Deep in a for­est, in a land known as the Duchy of the But­ter­cup Flow­ers, there lived a man by the name of Indigo.  He lived a sim­ple life with his elderly mother and father and his six broth­ers and sis­ters, each named after a colour of the rain­bow for rea­sons their par­ents had never told.

Now I say that he was a man, but in truth he was one of the Fair Folk, the Gen­try, or any of the other names by which his kind go.  And that land in which he lived was not of the Earth we know, but of another much stranger place which few true men have ever seen.  But it will suf­fice to refer to him as a man, as he was cer­tainly of that appear­ance, and by our reck­on­ing would have been some thirty years of age at the time our tale begins.

Indigo and his fam­ily were very poor, for though the for­est pro­vided no short­age of food, they had lit­tle to sell or barter for fine things, and the chil­dren increas­ingly had to care for their parents.

His life con­tin­ued in this way for many a year, until one day, a great war broke out among the king­doms of the land.  News of this did not reach Indigo’s dis­tant home at that time, because trav­ellers so rarely ven­tured so deep into the woods.  But not long after, a recruit­ment gang came pass­ing from house to house, tak­ing every­one fit and healthy away to fight for their Duchy in the war.  Indigo’s older sis­ter Green and younger sis­ter Vio­let were allowed to remain behind to sup­port their par­ents, but Indigo and all his broth­ers were made to leave their fam­ily behind.

Indigo was not happy in the army, but he sent a good pro­por­tion of his wages home to his fam­ily every week, so he knew that they would be liv­ing a bet­ter life in his absence.

Now in this war the House of But­ter­cup had pledged their alle­giance to the White Roses, who were one side, and their ene­mies were the Red Roses and their allies.  Indigo knew that the Whites were win­ning and that the fight­ing was tak­ing place a long way from But­ter­cup lands, and so he patrolled the bor­ders of the Duchy with­out fear.  But news from the front became rarer and rarer as time went on, and every­body started to won­der if they were really safe at all.

Then, one day, came the news that they had all feared.  The offi­cers told the enlisted men that a Red Rose army had attacked the south of the But­ter­cup lands, and they were being sent there to fight.

Indigo and his broth­ers and thou­sands of other sol­diers marched day and night across the land in pur­suit of the Reds.  On the third day they came across a for­est that had been burned to the ground by the enemy, and Indigo and his broth­ers recog­nised it imme­di­ately despite it being black and charred.  They split from the army as it marched past, and they searched the for­est for a day and a night, but they could find no trace of their home amongst the black­ened trees.

Indigo, con­sumed with sad­ness and with anger, trav­elled directly back to the cap­i­tal city of the But­ter­cup Duchy.  There he pre­sented him­self before the Prince and told him how he had dis­cov­ered his family’s fate at the hands of the Red Roses.

“You are a brave man to tell me this,” the Prince said, “because you have deserted the army, and by law I should sen­tence you to hang.”

But Indigo was pre­pared for this.  He explained also to the Prince that he had acquired many skills from his days as a hunter, not least the abil­ity to move quickly and qui­etly with­out being seen, and knowl­edge of all the plants of the for­est and the effects they could have on a per­son.  Indigo could see the Prince think­ing of all the ways in which those skills could be used, and so Indigo bowed deeply and vol­un­teered him­self for any mis­sion the Prince had in mind, pro­vided that it would win him vengeance against the Red Roses.

Sat­is­fied with Indigo’s hon­esty, the Prince gave him a mis­sion of the utmost impor­tance.  The Prince explained that shortly, House Poppy, a Red nation, would be return­ing home after a long jour­ney, and that they would surely throw a ban­quet in hon­our of their allies.  There would not be a bet­ter chance to strike than this, with so many of the Reds gath­ered together in one place.

