Barrelot

Let’s travel together to the fascinating land of Whimsy, where chickens snub corn and lay polka-dotted eggs in rainbow colors. Dogs learn foreign languages and often meow or chirp like canaries, while donkeys take classical singing lessons, their braying resonating like a tenor from the Metropolitan Opera. From caramel mountains with syrupy waterfalls to forests of foot-trees smelling of Roquefort, there have never been more exciting stories than the one you are about to read. It is a tale of deception, bravery, strength, and courage without limits.

This tale is unlike common adventures because its hero is no common hero. He is unparalleled, a knight whose courage, bravery, and heroism have been sung sincerely by troubadours, albeit with a bit of encouragement. Barrelot knows that a gold coin in the palm of a wandering hungry musician significantly helps loosen their tongue, especially when accompanied by a bottle of cool, refreshing wine from the cellar. It also takes some practice to properly sing the virtues of a brave, knightly figure like him. His unique qualities, such as his cunning wit and strategic mind, set him apart from the rest.

There is an unwritten and unspoken price list that ensures the objective presentation of the qualities of an unbeatable warrior like him. A gold coin can make the musician sufficiently praise the bravery, nobility, grandeur, and strength of the great Barrelot. A cup of wine can highlight his physical attributes: the colossal stature of the knight that terrifies giants, the sturdy arm that cuts through rocks like butter, and the determined chin that has made the fairest ladies of the kingdom cry with longing for him.

If the coin and wine are added to a good meal with hot, crispy chicken, fresh bread, and a pair of radishes from the garden, then, by God, you’ll see proper hymns. What noblewoman wouldn’t swoon hearing about the knight’s sculpted body that casts shadows over mountains? Which maiden wouldn’t be inclined to shed a river of tears when she hears the bard singing the song of his booming and grand voice that makes the lion cower and tremble like a succulent young lamb before the Easter feast? What lady wouldn’t cry when she hears the folk singer exalt with the appropriate embellishment the feats of a godly man who, with a single sword stroke, reaped forty dragons to make bags and wallets for the fair, chosen one deemed worthy of his affection?

What does it matter if these things are somewhat far from reality? If Barrelot is five foot nothing with a paunch and a mustache like Salvador Dali? The bard’s song rectified such injustices that the so-called mother nature had done in this case.

In any case, Barrelot was a hero like no other, and there are no testimonies to his bravery more reliable than the monster heads he had vanquished in his long career and adorned the wall of his living room as trophies and proof of his formidable prowess.

Who can forget the Cyclops Zacharias, who once roamed the peaceful crackpot forests in the kingdom of Whimsy, where the trees, instead of trunks, had large clocks? Cyclops Zacharias wandered, oppressing the harmless guild of philatelists who had their headquarters nearby, relieving them of their stamp collections, as, yes, you guessed it, Cyclops Zacharias was an avid philatelist and possessed the largest collection of rare stamps in the entire kingdom.

Each new raid enlarged his collection, leaving the guild poorer in stamps and dignity. Whom else would the guild elders choose to defend them and return their stamps if not the formidable Barrelot, the inimitable, the round? The truth is they had approached a few others, namely all the other knights of the kingdom and their squires, but none had agreed. So, in the end, they resorted to where those good-for-nothing slobs should have gone from the beginning: to the hero of heroes, the incomparable Barrelot. He immediately and graciously accepted and set off to find Zacharias and settle the matter like a true man.

He knocked on the door of the castle that the shameless monstrous Zacharias used as a lair and home, and when the door opened, he bravely shouted:

“Zacharias, surrender! Don’t gamble your life away.”

Zacharias stood in the doorway, terrifying, in a blue bathrobe, slippers, and a roller in his single tuft of hair. Because, of course, it wasn’t enough for him to have hair; it had to be curly as well.

“And why shouldn’t I gamble my life away? It’s a fun game. Look!” replied the beast, stepping aside and extending his hand to show the knight the dice he had as decoration on his table. Zacharias was always dishonest, and these dice were remnants of his infamous criminal career when he cheated by playing with rigged dice against the chicken thieves of the kingdom who gathered outside the royal henhouse to eat fresh chicken. This, of course, is not so reprehensible; the chicken thieves were always a great scourge for the kingdom of Whimsy, as not even King Shortstout the potato-eater, who had been ruling for thirty years, was safe from them. However, Zacharias’ cunning had no equal, and though it was directed against other cunning ones, it reveals the ruthlessness of his character.

