“Ande Y dyd beahowlde ye barbaryane waysts of Daemynlande ye Mowre. Ande thus dyd Y beahowlde a grayt army, wyth banners bryght and a generale clad yn black wyth whyte and red sylke tailoringes.”
Thus begins the book of Lord Spytflame of Neverdale, who, in his youth, travelled from his warm and mountainous land into the dreadful Daemonland. Though Daemonland is one of the most inhospitable of places, Spytflame travelled from it’s jagged, rocky shore, across the sweltering, near-desert plains of Daemonland the More to the sheer cliffs at the edge of Outer Daemonland, beyond which no man has penetrated that did return to tell of it. Spytflame, while travelling across Daemonland the More, beheld a strange sight already well known to the tribal barbarians that dwelt upon the Daemonland: The Three Armies. Across the plains circle three armies, one always chasing the one in front of it. The generals stop and converse and take meat and drink with anyone who they believe to be worthy, and many who have dined with these strange men say that they are very quiet and strange, but when asked of the army in front of them, they say that “I and mine host doth chase these cowards, who erenow hath commited a crime known well to thee.” But when asked of their persuing army, they claim “What treachery art this, that mine dearest friend doth rally his hosts to mine back? Begone from mine tent, thou poison-tongued devil, before I doth strike thy head from thy shoulders!”
What could be the mystery of these three armies and three generals? Perhaps the native Daemonland barbarians know. Or perhaps the secret lies in the unknown, forested lands beyond the desert of Outer Daemonland. But, as Lord Spytflame of Neverdale says in his book, To Outere Daemynlande and Backe, “Perhapse thyse secreat be evere a mysterye to we.”

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