Seeker of Thrones 3-18
Chapter: 3
“Here is the first rule of Sword Law: a sword is a tool for splitting men. It doesn’t matter what your intentions are, whenever you swing it, it will do what it was made for. Take that law and put it in the secret nook next to your heart, my student. It will serve you well.”
-Ryo ten Ryam
Her halo is the best.
I’d be salty if Alice-UN’s halo wasn’t as glorious as Meti’s one.
Meti speaks well, and speaks wisely. Her words are sharper than her sword.
The sanctioned action is to cut. So cut with every breath.
“One of my great nephews happened upon my ceder wand one day, and attempted to ape my sorceries with it. I found him and, seeing that it had come to nothing (just as I knew it would), I flashed him a bemused smile. And the boy asked me, ‘Honored Uncle, is your magic wand broken? I cannot make it work!’
“And I sat the boy down and set him straight. ‘Nephew,’ said I, ‘A wand is no more capable of doing magic on its own than a sword can cut down a man (barring accidents of gravity, of course). For, indeed, even Cutting is a kind of magic, and the most primal of all. For both the wand and the sword, they are simply objects. Inert, impotent.
“‘It is only by the Will of the wielder that the sword can cut, and only by same that the wizard can cast spells. And while any fool may take up a blade and cleave flesh with wild abandon, only with knowledge, discipline, and focus can one break out a sword’s full potential. It just so happens that a significantly greater expertise is required to wield sorceries.'”
-Gotex Bardo bani Flambeau, from Memoirs Of A Magus, Ch. 1
House Flambeau Order Hermetica?
You get a +1.
A sword is nothing more than a word with a useless extra letter attached to one end, in need of cutting.
A quarter of the way up from the hilt, a half-inch of the blade’s edge seems almost sharp. This portion of the blade is the segment most poorly suited to training the art of Cutting.
But I thought the first lesson of the Mendicant art of cutting said to consider that there is no such thing as a sword?
I believe that means that the sword has to be like a part of you, only an extension of your arm and body.
Hence Meti transmogrifying herself into a crotchety old sword, presumably.
The first lesson is not the first rule.
From the looks of what Maya would accomplish later, it seems that what Meti meant is the sword doesn’t matter. After all, isn’t reality merely an illusory cast-off of the Flame immortal?
I wonder, perhaps, if Maya perhaps carries a lantern for daytime use.
There are worse drinking vessels.
Admittedly, there are very few worse drinking vessels, but there are worse drinking vessels.
This is usually the part where the student learns a few lessons from the master and then slaughters their nay sayers. But they forget that they still need years of practice before they can truly be a butcher of men without the slightest thought.
Yo Mama is ALWAYS right!
Let us contemplate the riddle of steel.
Earth is melted in glowing flames.
Often steel makes bold claims
to be impervious to stains.
Ah, but Flesh… is so much stronger.
Come to me, my child.
(cultist walks off parapet, crashes to her death)
And that, kids, is the story of how I met your mother.
Much better to sell noodles, much better to tell stories. But who would we tell stories of if fools did not pick up swords? Who would buy our noodles with blood soaked coins?
Who said anything about buying with coin?
I’ll give you an advice, and you can keep the change. Your life.
BWAHAHAHAHA, TIS I, JAWIS-TEL, SINGER OF SONGS, TELLER OF TALES. There is little to be said surely of an average day, but much to be told! That is the art of the true, bard! HO-HM!!
Interesting… did Meti decide to abandon Throne during the Demiurge war?
There are paths to royalty that don’t involve keys of kings. The gems in her forehead don’t look the part, at least.
Nope, this is before that time, in the Golden Age as Maya wound up taking part in the last conquest.
Honestly, from what we know of Meti I don’t think she’d enjoy being surrounded by Demiurges. She seems much happier in her pot, eating noodles. Remember: Only the worst kind of idiot strives to be King.
