It’s finally finished: a book about our worst enemies.
Ts took a whole lot of time, hope y’all like it ^_^
SIX TALES FOR THE PERFECT CROISSANT
This book tells the story of the croissant and its followers: the chosen ones. Each chapter recounts a self-contained tale. Be it true, perhaps invented, but certainly obscure. Amidst so many stories about baguettes, a volume is needed to understand our enemies.
"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles." —Sun Tzu
CHAPTER 1 - DARKNESS
Dark.
The candle illuminating the cell was flickering out; darkness was descending upon the small room where he had been locked away. But he did not know it. He did not know he was the chosen one. He had woken up in a cell, with no memory of his past.
His arm ached. Branded into the skin was a symbol shaped like a baguette. Was he perhaps a slave? A prisoner of war? A criminal? He didn't know.
The Chosen One liked being in the dark; when the lights went out, he became one with it.
One can light candles, bonfires, hearths. But sooner or later, darkness will overcome the light. It is only a matter of time, and the dark is patient.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The guard had brought him his usual, meager meal: a croissant. He would have given anything for good bread, a baguette for example. But it was not a prisoner’s meal; it was food for a free man. And he was not free. Weariness was overtaking him. He lay down on the cot and drifted into a fitful sleep. He heard only a voice emerging from the darkness: "You are the chosen one," it said. "We will not leave you alone." "The fires of life are fading, and the moment has arrived. The light fades, the shadows lengthen. Light brings clarity with it, equality. But when the light vanishes, shadow arrives, and Power begins.." Darkness seemed to crash down upon him. He heard a thud. He woke with a start, his heart pounding so hard it stole his breath away. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steady himself with one hand, but stumbled like a drunkard toward the cell door, which swung wide open. The guard lay beside the door, his body sprawled in a corner, mangled. There was something wrong with that body. The eyes were a glacial white; the right arm was bent at an unnatural angle, the elbow twisted backward, the hand clenched in a fist of agony, fingernails tearing into the palm and drawing drops of metallic-red blood. Inside that hand, a humble, poor, ordinary croissant.
The chosen one rushed out of the cell, disappearing into the dark night as if nothing had happened.
Silence returned.
Darkness had won once again.
CHAPTER 2 - CHRONICLES
Excerpted from Volume I of the First Sacred Book of the Croissant.
Once upon a time, there was a land of kings and queens.
Princes and princesses.
Dames and heroes.
A lush, welcoming land. Filled with towers and castles, inns and villages. But then, it came . The disaster. The croissant.
Now, there is a land of bones and corpses.
Disease and pestilence.
Sin and disparity .
A land that is rotten and lifeless. Filled with landslides and ruins, fire and flames. Death.
CHAPTER 3 - CONVERSION
It was raining in Paris that morning.
Gaspare opened his bakery at dawn, ready to welcome customers.
He arranged the baguettes on the counter in front of him.
He was proud of his baguettes; he had spent years perfecting the recipe, which had been awarded the title of best in Paris. He sat down on a chair and waited for the first customers. No one came. How strange. It must be the rain, he told himself.
He was about to close the shop in dismay when the bell above the door rang: a customer.
It was a short, stocky old man; a deep scar ran across his face, having taken away the upper part of his nose. His breathing was a wheeze, an unsettling presence. But a customer nonetheless.
“A Croissant,” he asked.
“Croissant?” Gaspare replied. “This is the best bakery in Paris, and you ask for a squalid… croissant? What a shame”
With a hoarse voice, a vacant stare, and a veil of despair, he ordered:
“Croissant,” the old man hissed, baring yellow teeth in an unsettling, intimidating smile. He raised his head; his eyes seemed white, icy, lifeless.
“Get out of my shop! I won't stand for such an insult” Gaspare shouted.
“Croissant,” the old man replied, and left, casting a menacing glare behind him.