Indigo spent days in the forests around the cap­i­tal col­lect­ing roots and berries, then boiled them and drained the liq­uid into a tiny bot­tle.  His poi­son was strong enough that even a tiny drop could floor a grown man, so he took great care of it and packed it deeply into his back­pack as he set off for the Duchy of the Poppy flowers.

As he walked, he thought of how he would get into the cas­tle to use the poi­son.  He had been told that the cas­tle had high walls, small gates and could be heav­ily guarded.  He also knew that his tal­ent for sneak­ing around was good for forests, but prob­a­bly not so good for cities.  It looked to be a very dan­ger­ous mis­sion, but one night he stum­bled upon just the solution.

He had met a man named Albert that day on his trav­els, and Albert had invited Indigo into his home to spend the night.  Over din­ner, Indigo learned of Albert’s nature, which was that he could change his appear­ance at will into that of any ani­mal he chose.  Now this may seem extra­or­di­nary, but as I have said, the land in which this story takes place is not our Earth and its char­ac­ters are not quite like the peo­ple you know.  So this was not an astound­ing abil­ity by the stan­dards of their world, though it was a rare one, and Indigo knew just how it could be used to his advantage.

Albert him­self was not fond of the Red Rose nations, and was alarmed that the Pop­pies were return­ing.  So, par­tic­u­larly after Indigo paid him hand­somely with some of the money the Prince had given him, Albert agreed to help him.  Albert would dis­guise him­self as a horse and join House Poppy’s car­a­van, hop­ing that they would think him one of their own horses or at least that they would take on a stray one.  Once he had been taken to the sta­bles, he would then change back to his nor­mal shape, make his way into the kitchens dressed as a ser­vant, and when no-one was look­ing, empty Indigo’s bot­tle of poi­son into the food they were prepar­ing for the banquet.

The two men parted ways, and Indigo went to stay in a nearby town to await news of the poisoning.

Day after day, week after week, he waited.  But news never came.

After a long time, and with news that the Red forces were gath­er­ing again, Indigo knew that his mis­sion must have failed.  He feared for his life if the Prince found out or if the Reds attacked, and so in case he had not long to live, he went to make peace with his par­ents and sisters.

In the land in which they lived, what we would call ‘magic’ is a com­mon­place thing, and like­wise it was not so extra­or­di­nary that there were witches liv­ing there who could talk with the departed.  So Indigo went to see a witch in the town where he was stay­ing, and paid her a fee so that she would allow him to talk to those mem­bers of his fam­ily whom he had lost when the for­est burned.  The witch searched the place where souls go, and called out for them, but try as she might, she could not find them there.

“There is only one answer to this, sir,” said the witch, “and that is that these souls have not yet passed on.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Indigo.

“Your fam­ily are still alive, sir,” she said.  “For another three sil­ver coins I could help you find them…”

Indigo had nearly spent all of the Prince’s money, but so des­per­ate was he to find out if his par­ents and sis­ters still lived that he paid the witch at once.  She cast a spell of sight that allowed her to see any­one in the world, and showed Indigo her vision of his fam­ily liv­ing in the great city at the heart of the But­ter­cup duchy.

Indigo now had no money left for coaches or horses, but as soon as he returned to the inn he packed up all his belong­ings into a bag and started his long jour­ney on foot.  On the way out of the city he met a woman whose name was Sap­phire, named no doubt for her sparkling blue eyes.  She hap­pened to also be trav­el­ling to But­ter­cup lands, and as she too had no money, they set off walk­ing together.

For weeks they walked, through for­est and plain, over hills and down into val­leys.  Sap­phire told Indigo about her child­hood, her unhappy appren­tice­ship to a tai­lor, and how she was flee­ing to the But­ter­cup duchy to start a new life.  And in time, Indigo grew to trust Sap­phire more and more, until even­tu­ally he explained what the Prince had sent him to do, how it had failed, and how he learned that his fam­ily were still alive.

