A Giant's Cook - Chapter 7

A Giant’s cook

Written & illustrated by Frenchfeeder

VII. Paradise Lust

                                    “For he on honey-dew hath fed,

                                  And drunk the milk of Paradise...”

                                                 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kubla Khan

the battle was raging in a perpetual chaos between the elements, the Universe called forth a giant to fight them, separate them and bind them together – it was a time of darkness.

  And the giant blew against the winds – swam under water up to the source of all streams – crushed mountains of stone with his fists – trampled mud and quicksand, shaping Earth under his feet. Then the giant smashed all metals into dust, quenched fire with his tears and the blood from his wounds, containing its fiery assault for a moment – and it was a time of fever.

  And the giant tore that flame down in two halves, holding both stars in his mighty hands. He buried the first one deeply under metal and stone, down to the Earth’s core. He threw the second one into space as a Sun that would no longer burn but provide warmth and light during half the time of day – and it was a time of passion.

  And the giant flattened the storm, unknotted whirlpools and stretched out the air like blankets over the sleeping Earth, layer over layer – and it was a time of silence.

  And the giant poured water over the mountains’ tops where it froze into snow – down the hills where it flew into rivers, and into the valleys where the Great Lake would spread. And it was a time of peace.

  And once the battle was lost and won and all elements were at peace, the giant allowed them to communicate. Water and wind brought waves and whispers to the world. Earth and water brought grass and trees to the land, whose forests exchanged leaves and music with the wind – and it was a time of harmony.

  And water, earth and wind brought fish to the rivers and lakes, and flesh to the forests with beasts and birds of all kinds and shapes – and it was a time of Life.

  And the giant was allowed to rest – some say he went away for a nap, some say for an unending feast as a reward for his efforts. And it was the first time of Man...

[This legend of the Origins, recorded in various sources – most notably the famous Chronicles of Narnia-Nania-Nahnah – was considered lost for centuries... until it was found and translated by our beloved brother Matti, better remembered now as King Matthias the First of Mittel Earth.]

 

first monastery of Sacka-Graez had been founded over a thousand years before the events related to the giant occurred, from the threat he posed to the four cities to their collective actions against him.

  In the dark ages, the entire territory of what would become the blessed, Holy Land of Sacka-Graez was covered with dense forests. Tall, thick, old trees, full of mysterious shadows, prevented the first barbarian men to venture far from the place where they were born. And there were only a few fires here and there, hardly brought together by a few hazardous paths through the woods...

  Wolves, bears and other wild animals were roaming everywhere, especially at night. Most men feared for their lives and their families’ safety. With so very few resources to live on, every grown man had to know how to fight, and work as a hunter, a gatherer of roots, fruits and berries, and a woodcutter.

  The miracle that made Sacka-Graez become rich, strong and civilized used to be sung on the words of this ancient poem :

         There lived a lanky, lonely woodcutter

         in the dark forest – with his only son,

         whose skin was smooth and softer than butter,

         and his hair golden like the evening Sun.

         They didn’t fraternize much with others –

         who called him “Frief”, because he was a hood,

         and his son “Gordj”. They lived on wood and furs,

         only devoted to each other’s good.

         Father and son were naturally thin :

         a hard-working man, mighty like a bear,

         and his growing boy, little more than skin

         and bones – his mother was no longer there...

         When Frief was gone, hunting in the forest,

         Gordj was meant to defend their humble hut.

         But he couldn’t stay in – he couldn’t rest

         when he felt such hunger pangs in his gut !

         So, without his caring father’s consent,

         only thinking of tasty fruits and foods,

         he left their home without a guard – and went

         deeper and deeper into the dark woods...

         And so it happened. The ashes were black

         in the fireplace, and there was no sound

         to welcome the hunter when he came back :

         His son was gone, and nowhere to be found !

         All night long, Frief called out his lost son’s name.

         All morning, the next day, he searched for him.

         Every man he questioned told him the same :

         They had not seen Gordj – so his thoughts were grim...

         At last, after a week of wandering,

         the other fathers offered to help Frief

         who had not slept or eaten anything,

         and whose spirit was overcome with grief.

         After no less than three days in the hills,

         the search party heard something like a cry :

         both strange and familiar, giving them chills –

         something wild and masculine, wet and dry...

         “If that’s a mating call, I say no beast...”

         started a hunter. – “What man could usurp

         such a deep growl ?” – “Must be a bear !” – “At least

         a boar !” – “Listen, there it goes again...” – "BUUUUURRRRRPPPPP !!!"

         “What the...” And then the hunters found the boy

         lying completely naked on the ground –

         or was it really Gordj, Frief’s pride and joy,

         once a stick figure, now so full and round ?

         They couldn’t tell until they saw his face :  

         He was all cheeks, his buttery skin blown

         into a full moon – all over the place...

         There was so much meat on him, all his own !

         Gordj looked crushed under that enormous lump

         of what the hunters recognized as lard –

         but he was smiling, all too wide and plump

         to stand or roll over : That was too hard...

         “What’s happened to you, my boy – and so fast,

         when your stomach stands taller than I am ?

         How did you grow so large and fat, so vast

         that your wrist in my hand feels like a ham ?”

         The hunters looked at him in amazement.

         “What have you done, when we thought you were dead ?”

         The boy, still smiling, sighed for a moment,

         then belched again – “There was a house”, he said...

         “A house ?” – “What house ?” – “Let the boy tell his tale !”

         All hunters gathered around the young man,

         a dozen lean, sinewy men, quite pale

         compared to his belly with its nice tan...

         “There was a house, and there lived a lady.

         “She let me in, offering me a meal

         “with so much food, so delicious, ready

         “to be eaten – I thought “it can’t be real...”

         “And so I sat at her kitchen table.

         “One dish after the next, I ate and ate

         “non stop – all day – so glad to be able

         “to fill my gut and overload my plate !”

         “There were such strange preparations of meat,

         “roasted to perfection, bowls with a spoon

         “for creamy dishes, and sweet treats to eat.

         “And so I started growing pretty soon...”

         “That gentle lady had such perfect taste

         “for foods and drinks : She fed me really well,

         “so that nothing would ever go to waste,

         “but fatten me up – make my belly swell !”

         “She encouraged me to be a glutton,

         “grab larger bites, gobble, chow down and slurp !

         “All day, I drank in vats and ate a ton –

         “until I was too stuffed and tired to... BUUUUURRRRRPPPPP !!!"

  The hunters were fascinated. That last, loud and enormous belch almost woke them up from their dreamy visions of such delicious, mysterious foods... They were speechless. Some had tears in their eyes. It was all so beautiful that they asked the boy to go on and describe the heavenly foods he had been fed in such large amounts again. And the boy told them how the beautiful woman had welcomed him and how she cooked so much, so well. She had first told him that he was too thin – a lot too thin. That boy needed to eat, and drink... and get fat !

           

“Who was she ? Who invited you ?”

“Mother, of course.”

“But, boy... Your mother is...”

“Mother Nature !”

  The hunters exchanged a look. This was all so strange. There was no house or hut anywhere, not even the remains of a fire to cook anything... And after only a few days, the woodcutter’s son had grown so magnificently huge and round.

“Maybe he was brought down here ?”

“Impossible ! Look at him. He’s so big, he can’t even move !”

“And he’s so soft... Touch him !”

“He’s perfect. What a great way to grow up into manhood !”

  The boy only moaned under their touch, his fat features glistening with lard. He looked so contented, so completely satisfied...

“It’s a miracle !”

“A miracle ! That’s what it is...”

  And so the boy was called the “miracle child”. The hunters put up a few camp fires around him for the night, since he couldn’t be moved. Frief and a few others agreed to stay and sleep outside to look after him in turns.

  For the next few days, everyone expected to see the boy’s monumental belly deflate, and go back to a more reasonable size. It did just the opposite : The boy seemed to grow bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter by the day... That puzzled the men watching him, since they knew that he had not grabbed a bite since they had found him. He had not even been drinking water. Still, every now and then, he would utter a deep, loud belch – and his stomach felt full at all times !

  There were other questions regarding him, of course. One of the most pressing requests was about the foods he had been fed. The boy claimed that he had seen his host cooking, and he was able to describe the ingredients she would use for his meals – what cereals, what fruits, what strange herbs entered in her recipes. It felt quite unusual, but over the course of a few days, the women from their village had identified all the items mentioned by the “miracle child”, and so they tried their hand at a good pot of spicy meat in sauce. It looked like nothing they knew, and people had doubts about the taste of such stew...

