he
moved around her, she flinched and glanced over her shoulder. He decided that he would make sure she had a good
night’s rest to calm her mind. When he was outside their bedroom door he rapped softly on the oak panel but there was
no reply. Creeping silently in he saw that she was already in bed, seemingly sound asleep. He moved to her side, his
footsteps muffled on the thick woven rug. Placing a hand on her forehead he puzzled at the cool clamminess of her skin.

Pulling back the sheet he turned away in disgust. Her face was untouched, but her body was covered with deep lacerations,
each one oozing clotted crimson over her pale flesh. Moving his hands to each of the cuts, he applied pressure desperately
trying to stem the rapid flow of blood but it wasn’t long before it was leaking though his fingers with unstoppable sped.
Punched through her chest, like a grotesque Excalibur, was the jewelled handle of an ancient dagger, glorious against the
surrounding decay. Caught in the blade was a crudely torn square of parchment. After pushing back the thick liquid inching
towards the black words, he studied the script. There were simply two words that read: “Guess again” Scanning the room
for an intruder, his only thought was for his child. He may not have been able to save his beloved wife but he would be
damned if he let his son join her. With new found resolve he flung himself onto the cot which stood solitary in the far
corner. The sheets were laid as they always were, ready to revive the babe, but he was not among them. He thought of
ringing for the maid but he didn’t want his beloved humiliated further with the presence of questioning eyes. Then it hit
him. Falling to his knees next to her side he ripped the paper from her wound and examined both sides for another clue or
a ransom note. Looking over her again his breath caught hard in his chest. Nestled in the crock of her arm, as he had been
the first time his father beheld him was the lifeless body of the young prince. Moving soberly to the other side of the bed
he climbed up to inspect the boy further, the bodies not moving to compensate his weight pressing down on the mattress.
At first glance it seemed that the blood they once shared had been smeared across from her to him but as he lifted his son
to his breast, he saw the fatal wound. The same blade now plunged into his beloved wife had left a clean cut across the
front of the young boy’s neck. The King’s soft tears of loss turned into howling cries of lament increasing in sadness as they
echoed off the walls and collided with each other. Soon enough servants and footmen came running to assist him, each
one turning away at the door after seeing the mauled body of their Queen and their prince in the arms of a broken King.
The physician was summoned but there was need for him. After several moments of silence, the King moved first placing
the child by its mother and then off the bed. He eyes were spitting black fire as he walked out the door. Having moved
through the castle in a trace he ended up in the throne room where he called for his knights to search the kingdom for the
guiltly creature.

Weeks went by with no trace of the mysterious murderer, even with the King doubling his efforts he would have to resign
to the fact that he was gone. Then, two months later, his body was dragged in for sentencing. The king sat glaring at his
wife’s killer with an undeniable expression of hate. The criminal was found to be carrying a lock of blond hair braided into
his breast pocket. As was the law, the King settled upon the final sentence: lapidation, stoned to death with his remains left
to become food for putrid life.

The sentence was carried out at dawn the next day.

“Any last words?” Questioned the executioner,
The prisoner’s lips crawled into a luring smile: “All she had to do was ask” With that said the executioner began to bound
his hands and feet. But then a fierce, “Wait!” rang out. All eyes turned to the King, watching from the raised balcony above,
“What is your name, Scum” With one last beaming grin, the king raised his hand and the surrounding crowd began to pelt
the worthless body with jagged rock stopping only when his head hung below his shoulders and his legs gave-way.