Table of Contents:
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 1 - The Ancient Breadcrumb Map
Chapter 2 - At Gloomfen's Gates he Arrives
Chapter 3 - The Rumors Run Wild
Chapter 4 - The Perfechian Guard Unknown
Chapter 5 - A Midnight Snack - The Custard Pie Invasion
Chapter 6 - The Kings Message to the Order
Chapter 7 - Trolls and Buttered Banana Peels
Chapter 8 - The Famished Family Reunion
Ancient Map of Clumsalon? & the Perfect Kingdom?
Sir Pubbleyum the Famished (Yummy)
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 1
The Ancient Breadcrumb Map WAX NFT
"Traveling isn’t my forte, but I have to press on," Sir Pubbleyum said, keeping a keen eye out for anyone who might be following him. He glanced back and forth, side to side, as he pushed forward through a section of forest—was it a trail? A pathway? Whatever it was, he thought to himself, it’s dark and gloomy.
Sir Pubbleyum looked around once more. I should camp somewhere nearby, off this mysterious path, for a quick snack. I am famished, he muttered. Breadcrumbs seemed to trail behind his every step. He pulled off his right gauntlet with his teeth, enthusiastically shoved his hand down beneath his breastplate—his armor chafing uncomfortably—and fished out a biscuit. As he withdrew it, crumbs glittered and drifted to the ground like golden dust in the moonlight.
While he sat enjoying his dry, crumb-riddled biscuit, the leaves rustled in the wind as if trying to warn him of something approaching. No, no, it’s just my imagination, he told himself sternly. The trees had been crackling for hours now, sounding almost like distant voices carried on the breeze.
He quickly gathered his gear and continued on with his journey. He came from a faraway land unknown in these parts. He had been knighted by his king as Sir Pubbleyum the Famished because he was an incorrigible snacker—everywhere he went, he left a trail of food crumbs in his wake. The king had sent him forth to seek new adventures—or rather, rumors of a long-lost brother.
Sir Pubbleyum pulled out his ancient map, a gift from his long-lost father that had been entrusted to the king of this distant kingdom. He examined it carefully, cautious not to damage the parchment’s wrinkled edges. On it he could see Clumsalon and the Perfect Kingdom—but that was all. The area he had entered didn’t seem to align with anything on the map. He flipped it side to side, then upside down, and studied it again, but he could not locate his whereabouts.
This must be the right place, he thought, but I simply can’t find myself on this ancient, hand-drawn parchment. If I'm in the right place, these mountains shouldn't be here, he thought to himself. Well, I better continue on this most interesting adventure I got myself into.
He glanced at the small sketch he’d been adding to for weeks, strapped to his side. Well, it’s been an exhausting two weeks of travel, he said to himself. As he looked around while continuing on with his journey—oh, look! There’s a sign up ahead.
Sir Pubbleyum the Famished, gleaming in his shiny silvery armor, continued down the newly discovered mysterious pathway. At last he reached a crossroads. An old, rustic sign stood on a dark wooden pedestal. It read: Whispering Crossroads, with arrows pointing in two directions:
→ To Gloomfen
→ To the Shadow Whispering Trail
As he stood there gazing at the ground, the smell of damp earth and moss filling his senses, he thought: Hmm, that Shadow Whispering Trail sounds distinctly uninviting, so I’ll follow the path to Gloomfen. He glanced toward the trail and took a cautious step forward. He quickly pulled out his map again, looked at it once again upside down and sideways, but still could not make out where he was. He quickly tucked his map back into his satchel and continued towards Gloomfen.
He walked the path to Gloomfen for a few hours, then stumbled upon various lava pits. Right up ahead, he noticed another sign, and it read The Phantom Trail of Skulls. He paused and thought, "Is this a joke or something?" Sir Pubbleyum wondered out loud. He stayed the course and continued, hoping to meet someone along the way—just so he could ask for directions. The ancient map had gotten him into this mysterious place, but that was it; everything else on the map did not align with what he was seeing so far.
Castle Snootwhistle Iron Gates
The Phantom Trail of Skulls minutes before Castle Snootwhistle
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 2
At Gloomfen's Gates he Arrives WAX NFT
Sir Pubbleyum the Famished finally made it through the Phantom Trail of Skulls, taking great care not to step on any of them. After a lengthy journey on this weird skull like trail, "Hmm," he said to himself, "there's a castle up ahead. Looks dark and gothic, but I'm sure a lord or king resides here. Perhaps they can guide me to the place called Clumsalon."
He arrived at Castle Snootwhistle’s iron gates. Sir Pubbleyum pushed them open—they creaked loudly, sounding like mewing cats in distress. "Wow, these things need some grease," he laughed aloud, continuing into the lava-drenched courtyard.
"Hmm, something seems off with this place—no guards? No knights?" He proceeded with caution, sensing he might be watched from a distance. He kept walking, hoping to spot someone who could give him directions to Clumsalon, as marked on his map.
Then, from the dark shadows, stepped Lord Malice himself, accompanied by his Black Knight of Snootwhistle—the knight who rarely leaves the lord’s side unless sent on errands.
Sir Pubbleyum felt a slight shiver run down his spine as he looked at Lord Malice and the knight in black armor, faint glowing runes carved into its surface. "Umm, good evening," he said as calmly as he could, trying not to appear spooked.
Lord Malice studied him in silence, head to toe. Then, in a calm, dark voice, he introduced himself and stepped gently into the light, just enough for the castle’s oil lamps to glint off his face.
Sir Pubbleyum recoiled slightly, looked more closely, and—without realizing it—blurted, "What?
A gib speaks?"
Lord Malice stepped forward. "What did you say? What is a gib?"
Sir Pubbleyum, careful not to offend the walking cat, replied, "It’s, um… a term for a tomcat. A male cat."
Lord Malice gave him a stern look. "So you have a problem with me being a cat?"
"No, no! I meant no disrespect, sir," said Pubbleyum, his voice slightly shaky.
The Black Knight began to reach for his sword, but Lord Malice gestured for him to stand down.
"I am Lord Malice of Castle Snootwhistle and Lord of this valley, Gloomfen. This is one of my Black Knights. You've entered my realm uninvited. Why have you come, knight?"