“Alright, beast, I’ve heard of your skills with dice, and I know I have no hope of beating you. However, I will try to defeat you. The deal is simple: if, for some inexplicable reason, luck favors me and I win, you will return the stamps and especially the priceless Hermes heads you have stolen and leave the kingdom forever. And to be sure, I want you to seal all the precious Hermes heads in an envelope and place it on the table where we’ll play. So we’ll play like honorable scoundrels and seal our agreement.”

Zacharias looked somewhat arrogantly at the little man with his single eye through his monocle and laughed cunningly: “Of course, we won’t spoil our deal, old friend. But what will I gain?”

This here, said Barrelot proudly. He pulled out a paper object, which, when the beast saw it, nearly dropped his monocle. The roller almost sprang from his head as he shuddered, and each solitary hair of his curly tuft stood to attention.

“The Hermes of Count de Monte, the founding member of the philatelists’ guild,” cried Zacharias, impressed. “I’ve been searching for it for a long time to add it to my collection. Give it to me immediately.”

“Oh, you’re in a rush, aren’t you, dear Zacharias? Only if you beat me at dice will you get this beauty into your greedy hands, but that’s not difficult, is it? A champion like you shouldn’t have much trouble defeating a clueless knight who only knows swords and shields. Am I wrong?”

“Alright, knight, you’ve got me. I can crush you quickly and take it after, to show you what challenging the formidable Zacharias means and to stop you from being a wiseass from now on.”

So, the terrible duel began – a duel not with swords and shields but with rigged dice and endless sixes. The whole thing lasted hours, and neither of them would back down, but it was obvious that it had reached a stalemate.

“Dear Zacharias, as you see, luck favors us both,” said Barrelot. “I have a new proposal. The first to roll fours or doubles will be the winner.”

Zacharias found it tough. His dice could only roll sixes, but since he had realized that his opponent was also playing with rigged dice, he was sure that neither of them would be able to do what Barrelot proposed. For that, they would need common dice. Zacharias vaguely remembered that he had hidden a pair of common dice somewhere.

“Uh, forgive me for a moment, dear Barrelot,” he said. “I need to go to the bathroom. Nature calls, and no one can ignore its voice. I’ll be back in half a minute.”

“Take your time, Zacharias, my friend,” said Barrelot. “No need for you to let your bladder burst over a game of dice. I get it”

Of course, Zacharias didn’t want to go to the bathroom at all, but he was burning to find the only pair of common unrigged dice he had left. Meanwhile, always well-prepared, Barrelot replaced his rigged pair with completely normal dice he had in his pocket from the start of his mission.

When Zacharias returned, everything was ready for the final, this time real, showdown. But the resourceful and crafty Barrelot wouldn’t leave things to chance even now.

“Dear Zacharias, I think I saw a fat sewer rat with three tails and two heads going to your kitchen. It looks hungry.”

“Yeah, right, it had two heads and three tails,” snorted Zacharias.

“Do you take me for a fool to tell such a blatant lie? A clever guy like you would smell it immediately,” replied Barrelot.

“Oh, you’re right. Better go check.”

That’s what the crafty Barrelot wanted. Before Zacharias returned, he had exchanged the only pair of regular dice the evil Cyclops had with his “rigged” ones, which Barrelot had used, to play so many rounds, bringing six after six.

“I didn’t see anything,” said the suspicious Zacharias.

“Must’ve slipped out the back window to the backyard,” said Barrelot. “Forget it; we have work to do. So, who goes first?”

“Me, me,” shouted Zacharias, who couldn’t wait to roll the first fours and grab the coveted stamp from Barrelot. Imagine his surprise when he threw his roll.

“Damn and trice damn,” he shouted. “Sixes. How unlucky can I get? Everything’s going wrong today.”

“My turn, I think,” said Barrelot slyly and rolled the dice, which immediately came up with fives.

“Oh, I see you did better, but you didn’t manage to get fours either,” said the Cyclops, somewhat annoyed.

“You can roll, Zach-man,” said Barrelot.

“Hey, you’re getting too cocky, watch it! Alright, silence, I feel it. I’ll roll the good one.”

He rolled the dice again and shouted something so rude it wouldn’t be wise to repeat, for decency’s sake.

“Calm down, man, that’s the fickle nature of fortune,” said Barrelot, biting his lips under his huge mustache to keep from bursting out laughing.

After a few more rounds, Barrelot finally rolled the desired fours, and Zacharias, who was fuming with rage, began to emit steam from his ears and nostrils like old motorbike exhausts.

“Oh, scoundrel, you tricked me! I don’t know how you did it, but by my faith, I’ll smash your head like an egg. No one can save you from my hands, knight.”