  Frief trusted his son’s testimony, so he volunteered to try and eat that food. It didn’t look like he was struggling too much, and soon he was done with the stew. He even asked for some more, claiming that he had never enjoyed such tasty meat... To make his point, Frief told his friends that he would stay inside his hut for two or three days. The women of the village would leave plates for him by the door. When they came back with more food for the woodcutter’s next meal, they got them back all cleaned up.

  After two days, everyone gathered around Frief’s hut and called for him. When he came out, there was a general gasp of surprise and delight : The previously lanky woodcutter had grown a large potbelly, so wide that he didn’t fit through his door frame. It was a shabby little shack, of course, and the walls broke down around Frief, all naked now and shaped like a big ball of flesh...

“Hey, woodcutter !” his friends joked, “How’s that, cutting your way out of your own house ?”

“Will you cut a hole into the forest, too ?”

  And so Frief was the first “Holy Father”, coming back to his son. They were both delighted to be with each other again. The boy was still growing, and Frief had an impressive appetite, now that he had tasted that special food. To take care of the “miracle child” and his “Holy Father”, the men from the village started building a mighty hall, the size of half their village. A few boys were also admitted to live in there, to take care of everything. Once they had a roof over their... guts, it was considered as the first monastery of Sacka-Graez.

  Over the years, the monastery naturally grew, welcoming more and more boys who became worthy monks, as new constructions were added to the original building. The cult of Sacka-Graez was spreading in the West, and offerings were sent regularly. Larger walls, tall towers and more luxurious rooms appeared, and the next generations of monks benefited from the glorious past of the estate.

  The “miracle child” and his “holy father” had not been forgotten so much as they had become legendary figures. It was said in Sacka-Graez that the “miracle child” had lived a long life in immobile meditation, until he was so huge that he filled the gigantic hall where he was sitting, from one wall to the opposite wall, his bellybutton touching the ceiling. By that time, he had become so “perfect” that he was no longer a boy, but an Angel. His last words, according to legend, were

“I’m fat enough, for now...”

 Legend had become myth. There would only be one “miracle child”... According to the ancient chronicles, his father had also lived a long and happy life, until his mid-eighties, as he had reached a remarkable weight and girth. After his death, the first monk who would carry the title of “Holy Father” was elected by his peers in some sort of popularity contest – a tradition still alive today.

  When there were three hundred monks living in the monastery, the situation changed. It was obvious that they couldn’t find a place for any more boy to stay. Then the Holy Father made the first decision that wasn’t legendary but historic, one that would change the fate of Sacka-Graez forever.

“If we want to grow bigger, we need to expand.”

“Isn’t that the same thing ?”

“I mean we need to develop our activities. This monastery alone isn’t enough.”

  The strongest monks in the monastery were chosen, trained for combat, and sent on a mission to build a new abbey somewhere in the North. They would be the holy order the Heaven-rending Knights.

  A few dozen, valiant men – they rode on their horses for a few days until they found new villages – to pillage them, at first, then give them the good teachings of Sacka-Graez. That new abbey in the North was named Pohr-Kerwann. After a few years of hard work, they discovered gold dust in the streams flowing from the mountains... The monks sent men from the closest villages to start digging, and soon they found several important gold mines. There was a great abundance of the shining metal under the mountain rocks. The fortune of Sacka-Graez was based on those natural resources. The Holy Father was praised and remembered for his great action, and the creation of another abbey was promptly decided.

  This new abbey would be built in the South, by the Great Lake, to guard the border to Burgstijn – as the proud city had made itself known to the monks, by that time. Although it had been planned to be a fortress like Pohr-Kerwann, the abbey of O’Baybib would evolve into something else, and serve a completely different purpose. It was famous now as a pure sanctuary of virtue, according to the commandments of Sacka-Graez.

  It was also famous for accepting only few monks, little more than a hundred of them. The other main difference was that no one had ever come back from it – a paradise in its own right, for truly worthy boys only !

  

  Such was the glory of Sacka-Graez. After more than eleven centuries of setting the right example, about a thousand monks could gather by the main dungeon in Sacka-Graez, a mighty tower of pure, white marble, and sing the massive mass for their beloved Holy Father...

  In the mountains, Mark and his friends were still unaware of the recent events between Burgstijn-at-the-Seams and Stockytown. The battles lost and won in the South, the invasion of Pancia and the sporadic riots or strikes from peasants and bakers didn’t put an end to the general plan for Mittel Earth to get rid of the Giant. Every morning, sixteen ships came from Port-Lyfraim, then sixteen more ships from Stockytown’s harbours. In the afternoon, no less than eighteen ships reached their shores, coming from Burgstijn, and twenty ships from Sacka-Graez would follow in the evening, to seal the blonde beast’s fate.

  Mark was concerned with this new increase in the giant’s diet : It was five to six times larger than his initial daily intake... They had finally made it. There was too much food for the poor beast to eat. And his cook was probably the only person in Mittel Earth who remembered how lean and ripped that giant used to be. It was hard to believe that the huge creature had once been dangerously underfed.

  The longer meals and overwhelming amounts of food were one thing – Mark also worried about the effect it had on his friend’s behaviour. Of course, his manners in general had always been “primitive”, to say the least, but the giant’s appetite had reached a point where he would really gobble his food and stuff his face with both hands at an alarming pace. Was there something different with his food ? It seemed to be tastier than before – and heavier as well...

  The giant would still walk from one feeding place to the next for his breakfasts, but everyone in the village thought that he was getting sloppy.

“Come on, Giant. Come on, you pig ! Your second lunch is waiting...”

“He’s grown such a fat paunch. Look, he’s wobbling !”

“He’s so slow... All the food will be cold by the time we get there.”

“Who cares ? He will eat it all up anyway.”

“Yeah ! Good, fat pig...”

  The men laughed, but they were also relieved that the giant was suddenly able to finish his meals again, without sharing too much with them – they had to be the fattest, most overfed peasants ever in all Mittel Earth ! The fathers were only surpassed by their young sons, who had been treated so well by the Giant that they were too obese to get out of their beds...

  Somehow, the giant no longer felt the need to share with his friends so much... He looked perfectly happy when they told him that he had to eat ten more Burgstijn pies the size of water ponds. Even by the end of his third meal, the giant kept on gorging himself full of the most fattening foods, when every man was exhausted from overeating...

“Ooof, that’s it. I’m going to explode !”

“I can’t... face... another meal like this...”

“He's such a beast ! How can he eat that much, that fast ?”

  They were right about it. The giant had become so gluttonous that everyone around him was disgusted. And with so many rich meats in sauce, so many greasy sausages, so many sweet pies and cakes, and so much beer, the greedy giant had grown vastly obese... It was still fascinating to watch him as he ate fat meatballs bigger than grown men, and handfuls of them too ! His belly was glistening with sweat, bulging proudly over his meaty, muscular thighs. His arms and legs were thicker than ever, and his skin looked nice, all soft and buttery.

“What a greedy pig ! And he’s never eaten so well !”

“Or so loud...”

  Lying on the ground and ready to burst, they watched him eat enormous pies, lick his fingers and rub his engorged stomach before reaching for something else to munch on... But it was even more amazing to watch him stand up after such mind-blowing meals ! The mere fact that he could carry such an immense load inside his gut and pull his own weight was nothing short of a miracle !

“He’s still quite strong...” a peasant would comment “I mean... for such a fattened hog, that is !”

“I’ll say... And don’t you think that he looks... I don’t know, taller ?”

“How do you mean ? He’s a giant !”

“Of course, but even so... I sometimes wonder if he’s not growing up.”

“He’s growing out, that’s for sure.”

  And they looked at the giant, guzzling vat after vat of beer. Hundreds of gallons of the best brews were flowing down his throat, to that sunless cavern that was his stomach. After a few more vats, the giant would let out a thunderous belch, so loud and long that flocks of birds would be flying off the trees for a moment. All the men would laugh – and the giant, good-natured as he was, would smile in response and chuckle lightly as he patted the side of his generous paunch...

  The previous Fall, a boy in his late twenties had been admitted in Sacka-Graez. He was a foreigner from Burgstijn – not from the city itself, from the country... The brother in charge of admission considered that he looked educated enough, although he only weighed a miserable 140lbs, standing around 5’11. This would have to change soon...