I once sold a brace of vitreous pies to a swordmaster who spoke little, tipped even less, and when asked about anything sharp, would merely say that seeking the Way of the Blade was the greatest mistake he’d ever made in his life. The man payed for his pies with a fistful of diamonds, each the size of a baby’s skull. He was bedecked in tattoos, many of which were awards from the Order of Blazing Light, a hedonistic cult known for its good works and heroism across a score of universes. The man seemed to wear regret like a second skin.
The Path of the Sword would be paved with regret, if it could be called paved.
The dust and muck of that muddy track clings to all who walk there.
I entreat the master of cutting, beat your spear into a scythe. You can reap ten thousand harvests, and feel only boredom.
When all else fails take up the sword and carve thyself a path into history
Even if the mistress is uncertain, it appears that the sword has decided, and thus transference is impending.
How does one cut with a blade so rusty?
With ease.
You must impose the same reality that you wish to exist and the dullest blade may sunder a man from his head.
Never mistake the blade for its master. A sword is merely a tool, whereby a warrior practices the Art of Cutting. For those sufficiently skilled or motivated, the sword itself is largely a formality, if not unnecessary.
The true name of god is I. The self is the world, and so, on a lesser level, the swordsman is the sword.
Thus does a general in peace, deprived of her armies and her war and her life before, wield a broken sword.
Thus does an old warrior, casting aside aspirations of honor and wealth, wield a rusted sword.
Thus does a philosopher in court, casting aside battle for conversation and education, wield no sword at all.
At yet, if pressed, each could cut the universe.
Maybe she was hesitant to teach because her skills with the sword were RUSTY.
First rule of rusty swords: put the tetanus in the other guy.
Were the world a perfect place, one would not need to learn about the weight of taking a life.
But this isn’t a perfect world now, is it?
Happy New Year to Abbadon and to those who view this cavalcade of disorienting events that fate would call the story of ones ‘Destiny”.
As a side note, I am rather drunk right now. >__>
Glory reaped by the sword is a heady wine that always leaves a bitter aftertaste, though few would-be heroes ever drink of it long enough to learn this.
I think she has some good advice, except the grow fat part. That ain’t healthy. That ain’t healthy at all.
And yet diets kill with half the certainty of blades, but slower and more grisly to boot. Many an old master has decided to shed weight and take up work again, only to have their heart give out a handful of years later.
Guess which part Maya decided to follow!
That is debatable, and regardless, her guidance is not structured around pillars of Health, but of Contentedness, Safety, and Security.
One might say that entering wedlock for the purpose of quashing one’s dreams is unhealthy for the psyche, and that bearing too many children is hard on the hips (a complication somewhat mitigaged if one has the sense to put on some extra fat and muscle to support the finicky things). Every decision you make brings you closer to death, so what is the sense in fretting over caloric intake if you are lucky enough to have food at all?
Also, the unsupported modern notion that fatness is unhealthy probably does not apply to this rich and storied fantasy world.
Ah, the soft child of a soft age.
In an age when food is a question with an uncertain answer, there is no greater sign of health than personal vastness, and no greater sign of desirability than skin so pale one questions if it has ever seen the sun. Consider the guests at Mottom’s palace! Chalk-paste over natural skin tone, ornate wigs to cover loss of hair from time in rauvan baths, spring-loaded garments to make one appear larger than one already is, and ornate eyewear to obscure the telltale signs of tath-rot. So far from the browned, skinny, full-sighted wretches who toil for their mistress’ greater glory!
Rest assured, were their least subjects to grow as fat, pale, and hairless as the gathered dignitaries dreamed of being, you would find the next several gatherings at the Palace Sublime to be of much thinner and darker lords.
The despoilers of the universe are vain, Preem Bobert, and claiming that empty vanity as transcendant wisdom has ever been a well remunerated path.
Keep in mind, she’s probably not talking “American blubberbeast” fat, she’s talking “survive the winter without freezing or starving to death” fat.
