The Conqueror of the Strongest

There lived three brothers. Two were strong and agile, but the third was weak and sickly, good for nothing. The older brothers got married, but their wives couldn’t get along, so the brothers decided to divide their property. They split everything equally between themselves, leaving the youngest brother with nothing.

The youngest brother asked for his share, but his brothers replied:
— What do you need it for? You’re good for nothing anyway. Work for us—sometimes for one, sometimes for the other—and we’ll feed you.

What could the youngest brother do? He knew he couldn’t take anything by force, so he stayed silent, turned away, and left them altogether. The poor man took nothing with him except his father’s saber.

He walked for a long time or maybe not so long—until he found a wealthy man and hired himself out as a laborer. He worked for three months, took his earnings, and ordered a scabbard for his saber with the money. On the blade, he had the words “Conqueror of the Strongest” engraved. He hung the saber on his belt and set off, not knowing where he was going.
He wandered from place to place, from one village to another, dragging the saber behind him. Passersby looked at him and laughed, while children ran after him, teasing him.
The poor man grew tired of this, so he turned off the road and walked into the forest. Exhausted, he lay down under a tree to rest.

Two men emerged from the thicket, armed from head to toe with guns and daggers. They saw him and approached. The poor man pretended to be asleep.

They came closer, looked at him, and laughed. They took his saber from the sleeping man, drew it from its scabbard, and saw it gleaming brightly, with the words “Conqueror of the Strongest” engraved on it.

They stopped laughing and even grew afraid. “This man is not one to be mocked,” they thought. They sheathed the saber and said:
— This Conqueror must be a very strong and skilled fellow. Let’s ask him if he wants to be our friend.
They discussed it and began to gently wake him.

The Conqueror heard everything and, emboldened, decided to wake up. He looked at them, rubbed his eyes as if he had been sleeping deeply, stood up, and greeted them.
— Be well! — they replied.

They struck up a conversation. The good-for-nothing Conqueror told them all sorts of tall tales and said:
— I’m tired of shedding blood. I’ve decided to go to the king and ask to serve him.
The men were amazed by his stories and began boasting about themselves.
— There are only two of us here, but in the forest, we have six more comrades. Don’t be angry—we ask you to join us, be our ninth comrade and friend.

These were bandits who lived deep in a dense, impassable forest. They took the Conqueror with them and led him to their hideout.

When they arrived, they told their comrades all about their new friend’s exploits, exaggerating them fivefold.
But the bandit leader didn’t believe in the Conqueror’s heroism and decided to test him. He said:
— Tonight, you’ll go hunting for a wild boar, and take this newcomer with you.
When the Conqueror heard this, he nearly died of fear, but he didn’t show it and pretended to be eager, quickly preparing for the journey. He thought to himself, “How can I escape along the way?” His comrades gave him a gun, but he laughed:
— What do I need a gun for? I have my saber!

He had never held a gun before and didn’t know how to shoot.
Meanwhile, wild boars roamed the forest, searching for acorns.

The Conqueror noticed boar tracks on the ground.
— Oh, — said the bandits, — that must be the boar as big as a buffalo. Its hide is so thick that bullets can’t pierce it; this boar uproots whole trees with its tusks.

They left the Conqueror to guard the boar while they hid behind the trees.
The poor Conqueror was terrified. He couldn’t escape the forest, and he couldn’t think of a solution.
— Well, — he decided, — it seems I was born for this boar. There’s nothing I can do.
He stood for a while, thinking. But he couldn’t come up with anything, so he climbed an oak tree and hid in its branches.
— If the boar comes here, I’ll throw something down on it. Maybe it’ll get scared and run away. At least they won’t suspect me of cowardice.

Suddenly, the Conqueror heard a loud noise. He looked down and saw the boar’s eyes gleaming.
His heart sank, and his hands and legs trembled. The poor man slipped from the tree, fell onto the boar’s back, and landed right on its spine.

The boar thrashed around, and the poor man, in his terror, clung to its bristles for dear life.

The bandits saw this and rushed forward like lions, beating the boar with their guns and anything they could find. They knocked the boar down and killed it.

When the Conqueror came to, he saw the deed was done. He decided to play it smart and shouted at his comrades:
— You fools! I caught the boar and wanted to take it alive, but you killed it in my hands!
The comrades felt bad, but what could they do?