Sir Pubbleyum stood his ground. "I seek directions. I’ve come from a faraway land. Have you heard of Clumsalon? Or the Perfect Kingdom? I search for my long-lost brother—we were separated at birth, according to my king, though he never gave an explanation. I mean no harm. I only seek guidance."
Lord Malice nearly tripped over his staff at the mention of "Clumsalon." Hmm, he thought, perhaps I can use this knight to get closer to those annoying Clumsy Knights.
He looked at Sir Pubbleyum, struggling to keep a straight face. "Umm, yes. I know of Clumsalon and Perfectia. We are allies—friends. I can have one of my Black Knights escort you," Lord Malice said, his voice darkening at the end.
Sir Pubbleyum, well-trained in detecting deception, accepted the offer skeptically. "Thank you, Lord. You are very kind," he replied, remaining calm.
Lord Malice sent the Black Knight to fetch the Black Knight of Terror, who would accompany Sir Pubbleyum.
As they exchanged glances in the darkened courtyard, Lord Malice asked, "Umm, kind sir, what is your name, so I may address you properly?"
Sir Pubbleyum smiled slightly. "I am Pubbleyum. Pleased to meet you, Lord."
Lord Malice nearly fell over his staff again. He couldn’t believe the name resembled that of the pesky Clumsy Knight, Sir Pubbleglum the Soggy. His eyes narrowed—clearly plotting something.
Sir Pubbleyum realized he shouldn’t have entered. He was about to decline the escort when the Black Knight of Terror approached—tall, imposing, clad in dark gothic armor with faint runes glowing. He’s huge, Sir Pubbleyum thought. The shiver down his spine intensified.
"You there—I was asked to escort you to, um, one of our allied kingdoms. Pleased to meet you." Before Sir Pubbleyum could respond, Lord Malice interjected: "He’s Sir Pubbleglum! I mean—Sir Pubbleyum!"
Sir Pubbleyum’s eyes widened. "What did you say? Who is Sir Pubbleglum? That sounds just like my name. Who is he?"
Lord Malice could barely contain himself. "He’s one of the Clumsy Knights who lives in the Lopsided Castle within Clumsalon."
Sir Pubbleyum’s gaze widened further. "Can you take me to him? You said you’re allies with Clumsalon, right?"
The Black Knight intervened before Lord Malice could reveal more. "I will take you to Clumsalon. We should depart—it’s a long journey."
Sir Pubbleyum, skeptical but curious, accepted. He planned to quietly slip away once they neared their destination, for something in his bones told him these beings were not to be trusted.
The moon pulsed within crimson skies
Shadow Whispering Trail at Dusk
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 3
The Rumors Run Wild WAX NFT
Sir Pubbleyum, already packed from his long two-week journey, was ready to go. The Black Knight of Terror picked up a few provisions, and both knights set off toward Clumsalon. Fully aware he had no idea where Clumsalon was located, the Black Knight schemed as they traveled along the Phantom Trail of Skulls, which would eventually lead them to the Molten Trail of Gloomfen.
At the beginning of their journey, Sir Pubbleyum remained quiet, simply following the towering Black Knight. He was astonished by the size of this monstrous man. After a few hours, they finally reached the Molten Trail of Gloomfen. The Black Knight turned and said, "We need to take this trail straight to the Shadow Whispering Trail." Sir Pubbleyum nodded in agreement. Hmm, he thought to himself, that was the trail I probably should have taken.
Both knights continued along the lava-trenched path, carefully avoiding the pits of molten rock along the trail’s edges.
A few more hours passed, and they arrived at the Shadow Whispering Trail. Curious about the name, Sir Pubbleyum asked the Black Knight. "Why is this trail named Shadow Whispering," the knight replied, "because if you listen carefully—especially on a windy day—you can hear whispers. The wind blows through the trees along the trail, and they seem to speak, like voices carried on the breeze. This only happens here because the trees are a special breed, native to this section of the forest." He paused, then added, "By the way, we’ve now entered the Kingdom of Perfectia."
Sir Pubbleyum pulled out his ancient map and read aloud, "You mean the Perfect Kingdom?" The Black Knight looked slightly confused. "No, I mean the Kingdom of Perfectia—where they strive to be perfect in every way." Sir Pubbleyum nodded, finally understanding: the Perfect Kingdom was Perfectia.
"We must continue before darkness catches us," the Black Knight said. "I know a safe spot to make camp, but we must reach it before nightfall."
"OK," Sir Pubbleyum replied. "You know these parts—I’ll follow your lead."
They continued down the Shadow Whispering Trail and reached their destination just as night approached.
"We’ll make camp just off the trail," the Black Knight said. Both knights dropped their backpacks, lit a campfire, and laid out their sleeping quilts.
After traveling with the Black Knight for so long, Sir Pubbleyum had hoped they might grow closer. Instead, he felt worse—something was off. The knight gave him chills down his spine. Little did he know, this was the Black Knight of Terror, and any enemy of his would feel that same dread. Sir Pubbleyum noticed the knight studying him intently. He forced himself to remain calm. I command the skills of sword wielding, he told himself quietly, and can surely handle myself if the need arises.
The campfire roared, crackling with heat. The moon pulsed within crimson skies. The Black Knight lay down to sleep, but uncomfortably—facing Sir Pubbleyum. Pubbleyum couldn’t tell if the knight’s eyes were open or closed.
He retraced the conversation he’d had with Lord Malice and compared it to what the Black Knight had told him. This Shadow Whispering Trail leads straight to the Kingdom of Perfectia… I need to escape. There’s something not right about this entire situation.
As the night wore on, the fire continued to crackle. Sir Pubbleyum studied the sleeping knight, then carefully and quietly packed his belongings. Once on the trail, he hurried as far as he could before breaking into a full run, fleeing from the Black Knight.
Back at the camp, the Black Knight sat up with a smile. That foolish Pubbleyum took the bait. He will now lead me straight to Clumsalon—and my fellow Black Knights aren’t far behind.
Meanwhile, Sir Pubbleyum ran as fast as he could, his armor clanking, boots pounding the ground under the weight of his silvery plate. He kept glancing back and side to side, exhausted but determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the knight.
He ran and ran—until suddenly, he collided with Sir Bearingsmere the Gentle, who had been wandering the Shadow Whispering Trail in search of rare flowers found only there. Sir Pubbleyum toppled over him. Nearby, Sir Thundersnack the Kitchen Raider already had his sword drawn, pointing a serpentine blade at the intruder’s breastplate.