“What’s your name, boy ?”

“Matthias.”

“That’s too long. You’ll be Matt from now on.” said the monk, who only ever used words of one syllable. “How long will you be here with us ?”

“As a matter of fact... I’m here to stay. My parents have sent me to Sacka-Graez not only to study and pray, but to become a monk.”

“Oh ? Good...” the older monk’s expression changed. “These will be your robes. Stand up straight.”

  The boy was measured with a tape around his waist, then the monk went back to the admission counter. He took a certain length of ribbon with red and white silk weaved together and cut it with scissors.

“This will be your rope belt, then... Put it on.”

  Matt had left his clothes at the gate, and his new robes were a bit large for him. This rope belt was also a lot longer than he had expected, easily fifteen inches more than his waist – so he had too hold it with both hands for the time being.

“It should take a few months for you to break it...”

“Oh... Thank you...”

“This the way to your cell.”

  Matt spent the rest of his first day in that small, comfortable bedroom. His new brothers stopped by to welcome him in a proper manner, following the tradition of Sacka-Graez, with cookies and cakes, pastries and other goodies. Some of them only introduced themselves, fed him a plate of food and left. Others would stay with Matt while he ate, and talked to him for a moment. What they told him didn’t matter much, since they spent all day sleeping, grazing, napping, drinking, resting and rubbing their full bellies. They lived pretty secluded, sheltered lives... Matt listened to them, stuffed himself and smiled. For some reason, the other monks enjoyed being with him and didn’t feel like leaving him alone so soon. By sundown, Matt had made acquaintance with a dozen monks. Then he was too stuffed and tired to stay awake. His belly was also nicely curved out...

  After two weeks, Matt had met all the monks living in Sacka-Graez. He had also eaten more sweets than he thought humanly possible. And with an early gain of twenty pounds, he was allowed to get out and join everyone in the monastery as he pleased. The boy still had to outgrow his rope belt so he could be presented to the Holy Father. But Matt looked eager to learn !

  With all the different activities available in Sacka-Graez, Matt was pretty busy for the rest of the month. First, he visited the kitchens, where the cooks treated him with the tasty butter cookies and soft sponge cakes. He spent his afternoons in the garden, where large picnics were organized every day. Then he sang a few times with the choir, learning how to guzzle half a gallon of beer in one swig. He feasted with his friends in the great dining room, four times a day, and he attended occasional late-night parties in all parts of the palace.

  As it turned out, Matt was invited on every occasion, so often that he couldn’t always make it... When a brother insisted, he made an effort to follow the group and pig out or be stuffed just a little bit more, right after a magnificent meal. When he would finally go to sleep, the poor boy’s stomach was dangerously close to exploding !

  This wouldn’t happen to every newcomer. It dawned on Matt that he was quite popular with his fellow monks. He wasn’t just nice and handsome – the weight he had already put on was only enhancing his good features... He also remembered every monk on a first name basis, and made no mistake. That was remarkable, since the boys always answered to short nicknames. There were maybe two dozen “Pats” in Sacka-Graez, for instance – not counting belly pats...

 Matt was good company, patient, gentle and encouraging. After three months in the community, it was obvious that he was everyone’s heartthrob. He could even debate with the more mature, wise monks of the monastery, on deeper subjects than the added flavours and benefits of strong alcohols in beer.

“Don’t let yourself be defined by what you have.”

“What do you mean, Matt ?”

“Well... If you look at it this way, we all have dicks but you wouldn’t want to be just “a dick”, do you ?”

“Oh, right...”

“Right...”

  He finally learned about the most sacred teachings in Sacka-Graez, which were presented in various forms of riddles and questions. An old monk would ask :

“What does a pie yet to be cooked taste like ?”

and the younger monks guessed again, and again. For every wrong answer, they would have to eat a large piece of pie in one bite – and an extra piece of pie if they couldn’t gobble their food in such large bites, the first time... Eventually, the young monks would learn that there was no answer to that question. The purpose of that exercise, according to their teachers, was for them to repeat it all day, every day, until their minds gave up and their stomachs burst... Then they would enjoy true, Sacka-Graez wisdom : a holy revelation. They would become "Angels of good", and cherubs – no mind, all belly...

  When Matt woke up one morning with his rope belt opened, stretched out from too much pressure during his sleep, he was embraced by the whole community of monks with great enthusiasm. His brothers weighed him at a charming 240lbs and a grand ceremony took place in the main hall. Then Matt was told about the “ten commandments” of Sacka-Graez.

  These ten commandments, also known as the “Gold and Silver” Rules, had been written by monks of the first generations, in legendary times. Theoretically, they should be observed at all times by any true monk – five “do’s” and “don’ts” Matt would learn and know by heart :

  The Holy Father was coming back from a meeting with the Council of the Four, in Burgstijn, so Matt had to wait for a day before he was officially accepted as a monk and he would be given his “mission”. When he first saw the boy, humble and bowing, but in all his naked glory, the Holy Father smiled approvingly. Then he turned to one of the plump-cheeked boys who always helped him get up and walk, taking him aside to ask him a few questions. The boy’s answer was only mumbled into the old man’s ear, so the monks attending the ceremony – which amounted to a real crowd, since they all wanted to see Matt – didn’t know what to think...

“Is it true, as I am being told now, that you have been to the library ?”

  There was a general whisper of surprise in the room.

“The library ?...”

“We have a library ?”

“What’s a library ?”

  Matt answered that he had asked the librarian, but he was denied access. So, technically, he had not been there...

“You have tried, nonetheless.” The Holy Father frowned. “Why ?”

“I... I don’t know.”

  Matt suppressed a sigh... He remembered how, back in Burgstijn-at-the-Seams, a librarian would also be chosen for the job, based on the great number of books he would be able to sit on... After he had met and questioned the monk in charge of the bookshelves here, it was clear that you had to be one massive lard ass to apply for it as well !

  There was a moment of awkward silence. The Holy Father finally nodded, and told Matt that he would send him on a special mission... to Pohr-Kerwann, with the Heaven-rending knights.

“What ?” The whole assistance shouted in unison. This was totally unexpected. In all the years that the oldest monks remembered, there had been no mission like this. Contemplation and prayer, that was the most familiar mission. Being served meal after meal, from dawn till dusk, until the boy would beg his brothers to stop feeding him – being tied, trapped inside a large, closed vat, and forced to drink the monks’ rich, home-brewed beer through a funnel, until the boy’s belly made the vat explode from inside – those were the way of tradition !

“You still have a lot to learn, apparently.” The Holy Father went on, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. “You will spend three months as a knight with your brothers in arms, in Pohr-Kerwann... Then you will be sent to O’Baybib, for another three months.”

  That second announcement made the crowd protest even louder. No monk had ever returned from O’Baybib. It was totally unheard of. It was absurd. It was an outrage. It wasn’t following tradition at all. There was so much noise in the room that the Holy Father had to leave to end Matt's audience, instead of dismissing everyone... Then the cries and complaints of all monks were heard through the monastery.

  What was particularly unacceptable to them, although it was never mentioned, was how that extravagant, sorry excuse of a mission would deprive Sacka-Graez of Matt’s presence for a long time – if not forever. Discussions about it developed into heated arguments, until all participants let out their anger and frustration, shouting, sobbing, letting their pain go away with pints after pints of beer... Matt’s friends had become too attached to him to let him leave.

  When they had mustered some courage and sent a small group to ask the Holy Father to reconsider, they found that Matt had already left Sacka-Graez, early in the morning – before dawn. The boys shrugged, their fists clenched in the large pockets of their robes, mumbled a few more, resentful words and went back to their breakfasts. Even their stomachs seemed to be grumpy about Matt no longer being with them...

  Matt could still ride a horse. He would have been traveling for three days only – but he was in no hurry, and with a retinue whose mission would also be to watch him for some reason... After two weeks on the Northern path, spending the night in comfortable inns where monks had the best rooms reserved for their journeys, Matt could discern the towers of Pohr-Kerwann in the distance, rising above the tallest trees of those dark woods.

  The air was quite cold by the end of Winter, in that part of the land. It was still snowing, and the abbey looked like a stronghold more than anything else. Crows could be seen flying in circles above the main building, almost drawn by hand on the light grey sky...