They dragged the boar to their leader. Everyone learned of the new comrade’s heroism and was amazed and delighted.

They cut off the boar’s head and sent it to the king, saying:
— We have a new comrade, and he’s so strong he caught this boar with one hand. Stop hunting us, or you’ll regret it.
Word spread about the Conqueror. Some said:
— This man is a demon. Others claimed:
— He catches bullets in midair.

His name was on everyone’s lips. The king and his army were terrified and forgot about capturing the bandits. Time passed. Then another king challenged this king to war. Their agreement was this:
Each king would send one warrior to a duel. The winner’s king would receive a number of villages with all their people and property from the defeated king.

The war began. But every time, the other king won.
Five years passed, and the defeated king was utterly ruined.
The other king had a champion, a hero so mighty that anyone who approached him would lose their head. No one could count how many innocent lives he had taken.
The defeated king was terrified. What could he do? His strongest warriors had all been killed, and without them, he was powerless.

He gathered his advisors and asked for their counsel.
After much deliberation, the eldest advisor spoke:
— We have a hero too—the Conqueror of the Strongest, who caught a boar with one hand. Let’s ask him for help. If he agrees, all is well. If not, our kingdom is doomed.

Everyone liked this idea, and they convinced the king to send a messenger to the Conqueror, asking for his help. “If you defeat our enemy, the king will give you his only daughter in marriage, bequeath his throne to you, pardon your bandit comrades, and reward them with rich gifts.”
The messengers went, found the Conqueror and his comrades, and told them everything.
The bandits were overjoyed.

The matter reached the good-for-nothing Conqueror. He thought long and hard, barely breathing from fear. What was there to think about? He was on the verge of losing his tongue. Finally, he decided.
— Well, whether I’ve lived my days well or poorly, it seems my end has come. What can I do? If I refuse, I’ll be disgraced forever. No, it’s better to die honorably at the hands of such a hero than to live as a coward. At least I’ll save my comrades from execution.

At last, he told the messengers:
— Very well, I agree. I’ll fight the duel. But I’m ashamed to face just one man. Let them send three.

When they heard this, everyone rejoiced, clapped, and happily escorted the hero to the royal palace. Word spread far and wide. Some said:
— He’s not challenging one man, but three at once. Others claimed:
— He’s going to tear their heads off barehanded. Still others boasted:
— Barehanded? He uproots whole trees! And so the tales about the good-for-nothing Conqueror grew.

The enemy champion heard all this. His heart nearly stopped from fear: “This is it,” he thought. “My end has come.”

The day of the duel arrived. The field was packed with spectators. They waited for the Conqueror. At last, they saw him.
— What’s this? Such a small man? But he must be very skilled, — they said.
The good-for-nothing Conqueror and the giant faced each other. The poor Conqueror looked like a sparrow next to him, but he didn’t back down. “Well, I’ll die and that’ll be the end of it,” he told himself.

The giant looked at him and smirked: “I’ll crush this little man with one blow,” he thought. “But no, he must know some trick. I’ll wait and see what he does, then finish him off quickly.”
Everyone held their breath, waiting.

The signal was given, and the two advanced.
The Conqueror’s heart couldn’t take it. He saw death approaching and forgot to draw his saber. He closed his eyes, stretched out his neck, and walked forward, thinking, “Just strike already and end this torment.”

The giant saw the poor man with his neck stretched out and grew afraid.
“He’s planning something tricky,” he thought.
He stretched out his own neck, closed his eyes, and stood frozen in place.

The poor man walked on, expecting death at any moment.
But no blow came. The Conqueror cautiously opened one eye. He saw his opponent standing in the middle of the field, neck stretched out like a turkey before slaughter, eyes closed, waiting.
Then the Conqueror thought, “This is my chance! Don’t be afraid, strike!” He drew his saber, swung it, and only realized what had happened when the giant’s head rolled in one direction and his body in the other.

Everyone shouted and cheered. They grabbed the hero and carried him to the king.
The king was overjoyed and immediately married the Conqueror to his daughter, handing over the kingdom to him.
The poor man became king.

He made his comrades his advisors and summoned his brothers, and they all lived happily ever after.
Thus was the fate of the good-for-nothing Conqueror.

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The Conqueror of the Strongest

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