Sir Pubbleyum found himself on his back, staring up at the glowing sword. The first words out of his mouth were, "Oh, cool—I’ve never seen one of those before. That’s a pretty neat sword you’ve got there," as he rubbed his helmet.
Sir Thundersnack glanced at him, quickly smiled, and said, "Oh yeah, thanks. It’s pretty cool—and it glows when I’m in danger." Then he shook his head and resumed his stance, sword still aimed at Pubbleyum’s chest.
Sir Bearingsmere, winded but more concerned for the man he’d been knocked down by, began forming apologies in his mind as he slowly got to his feet.
Sir Pubbleyum gazed at Sir Thundersnack. "I’m no threat. I’m searching for a place called Clumsalon—and the Perfect Kingdom, which I’ve just learned is actually named Perfectia."
Sir Thundersnack gradually lowered his sword, studying Pubbleyum with curiosity. Sir Bearingsmere, now on his feet, said firmly, "Sir Thundersnack, please sheathe your sword at once."
Sir Bearingsmere the Gentle looked at Sir Pubbleyum and extended a hand to help him up. "My apologies for being in your way while you were running a marathon, kind sir," said Bearingsmere the Gentle. Sir Pubbleyum felt a sense of calmness—no chills, nothing. Hmm, he thought to himself, I wonder if these two are from Clumsalon.
"Umm," said Sir Pubbleyum, "it's okay—the fault lies with me. I should have watched where I was going."
"Let me introduce myself," said Sir Bearingsmere. "My name is Sir Bearingsmere, and this is my fellow knight, Sir Thundersnack. We are Knights of the Order known as the Perfechian Guard of Shearmelstrom within the Kingdom of Perfectia."
Sir Pubbleyum’s eyes widened. "You are from Perfectia? Then you must know where I can find Clumsalon, right?" he asked kindly.
Before Sir Bearingsmere could respond, Sir Thundersnack shoved a juicy pastry into his face and said, mouth full, "The only way to Clumsalon is by escort from the Clumsy Knights. That kingdom is protected and hidden from outsiders—including us Perfectians."
Sir Pubbleyum gazed in awe. "Hmm, really?"
Before Sir Thundersnack could say another word, Sir Bearingsmere asked, "How may we address you, kind sir?"
Pubbleyum quickly replied, not wishing to seem rude, "My name is Sir Pubbleyum, and I travel from a faraway land in search of—" But before he could finish, Sir Thundersnack nearly tumbled over Sir Bearingsmere.
"Did you say your name is Pubbleyum?"
"Yes, that is my name," Sir Pubbleyum replied, giving an investigative gaze. "Hmm… that’s the second time someone has nearly toppled over at the mere mention of my name."
Sir Bearingsmere the Gentle quickly suggested they return to Perfectia to seek guidance from the Perfechian Guard and invited Sir Pubbleyum as an honored guest.
Meanwhile, the Black Knight of Terror and his fellow Black Knights watched from a distance, unseen. They had witnessed the entire exchange. They still sought revenge… especially for what that blasted Serpentine Sword-wielding kitchen thief had done.
Sir Butteryslip's Banana Nightmare
Sir Thundersnack's Custard Pie Satchel
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 4
The Perfechian Guard Unknown WAX NFT
Sir Bearingsmere, Sir Thundersnack, and their new companion, Sir Pubbleyum, continued along the Shadow Whispering Trail, just a couple of miles from Castle Shearmelstrom in Perfectia. Sir Thundersnack noticed something only he would catch so quickly—a trail of food crumbs.
"Hmm," he muttered to himself, "what in the—hey, Bearingsmere, do you see them?" He gestured quietly to the ground.
"Yes," Bearingsmere replied, "I actually noticed them earlier, when we first encountered this fine gentleman, Pubbleyum."
"Hmm, I wonder... I really wonder," Thundersnack mused, glancing sideways at Pubbleyum.
"Hey, Pubbleyum," Thundersnack called, "want a snack?"
Sir Pubbleyum, trying to keep his composure, politely declined—but with obvious reluctance. Thundersnack watched him closely but saw nothing unusual.
"Well, OK—don’t mind me. I’ll have another custard pie. I’m famished."
Sir Pubbleyum’s eyes practically popped out of his head at the word "famished." He quickly yanked off his right gauntlet with his teeth, shoved his hand down his breastplate, and pulled out a biscuit, cramming it into his mouth as they walked. Good, he thought, they didn’t see me. He slipped the gauntlet back on and kept pace.
Thundersnack, trailing just behind, scanned the ground for more crumbs.
They were minutes from Castle Shearmelstrom, just off the Shadow Whispering Trail, when all three knights felt a sudden chill down their spines. An eerie breeze rustled the leaves like distant gossip. Then Sir Thundersnack’s serpentine sword pulsed with its signature crimson glow—the blade coiling and uncoiling as if alive.
"Danger nearby!" Sir Thundersnack yelled. "Look at my sword!"
Sir Pubbleyum stared in amazement—he had seen his serpentine sword faintly light up earlier, but never this bright, this fierce. It had only flared like this the one time before: when Sir Thundersnack, startled by the clumsy collision with Sir Bearingsmere, had drawn the blade in haste and pressed its tip to Pubbleyum's breastplate. Back then the sword had mistaken friend for foe, blazing along its serpentine curves—only to dim to a faint glow again once it sensed no true malice.
Across from them stood the Black Knight of Terror, towering in rune-etched armor that gleamed coldly, his dark blade drawn. Behind him, his Black Knight brothers stood ready, swords raised.
A low, mournful grrrrrrrroooooowl rolled from Sir Thundersnack’s stomach—loud enough to scatter birds and make the Black Knight flinch.
"What is that infernal sound?" barked the Black Knight of Gloomfen, standing behind the Knight of Terror.
Without breaking eye contact, Sir Thundersnack plunged a hand into his satchel and pulled out a slightly squashed custard pie, custard already oozing through the cracked crust. He shoved it into his mouth, mumbling through a full jaw to his companions.
Crumbly pastry flakes drifted down his breastplate. Custard dribbled from the corners of his grin. He chewed once, twice, then swallowed with one giant gulp.
The Black Knight of Terror stared, utterly motionless. For the first time in years, the legendary terror-knight had no words. His glowing runes flickered—almost as if embarrassed.