When at last they arrived in the city, they went straight to the house the witch had shown to Indigo.  Just as she had promised, there they found Indigo’s father and mother, as well as his two sis­ters Green and Vio­let, alive and well.  Indigo hugged and kissed them and cried for a long time, so relieved was he that they had sur­vived, and so dis­traught was he that his hatred of the Red Rose army had been in error.  Vio­let told Indigo her tale of how they had received warn­ing of the approach­ing army and fled the for­est, com­ing to live in the city instead, and how she and her sis­ter were now appren­ticed to a butcher and were mak­ing enough money to look after their parents.

Indigo and Sap­phire slept at their house that night, and rested well after so many nights on the road.  But at dawn, But­ter­cup sol­diers came and demanded to take Indigo to the cas­tle.  Sap­phire argued with them at length, but all it achieved was her being arrested as well, and them both being taken to the cas­tle together.

Indigo was sure that he would be pre­sented to the Prince, who would impose a harsh pun­ish­ment for his fail­ure.  But instead, it was the Duke whose throne they were made to bow in front of.

“You have been arrested under the Prince’s orders,” he boomed, “but as he has since sadly been lost in bat­tle with the Reds, it is me you now face.  What rea­son do you have for your failure?”

Indigo told the Duke the whole story, from the day he thought his fam­ily had been killed to the day he dis­cov­ered them alive again.  The Duke looked a lit­tle sad by the end of it, and Indigo realised that with the Prince pre­sumed dead, the Duke’s sit­u­a­tion was not entirely dif­fer­ent to his own.

“And you,” the Duke said, turn­ing to Sap­phire, “for what rea­son do you now stand before me?”

“I was sent to kill you,” said Sapphire.

The Duke stood sharply, the sol­diers lin­ing the room drew their swords, and Indigo stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“Give me one rea­son why my sol­diers should not cut you down right now!” the Duke shouted.

“Because this man changed my mind,” she said, point­ing to Indigo.  “Because I am just like him.  I blame the White Rose armies for what I think hap­pened to my fam­ily, but I don’t really know the truth.”

“You lied to me!” said Indigo.  “Was every­thing you told me on the jour­ney untrue?”

“Most of it.  And for that I truly am sorry.  Just like you, in my anger and despair I sought any task that would bring revenge, no mat­ter how dan­ger­ous it would be.  And so I was sent here, to kill the Duke But­ter­cup, with an invented life story to tell any­one who started ask­ing ques­tions.  But as we talked, I grew to realise how futile it all is.  My mis­sion, your mis­sion, and the war itself.  Regard­less of the Red and White Roses’ rea­sons for start­ing this war, what about us?  All their allies, all the indi­vid­u­als, the com­mon peo­ple – aren’t we all just doing this because of some petty need for revenge, or even for no rea­son at all?”

Duke But­ter­cup sat back down on his throne, and thought for sev­eral min­utes in silence.  Then, at last, he spoke.

“I believe I know the feel­ings of which you speak.  I, too, am griev­ing at the death of the Prince, and I am push­ing this land’s army fur­ther than it ever ought to have gone.  It is only vague promises and con­torted pol­i­tics that brought us into this war, and I owe my peo­ple more than that.”

Not long after­wards, the Duke But­ter­cup issued a procla­ma­tion that ended the duchy’s involve­ment in the war.  But­ter­cup became one of the few truly neu­tral duchies, and thrived for many years as a result.  Indigo’s broth­ers came home from the army and set­tled in the city with their fam­ily, found good jobs and could afford a doc­tor for their ail­ing par­ents.  Sap­phire told Indigo the truth about her past, and in time, Indigo grew to trust her once more.  They were last seen head­ing for the bor­ders of the Hyacinth duchy, Sapphire’s home, on their own quest to find out what became of her fam­ily after all.

And of course they all lived hap­pily ever after, because they are of a kind we refer to as the Fair Folk, and those Fair Folk are crea­tures of story, and that is how their sto­ries have always ended.