Gaspare watched him walk away and noticed that the old man had left something on the counter: a croissant. He picked it up, eyeing it suspiciously; he had never tasted one before. He raised it to his lips and took a bite; suddenly, the world turned cold, and he collapsed onto the counter.
The next day, the bakery opened at dawn. Behind the counter stood a short, stocky old man with a deep scar across his face that had taken away the upper part of his nose.
On the counter, there were only fresh baked croissants.
CHAPTER 4 - PAIN
Pain
What is pain?
And what does it have to do with croissants?
In the summer of 1683, Kara Mustafa’s Ottoman army besieged Vienna with over 150,000 men.
The situation quickly deteriorated; the Turks had cut off supplies, and the people within the walls were starving.
Horses were eaten. Then cats, dogs, and rats. The poor ate boiled leather or grass, or simply went without food.
Meanwhile, the Turks were digging tunnels, intending to blow up the city.
Vienna was on the verge of defeat. 60,000 civilians and 20,000 soldiers were starving to death. Pestilence and cannibalism terrorized the inhabitants.
People were taking their own lives in front of the bakers, who worked all day to turn out bread and feed the few citizens who still had flour.
And then, when no one expected it, John III Sobieski arrived, broke the siege, and saved the city. To mock the Ottoman flag, the bakers created kipferl, pastries shaped like a crescent moon.
Sweet creations of pain, despair, death, and hunger.
Thus was born a pastry as beloved as it is mysterious:
the croissant.
CHAPTER 5 - PANIC
The day hasn't gone well.
No baguette; I haven't eaten a thing.
I have croissants in the pantry, but I mustn't give in.
Hunger is taking hold; I’m struggling to think clearly, but I must resist, or it’s all over for me.
I feel stomach cramps, it’s crying out for food, but I have none.
Nothing but a croissant.
The pain is growing inside me.
And with the pain comes exhaustion,
and with exhaustion,
weakness.
And as weakness sets in,
clarity slips away.
Oh, hunger.
Hunger.
But I must resist.
I can't.
I want a baguette.
But I don't have one.
Croissant.
I’m hungry.
I need food.
I mustn't give in to temptation.
Or perhaps I could try... No, I can't.
But my mind is clouding over
I could taste that croissant...
No, don't commit this sin.
Yes, actually.
No, I can't
but my eyelids are drooping.
I can't let myself go.
Hunger.
Food.
Croissant.
CHAPTER 6 - 6
6
A special number; this work could only conclude with the sixth chapter.
The first perfect number. Its proper divisors are 1, 2, and 3, and when added together, they make… 6.
A triangular number; its divisors form an equilateral triangle with 6 points: 3 at the base, 2 in the middle, and 1 at the apex.
3… the Trinity. A perfect, divine number. If we calculate its factorial, 3!, we get… 6.
According to the Bible, God took 6 days to create the world.
In Chinese culture, it is a lucky number, and in nature, it represents efficient natural structures, such as the hexagonal system of beehives.
But 6 is not a good number. No, not at all. That is what everyone believes: good, perfect, lucky.
But it holds dark meanings, and some cannot be written in this book.
Revelation 13:18: 6 is the number of the Beast, the Devil, Satan.
Also in the Bible, 7 represents divine perfection—the week. 6 is one less: imperfection, incompleteness, the eternal runner-up.
666 is linked, through Hebrew gematria (NRWN QSR = 666), to the Roman Emperor Nero. The man who persecuted Christians, setting them alight like torches in the arenas and feeding them to wild beasts.
6 is used in dark rituals, Satanism, and sacrifices.
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia is the fear of the number 666.
In esoteric texts, it is linked to Sorath, a solar demon opposed to Christ.
Every religion has a dark antagonist; in Christianity and the West, this figure is identified with the number 6.
The croissant, as previously mentioned, is linked to evil, suffering, hunger, and death. And it was sold by the half-dozen: packs of six.
The croissant recipe calls for: flour, yeast, butter, sugar, salt, and milk. Few ingredients, or rather… six ingredients.
A perfect number to complete this work, don't you think?