The land of stories:A Grimm Warning by Chris Colfer

Prologue-Guests of the Grande Armée

It was no mystery why this part of the countryside had been christened the Black Forest. The abnormally dark leaves and tree bark were nearly impossible to see in the night. Even though a bright moon peeked out from the clouds like a shy child, no one could be certain what was lurking in the thick woods.

A chill lingered in the air like a veil spread across the trees. It was a very remote and mature forest; roots sank as deep into the ground as branches reached high into the sky. Had it not been for a modest path winding through the terrain, the forest would have seemed completely untouched and unseen by human eyes.

A dark carriage pulled by four strong horses shot through the forest like a cannonball. A pair of swinging lanterns illuminated the path ahead and made the carriage resemble an enormous creature with glowing eyes. Two French soldiers of Napoleon's Grande Armée rode beside the carriage. Black cloaks covered the soldiers' colorful uniforms so they could travel in secrecy—the world was never to know what their agenda was tonight.

Soon the carriage arrived at the edge of the Rhine river, dangerously close to the border of the ever‑growing French Empire. A large camp was being set up, with dozens of pointed beige tents pitched every moment by hundreds of French soldiers.

The two soldiers following the carriage dismounted their horses and opened the carriage doors. They yanked two men out from inside. The men's hands were tied behind their backs and they had black sacks over their heads. They grunted and yelled muffled messages—both men had been gagged as well.

The soldiers pushed the men to the center of camp and into the largest tent. Even with their faces covered, the bound men could tell it was very bright inside the tent, and they felt a soft rug replace the hard ground beneath their feet. The soldiers forced the men into two wooden chairs farther inside.

"J'ai amené les frères," they heard one of the soldiers say behind them.

"Merci, Capitaine," another voice said in front of them. "Le général sera bientôt là."

The sacks were pulled off the men's faces and the cloths around their mouths were removed. Once their eyes adjusted to the light, they could see a tall and muscular man standing behind a large wooden desk. His posture was very authorita‑ tive, and his scowl was anything but friendly.

"Hello, Brothers Grimm," the tall man said with a thick accent. "I am Colonel Philippe Baton. Thank you for joining us this evening."

Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm stared up at the colonel. They were cut up and bruised, and their clothing was disheveled— clearly it had been a struggle getting them here.

"Did we have a choice?" Jacob asked, spitting a mouthful of blood on the rug.

"I trust you're already acquainted with Capitaine De Lange and Lieutenant Rembert," Colonel Baton said, referring to the soldiers who had brought them.

"Acquainted is not the word I would use," Wilhelm said.

"We tried to be polite, Colonel, but they would not cooper‑ ate," Capitaine De Lange informed his colonel.

"We had to be aggressive with our invitation," Lieutenant Rembert explained.

The brothers looked around the tent—it was impec‑ cably decorated for having been so recently assembled. A grandfather clock ticked the night away in the far corner, shiny twin candelabras burned on either side of the tent's back entrance, and a large map of Europe was spread across the wooden desk with miniature French flags pinning the conquered territories.

"What do you want with us?" Jacob demanded, struggling against the ropes tying his hands.

"Surely if you wanted us dead you would have killed us by now," Wilhelm said, struggling against his own restraints.