Barrelot grabbed the envelope with the stamps from the table and, with the agility and grace of a round balloon, jumped into the air and landed on the chair while simultaneously pulling out an exceptionally elegant and modern lighter, a gift from the philatelists’ guild.

“If you take a step, Zach-boy, all the precious stamps will become kindling. Mind your path!”

“You wouldn’t dare; you don’t have the guts,” said the Cyclops provocatively.

“Oh well, have it your way,” said Barrelot nonchalantly and, without hesitation, lit the lighter and set the envelope on fire.

“NO!” screamed Zacharias. “The stamps of a lifetime of terrorizing and crime, those that would secure me a comfortable retirement on Polyphemus Island in my old age with all the famous Cyclopes. Put it out, I beg you.”

Barrelot whistled indifferently. “Put it out immediately, you cheat, I’m not kidding,” whined Zacharias.

Barrelot continued to watch the fire rise and consume the envelope.

“Why,” wailed the Cyclops. “I’ll smash your skull, I’ll pulverize it, I’ll spread your brains on a slice of bread and eat it like praline. You ruined me.”

But it was too late, much too late. The last edge of the envelope had already burned, and Barrelot smiled, revealing some huge white teeth as he blew the ashes off his fingers.

“What can we do,” he said, laughing. “It seems it wasn’t meant for either of us to get the stamps.”

“Well, we won’t spoil our mood over something so trivial – He, he,” laughed Zacharias with something like madness in his single eye. “I’ll crush you, Knight; I’ll put you in the mortar and pulverize you with the pestle. I’ll slice you like fresh onion and put you in my cucumber salad; I’ll roast you in the oven until golden brown with an apple in your mouth; I’ll... I’ll... Boohoo.”

The enormous Cyclops was no longer laughing or threatening; he was crying bitterly. His nerves couldn’t take it anymore, and the little mind he had had now snapped. Let’s not forget that Cyclopes are among the dumbest types of giants one can encounter. Giants with three eyes are usually the most cunning, those with two very dumb, but Cyclopes have brains said not to exceed the size of a peanut, and the relentless Barrelot had made this tiny brain strain too much with his tricks.

“Come on, come on,” said Barrelot magnanimously, “I was just kidding. Here are the stamps in my pocket. I thought we’d have some fun now that we’re buddies. Look!”

“What?” said the unfortunate Zacharias. “You were kidding?”

“Yes, I have a lot of humor; everyone says so. It’s not for all tastes, of course. Some don’t laugh at all, but I enjoy it very much.”

“Yes, yes, I can take a joke,” said Zacharias. “I like your humor very much. I’ll laugh even more when I feel all your bones crushing under my giant hammer. You’re dead, Barrelot! Dead!”

Barrelot didn’t respond. He clearly saw that he had brought Zacharias to the state he wanted. “Nya nya nya,” he sang mockingly and stuck out his tongue, then set off and, bouncing like a ball, jumped out of the castle. Zacharias followed, foaming and steaming like a pressure cooker in full boil. His madness and momentum were such that he didn’t even see the large hole that the philatelists had dug just ahead of the bridge over the castle’s moat. Barrelot, with the grace of a round ballerina, passed with an impressive pirouette to the side. Still, the unfortunate Zacharias felt the ground give way beneath his feet and fell into the void. Everything had gone according to the plan that the cunning and crafty Barrelot had devised from the beginning.

This story became a legend, but not exactly as it happened. Let’s not forget the gold coin that Barrelot made sure to jingle in the hands of each troubadour, the wine in their cups, and the well-roasted chop or chicken leg that filled their plates to guarantee the wonderful and unparalleled Barrelot’s objective and detailed truth recording. Thus, according to the troubadours, the dice game became a regular duel with swords and terrifying magical weapons, the knight’s cunning and trickery became courage and bravery, and so on. Today, however, the truth has been restored after centuries, and we can now admire and be amazed at the events as they truly happened. Perhaps soon, we will narrate more adventures of the unparalleled and incomparably heroic Barrelot to leave his example to the next generations of aspiring little knights.

I hope you enjoyed the story of the unparalleled knight, Barrelot, here on Inkitt! If the humor, cunning, and incredible adventures of Barrelot captured your imagination, I am thrilled to announce that a greater adventure is now available for preorder as a complete book on Amazon!

This book offers even more moments of laughter, action, and twists. You’ll find Barrelot facing even bigger challenges, overcoming every obstacle with his wit and bravery, and reminding us that true strength is not always in the muscles, but in the mind and heart.

Don’t miss the chance to enjoy his great adventure . The book is available for purchase on Amazon and is waiting for you to dive in!

Follow the link to get the book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D54F7H54

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