Six towers of words guard the name of a King, and that name is arcane.

Choose a tower and try a word upon it: the letters that truly dwell there will light in their places. Fell the whole tower and it yields a letter of the crown.

But if your wit allows, name the King outright: another King takes the throne, guarded by a stingier castle — first it denies you the free stones, then the marks upon the towers. The dynasty of the day holds three thrones — conquer them all and the victory is yours.

Nine hundred coins fill your purse, and each stroke costs twenty. The court grants you three names to guess the King: three hundred the first, six hundred the second, twelve hundred the third. Yet a King the towers leave revealed proclaims himself, for nothing and unbidden; and when all three are spent, naming stays open: each name costs double the last.

The first castle grants six strokes, the deeper ones fewer: a tower felled returns one. The more veiled the name when spoken, the greater the spoils.

None but words of good law are admitted.