"Hey, Black Knight," Sir Pubbleyum said, calm but cautious. "Glad you caught up."
Sir Bearingsmere turned to him, eyes wide. "Did... did you lead them here?" he asked, nervous but gentle.
Pubbleyum replied quickly, "They told me they were allies of Perfectia and Clumsalon—said they’d escort me. But I sensed something was off, so I slipped away in the dead of night. Left that big one—the huge Black Knight—behind."
Sir Bearingsmere nodded in understanding. The Black Knights had deceived Pubbleyum—but he’d seen through it.
"How do you wield such a weapon, Perfectian?" the Black Knight of Terror demanded. "Where do you even put all that food? It doesn’t matter—we have you surrounded."
Thundersnack met his gaze. "Never mind that, Black Knight. I needed to fill my stomach. Now I have. Unguard, Gloomfen knights. Unguard."
The Black Knight blinked. "You… fight with a full stomach?"
"Always," Thundersnack replied cheerfully. "Empty belly makes me cranky. And nobody wants to see me cranky with a glowing sword."
"Good," said the Black Knight, "because you just finished eating—so you’re not cranky. But you are outnumbered."
Sir Bearingsmere looked confused. "What do you mean? We have three. You have three. How are we outnumbered?"
Then, from the trees, strolled Sir Upingfoot the Teddy Bear of Terror. Arguably one of the greatest swordsmen in all the kingdoms—though he’d never faced Sir Ascenation, the Cold Demon, the being known as the strongest in all known realms.
Sir Upingfoot assessed the scene—no magic, no theatrics—just raw steel, grit, and precision. He stepped forward, sword drawn, and locked eyes with the Black Knight of Terror.
"Do we have a problem here?" he asked in a calm, surprisingly high-pitched voice. "You Black Knights are not welcome. Get lost."
Sir Pubbleyum, stunned, looked from Sir Upingfoot’s baby-faced visage to Sir Bearingsmere, then to Sir Thundersnack—still cramming another pie into his mouth. He was utterly bewildered.
Sir Bearingsmere, sensing his confusion, leaned in. "He’s an adult with a baby face. Known as the deadliest teddy bear alive. Unmatched with sword and shield. The Black Knights know this—but he’s never faced more than one at once."
Now they had four knights. The Black Knights had three.
Annoyed by the Perfectians’ endless storytelling, the Black Knights advanced on Sir Thundersnack, shadowy swords drawn.
Then, out of nowhere, Sir Butteryslip the Interesting stumbled into the fray—still staring down at the ground, muttering furiously about a spell he’d tested on himself from the Perfectian library. The incantation was supposed to un-summon the buttered banana peels that kept appearing beneath his boots whenever danger loomed... or sometimes just randomly, as if the magic had a mischievous mind of its own.
Before the Black Knights could react, Sir Butteryslip slipped on a fresh buttered banana peel and crashed into all three like dominoes.
Sir Pubbleyum—amazed—muttered to himself, This can’t be real, can it? Doubting his own eyes, he drew his sword and held it over one of the fallen knights. "Sorry, pal," he said, "but you’re surrounded. I figured you out the moment your walking cat lord gave you that deceptive look before we left."
The Black Knight of Terror, dignity shattered, rose slowly. Seeing they were outnumbered, he retreated back into the Shadow Whispering Trail, his companions following, swords still drawn.
Sir Pubbleyum couldn’t believe it—no injuries, aside from Sir Butteryslip sliding around on greased up banana peels, Sir Thundersnack seemingly unable to go a second without food, Sir Bearingsmere’s unusual charm, and Sir Upingfoot’s baby-faced ferocity—arguably the greatest swordsman alive so they claim.
Hmm, he thought, I can’t believe this. He called out, "Are you all part of Clumsalon? What’s all this talk about the Clumsy Knights?"
Sir Thundersnack, licking custard from his fingers, replied, "Umm, how about we go to Castle Shearmelstrom? Our king can explain everything. And look—the thread’s gone. My serpentine sword’s no longer on fire."
Sir Bearingsmere helped Sir Butteryslip to his feet.
"The spell didn’t work, I see. Better luck next time, old chap. But look on the bright side—you got us out of a jam, all thanks to those buttered banana peels."
He chuckled as the Perfectian knights and Sir Pubbleyum headed toward Castle Shearmelstrom and the Great Kingdom of Perfectia.
Sir Butteryslip glanced at Sir Bearingsmere as they walked.
"Do you know what, Bearingsmere? I had a nightmare last night after I tried to conjure that spell to cure myself of these buttered banana peels. What ended up in my dream was devastating—an army of buttered bananas chasing me!"
He laughed out loud. Sir Bearingsmere, as gentle and polite as ever, tried to keep his composure from bursting into laughter.
"Look at it this way," he replied. "It’s both an advantage and a curse. That’s how I’d see it, old chap. Look—we’ve made it to the castle."
Halls of Castle Shearmelstrom - Floors Reflecting off the Sky
Sir Thundersnack's Personal Food Storage Room and Breadcrumb Trail
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 5
A Midnight Snack - The Custard Pie Invasion WAX NFT
The knights finally made it to Castle Shearmelstrom, accompanied by their guest, Sir Pubbleyum. His eyes widened at the sheer beauty of the castle—silver towers gleaming under the sky’s reflection, near-perfect symmetry framed by drifting clouds. The processional way was a long walk to the gates, yet it felt inviting rather than imposing. The castle itself was clearly designed for defense: perched high atop a flattened mountain peak, surrounded by thick, lush green forests. The only way into the Castle was along this lengthy path—some called it simply "the approach."
Sir Pubbleyum felt at ease, a far cry from the dread he’d sensed at Lord Malice’s Gloomfen. As they reached the immaculate courtyard, the group entered the great halls. The floors shone like the skies above, sunlight streaming through tall windows. Sir Pubbleyum couldn’t believe it—but now he understood why his map called this place the Perfect Kingdom.
Out of nowhere, a strong, welcoming voice echoed from a nearby section of the hall:
"Greetings! Welcome to our home!"
Smiling just ahead stood Sir Perfechia the Impeccable, tall and firm, his gold armor reflecting the most spotless floor Sir Pubbleyum had ever seen.
"Thank you for having me," Sir Pubbleyum replied with a gentle nod of respect.
