Miru ceased her hypnotic pacing around the fire and took her seat.

“My, my. That was quite the tale Miru.” Robin said, grinning.

“Yes, it was,” Miru replied.

Bryan leaned forward and rubbed his temples. “So, you created this story based off of a letter that your adoptive parents – who as we all know are a bunch of no-good fishermen – were given when they received you? And also from the disciple robe that you were wrapped in.”

“Correct.”

“But how did you know about your mother abandoning you or disappearing or whatever. And what about the couple in the kitchen and the escape route?”

“Because I want that knife. Is it not the aim of this contest to create the best story?” Miru smiled and added a log to the now raging fire.

Bryan pursed his lips in a discouraged way, “I see.” He paused for a moment before clapping his hands suddenly. “It’s time for the winning story I think.”

“Please, be my guest,” Brack said.

Bryan stifled a smile and began his story.

**********

One day in a land far away and in an empire long turned to dust, a humble merchant was walking along a street. He was quietly passing an abandoned house when a beggar jumped out at him and grabbed his arm. “Hello, good sir. Will you kindly stoop down to help a poor soul in need?” The beggar was filthy, garbed in loose rags and flies in equal measure.

The merchant nodded politely and removed his arm from the beggar’s grasp. “Yes, what do you need?” The merchant had places to be and did not want some vagrant following him around the city.

“Oh! Good sir, only two- no three things.” The vagrant smiled and rubbed his manure covered hands together. “I need three pieces of fruit skin.”

“You mean fruit, food?” The merchant questioned.

“No, my good sir.” The beggar laughed as if the other man had made some grand joke. “I need three pieces of fruit SKIN. The parts that surround the fruit, I’m sure you understand.”

The merchant stared at the man, bemused. “Ok then, do you have a specific fruit in mind?”

“No no. Any will do.”

The merchant looked across the street and saw a tree covered with ripe, green fruit. He crossed over to the tree, peeled three of the things, and came back with the skins.

“Here.” The merchant said, smiling. “I hope they serve you well my friend. I will be off.” As the merchant began to depart the merchant grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

He looked earnestly into the merchant’s eyes. There were the beginnings of a tear in his.

“Good sir. You have paid me a great kindness on this day. It is my duty as a man of honour to repay you.”

“And how will you do that?”

“You will see my good friend. You will see.” The beggar beamed at the merchant and scuttled into the abandoned house.

“Bloody strange.” The merchant walked off and continued with his day, quickly forgetting the beggar. Over the next couple of weeks, the merchant – who owned a small cloth business – was met with an influx of sales and investment. The merchant took advantage of his luck and expanded, buying several warehouses and stores around the city.

A month after the first encounter, the now well-to-do merchant walked past the abandoned house. The beggar was waiting patiently, and approached with a beaming grin on his face. “Good sir! You are back. Have you enjoyed my reward?”

“Stay back!” The merchant shouted, drawing a dagger. He paused, recognition registering on his face. “Oh, sorry. Hello.” He put the dagger back in his embroidered coat. “Wait, you mentioned a reward. I do not recall…”

“For the fruit skins” The beggar smiled playfully and waved his hand in dismissal. “Never mind that. I have another task for you today.” The beggar approached the merchant and leaned in to whisper. “I need eight bags of river stones. They must be local. No imported river stones will do for this man!” The beggar clapped the merchant on the shoulder. “I’m sure you can get it done within the week. And trust in me that you will get your due reward, my good sir.”

As the beggar turned to leave the merchant spoke. “So… you are telling me that you are the reason for my recent streak of luck.”

“Good sir. This will all be much easier if you just accept this situation. A win-win scenario like this is easy to accept, no?”

The merchant stared at the beggar, his face serious. “Where do you want the stones?”

“Dumped just here will do.” The beggar pointed at the ground beneath his feet. “And within the week, if you please.” The beggar jumped over a fence that separated the abandoned house from the street and ran towards it. Instead of using the door, he dived through one of the windows.

The merchant stared at the broken window for several moments before continuing his journey.

After two days a group of burly men dumped eight bags full to bursting with local river stones on the pavement in front of the abandoned house. They left immediately.

Over the next several months the merchant's main rival fell sick with an unfortunate illness that caused him to make highly irrational decisions. The rival sold when he should have bought and bought when he should have sold. He also spent a modest portion of his company’s revenue on building a mansion for his three dogs. These decisions allowed the merchant to swoop in and partake in a hostile takeover of his rival's company. Once the finances were properly settled, this meant that the merchant now owned 96% of all cloth production, storage, and distribution facilities in the city. The merchant was now a very rich man.

A full year after the first encounter, the highly affluent merchant arrived at the abandoned house. He was surrounded by a small entourage of tough-looking men. Abruptly, the beggar walked up from behind where the group was standing.

“Greetings good sirs." His eyes found the merchant. "I see that my reward has helped you well!” The beggar gave his signature manic grin and raised his arms in the air. “I need help! I’m sorry to burden you again my very, very good friend, but there is no one else that I can turn to in my hour of need.”

“What do you need?” The merchant asked eagerly.

“Well… this time my request will not be very simple. Are you sure that you can help?”

“Anything. Anything at all I will give you. Please, just ask.”

“Good. I need three hundred and eighty seven barrels of human waste. Female urine to be specific.”

The merchant stared at the beggar for several moments. Then burst out into laughter. “You need- you- you want three hundred and- oh gods help me- seventy eight barrels of women’s piss?

“Eighty seven, and yes.”