  A few knights were outside, training and fighting with a staff or their bare fists. They weren’t wearing shirts either, in spite of the wind. While this was worth stopping by to admire their chunky yet agile bodies in action, another knight was standing at the gate, waiting for Matthias. He bowed and invited him in a very formal manner, using only a few words and no smile on his face.

  There were only about a hundred monks in the abbey of Pohr-Kerwann, under the command of Brother Fratz – yet, Matt had heard that they managed all the resources and administration of Sacka-Graez in the North with perfect efficiency. He was naturally interested in meeting that brother in charge.

“Brother Fratz will receive you now...”

  The dour monk left. Matt stepped into a small office only dimly lit, with modest furniture literally covered with books and papers – and crowded with big sacks of gold dust and chunks of native gold, glistening under the light from candles. A tall, hooded man dressed in black was putting some large book back on its shelf. When he turned to look at his guest, Matt noticed that Brother Fratz was blind in one eye...

  Once, during a hunt through the forest, he had been scratched by a wild animal on the right side of his face. The scars on his cheek had faded, but his eyelids were almost sewn together now... Matthias couldn’t help shuddering, at first – although that was only from being surprised. Then he blushed and looked down.

“I am quite scary-looking, am I ?”

“Sorry, I just... I didn’t expect...”

“People never expect a man to be so repulsively wounded. I certainly didn’t see it coming...” Brother Fratz joked, brushing his right cheek lightly. “So, you have been sent to us from Sacka-Graez ?”

“Yes. I’m brother Matt.”

“Matt ? What’s that, short for mattress ?”

“Sorry, my name is actually Matthias.”

“Don’t be sorry... I know how lazy they are in Sacka-Graez, when it comes to all the little, important things – like first names.”

  Matthias nodded in agreement, still looking down. Brother Fratz was reading as the Holy Father had sent a letter of introduction to him, most certainly with a few instructions as well. He gave the young, handsome monk a thorough look.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You’re welcome here in Pohr-Kerwann.”

  And Brother Fratz offered his guest to sit down. As they were both doing so, he took the candle on his desk and put it almost on the edge, with his left hand.

“See ? If I put this candle on my left, you would never know that I have no right eye, in the darkness of this room - unless someone were to tell you so...”

  Matthias didn’t know what to say. Brother Fratz was talking to him quietly. It was true : With only the left side of his face in the light, he didn’t look so beaten and rough. And Matthias had not noticed until then how handsome the knight in charge was, with his tall, hefty yet athletic frame, his thick arms, his furry, round chest and belly – all that went well with his dark, trimmed beard...

“People only present their good side to the world, to the light. They want to look their best to seduce you, and have their way with you. If they were only what they seem, oh ! what perfect angels they would be... But never forget that there is a dark side to them – to each and every one of us.”

  Brother Fratz was still talking softly. He had a low baritone voice, masculine and warm. Matthias was blushing again, when the monk who had first introduced him entered again, holding a large tray covered with plates of food, followed by two younger monks bringing more, steaming cooking pots.

“Leave those on that table...” Brother Fratz gestured to the corner of the room, behind Matthias. “Thank you. You may go now.”

  Matthias had a hunch that this food was only meant for him.

“What did you get to eat in Sacka-Graez ? You look sadly underfed...”

“Oh... No, I was pretty well-fed. More than well, really... The Holy Father made me eat like a pig. I just started a lot too thin, there.”

“How much do you weigh, Matthias ?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a week since I was last weighed in...”

“Get undressed, please.”

  Matthias did as he was told. Brother Fratz had great, solid scales in the next room. When the boy was stripped down, he made him step on it and checked his naked body himself.

“245 pounds. Oh, pity... Pity...”

“I’m actually quite hungry now.”

“Good. You have to eat. And you’re going to...”

  And he lifted the tops of the cooking plates and pots. There were large pieces of meat, both red meat and chicken, swimming in creamy sauces, next to heaps of buttery pasta. Brother Fratz offered Matthias a heavy plate of it.

“Eat meat, boy ! Lots of meat ! I want you very meaty, Matthias... According to the letter I have received from the Holy Father, I should be feeding you until you are too wide to get through the gate of my humble abbey. So be it... I will give orders so that you are really overfed for the duration of your stay !”

  But then he smiled – a gentle smile. Matthias understood how Brother Fratz had little respect for the Holy Father. Future conversations with him would confirm that his views on Sacka-Graez and Mittel Earth were quite different than anything he had heard at the monastery... Matthias ate with remarkable appetite – four whole chicken, juicy steaks, pork ribs, down to the last piece of bread and the last drop of sauce – until he was perfectly stuffed and Brother Fratz rubbed his swollen belly slowly...

  Over the next few days and weeks, although he would spend most of his time inside the kitchen, Matthias got to learn more about Brother Fratz, the abbey and the land around it. As a matter of fact, the knights were always very nice to him – but the reality of Pohr-Kerwann was quite different from what he had expected.

  He didn’t even have to leave the kitchen for his first important discovery. While he was eating his way through a magnificent beef steak, cooks and monks were carrying casseroles of boiling water, throwing thick sausages into them. Yet Matthias never saw them eat those sausages...

“Who are these meant for ?”

“Who ? But for the prisoner, of course.”

“What prisoner ?”

“Oh, right. You haven’t heard yet ? We’ve finally caught him as he was plotting another attack against a few of us, on the road back from the gold mines.”

“An attack...”

“You can forget about it. Rebellion in this land comes and goes like a fever, we always... crush it !” the monk concluded, with some emphasis, putting the super-heavy tray of sausages on the table. There were more than eighty of them...

 Another monk Matthias had noticed earlier was coming in. He had a cruel smirk on his face, as he spotted all the sausages ready on the table.

“Our rebellious guest is HUNGRY !”

  Taking the tray in his hands, he went back to some underground place, again – Matthias had wondered about this before. Now that he was paying attention to it, he could understand the distant, muffled noises coming from the basement : Someone was locked down there, and begging for something. Then his calls were replaced by sloppy, munching sounds, almost pig-like, and harsh words from the guard who had to be teasing him, followed by loud, raucous belches.

  There were prisons right underneath the kitchens. Someone was being tortured at that very moment. Matthias didn’t feel like eating another plate of creamy ribs right now... The cold air and fog around the abbey had never looked so grim and menacing.

  With only a few more questions, Matthias realized that the rumors about Pohr-Kerwann were true. The Heaven-Rending Knights had always used the local men, women and children as slaves in their gold mines. The enormous treasure they had unearthed and gathered was tainted with the blood of innocents...

  For years, for centuries maybe, probably from the beginning of that oppressive system, men from the villages around Pohr-Kerwann had been revolting against the knights. Since they were always isolated in their actions, retaliation was easy and immediate – but brutal, as well ! And whenever the monks could capture a man who happened to stand as a possible leader for a larger movement, they kept him in prison and tortured him to make an example...

  The fortress was full of secrets like this one. Matthias had only heard about the positive consequences of it, until now. Sacka-Graez had never known anything else than “peace” and “order”... Remembering the first words Brother Fratz had told him, he was now painfully aware of the darker side of the abbey. When a rebel was caught, he ended up handcuffed in a strong yoke with shackles, so he wouldn’t be able to fight or resist his guards. He couldn’t eat by himself either, but the special torture that the monks had come up with was also an answer to that "inconvenience"... The poor prisoner would be given hundreds of sausages to eat – thousands of them, actually – until his resistance was crushed and he could no longer move !

  His guard would push the first sausage into his mouth, then make him munch on it, then on another, and another – down to the last of them... The guard wouldn’t let him stop before the whole line of greasy sausages was gone, forced down his throat and into his aching gut ! Once he was done, he would be bloated on beer even more forcefully, with a large, long funnel. A few weeks on that impressive diet left the prisoner exhausted, and enormously obese. He could no longer walk, not even stand up without the help of two or three strong men... They literally rolled him out of prison to send him back to his family and friends – who would remember not to cross that line ever again !

  With that scene still clear in his mind, Matthias looked distracted when Brother Fratz joined him for dinner. The boy was in a bad mood, and being stuffed didn’t help as he was always given so much red meat for his meals... He was a little flushed in the face. Brother Fratz asked what was bothering him and Matthias, more hot-blooded than his usual self, told him very abruptly about the reign of torture and terror imposed in Pohr-Kerwann. One strong word led to an other, and they had a violent argument about the whole thing. Finally, Brother Fratz banged his fists on the table and yelled at his guest :

“What makes this world a better place ? I will tell you : It’s all the worst things in the world ! Peace is established by waging war. Comfort is achieved through the hard work of others. Generosity’s always based on dirty, money-making business. And love...”