Sir Perfechia gestured to the Perfectian knights. "I’ll take it from here, good knights. You did well."
Before Sir Perfechia had even finished speaking, Sir Thundersnack had vanished toward his private quarters—raiding his own kitchen stores, as was typical. Sir Bearingsmere quietly drifted off to his chambers, likely preparing another gentle apology for being in Sir Pubbleyum’s way during the run. Sir Butteryslip kept glancing down, watching for buttered banana peels, yet somehow couldn’t avoid them. Sir Upingfoot headed to the Perfectian Library to further study the arts of swordplay.
Sir Perfechia turned to Sir Pubbleyum. "The King is indisposed at the moment, but he will meet you tomorrow morning. For now, I’ll take you to the guest quarters, where you can rest and feel at home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow, and we will do our best to answer any questions you may have."
"This way, please."
Sir Pubbleyum nodded in agreement, then gestured gently that he was ready to follow. He made sure to stay just behind Sir Perfechia—so the knight wouldn’t notice the faint trail of breadcrumbs dusting the floor in his wake.
Sir Perfechia left the guest at his quarters and went off to conduct business as usual. Little did he know, Sir Pubbleyum had been quietly sweeping the trail with his feet—undetected.
Sir Pubbleyum was in awe, yet felt somewhat out of place because of his compulsion to leave breadcrumb trails. That’s a story for another day, he thought. For now, I must keep it secret. He sat on the guest bed, relaxed, pulled another dry biscuit from his hidden stash, and devoured it in silence, as if someone might snatch it from his grasp.
Eventually, exhaustion won. Sir Pubbleyum fell asleep—so tired that he crashed fully armored.
Meanwhile, the castle’s cleaning staff stumbled upon the breadcrumb trails and scrubbed vigorously, muttering, "What on earth?" They quickly assumed it was Sir Thundersnack, the Kitchen Raider, making another mess—and continued their work before retiring for the night.
Sir Thundersnack was fast asleep in his cozy, well-padded wooden chair beside the fireplace, the fire crackling gently. A faint stain of custard pie—perhaps evidence—marked his face and breastplate.
In the middle of the night, Sir Pubbleyum’s stomach growled—just enough to wake him.
"Hmm," he whispered. "I need a snack to knock me back to sleep. I wonder what this castle has to offer." He didn’t want to disturb anyone.
He rose quietly and began walking the halls, memorizing the path back to his quarters. He let his nose guide him—looking right, left, up, and down.
"Hmm," he murmured. "I smell custard pie. I know I smell it. I’m not imagining it. And it smells delicious—just the thing to knock me out for the rest of the night."
He followed the scent all the way to Sir Thundersnack’s private food stores. Toward the back of the room, custard pies sat there, practically begging to be eaten.
As he moved closer, careful not to disturb the sleeping knight, he accidentally stumbled over a crease in the carpet—missing Sir Thundersnack’s sprawled-out legs by an inch.
"Wow," Sir Pubbleyum whispered. "That was close."
He carefully slipped past the snoring knight, who sat slouched in his chair, eyes closed, a faint smile on his face. Sir Pubbleyum glanced at a nearby counter.
I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if I took a couple, right? He played the scenario over and over, convincing himself it was fine—Sir Thundersnack would never notice they were gone.
He shifted into his stealth stance, swiped the two pies from the pantry, and slithered away ever so gently. Back in his quarters, he devoured both, washed them down with a pint of mead from the nearby table, and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, Sir Thundersnack stirred.
"Oh, what a night! I am famished—I’ll have my dessert before breakfast," he said in a restful voice. He grabbed a custard pie and ate it with a smile, then packed the remaining pies into his satchel. Something was off. He’d made just enough to fit perfectly inside.
"Hmm," he thought to himself, "wait a minute—two or three pies are missing. Maybe I got up last night for a tasty snack? But I would remember… then again, I was very exhausted. Well, I’ll just have to make more later today."
But first, we were all summoned to meet the King and discuss their guest, Sir Pubbleyum.
"I won’t miss that for a custard pie. OK, maybe I would. Great—I’m hungry again just thinking about pie."
The Perfechian Guard of Shearmelstrom had requested all knights congregate in the King’s meeting room to discuss Sir Pubbleyum. As Sir Thundersnack prepared his satchel, he noticed something unusual.
"Hmm," he said, "what’s this? A faint trail of breadcrumbs leading into my room, right to the pantry—and then another slightly faded trail leading out?"
"Oh no!" Sir Thundersnack cried. "I’ve been robbed!" He practically tumbled over his own chair at the thought of losing his beloved custard pies.
"How will I ever explain this to my stomach? It’s sacrilege, I say! I’ll deal with this later. But first—off to the King’s meeting room."
Just down the hallway was the guest quarters.
Sir Pubbleyum woke, stretched, and noticed a letter on the nearby table:
Please come to the King’s meeting room at your earliest convenience.
He cleaned the breadcrumb dust from his armor and followed the diagram in the letter for easier navigation.
In the meeting room, the King addressed all the knights and their guest.
"Good morning, my fellow Knights of the Perfechian Guard of Shearmelstrom. We’ve gathered here to discuss our guest of honor, Sir Pubbleyum. He’s come from a faraway land in search of his long-lost brother, according to Sir Bearingsmere’s report." The King turned to him. "Sir Pubbleyum, welcome to our Kingdom. The Perfechian Guard tells me you have questions."
Sir Pubbleyum bowed. "Your Grace," he began, "according to my King, when I turned 25 years old, he was instructed by my father—whom I’ve never met—to give me a letter. In that letter, I learned I have a brother. We were separated at birth, for reasons he did not specify. My King also claimed he did not know why.
"Within this letter was an ancient map of a distant place, with two markers: one labeled 'The Perfect Kingdom' and the other 'Clumsalon.' I now know that the Perfect Kingdom is this one, Your Grace—the Kingdom of Perfectia. The map shows Clumsalon almost directly south of Perfectia. But studying the lands here, my map doesn’t seem accurate—nothing matches.
"Anyhow, I’ll continue, Your Majesty. Toward the end of the letter from my father—which was passed down through my King—he said my long-lost brother is in a place known only as Clumsalon. So, Your Highness, this is why I’ve entered your Realm."
The King sat back, absorbing the information.
