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Once upon a time, there was a beautiful place where you could create absolutely anything you wanted. The only limit was your imagination. So one day, a group of friends decided to build a castle together.
In the early years, civilization was sparse. It took hours to find something that wasn’t vegetation or water. Travellers rarely stopped by because there was nothing to look at. The land was peaceful, quiet, but brimming with potential.
There were people who dearly loved this place, and wanted to see it flourish. Some of them found each other. Some of them didn’t. Some became friends. Some formed a guild, and they travelled and lived together.
One day, the guild found a grand castle to the north, so tall that it seemed to reach the clouds. “Welcome, welcome!” the proud castle owners cried out to the crowds of curious travellers. “Feel free to take a look around!” That castle was the most admired and visited place at the time, and visitors appropriately “oohed” and “ahhed” at the architecture. The guild was greatly inspired by the beautiful castle, and wanted to build a castle of their own.
(Even years later, people would say that without the castle to the north, the guild’s castle would not have existed.)
They excavated large boulders from the mountains, chopped down trees in the woodland, and cleared out an area for their castle. It was gruelling work, but they enjoyed it. Cheerful chatter was exchanged as they extracted clay and baked bricks in kilns. Plants were grown, and fabric was woven out of plant fibers. Berries and flowers were crushed to create dye, adding a splash of colour to their castle. Brick by brick, foundation by foundation, they were creating their home together.
Time passed. Sometimes storms raged through the area. Glass windows were shattered, trees ruthlessly torn down. Landslides destroyed their crops, floods rotted their wood. It was a horrible time for everybody. The guild woke up to see one of their half-finished towers had collapsed. Although their hearts were heavy, they swept away the debris, reached for their bricks, smiled at the sun, and tried again.
Later, they learned the grand castle to the north had collapsed during the storm. The guild was disheartened because they loved the castle, and also worried because something as big and as majestic had also succumbed to the storm. What chance did their little castle stand? Then one of the guild members reminded them that their castle had (somehow) mostly remained intact. “We survived,” they told everyone firmly. “I don’t know why, but we did. Don’t let our work go to waste.”
Brick by brick, the guild members quietly built up their castle. The occasional storms continued, but they always managed to get through them. Somewhere along the way, their castle became one of the biggest and the best, and they didn’t even intend for it. They were just having fun with their friends. The guild started to evolve— many people left, many people joined. Inside their castle, the guild produced all sorts of things— hand-woven fabric, pastries, sculptures, machinery, music. Each member had something to contribute. And thus they attracted visitors from all directions, eager to see this castle of many wonders. The guild members just smiled, bowed their heads, and continued to work.
“Thank you for supporting us,” they would always humbly say. “It’s our greatest pleasure.”
Travellers stopped by because they heard of the guild’s famous apple pie. Even if you hadn’t heard of it from gossiping traders, you could smell the delicious aroma wafting from the castle. It pulled people in, luring travellers with the promise of sweet, fruity goodness.
The guild members would lower the drawbridge and let you in. You would be escorted to a room with colourful stained glass windows and delicately crafted furniture. Then you would be served the famous apple pie. “One of our members raised the chickens that laid the eggs, another one ground flour from the wheat planted around the castle, another took care of our apple trees, another fertilized the trees with the manure our animals produced. This slice of pie is a hundred percent made by us. What you’re having is years of hard work condensed into one.”
The pie was carefully decorated. Even the designs on the porcelain plates were custom-made. Everything in the guild’s castle was made by the guild. You could feel the love and care tucked into that single slice of apple pie.
It was the best damned apple pie you’d had in your life.
The guild expanded their castle. They grew more fruit trees, found more gemstones in the caves, invented more machines, wove more fabric. They were a community who constantly inspired each other. One day, someone would place a vase of flowers in a room because they looked pretty. Next day, the same flowers could be seen in tapestries, their form and figure embossed by thread. One night, a sculptor heard a guild member excitedly share stories from their travels. A week later, an entire series of sculptures lined the corridors, each one depicting a different moment from the story. They were different, but in the end, they were all like-minded people. Every nook and cranny of the castle was filled with life and joy.
Visitors continued to flood in. The guild was always eager to share their warmth. They opened their doors and welcomed everyone in.
According to the rumours—
There was a well-respected seamster in the guild. He was one of the original founders of the guild (most of them had gone). He wove a tapestry that traced the guild’s history from the very beginning to the present.