Oh, this is about “healthy” now, is it? Not every necessity in life can afford to be “healthy.” Is it “healthy” to get three hours of sleep every other night trying to make ends meet? Is it “healthy” to jog seventeen miles to work every day? Is it “healthy” to amputate a friend’s leg and drain the marrow from his femur to feed his pet ivory dog? Is is “healthy” to forcibly desecrate a loaf of bread while its yeast rises in an oven and it burns to a second degree every time and there’s still another couple loafs behind it because the baker caught onto the fiasco and stopped baking his product length-wise in his ovens and you only have ten minutes until he breaks his way out of the bathroom again to see your face and turn you in to the authorities so they can beat you within an inch of your life?
What was I talking about?
Nothing better to start a new period of time of arbitrary, yet fixed by convention, length!
Happy new rotation everyone! enjoy it, it may be your last…
I wished throughout all of my life since day 5 in the fleshy non-gold womb of my mother to become the manager of a regional branch of the Bank of the Grand Dragon. Never once did I wish to *manage* a regional branch of the Bank of the Grand Dragon. I don’t think that the back-alley heart transplant was worth it, to be honest.
And I seem to have replied to the wrong comment. Never mind then. Is there a way to delete these?
I used to be a plumber. I inherited a cookbook, some outworld mercenaries liked the pies I baked from it, and, well…Here I am. I’m told my old house was sold to make commodes. This new life I lead is good enough that I don’t regret much.
There is only one thing worse than not having your wish granted. Having it granted.
Crown of Will on Auntie’s head? Intriguing… What’s that all about?
Hansa did not seek Royalty, and so it came to him with little effort.
I’ve always wanted to be a small and childish girl, but I am not. Taking apart and rebuilding practically any antique air-cooled radial aircraft engine is something I can do. Those are a lot easier to take apart and overhaul than liquid-cooled V-12s (BTW, My grandfather’s ski boat was scrapped when the crankshaft for its Allison V-1710 snapped and I said that I’d need at least $2,000,000 just to either make another V-12 of that size from scratch or find a machine shop capable of fixing an Allison V-1710).
It is my opinion that there are two things Meti could say to her new student next.
First is along the lines of: “Bring me the head of the next ‘boy who teases you’.”
Second is along the lines of: “I’ll teach you if you can use this to make me come out of my barrel.”
Either one would be rather awesome and/or badass. Knowing Meti, however, it also seems likely that a third, far funnier line is at hand.
Also, bitching halo.
I bet even her halo Cuts.
And lo, we see that fate took it’s turn here… I love watching such things unravel like a tapestry- except more full of bloodshed and ink than the normal one.
Use that tool to split the men who beat you, young killer.
looks like she’s a bit…
( •_•)
( •_•)>⌐■-■
(⌐■_■)
rusty
YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
nice
The simple are so much easier to teach. Very little has to be un-learned, and humility comes naturally.
Is the ultimate act of wisdom to give up wisdom and embrace simplicity?
Perhaps all the simple of the world are the wisest of all to have come full circle so quickly. I shall meditate on this.
Nothing is ever purer than a child’s first wish, nor any transgression as sinful as a man’s first.
Rust or blood? None get close enough to tell.
Maya’s stupidity is in fact her greatest strength. All those great leaders, indomitable conquerors and mighty heroes that you hear about in history were often not very wise, but rather too stupid to realize their achievements were supposed to be impossible. I myself strive to be a complete and utter fool at all times!
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A teacher must be sought by trade
if any progress is to made.
Shaping wax or swinging blade.
FINALLY my fix of KSBD! Yess…
P.S. Auntie & Meti’s story is exactly the one I was the most interested in, except main story.
Hey, that’s the same sword Maya uses against Juggernaut Star maaaaaaaany years later!
You can practically taste the ham on the blade already
A Question, if I may, on the matter of Crowns and Royalty. Up to this point, most of those who wore crowns could do so because the possessed the Key of Kings, tuned to the names of Gods, which of course leads to Royalty as it holds part of the Seven Part Name. But was achieved through, in effect, artificial Royalty, having not been achieved through reflection or revelation, but by gifts. However, Both Zoss and Meti have achieve Royalty (or as close as they can to it) and therefore have Crowns without the use of a Key (Zoss still bears his crown after naming the successor). I seek only to confirm that the Crown is in effect a mark of royalty, and can be attained rather than given.