"Hmm," said the King. "I wonder if there’s a resemblance between you, Sir Pubbleyum, and the Clumsalon Clumsy Knight known as Sir Pubbleglum?"
Sir Pubbleyum’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open in awe. "Yes, yes! I’ve heard that name before. Now I remember—Lord Malice of Snootwhistle and his Black Knights, who escorted me into Perfectian lands just before I was rescued by the Perfectian Knights. It was he who mentioned Sir Pubbleglum—and he looked quite irritated when he said it. That’s when I knew something was off."
The King and the knights fell silent. The only sound was Sir Thundersnack quietly munching on more of his homemade custard pies.
The King replied with a bit of humor in his voice, "Ahh, the famous Lord Malice. Yes, I remember now. He despises the Clumsy Knights and has been scheming to conquer this Kingdom—and so far, he’s failed miserably. But that is a story for another day, with a cup of mead in one hand and laughter in the other."
"Well, Sir Pubbleyum," said the King, "I can send my fastest messenger to the border of Clumsalon. He’ll deposit a message in a secret spot within their Realm. In a couple days, they should receive it and send word to meet you at the Shadow Whispering Trail, so they may escort you into their Kingdom. No one can enter unless they possess certain traits—such as clumsiness. I don’t know all the details."
Sir Bearingsmere gestured toward the King.
"Go ahead, Sir Bearingsmere," said the King gently.
"I would like to escort our guest to Clumsalon, if they will have him, Your Highness."
"Umm, Your Grace," said Sir Butteryslip the Interesting, "I would also like to escort our guest, if Sir Bearingsmere wants the company."
"Yes, yes," said the King. "Perfect. Thank you for volunteering to help our guest, brave knights."
And so the King's messenger was quickly sent to the borders of Clumsalon...
The Perfectian Kings Message
The Order of the Backwards Plume - Meeting Room
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 6
The Kings Message to the Order WAX NFT
A few days later, the Clumsalon messenger returned to Sir Toppleberry the Unsteady with the Perfectian King's message. Curious, Sir Toppleberry opened the letter bearing the Perfectian King's seal. As he read its contents, he was amazed, and it read:
To the Order of the Backwards Plume,
A special visitor has arrived in the Kingdom of Perfectia. He has journeyed fourteen days from a faraway land to find our realm. He claims to have a long-lost brother living in Clumsalon.
I will not disclose his name or who we believe his brother might be—that is for you and the Order to decide.
I ask that you send one of your Order's knights to escort him into Clumsalon. He will be accompanied by two Perfectian knights. They will bring him to the Shadow Whispering Trail at the edge of the Black Dark Forest of Clumsalon. There, they will await the arrival of the Order of the Backwards Plume knight.
Sincerely,
The Perfectian King
Sir Toppleberry quickly spread word for an Order meeting. Sir Yokel and Sir Victor the Knighting happened to walk by just as Sir Toppleberry was preparing to light the torch that would alert all the Clumsalon knights to gather in the Order's meeting room.
Sir Yokel turned to him. "May I ask what this meeting is about, Sir Toppleberry?" he said with some excitement in his voice.
Sir Toppleberry held up the king's message and replied, "We have business to attend to, and it's very important business which affects the entire Order."
Sir Victor looked a bit worried, his face showing concern. Sir Toppleberry quickly calmed his nerves. "It's good news, Sir Victor, but it's for everybody to hear. Let's get to the Order's meeting room with haste, knights."
By the time Sir Toppleberry the Unsteady finally reached the Order's meeting room, the entire space was filled with Clumsy Knights.
"Good afternoon, my fellow Clumsy Knights. I have interesting news to share from the Kingdom of Perfectia."
Sir Flailwild stood up like an excited child in daycare. "Oh wait, let me guess this one, Sir Toppleberry. Umm, let me see... Oh, got it! Sir Butteryslip the Interesting is visiting us? Wait, no—umm, Sir Thundersnack the Kitchen Raider is coming to visit, so you want to lock up all the food stores?"
Sir Toppleberry quickly and politely interrupted. "No, none of that is the news I must share with the entire Order. The King received a visitor from a faraway land. It took this visitor two weeks to reach Perfectia. He claims he has a long-lost brother currently living in our home, Clumsalon."
Sir Ouchington, hearing this news, kept rocking his chair back and forth until a leg gave way. He fell backward onto the floor, taking Sir Flailwild with him, curious about what the news was all about.
From the ground, Sir Ouchington yelped, "A brother? A long-lost one? Hmm, I never thought I had a brother. Did you, Sir Flailwild? Or Sir Yokel?"
Dame Clattercrash took a long swig of mead from the freshly filled jug on the Order's table. Sir Toppleberry eyed that mead as it practically begged him to take a sip.
Sir Yokel was speechless for a moment, then said, "Imagine a brother I never knew I had. Wouldn't that be a surprise? Hehe."
Sir Pubbleglum the Soggy looked at Sir Flailwild lying on the floor and extended a hand to help him up. Lady Banglethud quickly helped Sir Ouchington to his feet.
Sir Toppleberry addressed the entire group. "This letter does not say who the brother is, nor does it give the mysterious guest's name. It's for us to decide on his story. But for now, I need two volunteers to meet the Perfectians at the Shadow Whispering Trail where it borders our Black Dark Forest."
Before anybody could say a word, Sir Yokel and Sir Victor raced across the room with arms raised. "We would like to volunteer, Sir Toppleberry!" they said in an enthusiastic tone.
Sir Toppleberry gave the nod. "OK. Pack the required provisions for your days' journey. The Perfectians have already left their realm, so you should meet them at the trail in a day, thanks to the Black Dark Forest shortcut."
While Sir Yokel and Sir Victor the Knighting packed their backpacks with two days of provisions, the remaining Order of the Backwards Plume Clumsy Knights went about their day as usual. Sir Toppleberry didn't want to interrupt the King just yet about this matter, and besides, the letter was clearly addressed to the Order. He sighed, then went to his lopsided tower room to rest.
Sir Yokel and Sir Victor, packs secured, slipped through the castle’s iron gates. As the heavy doors groaned shut behind them, Sir Yokel leaned close and whispered, 'Do you think anyone’s watching?' — his voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.
"What do you think about this story from Perfectia? If it's true, whose brother could it be, I wonder?"
Sir Victor agreed. "Ya, I am most curious myself too. Greatly looking forward to who this person is, where they came from, why now, why not years earlier to meet this brother they claim?" He finished with a thoughtful "Hmmm."