If you ask nicely, he just might show you the precious tapestry.
“I was here from the beginning,” he would say, scarred fingers gently running across the tapestry. “It was very different back then. It was a long time ago. See,” he uttered, pointing at a corner of the tapestry. “The threads are greying.”
He sounded a little sad.
“Some old members still send me letters. Some don’t. It’s okay. They’ve all left their mark here. We build on what they achieved.”
The seamster would then show you the newest part of the tapestry. Admire the spiraling glass towers, flower fields, magic crystals, and polka-dotted mushrooms, each one more colourful than the last.
“I’ve changed over the years,” he said softly. “But this is my home. And I intend to look over it as long as I can.”
Other guild members would tell you about how the seamster organized meetings and made sure they worked together harmoniously. “Without him,” they said, “our castle won’t be the way it is.”
Believe them.
One stormy night, a traveller frantically knocked on the door. The guild let the traveller in. They were soaking and shivering, a large bloody gash on their arm. They were close to tears.
“Wolves were attacking me,” they whimpered. “Please let me stay for the night.”
The guild members were not warriors; they did not know how to kill the wolves. But they did offer bandages and blankets and hot drinks, and they led the traveller to the fireplace, and one of them sung ballads and told fairy tales until the traveller fell asleep.
Next morning, they gently told the traveller they couldn’t stay here forever; they eventually had to venture outside and face the wolves. Because after all, the guild members and the travellers were strangers. They could provide comfort, but they couldn’t fight the wolves for the traveller.
“I know,” the traveller said. “I know I have to confront the wolves one day. But thank you for the shelter.”
And they stayed there and watched the guild members tend to plants and weave tapestries and paint sunsets and for a while, life was okay.
A lot of people wanted to join the guild and contribute to the castle they grew to love so much. The seamster, the unofficial leader of the guild, would always smile and say,
“Don’t try to join our castle. Build your own castle.”
Many did. This was, perhaps, the guild’s greatest legacy.
A group of curious chefs asked for the famous apple pie recipe. The guild members transferred their knowledge and experience the best they could, and the traders were fascinated and inspired. They bowed deeply, thanked the guild, and left the castle with their minds bursting full of ideas.
Months later, the guild received news the chefs had invented their own lemon pie based after the guild’s apple pie. It was similar to the apple pie, but with a unique touch to it.
The guild loved the lemon pie. One day, a couple of them visited the chefs and they had a good time exchanging baking insights. The cycle of inspiration continued.
More castles and villages popped up. The guild made contact with some of them. There was a town to the south with the most advanced machinery, and a village to the east that specialized in tapestry weaving. They became good friends with the guild.
Sometimes they would meet up and play games together. When storms raged, they would share their resources and help each other rebuild their homes. Life was good—
—Then came the drought. The deadly drought.
Lakes dried up, crops withered, animals died of thirst. Travellers stopped coming. The guild was running out of funds to maintain their castle. They gritted their teeth, rationed their water and food, and persevered. Ivy grew across the castle but no one bothered to cut them down. The castle was almost abandoned. Almost.
… Thankfully, the castle withstood the test of time. The drought eventually ended, and boy, was the guild glad they had endured that. Because after the drought came their golden age.
There was a sudden boom in popularity because a new person had joined the guild. Visitors from different regions flocked to the castle and gaped at their wonderful creations. The guild almost become overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but instead of growing arrogant or slacking, they only sought to improve themselves as not to disappoint their new fans.
It was the golden age for everyone else too. Villages and towns rapidly developed. New resources and flowers were discovered and shared with everyone. More and more people discovered the beautiful settlements, and spread the word to many others.
Every place was growing in popularity, but especially the guild’s castle. The travellers decided it was the place with the best food and entertainment, and dragged their friends to come with them. When disasters started happening, the travellers knew they could always rely on the guild’s castle for comfort and support. After all, they had been doing it for years; they were true professionals. Everybody knew that.
Slowly, the guild rose to become legends throughout the land. Some of their faces, along with the faces of legends outside of the guild, were even etched on a mountain for everyone to see.
People loved the mountain. So many of them climbed up the mountain that the rocky faces were eventually eroded by their grabby hands.
Years passed. The stone faces became unrecognizable to newcomers. Oh, well. At least the guild and their fans knew what good they and the others had done.
