They say he lived in a burrow in the swamp. The kind ones likened him to a lizard, others to a maggot or frog. They said his hair was covered in moss and his clothes rotten, yet none had seen him with their own eyes.
He came out only on the darkest, cloudiest nights to wander the mire and seek the company of whatever fools dared to wander it too. And if the fool came bearing gifts, the stranger traded them for wisdom. He had seen centuries of the world and centuries of humanity. He understood what made no sense to others; he had the insight to trick the smartest of men.
One night, a young farmer decided to seek the stranger out and beg for his help. A new lord had taken over the land and had him and his family exiled, to be gone by the month’s end.
He offered the sweetest gift of all – his blood. And for that, he was given wisdom enough to make a fool of the new lord and end up in his place.
Though he wasn’t as smart or wise as the stranger himself, he understood two important things:
This was an ally he should keep.
And those in power don’t pay their tithes. Other people’s blood tastes just as sweet.
So they paid. And he ruled until old age took him.
