The Courageous Emperor: A Conclusion

For one who has nothing to fear, darkness is a comfort, a meditative emptiness without stimuli. But when I awoke in blackness, anxiety wracked my soul. Had I double dreamt of my idol Emperor, twice a coward, tortured by the horror of ceasing to exist, and the terror of continuing to be?

This deep in doubt, I questioned his manly courage, my inspiration to traverse the obstacles of the world, and reenact the feats he had accomplished. Searching would require a new venture, bravery in embracing the senses to arrive at the truth. With hand outstretched, I perceived neither the softness of cushions, nor the filthiness of a tarnished hovel. Though I lay in a narrow bed, and though it were simple, and even a bit rough in construction, it seemed straight, as if until that moment, everything I had ever touched was distorted. Unable to see, but unwilling to remain confined, I placed both bare feet upon the floor, and though it was austere in construction (some unfinished wood), it was so clean, I felt as if I were standing on a silken rug.

Daring to embrace the senses, allowed a release of dream worry. Blindly I managed to stumble upon a door, and pushed it open, but the darkness did not abate. At that moment I faltered, unable to advance if even a company of men required my command. It came to my mind that these dreams were a series of tests, enacted by the Emperor or some power beyond, probing to evaluate my worth, and so I summoned my reserves of andreia, and breathed “Hello,” into the unknowable expanse.

And nothing seemed to occur. Standing, timelessness began to rest heavily on my consciousness. It passed, or did not, unmeasurable and it seemed almost as if movement forward or even backward would be preferable to the mounting tension. When I was about to break, body forward, feet back, a light flickered ahead. I grasped the frame with both hands, whether to prevent collapse or retreat, I can't be sure. And if I had been compelled to wait, my courage would have failed, but the flame moved with such assurity that the bearer stood before me, only seconds after his appearance.

In the solitary flare, I stumbled back,  for it illuminated a terrifying visage, of terrible glinting teeth, cruel, hungry eyes, and tawny fur, like the face of a monstrous feline deity. From the ground I raise my hand to shield it from my sight, but it was clasped firmly, and I was pulled to my feet.

“Are you ready to meet the Emperor?” asked a voice, as absent in tone, as the desert is absent of water.

I knelt as swiftly as my feeble legs would allow. “I am in his presence.”

“Then you understand periphery, but not the essence.”

I dared to lift my head, and could perceive no details of Him, but discerned a diminutive stature.

“Come,” he said, turning with the precision of a soldier on parade. I stood and followed a step behind, but near enough to observe the mask which reflected the room's sole light.

“Why have you come so far, abandoning family, friends, and community, merely to seek the Emperor?” he said.

“Have I deserted them? Over the last few days, I am not even certain where I am. Perhaps I am still fifteen, sleeping in my parents house,” I said, though these words seemed vaguely disrespectful.

He stopped, turned toward me, grasped my face with one hand, and turned it toward his. So arraigned, with a sudden movement, one of my hands was clasped and drawn into the flame. It was but a candle, yet I wrested to escape the pain, and though I fought with all my strength, I could not wrench myself from his grip. Collapsed on the floor, weeping, I felt the pain recede, and a cool compress upon my hand. Relief flooded my fragile frame, ashamed, yet not vengeful as one might expect from the sudden ordeal.

“It shall ease, and you shall learn,” he said. “But trust that you are here, as I am here.”

“I am here, because I wish to be the bravest man among your followers, and you have demonstrated I am lacking in this virtue.”

Walking again, he said, “You may not have discovered bravery, but your adventure has proven persistence at least.”

“Will you answer not my question? What is bravery as regards to battle?” As the words spilled from my lips, I perceived a faint light ahead.

“You have never been in battle, a fight to the death of one or the other,” he said calmly.

“No,” I replied, diminished again by the Emperor's cunning question, but provoked to continue, “But I yearn for the opportunity.”

“I have set this realm free of such masculine need. This lust for an unnecessary knowledge disturbs.”

Insulted, yet I persisted, for as the Emperor had observed, it was my only skill, “Someday you will pass, and the world will be as it was.”

We stopped again, the candle made superfluous by the light, welcoming yet faint like the early dawn.

“Hm,” the muffled sound of contemplation emanated from behind the mask. It no longer appeared ferocious, but rather fulfilled and enduring. I waited, desperate for the answer to satisfy my longing, my betrayal, my suffering, my soul. But even with all concentration engrossed on this answer, a sliver of consciousness struggled with a undefined strangeness, unknown, but subtly discernible in the light. Yet the answer, when it came, obliterated even this tiny feeling.

“Bravery on the battlefield is knowing when to strike an enemy, and when to allow the enemy to strike.”

“When would one prefer to be struck first?”

“Bravery is knowing when to suffer the deceits of others, and when to reveal the truth.”

“What does that...”

“Bravery is knowing when to open oneself to the suffering of others.”

“But...”

“And bravery is searching for, knowing, and accepting oneself.”

“I...”

Then she reached up, undid the mask, and smiled at me.

You have much to learn,” said the Empress. “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed for awhile.”

 

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