The Brotherhood of Justice and the Spell That Wouldn’t Stop

In a castle on a green and pleasant hill lived the bravest, silliest heroes in the land: the Brotherhood of Justice.

There was Sir Cedric, the brave and honourable knight, who led them all.

Merlo the wizard, who knew a thousand spells and used enormous words to cast them.

Flare, a friendly little dragon who would much rather help than scare.

And Grumble Ironfoot, the dwarf, who zoomed everywhere on his trusty skateboard mostly because he could not stop.

One morning, the castle was a terrible mess after a feast.

Crumbs on the floor. Cobwebs on the chandeliers. Sticky jam on the throne.

“Someone,” said Sir Cedric, eyeing Grumble, “left a great deal of jam on my throne.”

Grumble whistled innocently and studied the ceiling.

“Fear not!” announced Merlo, flourishing his spellbook. “I shall TIDY it all with a single spell!”

“Are you sure?” asked Sir Cedric. “Your spells are rather… big.”

“Perfectly sure!” said Merlo. He flipped to the right page and raised his wand.

Now, the tidying word was TIDY.

But Merlo’s spellbook was very old, and his eyes were not what they used to be.

So instead of “TIDY,” he squinted, and boomed: “MULTIPLYYYY!”

ZAP!

There was a puff of purple smoke.

And then

POP! A pudding appeared on the table.

“Oh,” said Merlo. “That’s not tidy. That’s a pudding.”

Merlo panicked and flipped a page. “Perhaps GARGANTUAN will help!” he cried.

ZAP! The nearest pudding swelled up ENORMOUS as big as a haystack.

“Gargantuan means GIGANTIC, you well-meaning wizard!” groaned Sir Cedric, diving out of its wobbling shadow.

“Ah. Wrong again,” said Merlo, going pink under his beard.

POP! POP! Two more ordinary puddings appeared.

POP-POP-POP-POP-POP! Suddenly puddings were popping up EVERYWHERE.

On the chairs. On the stairs. On top of Grumble’s head.

Grumble tried to skateboard away but his wheels sank into pudding with a SQUELCH, and he went nowhere at all.

Flare flapped his little wings, but even a dragon can’t fly through a room filling up with dessert.

“Multiply,” gulped Sir Cedric, “means to make MORE. Lots and lots more!”

“Make it stop, Merlo!” cried Flare, wobbling on a wave of wobbling puddings.

Merlo flipped frantically through his spellbook. “I I need the counter-spell! But it has THREE big words, and they must be said in the right order, or it won’t work!”

Pages flapped. Puddings squelched. Sweat beaded on the old wizard’s brow.

The puddings kept coming. SQUELCH. SPLAT. WOBBLE-WOBBLE-WOBBLE.

Soon they were up to everyone’s knees.

“The first word,” said Merlo, reading, “is DIMINISH.”

“Dimin-what?” said Grumble, paddling through pudding.

“Diminish,” said Merlo. “It means to make SMALLER. The opposite of grow.”

“Smaller sounds PERFECT right now!” said Grumble, paddling. “Everything is far too big!”

“Then say it!” cried Sir Cedric.

Merlo pointed his wand. “DIMINISH!”

ZAP! The puddings shrank from enormous to teacup-sized.

“It’s working!” cheered Flare.

But there were still SO many of them. Tiny puddings, but thousands.

They rolled underfoot like marbles. Monty slipped. Flare skidded. Grumble spun in a circle, arms flailing.

“What’s the second word?” asked Sir Cedric.

Merlo squinted at the page. Then his face fell. “Oh no. A drop of jam has smudged it out. I can’t read it!”

The tiny puddings kept multiplying. This was very bad indeed.

“Don’t give up,” said Sir Cedric firmly. “A true Brotherhood never gives up. Think, Merlo. You have cast this spell before—try to REMEMBER.”

Merlo closed his eyes. He thought hard. He remembered the first time his own teacher had taught him this spell, long ago.

“It began with a V,” he murmured. “A grand, sweeping word… VANISH! The second word is VANISH! It means to disappear completely!”

“Are you certain?” asked Sir Cedric.

“I remember it now,” said Merlo, standing tall. “VANISH!”

ZAP! POOF! Half the tiny puddings vanished into thin air.

“HALF of them!” said Grumble. “Why only half?”

“Because,” said Merlo, “I must say the THIRD word to finish. And I must say all three again, in order, one last time perfectly.”

Everyone groaned. The puddings that remained were multiplying once more. SQUELCH. SPLAT.

“I don’t think I can remember all three in the right order,” Merlo fretted. “Diminish, vanish, and… and…”

“Then we’ll help you remember TOGETHER,” said Sir Cedric.

So the Brotherhood put their heads together, right there in the rising pudding.

“Diminish—make them smaller,” said Flare. “I’ll remember that one.”

“Vanish—make them disappear,” said Grumble. “That’s mine.”

“But what if I muddle the order?” fretted Merlo. “Say them wrong, and it could make things far worse!”

“Then say them slowly,” said Sir Cedric calmly. “We have faced harder trials than this. A knight does not panic he prepares.”

“And the third,” said Sir Cedric slowly, reading the smudged page by tilting it to the light, “I can just make it out… TRANQUIL. It means calm, and quiet, and still.”

“Tranquil,” repeated Merlo. “To make everything peaceful again. Yes! That’s it!”

“Now,” said Sir Cedric, “we say them together, in order, and we do NOT give up no matter how silly it gets.”

The four friends joined hands (and one wing, and one wand).

The puddings rose. WOBBLE-WOBBLE-SQUELCH.

They were up to everyone’s chins now. Flare had to tread pudding just to keep his snout in the air.

“It’s now or never!” cried Sir Cedric. “Together, my friends and do NOT give up!”

And together, loud and clear and perfectly in order, the Brotherhood chanted:

“DIMINISH!” The puddings shrank.

“VANISH!” The puddings began to disappear.

“TRANQUIL!”

WHOOSH.

A soft, silver calm swept through the whole castle.

Every last pudding melted away into nothing but a sweet, warm smell.

And when the smoke cleared…

the castle was spotless. Tidy at last. Peaceful and gleaming.

“We did it!” cheered Flare, flopping down, exhausted.

“YOU did it, Merlo,” said Sir Cedric warmly. “You didn’t give up even when it seemed impossible.”

“I couldn’t have remembered it alone,” said Merlo. “We remembered it together.”

“That,” said Sir Cedric warmly, “is what a Brotherhood is for. No one has to carry every big word alone.”

Grumble licked his lips. “Shame, though. They were rather TASTY puddings.”

“You TASTED one?” cried Merlo. “In the middle of a magical disaster?!”

“I was hungry,” shrugged Grumble. “Saving the castle is hard work.”

Everyone laughed.

That evening, the Brotherhood sat down to a well-earned supper.

And do you know what they had for dessert?

One single pudding. Just one.

“Made the ordinary way this time,” chuckled Merlo. “No enormous words required.”

As they ate, Sir Cedric raised his cup.

“To big words,” he said, “learned and remembered.”

“To never giving up,” said Flare.

“And to doing it together,” said Grumble, with pudding on his nose.

“You’ve STILL got pudding on your nose,” laughed Flare.

“I’m saving it for later,” said Grumble, entirely serious.

Merlo smiled, and closed his old spellbook gently.

“Diminish. Vanish. Tranquil,” he whispered, tucking the words away safe in his memory.

Because a wise wizard knows: a big word is only powerful once you understand it

and a hard job is only impossible until good friends refuse to quit.