Smartacticus

Long ago, in the high fields of Mythfeild , a goliath was born beneath a storm-wracked sky. His name was Smartacticus, and his blood ran thick with the strength of his giant ancestors. Born in a Serf work camp, his parents were bred and trained by House Cudgehl in the name of House Gelbvieh to be killers, commanders, and breakers of lesser wills. Those trained in this way would be name "Herdsman" in way of mocking the Serf's they were to keep in line, no different from House Gelbvieh cattle. From the moment he could stand, his fists were taught to crush, his voice to command, and his blade to bite.

"You were born to be a killer," said the giant in his blood. "The blade is your salvation. Leave bodies in the mud. Tears are for the small. Mercy is for the dead."

And so Smartacticus learned to fight, to kill, to show no softness. He was the pride of his trainers, the spearhead of warbands, the breaker of rebellion. To be a Herdsman was to know the duty: kill or die in shame. Never spare what you could burn.

But one year, a great stampede swept across Mythfeild, devouring the harvests, flattening fields. Food ran thin. The nobles of House Gelbvieh blamed the serfs, as they always did, and decreed punishment. Smartacticus was sent to enforce the will of his house. He found the serfs starving, children too weak to stand, elders too weak to cry, stealing turnips from dead soil.

And something broke inside him.

"What do you do when they look at you, paralyzed by the fire in your eyes?"

He didn’t drop his sword.

He turned it.

With one swift motion, he struck down his commander. He shouted not of conquest but of protection. That day, the Herdsman became a rebel.

Smartacticus freed the work camps. He armed the laborers. He stormed the storehouses of the Nobles and fed the starving. Word spread like fire across the plains. The Broken Herd, they were called. Serfs, farmers, outcasts, all united beneath his howl. For two seasons, they moved like a beast across the south. Cities trembled. Noble scouts fled. He was reborn, not as a butcher, but as a shield.

"I was born to be a killer," he said. "So a killer I shall be. But I will stand between the lion and the fawn it would eat."

But the Oligarchy does not forgive rebellion. When winter came, the full force of House Gelbvieh and its vassals, such as House Terr, descended upon him. They hired sell-swords. They unleashed mighy beasts. They made promises to their gods. One by one, his allies fell. The Broken Herd scattered. Smartacticus fought like a dying storm, his blade singing with fury. But even mountains fall.

He was captured. Bound in chains. The nobles demanded he kneel.

He did not.

So they drew and quartered him. His limbs were hung at the crossroads of Mythfeild. His name was stricken from the Herdsmen rolls. His death was used as a warning.

But the people remembered.

They remembered the goliath who turned his blade against his masters. Who gave the starving bread. Who lit a fire so bright even the nobles feared it.

And when serfs gather in secret, in shadowed barns and ruined chapels, sometimes they still whisper his name. And sometimes, they say, when the wind howls across Deercross, you can hear his voice carried with it.

“I was born to be a killer. But I chose to be more.”