  But then he stopped, and looked away – and left. Matthias didn’t follow him. He spent the rest of the night awake, thinking that for all his strength and character, Brother Fratz was a deeply disappointed man... He had probably seen too much of the world, and what a man could do to another, and felt it all too deeply. Matthias was suddenly sad about all this, and for his friend.

  For the next few days, they limited their conversations to superficial matters, and avoided more personal, sensitive subjects. They weren’t angry at each other, but there was some distance between them. Matthias knew, deep down, that Brother Fratz was right, and he felt bad that he had blamed his superior for actions any man in charge would have to take... On the other hand, Brother Fratz was totally aware that his methods were unacceptable, and he had always hated his own guts for it, even more so as he had now exchanged words with a boy he loved as a dear friend.

  That uneasy situation lasted more than they could take it. Matthias was eating a little less, and trained more often with the other knights. He was looking quite strong and beefy, and he had made friends with all the monks, overlooking how roughly they ruled over their part of the land. Then, one evening, he found Brother Fratz waiting, on his way to his private chamber, with a few bottles of beer and a fourteen-pound stuffed turkey.

“We’ve done enough good work for the day. Want to join me ?”

  Since he was inviting him so nicely, Matthias followed him inside. After a few pints of beer, they got to talk as friends again. Brother Fratz was done cutting the turkey and stuffing into juicy pieces of meat...

“You look tired. Aren’t you training a bit too much with the staff ?”

“That’s not it... I guess I need more sleep.”

“Well, fine. Stay in bed, tomorrow morning. I’ll tell the others. Besides, you could stand to be a bit lazier. You’re starting to look like a muscle beefcake.”

“No way...”

“I’m telling you. Look into the mirror sometimes. Your shoulders are larger than your waist !”

  They laughed heartily and drank a few more bottles of beer. Brother Fratz was brave enough to get back to the meat of the matter.

“I know how much it bothers you... Sometimes even I can’t sleep.”

“To be honest, I haven’t been fair to you about the whole thing. I didn’t consider how tough it could be on you too...”

“Sure. You still had a point. Someone has to do it... Someone should put an end to it... I guess that makes me the wrong kind of someone.”

“No, I had no right to blame you for it. I’ve been thinking about all this... a lot.”

“If that’s enough to keep you wide awake...”

“Hey, we’re both awake – and we’re both meant to be wide !”

  They smiled to each other. Matthias had such magnificent eyes, sparkling with little stars that also indicated how inebriate he was... They both felt so sorry that they fell into each other’s arms, throwing the empty bottles away, and Brother Fratz kissed him passionately. They spent the rest of the night in bed, mixing sex with long, full-body rubs and leftovers from turkey and stuffing...

  You could tell that it wasn’t their first time with another man, but they both felt that this was the best sex they’d ever had. In the morning, Matthias woke up still nestled against his friend’s chest, whose hand was gently stroking his hair.

“Wow, it’s so late... and I’m completely spent.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. You and I are going to stay in bed, this morning. I’ll tell the others that you need to rest.”

“Will you really... let me rest ?”

“What do you think ?” Brother Fratz leaned closer with an impish smile. “It’s your fault for not wanting to be a lazy, lardy boy. I have to keep you fairly active...”

  For the rest of his stay in Pohr-Kerwann, Matthias wouldn’t leave Brother Fratz for more than an hour. Even when he was busy eating, and the tall knight was on duty all day, he would find a moment to join Matthias – and it wasn’t lost on anyone that the stern master of Pohr-Kerwann was even more attracted to him, now that they were intimate. Brother Fratz would feed his dear friend full of meat during the day, and devour him at night. It was no cheap infatuation. He would be genuinely sorry when Matthias would have to leave...

  The new knight was treated really well by his brothers, even as it was more evident to him that not everything was all right in Pohr-Kerwann... Matthias was getting stronger and thicker all over, much to his loving friend’s pleasure. He was also eating with renewed appetite, now that they had come to terms with each other ! Brother Fratz always answered honestly and straight to the point, when Matthias questioned him. There was no need for secrecy, according to him. And no matter how tough he was, bitter and cynical, Matthias knew that Brother Fratz wasn’t a bad person at heart.

  As a consequence, Matthias had become a close confident to him, and he was informed about all matters at hand. One evening, Brother Fratz mentioned the giant to Matthias for the first time, as he was slowly reading through a letter he had received.

“So there really is... a giant ? in Kastel-Pancia ?”

“In the unknown forest, actually... So he might be closer to us than he is to the baron’s castle.”

“But... No, that’s impossible !”

“Why would that be “impossible” ? Stranger things have already happened... And they may feel all too “natural”, compared to what is yet to come.”

“I first heard about a giant attacking the baron’s armies, back in Sacka-Graez. It was such a tall tale that everyone dismissed it. The Holy Father wasn’t there, but there was no need to tell us that it was only a rumour...”

“A rumour... What’s a rumour ? Wind blowing through the branches of trees. Isn’t that real enough for you ? Or do you need a thunderstorm ?”

 Brother Fratz looked nervous. The letter on his desk was pages and pages long – a very unusual letter... He got up from his chair and looked to the North, to the darkness outside, by the window.

“It is a very ancient forest... A very strange forest... Rocks have been known to move, and trees to speak. Auguries and understood relations have brought forth secrets and dark deeds we thought were hidden so well... I wouldn’t be surprised if Nature had given birth to such a Giant to make us pay for our greed and evil.”

“What does your letter say ?”

“Well... Our dear Holy Father has attended another meeting in Burgstijn, for the Council of the Four. Apparently, we are now requested to finance an operation of extraordinary importance – to send food to the creature, for some reason.”

“What do they want ?”

“Gold. More gold. What else ?”

  Spring was coming. And when the sky turned from its usual ash gray into an icy blue, another letter came with a special horse carriage for Matthias : It was time for him to leave. Brother Fratz let him go, after they had one last intimate night together – where he confessed a most important point to his lover and guest.

“This is the letter I received from the Holy Father, when they first brought you to Pohr-Kerwann. You’ll see that my orders were to submit you to the same “special diet” – or torture, more accurately – as any common rebel in our prison...”

“No way ! He didn’t...”

  But the message was quite clear, and the Holy Father’s clumsy handwriting was unmistakable. Matthias shivered at the thought, feeling cold inside, as if a steel blade had slowly cut trough his back and spine...

“You can imagine how much you would have grown, what blimp you would be today, if I had followed his instructions !”

“But... Why ? Why didn’t you obey ?”

“Because I never inflict punishment on anyone unless I know it can’t be helped. I needed to know you a bit better. And once I did, I refused to put you through it.”

  Matthias leaned forward to kiss him. It was a gentle kiss, unlike what they had shared until then. For a brief moment, they felt each other’s love intensely – and it was both beautiful and sad, because it was too late. Matthias blushed. He had not blushed like that since he had first met Brother Fratz.

“You still did a pretty good job fattening me up, you know...” he said, patting his bulging potbelly to lighten up their mood.

“Of course...” Brother Fratz rubbed his gut from behind him. “How much did you weigh, this morning ?”

“305lbs, I believe...”

“A good 60 pounds. A decent gain.”

“More than decent...” Matthias smiled.
“Better than nothing, far from enough..."
"I hope I can keep it up... in the future."

  Brother Fratz was patting his overhanging belly, absent-mindedly.

“The Holy Father wanted you to leave our abbey weighing no less than a thousand pounds... And now he sends you to O’Baybib ?”

“What do you mean ?”

“O’Baybib is a mysterious place. No man ever came back from it. To send a butterball of a boy there, I find it very odd. Be careful... Try to keep in touch with the outside world. Take care of yourself. Don’t surrender to anyone’s will... And try not to grow too fat. You will be obese soon enough...”

  Those words were wiser than anything Matthias could have wished for. He had to leave early in the morning, and the night was over before he was done talking to Brother Fratz... Maybe some day, hopefully, he would come back ?