The merchant turned to his goons, who were also laughing heartily, and leaned on one of them for support, he was guffawing so hard. They stayed that way for several minutes, the beggar stood unperturbed and patient.

Once he was done, the merchant turned back to the beggar and wiped his tear-filled eyes. “Ok, but I don’t think they would all fit on this street.”

“No no. You can just transport them into the house.” The beggar gestured behind him as if discussing some serious business dealing. “As long as three hundred and eighty seven barrels come into this house within the next four months, I will give you the reward you deserve.”

“Consider it done.” The merchant held out a gloved hand and the beggar shook it vigorously. The beggar did not notice only that hand was gloved.

The merchant held up his side of the deal. He had each of his female employees complete their business into two different holes each day. One led to the sewer, and one went straight to a large collection vat. This system was implemented in all thirty three facilities that the merchant managed. The vats were all emptied into barrels regularly, which were then transported and dumped into the abandoned house.

The quota of three hundred and eighty seven barrels was fulfilled within just two months. The merchant was an efficient man.

Nothing happened in the merchant’s life for a long while. Until one day he met a beautiful woman, who fell deeply and instantly in love with him. As the merchant was an unremarkable middle-aged man with no previous romantic experience with women, this came as a great surprise. The woman had run away from her home and said that if the merchant took care of her, he would eventually be rewarded greatly.

The merchant took care of her. And was rewarded in turn.

The woman was a princess. She had run away from an evil advisor that had taken control of the palace while the emperor was leading an army abroad. Once the emperor returned and vanquished the crazed advisor, he promised to grant any wish to the person who returned his beloved daughter.

The merchant handed the princess to the emperor, who knelt at his feet in gratitude. “Anything, most honourable merchant. Just ask and it will be yours.”

“Father! Please let him marry me! I love him so. I don’t think I could bear to be without him.”

The emperor gaped at his daughter and looked back at the merchant. “Daughter, I hope you understand that, because you have no siblings or cousins or uncles or grandfathers, the laws of the realm will make the merchant my sole heir if you marry.”

“Yes father, I don’t care. I love him!”

The merchant could not help but grin as he asked the emperor for his daughters’ hand in marriage. The emperor – who was decades younger and would likely outlive him – stood up shakily and officiated the marriage then and there. As the emperor stumbled off in a daze, the princess embraced the merchant. He was now a very happy man.

Several years passed. The merchant, who was now a prince, expanded his cloth trade to all cities in the empire, expanding his profits one hundredfold. He lived a life of decadent luxury with his doting princess bride and litter of beautiful children. He wanted for absolutely nothing. Until...

One night, alone and hooded, he walked up to the abandoned house. Seeing no one, he knocked on the door. It creaked open at his touch, revealing a dark corridor that led to another door. This one was bigger and somehow… not pleasant.

“Hello?” The prince called, still standing outside. “Beggar. I have come to trade.”

Silence.

And then, a single creak deeper in the house. More creaks followed. They were a slow succession at first, then they became quicker, and spread to different places in the house. A hundred, no, a thousand men all jumping up and down at once. The creaking grew louder and louder. The corridor seemed to warp and elongate. The house heaved and shook and… could the prince hear a deep, desperate sobbing in the cacophony? No, of course not.

A hand cracked down on the prince’s shoulder and all sound and motion ceased.

“Good sir! What has made a friend such as you come to me at this hour.” The prince turned around and regarded the beggar, who was as unkempt as always. Did he see a slightly serrated tooth in the beggar’s smile? No, of course not. That would be crazy.

“Hello. I wish to trade with you.” The prince swallowed uncertainly as the beggar stared at him, unmoving. Why did he have to keep on smiling? The prince would have far preferred a scowl.

Finally, the beggar seemed to spring back to life. “Well, my friend, if you are asking ME for help I am afraid that the terms of the deal may be, umm,” the beggar crossed his arms in thought, “of a different shade than the rest.”

“That is fine,” the prince said. “I will give you anything you want. Twelve hundred geese. A million rolls of cheese. Anything! All I need is for you to kill the-”

“No no. You do not tell me what you want. I will ask you for something and then give you the reward that you deserve.”

“How do you know what I deserve, hm? What I want from you is simple.”

“I have my ways, good sir,” the beggar said dispassionately, “and my terms are non-negotiable.”

“Agh! I knew I should have gone to someone else. Fine. I will make a deal with you.”

“Good. Listen closely.” The beggar leaned forwards and whispered his price. The prince’s face turned deathly white, his eyes widened in horror. He stumbled back, almost tripping down the front steps of the house. The beggar's dirty, wretched hands leaped out and latched onto his shoulders, stopping him from falling. But the beggar did not let go.

“No. I can’t. I won’t!” The prince shouted.

“You can and you will. Also, you must do it in three, no, two days.”

“I must? What will happen if I don’t?”

“Don’t ask silly questions, good sir. I think you know exactly what will happen to you.” The beggar's grip tightened slightly, and his grin widened.

“Ok,” the prince said, shaken. “I will-" he wretched violently before composing himself. "I will leave them… inside.”

“Go. Quick! You mustn’t keep them waiting!” The beggar pushed the prince down the stairs and began to laugh. As the prince scrambled to his feet and ran away the laugh echoed endlessly in his mind.

That night, all of the royal children went missing. The whole city united to search for them but they were never found. A month after the disappearances the prince choked to death eating a roasted goose. His massive fortune was inherited by his grief-stricken wife. When she eventually inherited the throne, she used some of the money to build a massive golden statue commemorating him and her lost children. It was placed alongside a beautiful fruit tree.