The First Crown

One day, Connla arrived on the shore of a foreign land. As Enbarr's keel touched the soft sand, the white wooden frame transformed into long sturdy legs, and the bench upon which Connla sat became a saddle on the back of a mighty mare. Connla adjusted himself as Enbarr trotted up off of the sand and into the thick, unkept grass. Brandishing his wooden sword, Connla and Enbarr travelled upriver until they came to the gates of a town. The gate was wide open, but there was no one standing guard, so the pair trotted through unaccosted.

The town was quiet and dusty, seemingly devoid of people for ages unknown. homes and shops were carved into the stone walls on either side of the village. Enbarr slowed her step as the echoes of her hoof-falls unsettled the pair in the eerie silence. Crossing a stone bridge that passed over the river, the town opened up into a grassy plaza. Connla's jaw gaped at the lush environment, wondering where all the people could be.

Atop a hill and overlooking the plaza stood a vast library. Connla dismounted Enbarr, leaving her to rest beside the fountain in the center of the plaza. Climbing the hill, Connla pushed open the heavy doors to the library, their rusted hinges screeching and howling as they succumbed to the pressure. Connla covered his nose as he crossed the threshold, the dust gathered upon the towers of books overwhelming his senses.

As his eyes adjusted to the unlit room, he continued to step forward, volume upon volume of forgotten and neglected tomes toppling from their haphazard stacks at his tremulous footsteps. Scorched leather covers and charred flakey pages lied scattered about across the floor, the smell of mold and rot pervasive in the fusty air. Books upon the shelves, books upon the floor, books upon the stairs on the far side of the room, books stacked into a mound which Connla climbed to reach the second floor.

His ears pricked up as he stepped onto the landing. A chittering and scratching sound was coming from the door to his right. Connla gripped his wooden sword tight and slowly turned the knob. Inside the small office was a large desk, and behind the large desk was a small man. The graying elder did not look up from his scrawling as Connla observed his paper clothes and paper crown.

"Who are you?" Connla asked.

The Paper King did not respond. Instead, the quill pen flew from his hand and presented itself before Connla, beginning to scrawl words in the air. Connla traced the tip of the pen with his eyes as it spelled out the words Rule no. 1: Quiet in the Library. The Paper King flicked his finger and the quill pen began to spin, kicking up a gust of wind that snatched up the papers from the books scattered around. The pages whirled and swirled and snatched onto Connla, whisking him away and tossing him out of the library. Flat on his back, Connla lay stunned at the bottom of the hill, blinking. He picked himself back up and marched back into the library.

The stacks of books had been disturbed and displaced by the swirling storm. Connla stepped lightly across the damaged covers, steadying himself by the shelves on the walls. The quill pen came floating down to him once more, spelling out the words Rule no. 8: No Climbing on the Bookshelves. Just as before, a windstorm kicked up and wrapped Connla in paper, tossing him back down the hill. Enbarr licked at Connla's forehead as he struggled back to his feet.

Once more unto the hill he stomped, and into the library he ventured. Quietly, he began shoveling the books covering the staircase and stacking them against the shelves. Step by step, he cleared the books from the stairs, progressing quietly, careful not to stumble or lean upon the shelves. Just as he was about to reach the top, out came the quill-pen once more writing Rule no. 15: Only Library Staff may Organize or Reorganize the Placement of Books in the Library and once more came the storm and the tossing out.

Connla crossed his arms as he lay flat on his back. Frustrated and at a loss, he sat up and pondered what to do next when he noticed a book that had fallen beside him from the library. Curious, he cracked open the tome. He was greeted by a veritable wall of text that seemed to writhe like a serpent. Magically, lines formed and vanished all across each page, words tripping over each other as the scrawl swam and shimmered. One word seemed to stand out above all the rest, however; no matter how many pages Connla flipped through, the word he saw the most was "help."

"How can I help you?" Connla asked aloud, feeling a little silly.

The black scrawl of the book slowly began to fade, the chaos subsiding into straight, standard lines. The book began to spell out all that had happened in the town, word by word and line by line. Connla was a touch taken aback by the sudden organization of the text out of the previous chaos.

We herein are the inhabitants of this village. The librarian, that codger Kruk, has taken over with all his "regulations" and "formalities". He stole a magic quill and is punishing anyone who doesn't follow his asinine rules! He's always had his nose buried in those numerous tomes of his, he can only see the world through ancient laws and religious rites. He does not understand that the world is a living thing! People change, customs evolve, but the old coot refuses to adapt. We implore you, retrieve the quill and free us from this prison of pages!

Connla furrowed his brow and closed the book. He tucked the volume safely into the saddlebag of Enbarr and took up his wooden sword once more. Barging back into the library, he scooped up volume after volume of old tattered texts and tore out the pages, batted the covers, and unseamed the binding. It didn't take long for Kruk to burst from his office in a rage. The old man threw himself at Connla, waving his quill and kicking up a whirlwind. Connla grabbed a particularly thick book of a hero he recognized from his mother's tales and hurled it at Kruk. The volume hit its mark, toppling the paper-crowned king and freeing the quill pen from his grasp. Connla rushed through the raging wind and slicing pages, snatching up the quill and snapping it in two.

Instantly, the winds died down, and the library fell silent once more. Connla stood above the king in the paper crown. The old wizard did not move--it seemed like the feather was the only thing keeping him animated, corroding his own will even beyond his death. Connla removed the crown from the body and stepped outside into the light. As he did so, the paper crown folded and unfolded itself, fluttering from his hand and soaring into Enbarr's saddlebag.

Connla hurried to catch up to it, opening the saddlebag and peering inside. Rather than finding the paper crown, the saddlebag was now filled with small creatures made from folded paper. In tiny words that crawled across their bodies, they sang his praises for rescuing them. Connla's eyes darted between each of them as they shared their gratitude. The journal from before had shrunken to a single page, and Connla pulled it out and opened it. The single page explained everything:

You have freed us, though we can no longer return to our previous forms. Instead, we shall accompany you on your journeys. We would be honored to chronicle your adventures and inspire you with the tales of the heroes you hold so dear. As such, we hereby and henceforth take on a form akin to your own. May the spirits of the stories go with you.

Connla smiled as the page removed itself from the journal, twisting and folding itself until it became a tiny paper wolf. He placed the empty binding back into the saddlebag, and each of the origami okami unfolded and slipped themselves into the leather covers. The paper crown formed an emblem on the cover, inlaid with a red leaf like a jewel. Connla closed up the saddlebag for safekeeping, mounted Enbarr once more, and continued on his wayward journey, a collection of new friends in tow.