  The abbey of O’Baybib was more than two weeks away. For the duration of his journey, the young monk was melancholic, only answering politely to the men in his retinue, eating very reasonably when they stopped in taverns and luxurious inns for the night. He didn’t sleep much, once again. He would lay in bed, feeling the loneliness of it while his stomach growled – begging for belly rubs, not food... Matthias would listen to the merry songs from the dining room downstairs, to the rain outside. He would remember Brother Fratz’s advice.

  The landscape around them changed as they were approaching O’Baybib. Hills and valleys replaced the mountains. Sprinkling streams had gathered into a slow, flowing river. Spring was there. In a gentle breeze, only the blossoming of trees from cherry orchards imitated the rain...

“There it is. The heavenly abbey !”

  The building couldn’t be more different from the fortress of Pohr-Kerwann – a stately pleasure-dome, with many levels and seven thin, tall towers on the edge, standing above thick walls, and the river running into a curve around it. Bridges were guarding the access to the abbey from all sides. The monks had been digging a deep trench to let the water surround their earthly paradise like a small island. A tall, remarkably strong knight in white robes saluted them.

“This young man has been sent to you by our Holy Father.”

“What orders ?” he asked, always very cautious.

“Right...  Here, in this letter.”

  The guard took it and looked as if he was able to read it, then his face lightened up – he had probably recognized the official seal ?

“You may enter, boy... As for you, I wish you a pleasant journey back to Sacka-Graez.”

  So Matthias was left on his own again. The guard closed the gate behind him, asked for his clothes and whatever personal belongings he may be wearing. Then he opened the door to a magnificent garden, with a white-bricked alley going through it.

“Follow this road to the main door. Someone will be waiting for you.”

“What should I tell him ?”

“Just knock, and the door shall be opened to you.”

  Matthias did as he was told. It felt strange to be walking naked outside, among beautiful trees and bushes – but there was no one to be seen, no one to see him from the windows or towers either. The sun felt soft over his shoulders. Matthias grabbed his belly fat with both hands. Obviously, he had lost some weight after leaving Pohr-Kerwann. That may be a good thing – since he had a hunch that he would only leave this place a lot fatter... if he could leave at all !

  Another tall, almost athletic knight welcomed the naked newcomer. He looked less like a guard, and Matthias expected him to ask the usual questions, give him the same instructions as the other monks.

“What is your name ?”

“Matthias.”

“A nice, sounding name. A bit too much, perhaps. We’ll call you Matti.”

“As you like...”

  Matti was wondering – how many characters would he have to play in this ? The monk didn’t give him any new piece of clothes. He would remain naked in there – at least, he was explained what to do in order to “ascend” to their own, private Heaven.

“Being admitted doesn’t mean that you are ready. These rooms form the outside path into our Paradise. In each room, you will find someone who will help you, or something to do by yourself. Each new room will lead you closer to your goal.”

“Thank you for your advice...”

“I get to open the first door.”

  But that first room was empty, filled with steam and hot water. It was one large bathtub. Matti looked at the monk, puzzled.

“A bath ? Is that it ?”

“I believe you could use a good bath, after such long time on the road. Honestly, Matti, you stink of the outside world...”

  And Matti spent a few hours soaking in. Then the door at the other end of the room was opened by another member of the “outside staff”. There was a chair for him to sit at a table all covered with pastries. The guard served him.

“Eat up !”

  Now that was more familiar to him. Matti had not eaten cake for months – and certainly no cakes like these. It was delicious, extremely buttery and soft, so the young boy filled his belly with renewed confidence. His guard, however, didn’t say a word. He only served him more, and told him to finish everything.

  When Matti was finally done with all those sweets, he could barely get up... His guard helped and pushed him into the next room – where some sort of bed had been brought up to waist level, in the center of it. The new guard was almost so naked as he was, and definitely athletic ! He made him lay on the bed that was actually a massage table.

“Let go, boy. You’re too tense...”

“I’m full.”

“You’re nicely stuffed. I will help you with that. You'll be stuffed again soon ! But you’re also tense. Breathe. Rest. Sleep if you like...”

  For hours, he massaged Matti’s belly and body, making him comfortable, belch lazily from time to time, feeling aroused then falling into sleep. When Matti woke up, he was allowed to get into the next room...

  This went on for days – maybe weeks. Matti never knew exactly what he would come to, but it was basically the same : huge meals, long baths, long massages, more food, more steamy baths, more full-body rubs... It was all so quiet, and so effective, that Matti had lost conscience of time and space. He was falling into a strange state of comfort, some drowsy ecstasy. Whatever advice he had received was also lost on him... Matti’s steps were getting a bit slower with each passing day, as he was growing fatter and fatter.

  After what felt like eternity to him, he was allowed by his guard to open the last door. There was Paradise – the largest rooms he had ever seen, fountains and light mists, delicious perfumes in the warm air, great walls, delicate arcs on top of marble columns, and elegant pieces of furniture, all covered with foods...

  And so Matti was welcomed by the cherubs, a hundred boys of remarkable girth and appetite – all naked and sweating, hugging him in a bundle.

“Dude...”

“Am I in Heaven now ?”

“You bet your sweet life you are !”

“Wow, dude...”

“Dude !”

  Matti had never been rubbed like this, in all places at once. He realized that these cherub boys were the perfect, living example of Sacka-Graez’s ten commandments... They were all stuffed full, hungry for more, lazy and horny ! This was Paradise.

  There was no need to organize a party for the new member of their exclusive, little group : Food was always at hand, and a great abundance of it !

“There you go, dude ! Taste this...”

“You need to grow a rounder paunch, dude...”

“Then you must have a pie.”

“You mean a piece of pie ?”

“No, a whole pie... But not this one. It’s mine !”

  And Matti sat down on large cushions with them, reached for the nearest plate of cookies and ate like a pig – until he couldn’t possibly stuff another bite into his mouth. His fellow cherubs were pleased with him. But they had to be pleased at all times, with the good life they enjoyed ! Matti wouldn’t get up. There were six plump boys clinging to his body, slumbering together...

  They only woke up when they felt hungry, then feasted on pastries again, drank soft drinks and belched in turns, encouraging each other. When Matti eventually stood up, he almost lost his balance : He was seriously chunky and obese !

“Dude... Just roll over like we do.”

“Yeah, dude ! You’re too fat to walk.”

“And you’re not fat enough yet !”

“Cookies are hot from the oven, dude...”

  In a flash, Matti remembered Brother Fratz and his advice. He remembered that he had a bigger purpose in life than growing endlessly bigger. Deep down, in the secret of his heart, he had a mission to fulfill.

  He still enjoyed spending hours in the steam baths – playing innocent games, sexy ones too, and gobbling enormous amounts of foods with his cherub friends. The warm, wet atmosphere in the rooms kept them lazy, and its sweet aromas were meant to keep them hungry. There were colder baths, bubble baths, even showers. The cherubs shared everything... This was Paradise.

  Yet Matti was under the impression that he was a favourite angel among them. He would sometimes leave them to wander through the magnificent halls. There he happened to meet cooks, and servants from the “outside staff” – guards who had fed him before, others who would be eager to give him a massage again. He made a few daring requests, and saw his wishes granted at once. Then he knew what to do.

“I couldn’t help marveling at the beautiful tress and flowers outside. Is there a way down to this garden of Paradise ?”

  And he was given access to it by a friendly guard. He was able to see then sun again, breathe the air from outside. Spring must have turned into Summer. The flowers were in full blossom. Matti noticed that his body had also blossomed into a large ball belly, much larger than he would think possible on him. He had to act fast – time had its hold on things outside these walls.

“I would like to see the Great Lake from a tower...”

  Finally, Matti was able to send a message to Sacka-Graez and Pohr-Kerwann – he kept it on cryptic terms, knowing what effect a few chosen words would have on his impatient friends’ mood :

   “There’s so much we could share –

    and you don’t even care...”

  That was really as far as he could go without arousing suspicion in O’Baybib. He spent the rest of his time among the cherubs, overfed to the point of ecstasy and oblivion... This was Paradise.

  Matti didn’t know about the recent developments of the war against the giant – and the recent fortunes of war themselves, with Stockytown’s recent invasion of Pancia, and the threat it posed on Burgstijn and its allies in Mittel Earth !