One day, the guild members looked up and found a gleaming castle, bigger than anything they had ever seen, proudly perched on top of their mountain. People no longer cared about the mountain, just the shiny castle. The stone faces were forgotten, the limelight stolen.
Yet it was the mountain the gleaming castle was built on. And without the height of the mountain, how could that castle stand so high and mighty?
People called the gleaming castle a “kingdom” because it was full of kings and queens. It literally appeared overnight. The guild had steadily built up their success over many years of hard work, and this kingdom became wildly popular in a short span of time. “That’s admirable,” the guild said, and went back to patiently chipping wood off their sculptures.
The kingdom was enormous. Bright. Shiny. Flashy. It glittered like a diamond in the sun. It was almost blinding. Flags and banners fluttered in the wind. It was great. It was wonderful. Suddenly everyone went there. Suddenly everyone loved the kingdom. Suddenly suddenly—
The seamster woke up to a poster stuck on the castle wall. “YOU SHOULD WORK WITH THE KINGDOM,” it said in bold letters. The seamster ripped it off.
More posters came, all variations of “the kingdom is so much better than your castle” “who cares about your castle” “WORK. WITH. THE. KINGDOM.” The seamster tossed them into the kiln, fueling the fire that baked their bricks.
“There’s nothing wrong with the kingdom,” the seamster announced. “They just don’t do things our style. We don’t do things their style. We don’t match. It’s as simple as that.”
The pestering continued. The fans of the guild started to become angry on behalf of the guild. They argued with the fans of the kingdom. They sung praises of the guild. They wrote epics and ballads about the achievements of the guild.
The guild made more and more products. More elaborate machines, more detailed tapestries. The fans ate it up. Yet, it never seemed to impress the fans of the kingdom. Not that the guild cared. The guild members were having fun, they were able to express themselves, people appreciated them, and that was all that mattered.
… Once upon a time, the guild and their castle were on top of the world. One night later, they and literally every other settlement became vastly overshadowed by the newly born kingdom.
Things like that happened. There was no complaining. That was life.
At least the guild’s popularity was growing like they had done for the past eight years. It just was not as rapid as the kingdom. And some people thought that meant the guild was dying.
Hah. Ridiculous.
As if. The guild had weathered more storms than the kingdom had ever seen.
The kingdom and the guild did not have much interaction. Until a few guild members, clothed in faded yellow robes, set off to explore. Months and months later, they ecstatically returned, this time with royal blue cloaks and gold bracelets dangling on their wrists.
“We won a nationwide championship!” they cheered. “We won against a team from the kingdom!”
The guild members were aided by a couple of like-minded people living in the kingdom. They invited them over for blueberry tarts and orange cakes and salmon with a dash of lime juice. The kingdom residents were sufficiently impressed by the guild’s castle. One whined about wanting to play games with them. Another ended up being adopted by the guild, provided he didn’t swear too much while inside the castle. (“Little kids visit our castle! What would their parents think!”)
For a while, they were the only people from the kingdom the guild were friends with. Then another guild member found an ancient map that led the way to mysterious vaults. He sought help from the kingdom, and with a few kingdom residents, they set off to hunt for the vaults together.
And this arrangement was good. (Except some guild fans were concerned about the involvement of certain kingdom residents, but nevertheless respected and supported the guild’s choice.)
The guild members joined the championship again. Somehow, they were still looked down and seen as “nobodies” in particular by fans of the kingdom. The kingdom fans thought the kingdom was literally the only thing to ever exist, ignoring (erasing?) a decade of history.
“Their faces are on the mountain your kingdom is built on!” “Respect your elders!” “I mean, they won a championship before, so shut it.”
The retorts were: “Stop being oversensitive.” “Well, I had never heard of the guild or their castle. Or the town to the south. Or the village to the east. Or the fallen castle to the north.” “Who knows about the guild anyway?”
One of the guild members shot four green apples with four arrows only. This amazing act stunned all, and for a while, she became a slogan of sorts. The same guild member became the first person to ever win two championships in a row. She received mild praise, but that was nothing compared to the two week long festival that went on when one of the princes of the kingdom did the same thing but later.
The fans of the guild were mad again, but their voices were drowned out by the majority. The two-time winner picked up her fallen green apples, asked for a green apple sapling, went home, and invented a new green apple pie. It became a bestseller, and she made a lot of money.