After an hours rest within the safety of Clumsalon's forests, both Clumsy Knights continued their journey toward the Black Dark Forest.
"Ha, we finally made it," said Sir Yokel. "Aren't you happy I sneezed and found the map that ultimately gave us this shortcut through the Black Dark Forest?"
Sir Victor replied with agreement. "Sure, Yokel, but the only thing I don't like about this particular trail is that it's dark—very dark compared to the rest of the Clumsalon forests."
"Yes, I agree," said Sir Yokel. "Let's camp on the side of the Black Dark Forest and wait for our Perfectian friends and allies."
Several hours passed, but no Perfectians appeared in sight.
"Hmm, I wonder why they're taking so long to meet us," said Sir Victor the Knighting.
"We can always travel further into the Shadow Whispering Trail and maybe meet them halfway?" Sir Yokel suggested as he thought about what to do. "Do we stay and wait for them, or do we move further in?"
The two decided to move in, taking the Shadow Whispering Trail north.
Another few hours passed, but still no Perfectian knights.
Sir Victor put it out there. "I wonder, ye Yokel—do you think they ran into trouble or something?"
Sir Yokel responded by shrugging his shoulders, indicating he did not know.
"I think we should hold off for about an hour and see if they arrive. We'll take one hour off and one hour on," Sir Yokel said.
"Sir Victor gestured in agreement..."
The Buttered Banana Peels Invasion
The Trolls Brother
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 7
Trolls and Buttered Banana Peels WAX NFT
The Perfectian knights set off to meet the Clumsy Knights at the Shadow Whispering Trail, where it joined the Black Dark Forest of Clumsalon. Sir Pubbleyum the Famished traveled with Sir Butteryslip the Interesting and Sir Bearingsmere the Gentle.
As they passed Perfectia's steel gates, Sir Bearingsmere smiled.
"Another adventure—I look forward to seeing the Clumsy Knights again." He added softly, "I wonder who the Order sent."
Sir Butteryslip stared at the ground, dodging imagined buttered banana peels. Sir Pubbleyum resisted sneaking a treat from his breastplate—Bearingsmere was watching.
A trail of crumbs followed Pubbleyum. Bearingsmere noticed. "A question, friend—care to explain the crumbs?"
Pubbleyum blushed. "Long story. I leave them everywhere. The king says I was born with it; I think it's a curse."
"A snacking issue, like Sir Thundersnack?"
"Addiction, yes," Pubbleyum admitted sheepishly.
Butteryslip spotted a blockage ahead. "Sir Bearingsmere—what's that?"
"A troll in a black cape," Bearingsmere said, signaling cover. He approached hands visible. "Good evening. We'd like to pass. May we?"
"No," the troll growled. "My trail now. Leave, or I'll squash you."
Bearingsmere stayed polite. "You're on Perfectian land. Let us pass peacefully—no need for the king."
The troll snarled louder. Bearingsmere gestured his companions forward. "Three against one. Move aside?"
The troll fumed. Pubbleyum suggested, "Ask what we can do for him."
Bearingsmere tried. "What favor would let us pass?"
"Help me help myself," the troll said, pointing to his "trapped" leg.
Bearingsmere sent Butteryslip to check. Banana peels materialized; Butteryslip slipped wildly and slammed into the troll, knocking him out cold.
"I knew it—no trap," Butteryslip muttered from atop the unconscious troll. "At least the peels stopped an ambush."
More trolls emerged. Swords drawn, the Perfectians guarded Butteryslip. "We're outnumbered," Bearingsmere said. "Dash for the trail while the leader's down."
More trolls blocked them. Surrounded.
Bearingsmere angled his shield to flash sunlight south. "Signaling reinforcements. Pray they're coming."
Meanwhile, on the trail, Sir Yokel rested while Sir Victor watched. Victor heard distant voices. "Hear that?"
Yokel listened. "The Shadow Whispering Trail plays tricks—wind or whispers. But sometimes real voices."
A scream echoed—real. "Trouble north," Yokel said. "Our kingdom, our duty. No breaks."
They advanced. Yokel spotted a glint. Then trolls—surrounding the Perfectians.
Victor grinned. "We need a distraction. Remember Lady Banglethud's legendary sneeze?"
"Mine triggers near danger," Yokel said. "But I have a plan."
The Perfectians held firm, Butteryslip's blue-flamed serpentine sword keeping trolls back.
Yokel sneaked close, sword to the unconscious leader. Victor advanced calmly, serpentine blade splitting into twin flaming swords—the trolls recoiled.
Yokel unleashed a massive sneeze, splattering trolls. Bearingsmere cried, "Sir Yokel! Thank goodness!"
Victor reached the group. "Yokel's got their leader pinned. Move!"
Butteryslip froze, fearing peels. Victor handed his blades to Bearingsmere, hoisted Butteryslip over his shoulder.
One step—a peel appeared. Victor slid, crashing into trolls with Butteryslip. Chaos: knights and trolls tangled in a heap.
Trolls fled. Yokel laughed. "You saved the day again, Victor."
Pubbleyum stared in awe at the Clumsy Knights' glorious clumsiness.
As they untangled, the troll leader woke, shoving Yokel's blade away. "Not me—you gifted my brother the lance against the Sorcerer."
Yokel tensed. "Your brother sent you... to take our land?"
"Our home's gone—invaded by DragonSwolf," the troll explained haltingly.
Yokel considered. "Your brother aided me once. I'll petition the Order for help. For now, camp at Lake Monster's shores—no trouble in our lands."
The troll agreed; his army departed.
Bearingsmere smiled. "Smooth as silk, Yokel."
"Ain’t I perfect?" Yokel chuckled.
Victor eyed Pubbleyum, who stared back. "I'm Sir Victor the Knighting. Pleased to meet you."
Pubbleyum stammered, "I've never seen Clumsy Knights before—you're legends in Perfectia. My king says I have a long-lost brother here..."
Victor leaned in. "Who's your brother?"
"Sir Pubbleyum the Famished, I—"
Victor toppled backward in shock, pulling Butteryslip down. Bearingsmere steadied them, unsurprised.
Yokel gaped. "You sound exactly like our Sir Pubbleglum the Soggy."
Pubbleyum flinched. "I've heard that name—from Lord Malice too. The similarities..."