  The monks in Sacka-Graez had received different versions of the facts, and the different sympathies they had with one city or the other had formed two parties in the monastery. Since they could only talk about it in secret, the only subject left discussing without conflict was Matti’s exile to distant abbeys. Everyone had resented the Holy Father’s decision, at first. Then it had grown into some sort of cold rage, every monk holding a grudge against the authority, the Council of the Four meeting in Burgstijn... Then the significant restrictions in foods and beer made any subject, Matti’s absence for instance, even less bearable.

  The harmony inside the monastery was crumbling. All the monks were torn between two choices. They would either turn against each others, following the cities already at war – which meant the end of Sacka-Graez – or they would take action themselves, and get rid of the Holy Father.

  There was no real conscience behind it, their will and uncertainty floating in the air like heavy ghosts, when Matti’s letter was received. It had a similar effect on the greedy boys than lightning. They had forgotten about the other cities. They were little more than an angry mob, when they marched to the main hall.

“No more of this giant folly !”

“We want food ! I want beer !”

“Down with the Council !”

“I want my money back !”

“We want Matt to be sent back to us !”

“We want Matt !”

“We want Matt !!!”

  The Holy Father had never seen such disorders in his monastery. The monks kept shouting under his windows and balcony. They looked strangely determined to force him out of his tower, and resign...

“What’s this ? Revolt ?” the old man would mumble. “Fools ! You fools !”

  But he didn’t try to reason with them. There was too much hissing and booing outside to be heard. But the Holy Father wasn’t without resources. He told his boys to close the underground doors to the cellars and kitchens from the inside, and bring the keys back to him. All the rooms of strategic importance could be locked that way, and only communicate with the dungeon – a life-saving trick from tougher, ancient times. Those roaring monks would know what real hunger was ! Then he wrote a few words on a small piece of paper and attached it to the leg of one of his pigeons.

“Fly away... To Pohr-Kerwann ! When the heaven-rending knights are here, they will teach those empty-headed boys a proper lesson...”

  It was better to call for help and strike as soon as possible, since the monks didn’t look discouraged when they found the access to their kitchens and dining room closed. On their first night, they finished what leftovers they had from their previous meals. The next morning, a group of monks was sent to a village to get more food – then another group, and another... The peasants didn’t hesitate to help, when they learned that they were fighting for a good cause. They wouldn’t hesitate for too long, anyway : The monks were a lot stronger – and a LOT fatter – than they were, and the boys had weapons...

  Two days later, the heaven-rending knights were seen approaching. The hungry monks were naturally afraid to fight against such worthy opponents... But when the captain approached the gate alone, leaving the other knights behind, they were puzzled. Was it another cunning technique ?

“I have received orders from my commander, Brother Fratz, to help you and if necessary fight by your side.”

“How can we know that you are not lying to us ?”

  The tall knight smiled. He had expected this.

“We have received a message. Not from our Holy Father... but from O’Baybib !”

  Now the monks were listening. They didn’t know about Matt’s close friendship with Brother Fratz, and that the knight in command of Pohr-Kerwann had read the same message and understood its secret meaning.

“What did your message say ?”

“It was written to our commander, by your friend and ours, brother Matthias.”

“Matthias ? Who’s Matthias ?” the monks wondered.

“I guess he means Matt...”

“Oh, right ! Matt must have been short for Matthias.”

“Honestly, you are so thick !”

“I haven’t eaten a decent meal for three days, so shut up !”

  The knight at the gate was growing impatient. He told them that he could show the original message to them. He read it aloud – it was the same short message that they had received. This was enough proof for the monks and they welcomed the knights inside the monastery.

“Where’s our Holy Father ?”

“Still in the tower. We haven’t seen him by his windows, but we have guarded every way out. He must still be in there !”

“Good...”

  The great door to the tower was forced by the knights with masses and axes. A few monks volunteered then to get inside and confront the Holy Father.

  For the last three days, the old man had been growing anxious and impatient to get help from Pohr-Kerwann. With all the food in the kitchens, and only a handful of boys around him, he had started feasting on stuffed turkeys, fat goose meat, plump chickens, juicy steaks, pork ribs, sausages, pies, cakes and cookies...

  When the monks finally climbed the stairs to his private chamber, he was still sitting on his throne-like chair. Bloated on beer, and stuffed to the gills by one of his devoted boys who fed him chocolate mousse, he was also trying to finish his last piece of butter cream pie... The kitchen was probably empty by now, but he was too weak on his legs and too heavy in the gut to stand on his feet !

“The god thou servs’t is thine own appetite !” said the monk, who didn’t know how to preach in Latin, but was inspired by the magnificence of that room and the importance of that moment...

  The other monks joined him in his protests, around the Holy Father’s throne – but the old man suddenly coughed and the last piece of cake fell from his hand.

“What happened ?”

“I’m afraid he just... died.”

“What ? From eating cake ?”

“...Must have been be a whole lot of cake !”

“I think, maybe... he was just old ?”

  The heaven-rending knights entered, and their captain confirmed the death of their Holy Father. There was a prolonged moment of silence as they paid homage to the man who had been ruling over Sacka-Graez for almost half a century.

“Are you sure that it was the last piece of cake ?...”

  The Holy Father was given a proper burial in the private cemetery, mourned by all his monks as the first in line had pigged out on leftovers too fast and burped from time to time, and the last ones’ stomachs were growling. A few monks from the choir agreed to give the eulogy.

“He was... really something.”

“Yeah. He was.”
"Yup."
"Huh huh..."

“Really... huge !"
"And his navel, I mean... Wow !”

“So deep...”
"Yeah... deep..."

“He was our wise man with the wide butt !”

“So wide... He was just large.”

“He was larger than life !”

“And now he’s gone...”

  The knights from Pohr-Kerwann exchanged a few, dry comments on the side of this touching scene.

“Yes, it’s very sad and all. I guess they had no intention of killing the old bastard, when they demonstrated in the main court, and marched to his tower...”

“It’s only good timing. Burgstijn and the others won’t know about it. And these self-proclaimed heroes have already forgotten about the whole incident.”

“At least we can proceed to the next part of our mission.”

  The heaven-rending knights left for O’Baybib at once. The guards in there were no match to them, so they were allowed to bring Matt back to the monastery. He had spent three months in their Paradise – which had changed him greatly. Even the rough knights were amazed as they saw him again.

“He’s... gorgeous !” and they fell to their knees before him.

“We have come to serve you, Matthias.”

  A new order had to be established in Sacka-Graez. By popular demand, brother Matt was welcomed by all the monks as their king... From now on, he would be “King Matthias the First”.

  The new king was a perfect replacement for the Holy Father. He was worthy of such a title as well – not only was he far more handsome than any ruler the monks had known, but he was even more obese than their old leader... Matthias had to weigh about 600lbs ! He was hugged and embraced by the three hundred monks in the monastery – which felt like what he had known in O’Baybib, except they all had their robes on.

“What is your wish, my king ?”

“I want the keys to the library.”

  And so, after much struggle, Matthias entered the library. The oldest and most sacred texts of Sacka-Graez were available to him at last. His interest for those books was no surprise for the monks, but he got to spend hours in there ! Then it became clear that he was looking for something in particular.

“There it is ! I knew that was no myth...”

  The large, thick, dusty book he was holding had no title. Its red leather binding reminded Matthias that it used to be identified as the “Llibre Vermell de Sacka-Graez”. It was handwritten in the original dialect of the West Folds, and a large note had been added on its first page, reading “The Booke of the Servant”.

  Somehow, Matthias was able to translate the first few lines. It was the story of the “miracle child”, the foundation of the first abbey and the early ages of their monastery. Then, after a few days of late-night research and hard study, he truly had a revelation...

  All the monks were eating in the dining hall, still complaining that their plates were only twice and a half full, when he rushed in – as much as he could rush, with his vastly enlarged belly and chubby legs.

“IT’S A cook book !”

“...What ?”

  The original story of the “miracle child” contained the recipes for his mysterious feeding in Nature’s... cottage, or whatever. This was so totally unexpected that the monks cheered and drank all night to their king’s health and glory. For days, Matthias sent monks in the woods to gather herbs and fruits. Then the cooks had enough to try their hand at it. Monks were still reluctant to eat it themselves. It looked a bit too unnatural to them.

“Don’t worry. We will make the Giant eat it ! This will be the greatest weapon to get rid of that beast...”

  Matthias sent a message to Burgstijn, with only four words : “I have done it !” With the letter was a recipe for the Lord-Mayor’s cooks to make more Burgstijn pies, huge and unnaturally fattening ones for the giant.

