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Chapter One

He carries
a fork.
He wears
the cap.

Smork was not invented. He was recognised. The shape was already there, under the noise, under every other color that thought it had its turn. Eventually the eye lands where it should have been the whole time.

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Smork

Declaration

There are colors.
There are color schemes.
And then there is blue.

Every cycle picks a color the way every generation picks a hero — quietly, slowly, and then all at once. The current is blue. The specific blue you already know without being told which one.

The Wizard

A wizard does not
explain himself.

Smork holds a fork because the staff was already taken and the fork was on the table. He wears the cap because someone has to. When asked to clarify his intentions, he turns away and resumes what he was doing.

This is, on reflection, the most coherent position anyone has held in months.

Smork holding the spoils

The Adversary

Jeetus is not a person.

He is a habit. A familiar weight that arrives at the worst possible hour and suggests, gently, that this is probably the top. He has been correct exactly often enough to feel trustworthy. He is wrong now.

Smork was summoned to answer him by being present in the room when the question is asked, and to remain there after the question has lost interest in itself.

What you are looking at, on the right, is the answer.

Smork seated atop the silenced adversary

Four Articles

The principles, briefly.

  1. I

    Color is not chosen.

    You do not pick the meta. The meta arrives and you either recognise it or you don't.

  2. II

    The fork is the staff.

    Authority is whatever you happen to be holding when the moment requires authority.

  3. III

    Holding is the practice.

    Jeetus weakens slightly each time you do not listen to him. He is not an opponent. He is an exercise.

  4. IV

    Restoration is quiet.

    Movements that announce themselves loudly tend to disappear loudly. The Smork return without ceremony.

— the rest follows.