“I think I’ll rather have my recipe in books for decades than have a two week long party for me,” she cheekily said.
Of course the kingdom was influential. It was very influential, and it brought comfort to travellers the way other castles and towns did. There was no denying that.
Except some fans of the kingdom liked to pretend the kingdom was the only influential thing in the world, and ignored literally everything that came before the kingdom. Not just the guild, but everything and everyone else. It was maddening.
“The mountain is literally there. It’s literally at the base of the kingdom. Are you blind.”
… “We stand on the shoulders of giants,” the seamster said. “Our current castle is built on the foundations that our predecessors left behind. Yes, even the castle to the north. We’ll never forget what they did. That’s why I’m weaving this tapestry to keep record of everything.”
One day, the biggest storm swept across the region. Not even the guild’s castle could withstand the winds, and the guild were forced to go underground. It was apocalyptic. The earth shook, buildings quaked and collapsed, acres and acres of land were flooded. Even as they hid in the caves, the seamster continued to weave the tapestry in the dim light of the lanterns. More natural disasters followed. First it was the rain and the flooding, then it was the drought and the wildfires. Communications with other villages and towns were cut. Nobody knew who was still out there. The guild huddled together, planning their next move.
“We’ll survive this,” they promised each other. “We survived every storm that was tossed our way. We survived the drought. We’ll get through this.”
… There was a huge cloud of dust when the guild finally emerged from the depths of their safety cave. Many places were barren, although they did see some small green patches. No sign of civilization could be seen. The area was too silent. They called out for people, but no one answered.
“There are people out there,” they said to themselves, “we’re just too far away from them.”
They could barely see anything. Not even the gigantic mountain and the equally gigantic kingdom. But the seamster took out his compass and led everybody home.
… Their castle was not completely ruined. Sure, a tower had collapsed, most of their trees were gone, but the main rooms were intact. Surprisingly, a small group of people were at the guild’s castle. On closer inspection, they were actually fans of the guild. They were watering a tiny apple tree sapling, and looked up when they heard footsteps. Their faces lit up.
“You’re back! We missed you!”
… Apparently the fans tried to maintain the castle when the guild couldn’t. They watered the crops, fed what little animals they had, and swept away fallen debris. They told the guild they couldn’t save their oldest apple tree, but they found a sapling and planted a new one for them.
“You did so much for us, it’s time for us to give back to you,” they said.
And the guild looked at their familiar faces, now a little older and a little more tired, but as enthusiastic as they were years ago. Cloaks, which were definitely inspired by the guilds’ own cloaks, were around their shoulders. Some of them trimmed ivy growing on the castle walls. Some of them fed the chickens that roamed around. Some of them tended to the bushes and trees. And with a jolt, the guild realized they had raised a generation of guilds, who were inspired to do what they pioneered. And their impact was living and breathing in front of them.
“... Do you know any other settlements that are still around?”
“I apologize, but no. There may be some but we haven’t heard a thing.”
“Oh.”
Sadness seeped into their hearts. Nobody wanted this apocalypse. Who knew how many it took.
But—
The guild was still there. Of course they were still there. Some had left, some had joined, but the sense of community was still the same. That was what held them together through the trial and tribulations.
And so they picked up their shovels and pickaxes and went back to work like the greatest storm hadn’t just happened.
The guild members were older and wiser now, but other than that, not much had changed. The world changed, but hey, they had each other. There were probably other settlements out there, but the guild loyally stuck to each other as they always did.
… The story ends as it begins. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful place where you could create absolutely anything you wanted. Sometimes disasters would wreck the place, but some people would always live through them. And all along, the group of friends just wanted to build a castle together. That was it.
They repaired the main hall, lit it up with candles, and proudly hung their tapestry on the tallest wall. Fresh flowers adorned the windowsills, sculptures were repainted. Excited chatter filled the corridors again as they shared new ideas. The aroma of baked goods floated from the kitchen. Machines vibrated, saplings were planted, more music was composed. The castle became a place buzzing with life and energy, standing out because all the surrounding areas were silent.
And when the guild was ready, they gathered in the refurnitured main hall, their eager fans watching from the sidelines. After years of silence, they took a deep breath, and spoke in unison.
...“Hello everyone, welcome to a new season of Hermitcraft!”