Yokel rallied the group. "Back to Clumsalon. We report to the Order of the Backwards Plume: DragonSwolf's invasion, the trolls' plea, and Sir Pubbleyum's link to Pubbleglum. Make haste, knights!"
One of Clumsalon's Kitchen Food Storage Rooms
The Clumsalon Visitors Hall
The Famished Long Lost Sibling
Chapter 8 - Final
The Famished Family Reunion WAX NFT
The group—Clumsy Knights, Perfectians, and Sir Pubbleyum—neared the Lopsided Castle in Clumsalon.
Sir Bearingsmere turned to Pubbleyum. “Sir Yokel, let him try finding the kingdom. The ruin magic might let him pass.”
Yokel nodded. “Go ahead, Sir Pubbleyum—walk straight ahead until Clumsalon appears.”
Pubbleyum, recalling Lord Malice’s tales of the hidden realm, tried. He walked... and walked. Nothing.
Victor shrugged. “First time here—maybe he’s lost the touch?”
Bearingsmere urged haste. “Into the castle, quickly. No repeats of the Lopsided Courtyard Welcome.”
Yokel led. “Stay close—between Victor and me.”
They passed the magical veil. Pubbleyum marveled at its deceptive protection.
Through the lopsided courtyard they went, straight to Sir Toppleberry’s tower study.
“Sir Toppleberry!” Yokel announced. “Tidings from Perfectia—we return victorious!”
Toppleberry rose from his lopsided chair. “Sir Yokel, are you quite alright?” he asked dryly.
“Just showing off for our guest, sir. We’re here to report.”
Toppleberry waved them to seats. “Sir Pubbleyum, you’ve come far. What brings you?”
Before Pubbleyum could answer, Victor and Yokel darted behind Toppleberry’s chair, arms ready to catch him.
Toppleberry paused. “What are you two doing? Sit down, clumsy knights.”
They exchanged glances, sat, and tried (unsuccessfully) to warn Butteryslip beside Toppleberry.
Toppleberry pressed on. “Your name, knight—and your purpose?”
“My name is Sir Pubbleyum the Famished, and—”
Toppleberry toppled backward off his chair, pulling Butteryslip down with him.
Toppleberry stared at the ceiling. Butteryslip checked for banana peels—none. He hid a grin. Victor helped Toppleberry up; Bearingsmere aided Butteryslip.
Butteryslip whispered, “Not my curse this time.”
Bearingsmere nodded.
Toppleberry, reseated, gestured for Pubbleyum to continue.
Pubbleyum cleared his throat. “Every time my name is spoken, people topple, trip, fall.”
Toppleberry chuckled. “It’s because your name echoes one of ours—you’ll meet him soon.”
He summoned the Order of the Backwards Plume—and the King—to the Visitors Hall shortly. “First, Yokel and Victor, take our guest to the kitchen. He must be hungry.”
The Perfectians headed straight to the hall while Yokel prepared a quick meal.
Yokel glanced at Victor. “When do I tell Toppleberry about the trolls and DragonSwolf?”
“After Pubbleyum’s introduction and brother reveal,” Victor said.
“Then raise your hand—the whole Order needs to hear.”
They ate and joined the hall.
Knights filed in: Dame Clattercrash, Lady Banglethud, Sir Pubbleglum, Sir Ouchington, Sir Flailwild, then Toppleberry and the King.
Toppleberry stood. “Be seated. I present Sir Pubbleyum the Famished from afar.”
At the name, Pubbleglum toppled, tripping Clattercrash into Flailwild. Flailwild’s leg knocked Ouchington’s chair; Ouchington teetered and fell backward. Four knights lay flat, staring upward.
Pubbleyum gaped. Bearingsmere nudged him. “Normal around here—hence ‘Clumsy Knights.’”
They righted themselves. Pubbleglum approached, pinched Pubbleyum’s arm.
“Ouch!”
“Just checking you’re real,” Pubbleglum said, eyes wide.
Toppleberry insisted everyone sit properly—no more mishaps.
The King rose with mead. “To Sir Pubbleyum! Sir Toppleberry—who is his brother?”
Pubbleglum leaped up. “I am Sir Pubbleglum the Soggy—and I believe you’re my long-lost brother!”
Pubbleyum studied him. “The names... you must be.”
They rushed together in a fierce sibling hug.
Toppleberry raised his cup. “To newfound brothers!”
Yokel’s hand shot up.
Toppleberry nodded. “Speak, Yokel.”
“On our journey, we met trolls. Their leader is brother to the troll I once gifted my lance to defeat a sorcerer. He said their home—southwest of ruined Avaloth and Orchington—was invaded by DragonSwolf.”
Toppleberry slammed his mead cup down—missed the table, splashing his knee and drenching the King.
“Apologies, sire!”
The King, robe dripping, grinned, swigged his half-full glass, and declared, “No apologies needed. Assemble the knights. Send word to Perfectia. We go to war against DragonSwolf!”
The hall erupted: cups clattered, rolled, spilled in arcs—onto floors, armor, neighbors. One glorious splash landed in Flailwild’s open mouth. He swallowed, blinked. “Tastes like victory.”
In the splash and echo of toppled chairs, brothers reunited, and Clumsalon declared war on DragonSwolf… or so it seemed.
The Clumsy Knights may stumble, but their clumsiness hides strategic genius and unintended heroism.
The Trolls’ plight and DragonSwolf’s threat? That saga begins soon.
The End
Quick Links
Part 1: Tales of the Clumsy Knights
Part 2: The Clumsy Knights Saga Continues
Part 3: The Clumsy Knights Meet New Foes
Part 4: The Clumsy Knights and the Seven Kingdoms
Part 5: The Clumsy Knights and the Alliance
Part 6: The Clumsy Knights and the Hidden Kingdom
Part 7: The Clumsy Knights and the Abandoned Castle
Part 8: Chronicles of the Clumsy Knights
Part 9: Adventures of the Clumsy Knights
Part 10: TimberMist and the Clumsy Knights
Part 12: Trolls, Sorcerers and the Clumsy Knights
Complete Story Guide: The Clumsy Knights: Complete Story Guide
The chronicles are still being written. Somewhere in the castle tonight another knight is oiling his armor, polishing his sword with butter, and preparing to save the world by tripping over it tomorrow.
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