Once upon a time, in a land far far
away there ruled a fierce warrior and there also resided a humble
soul who wished to serve his lord.
At the age of fifteen he rejected the
provincialism of the hamlet which raised him, to seek the wisdom of
the Emperor who ruled from a distant capital. Without hesitation he
set out to transverse the immense swathes of land separating him from
the Emperor's palace. In memory he held one faint recollection of
the Emperor though it contained as as much embroidery as truth. On a
day, five years past, a small, motley company led by a man, raggedly
attired and upon horseback, appropriated the insignificant village
square. The villagers quailed, for rumors of the Emperor preceded
his appearance. Each tale spoke of defeat and death to anyone who
resisted. But, ignorant or innocent, the boy burned with an impotent
anger as he observed the cringing peasants, who preferred life to
honor. In the boy's eyes he perceived stalwart citizens capitulating
to an exhausted band of rouges a quarter their size.
Over a half-decade the anger changed to
humiliation and then to adulation. Aspiring to the bravado bravery
of the Emperor, and he went aquesting. Though no inhabitant of the
hamlet could speak to the location of the Emperor residence, the tax
collector directed the boy to the first outpost. Informed he would
pass through the gloomy jungle of Rudkus, retracing footsteps of the
emperor, now a decade old, the young man remained undaunted. With
tribulations only seen by himself and the Emperor's men, he passed
through and arrived at the eastern edge where he entered Victory
City. Awe grasped his heart, his eyes, and his feet, so he stood
gazing without thought at the sturdy walls, constructed from hewn
eucalyptus. Behind towered two story structures, and guards wielding
bronze spears. Recovering control of the basic locomotive function
of the body, he passed through a wooden gate. Inside an old man,
clothed in rags and hobbling across the rough path, obstructed the
youth's movement.
“Such a young boy,” he said, “and
far from home, if my eyes see correctly. What do you seek in our
town of destitution?”
“Surely,” replied the boy, “you
can't mean the words that flow from your mouth. Destitute? I see
around only wealth beyond imagining. Look, there, the bronze statute
of the emperor himself!”
“Bronze, hah! Here we have but one
monument to Him Who Rules from Sunrise to Sunset, but they reside in
his palace uncounted and cast of gold.”
“And that is where I intend to go,
but I don't know the way.”
“Why do you seek it?”
“To see the face of the man who men
call the bravest of the brave. The Emperor who leads in every
conflict, and wears the scars to corroborate his claim.”
“Forget your quest, for I have seen
him, and I can tell you of the distinction which enables this
abominable being to clasp which ever piece of earth of desires.
Place your few belongings upon the soil, and sit there on that dry
rock.”
After positioning the lad just so, the
man sat on ground, muddy from the recent rain, ran his hands up and
down his legs, and began.
“It is true what they say: the
Emperor does not fear death. Nor does he suffer defeat. No man
alive can speak of a single failure where the Emperor is concerned.
Though he is only thirty-five, this is a grand feat, for rumor says
he has more victories than years of life. If you ever reach him you
will have crossed so many miles your feet will be little more than
stubs, and the years will have fled past wasted for though brave,
there exists no man worse than he.”
The youth jumped up, astonished and
with a puzzled frown. He reached to gather his belongings but the
old man's hand clasped his wrist, and the boy found himself eye to
glistening eye with the man.
“Listen but a bit longer, and then
you can decide for yourself.” The grip relaxed and the youth
resettled himself.
“It wasn't long ago we conducted a
desperate stand just beyond these walls. Though to any unknowing eye
we'd have seemed likely victors. The emperor's force, far from home,
parched and fatigued from their journey across Arrakis, seemed as
pitiful as a soup constructed without any broth. But He exhibited
substantial and unsuspected cunning, a tactician with a slyness which
eclipses the deceptions of the senses. He saw the battlefield with
the eyes of the eagle, scouting our positions and our feints. With
the nose of a dog, he smelt the mixture of trepidation and
over-eagerness which emanated from our bodies, and manipulated the
flow of battle to bedevil our emotions. When we should have been
bold we were timid, and when a defensive posture would have suited,
we were aggressive. It was a swift defeat, and he culminated it with
a final charge upon our center, demolishing our formidable warriors.
It was in this conclusionary strike I suffered everlasting
humiliation and a wound which has left me limp for the remainder of
my life.”
He looked at the boy, and saw a hint of
sadness overawed by excitement.
“You still want to continue onward.”
“I want to meet, to serve the bravest
of men. I want to learn at the feet of the master who fears
nothing.”
“I will send you onward, for I
believe your true desire will aid you in seeing reality, detecting
the barbarity of the Emperor. Perhaps some unseen miracle connected
tenuously to your quest will end his rule.”
The man used his staff to trace a few
crude, trembling lines in the dirt.
“From here you must venture east,
south-east and before long you will see a desert that recedes before
the eye, into the distance. How you will cross it, I know not, but
there are cairns left by the unheeding Emperor. A path left for him
to return home by, and fearing no pursuit.”
Then, with a sudden revulsion, the man
stomped on the rough map, sends clods of dirt into the air. With a
quickness which astonished the youth, he abandoned their conversation
and vanished into a nearby crowd which had entered through the gate.
Pleased with his progress so far, the
youth prepared for the next part of his journey.
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