  And so the giant was not only fed more, but better ! Without anyone noticing it in the village, he had responded to it immediately. The food coming from Sacka-Graez had become his favourite – then the Burgstijn pies would taste so much tastier, for some reason... He was showing more appetite at the end of the day – and the men around him noted that he had become dangerously gluttonous.

  Mark had only shared a few crumbs of that food with his giant friend, as usual, but he was feeling more bloated than ever – and strangely comfortable about it. When he woke up and joined the giant, he found the guys in the village around him, mocking him shamelessly, as he didn’t understand what they were saying.

“What are you doing ?”

“We encourage him to eat, of course !”

“Come on, PIG ! There’s more for you !”

“More !”

“More !!!”

  But they were doing too good a job at that. All the men were urging the bloated giant to drink a few more vats of beer, and the good creature was always eager to please his friends... He was obviously drunk, and struggling with so much beer already in his round, sloshing gut.

“Bottoms up, pig ! Drink !”

“And eat your sausages ! More sausages !”

“More for you, giant ! Eat up !”

“Eat and get FAT !”

“Yeah, you lazy giant ! Eat, eat, eat !”

"Eat ! Eat ! EAT !!!"

  Mark was disappointed at them. They must have lost faith in him, to encourage him so cynically. That was what the jerks wanted, in their cities of power... Were they going to turn on their friend, and claim that they had “helped” fattening him up – hoping for a reward ? What recognition could they expect from Stockytown ? from Burgstijn-at-the-Seams ?

“Idiots...” Mark mumbled. He would have to do something to save his friend. The giant was like him now : He had no other friend in the world.

  The Lord-Mayor received his message from Matthias at a time when he needed help the most. Stockytown had succeeded to invade Pancia, and was marching to the baron’s castle in the North. Cooks were on strike, and ships in Browken-Beldt were menacing to stop carrying goods to the giant. The future of his proud city was uncertain, and his own health was declining... This letter was the answer to all his prayers – and he made good use of it.

  With Stockytown menacing their borders by the Seams and the Zipper rivers, he postponed the next council, going to visit the cooks instead. That was a clever move, and he had managed to convince them to go on for a little while – but the members in the council were bitter about being left out... Then the “battle of the 300” occurred, and the Lord-Mayor secretly passed the recipes he had received from Matthias to his cooks in the East, this time to forcefeed their young prisoner from Stockytown. It proved to be extremely effective, granting them victory over their enemy !

  Therefore, the situation had changed a lot when the Lord-Mayor finally attended the next council – which would also be his last. He appeared to the citizens in Burgstijn-at-the-Seams in his finest velvet capes and coat with gold embroidery, slowly riding on his horse with six chubby boys next to him, holding the reins, or parasols. He was looking very weary of the world, in spite of his recent success. The boys around him looked grim as well. They had been fed Burgstijn pies for a whole week, all day and late at night, to look their best before the crowd.

  In the council, in front of all the sons of noble families, the Lord-Mayor finally explained to everyone how they had won the greatest battle of their history, how a new power had been rising in Sacka-Graez, and who had helped them.

“King Matthias ?”

“There’s a king Matthias ?”

“A king in Sacka-Graez... Preposterous !”

“How can a simple monk become king ?”

“Monks aren’t even of the nobility !”

  Then the Lord-Mayor raised his voice, showing command that no one expected. Or maybe the most cunning among them would then guess that he had faked his absent-minded, senile behaviour for some time...

“Matthias has been declared king by his fellow monks in Sacka-Graez. They act outside our jurisdiction. Besides, he is no ordinary monk... King Matthias belongs to our most noble family in Burgstijn. He is my grandson.”

“Your... grandson ?”

“I had sent him on a most dangerous, most ambitious mission... He has become one of the finest monks, and now he is their king. And when I am dead, he will rule over both Burgstijn-at-the-Seams and Sacka-Graez as such !”

  The whole council protested at this extraordinary declaration. The Lord-Mayor’s wish was simply unacceptable. The powers he had been granted by the assembly of nobles was not his to pass to his grandson, or anyone else.

“Without his help, our armies would have lost the war in the East ! Without him, the Holy Father and his monks would have turned against us in a few weeks from now... If you refuse to meet my demands on this matter, I will resign.”

“Resign ?”

“I will resign, and you will choose him for your new ruler.”

  There were more protests than before, but the Lord-Mayor had a point. They argued for hours but eventually a large majority of them accepted that Matthias would rule both lands... So the council reluctantly let the old man resign, as they signed another document to be sent to the monastery, notifying Matthias that he had been elected to be the “first among his peers”. The richest, largest territories in Mittel Earth were now merged into one. And court singers in Burgstijn-at-the-Seams were ordered to sing the “tedious Te Deum” to celebrate.

  Naturally, this was a shock for Stockytown. The guys in the merchants’ guild were dumbstruck... Their defeat against Burgstijn felt like nothing in comparison. They asked for a truce with the council of nobles, and sent messengers with a new plan to get rid of the giant.

  In the mountains, the giant was going to sleep, after another immense meal... The cooks in Sacka-Graez had really been outdoing themselves. The gluttonous beast had never feasted so well, on so much fattening goodies – and it showed, as he sat down and lay on his back against the mountain’s side, stretching his legs in the valley.

  Mark was feeling strange – being both so huge and at his fattest ever, then so tiny next to his enormous friend ! His massive belly filled the giant’s deep navel as he was resting on top of him. They were both feeling so comfortable, a perfect match for each other... Mark could feel his friend’s deep, quiet breath as it made his bellybutton move slowly up and down, looking over the horizon.

  The giant was so stuffed that he drifted into sleep very soon. Drunk and bloated as he was, he didn’t forget his small friend, and took good care of him. He could hardly reach him to cover his body with his palm, then he gave a few gentle pats to his ballooning belly sides, to rock and nurse Mark into sleep... The young thief caressed the wonderful, soft curve of his stomach lovingly.

“My poor, obese buddy... What am I going to do with you ?”

  The giant growled lightly under his touch – almost purring, like a sleeping lion. He stretched his long legs in the valley, rested his hands on his meaty thighs and let out one last, long, sounding belch. It must have felt really good, as the giant moaned after he was done.

  Mark had always been amazed at the giant – his size, his strength, his appetite, even his good looks, from the moment he had seen him. Then he had learned to appreciate his kindness, his boyish lust for life. He had also been concerned with his complete lack of wits and judgment, when so many people wanted to kill him and he was friendly with anyone he met. Now Mark was wondering about his friend’s fate... There was no doubt that the beast would be in great danger soon. No matter how tall he was, he would grow too fat for his own good. No matter how strong, he would be too lazy to fight !

  What really worried Mark was how the giant didn’t seem to care about his diet, his looks or his health. Over the last eight or nine months, he had completely let go and lost his definition – going from an athletic, hungry beast with round arms and shoulders over a tight waist and eight-pack of abs to a fattened, prized pig overeating and swilling beer all day...

  As the other men had noticed, Mark was convinced that the giant had grown – not just larger, but taller... He couldn’t explain it, but when he looked back to his first memories of the giant, he estimated him to be 100 – maybe 120ft tall. From his shadow, from the way he looked over the forest, Mark agreed that the blonde, overfed beast had to be 200ft tall – at least ! As for his weight, it was beyond any number he could think of.

“They call you a “mountain of lard”... but I love you, my sexy mountain.”

  The giant’s belly definitely felt like a fat mountain. Mark closed his eyes and put an ear against his huge friend’s skin. He could feel the food going through those large guts and adding more blubber to them – nourishing the giant’s cheeks and soft layers of flesh, making them grow thicker and thicker, rounder and rounder with pure butter cream...

  While he was sleeping, the giant’s stomach rumbled. It was ominous and low, like thunder or tremor before an earthquake... Mark thought that, rather than a mountain, his friend’s belly was like a Volcano. There was too much pressure building up in there, too much food forced down the poor beast’s stomach, and too much meat on his heavy frame already – then one day, it would erupt like a volcano ! That was a horrifying thought.

“I can’t let that happen to you...”

  Still, while Mark was thinking about a way for the two of them to get through it, survive what was coming against them and go on living in peace together, the giant’s low, comforting snore inspired some confidence in him, looking over the clouds and up to the distant, shining stars...