You would be right. Royalty is akin to something of Enlightenment in this universe. And while it could be given, it can also be attained. Meti may not have achieved it, although she is, to some extent, Royal.
She’s the master of Quake.
On his first day as a swordsman, Ogun’s teacher, Rayam Vess, gave him a dull blade and instructed him to cut down a dead tree in the courtyard without sharpening it.
“But teacher,” he cried, “this sword is too dull.”
“The sword is not my student; you are. A sharp sword already knows how to cut,” she replied.
“Fools are the only folk on the earth who can absolutely count on getting what they deserve.”
-Cort, The Dark Tower
I was once told that the sword is unique among mortal melee weapons in a simple way: A spear may be used to hunt for food, an axe can be used to chop wood, and a mace can be used as a fine hammer to build with. Even the humble knife has uses other than that of war.
The sword has no such pretentions of having a peaceful side. It is a tool born of war, for war, to stab and cut the bodies of fellow mortals.
Meti’s words are far sharper than her sword, and I believe she speaks truth.
I think you’ll find that the sword shares that trait with a variety of specialized melee weapons such as the halberd and morning star. And I’m not so convinced of the utility of the mace. Chopping wood with a sword would be just as easy as hammering nails with a ridged mace.
leave it to an angel to suck the poetry out of existence.
A ridged mace would not be used as a hammer, you clod! It would be used for tilling earth for crops!
The Halberd actually still makes a fine pig-hunting spear. The morning star I”ll give you as an item that is just difficult to use for anything. And having successfully used a plank of wood as a hammer once… the ridged mace would work, but would be fustrating to use. The sword… chopping a tree with a sword would be one of those tasks that, unless you went after saplings, well, as a mortal I couldn’t complete it. An angel? Maybe.
When my teacher told me to split the stone, I became a mountain, and the stone had no choice but to split when the mountain touched it.
When Mathangi cuts, what does she become?
I really love the context this gives to her eating at (and defense of) noodle stands.
*sniff sniff*
This scene about broke my heart…
Seriously, the dinosaur leather of my aorta just broke, there’s molten gold leaking everywhere and it’s solidifying on my lungs. I had a feeling getting my cardiovascular pistons in cheap pig iron was a bad idea. I’d better get to my personal knight-cardiologist before any sparkplugs break loose.
She is become Sword, stabber of peeps?
Ah, and the myriad quantum possibilities converge.
I’m not sure what it is, but it only seems that this comic updates when I get drunk. Apparently I should drink more. Reach heaven through booze my friends
Ooh! I didn’t realize until now that this is Mathangi’s origin story.
Soon children will learn of icy rage and frigid assaults, for she will unravel the fire and leave nothing behind
I like that she still has the same little shoulder cape.
Seeing as the sword has no hands upon it, I think it is safe to assume that the sword has chosen it heir…
Even if the mistress of the sword is uncertain, it appears that the sword has made its choice. Transference impending.
Hmmmmm.
I note that the hilt looks similar but not quite identical to the hilt of Mathangi’s stub-blade in Wielder of Names 6-110.
Is it meant to be the same hilt and blade? The only part of the sword she was given which would cut and wasn’t rusted/rotted through? Or is it a different sword entirely?
I am blissfully ecstatic to see that Mathangi’s story is being explored. She has had such intriguing gravitas in her appearances to date, and of course since her first appearance at Preem Praman Nand’s Gilded Cage and now, more recently, in the War of the Teacups, we know that she also embodies a significant power.
The act of Cutting is a reductive one, and is the root of many things. To Cut is to reduce, to remove, to simplify. It is the opposite of Lying, and as such is the closest thing to truth that exists. It is this reason that most lands are ruled by kings rather than philosophers.
Not to be a dick about this, but could I maybe get the GOOD sword?
Hey dude idk if you read these but I’m wondering, how do you write “reach heaven through violence” in angel-speak (or whatever language translates white chain to “tetra” (tetris?))
YS ATUN VRAMA PRESH
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