Seeker of Thrones 9-109
“Once, on the road, Prim met a meditating sage who had spent most of his life on top of a flat rock. They had black bread and shared some ajash, as was custom. The sage was thankful, as the road was not very frequently traveled in those days and he was very near the point of starvation. During his conversation, he was delighted to learn of Prim’s extensive mastery of Empty Palms and the fifty five earthly purities. Delighted, and as payment for his meal, he taught Prim the meaning of watchfulness.
This was the old breathing and cold-atum technique often used by warrior monks in those days. It ran through the following methodology:
Build a tower, and make it impregnable. Make every stone so tightly sealed that no insect can squeeze through, no grain of sand can make it inside. Your tower must have no windows or doors. It must not accept passage by friend or foe. No weapon, no act of violence, and not one mote of love may penetrate its stony interior.
“Why build the tower this way?” said Prim?
“It will make you invincible,” said the sage, “This is the way of Ya-at slave monks. Their skin is like iron, and so are their hearts. They are inured to death and fear. Grief shall never find them, and neither shall weakness.”
Prim thought a moment, and came upon a realization, for she was wise, obedient, and an excellent daughter. “If a man built a tower this way, he would quickly starve, no matter how strong he became.”
The sage was even more delighted. “Yes,” he said, “There is a better way, and I will teach it to you:
Once you have built your tower, you must deconstruct it, brick by brick, stone by stone. You must do it meticulously and carefully, so that while you leave no physical trace of it remaining, your tower is still built in your mind and your heart, ready to spring anew at a moment’s notice.
You can enjoy the fresh air, and eat fine meals, and enjoy a good drink with your friends, but all the while your tower remains standing. You are both prisoner and warden. This is the hardest way, but the strongest.”
Prim saw the wisdom in this, and quickly made to return to the road, but the sage stopped her before she left.
“As you to your earlier remark,” the sage said, “The man who builds his tower but cannot take it apart again – that man is at the pinnacle of his strength. But that man will surely perish.”
– Prim Masters the Road
Oh… my.
Apologies truly are magical
As some expected, The Dragon has Grown Old, and gained a wisdom in Its senility. As others expected, a true excess of wealth renders it useless, valueless, and more burden than boon, it seems.
As Om fears both living and death in equal measures, and thus her desire for immortality is now ash in her throat, Mammon finds no worth in what They have desired most ardently; But for 2, I wonder if all the Demiurges shall bless Al-Yis-Un as a savior from their burdenous lives, rather than a scourge to be feared, in the end of things that is the beginning.
Its only me or its the second Demiurge who is more a slave than a true master?
I imagine that they all are – slaves to what they were, slaves to their ambition, slaves to their throne.
Even Zoss.
Which is why he admonishes Allison for seeking the throne rather than breaking it.
All who sell themselves to gold become it’s slaves.
I met an elderly Counting-Cardinal once. He was a sad man, and the lines of his sadness creased his face deeper than the scars of liturgical infighting. He said this, over a meal of one of my beetle-goulash pies:
“My God is a lonely God, is he. We hear Him crying in the deeps, sometimes. Moaning. Whimpering. He built His Vault, untold ages ago, and now, He cannot get out. Ghosts of suggestions of forgotten memories tell him he locked himself in His own vault–and he does not know why. If he told any of us to, we would but open the front door for Him. Alas, he does not, nor does he remember His priesthood exists save for in the most vague terms. And so, we bring him ever-more treasure, leaving him to count shining coins in an infinite coffer that is ever-filling. Thanks to His service, I can buy my own world. I would trade it all for surcease from the memory of His weeping.”
We see now the true nature of the burden upon the back of the Grand Dragon. It is a grievous burden indeed. To be unable to see the full extent of ones burden is almost a mercy.
Sorry! (not sorry)
I wonder if Al-Yis-Un has the audacity to tell Mammon that more is being added each day, and so a count is not possible, as there will always be some amount flowing in?
Mercy, please. No one could possibly so cruel.
But then, the ignorant, with a single innocent comment, can be the most cruel of all…
Those eyes, shackled with the film of age…
I, uh… huh. Okay? Definitely more cordial than I expected–it seems like Mammon has become one of those eccentric, almost childlike kings who wouldn’t last a moment in outside of their castles. And in that vein, perhaps the theory we’ve been entertaining all along is true: Mammon’s followers protect him out of a twisted sort of pity-worship.
I think I might like this dude.
Al-YISUN has taken her first step towards wisdom: apology. In a mere two words she admits both the wrongfulness of her actions and the truth of Mammon’s claim to His infinite treasure. In her heart even the Rising King must submit before the boundless mastery of the Golden God. Whether by complete and total apology for her trespasses (as Allison did) or by replacement of his entire cardiovascular system with molten precious metals (as I did), all will submit tribute in their own meager but meaningful way to the Dragon, whose strength is like the towers of the Ya-at slave monks, and whose wisdom is worth tenfold His entire treasury. For He alone comprehends the true meaning of Greed.
The dragon’s mind may be hazy, but do not mistake that for dulling his fangs. He is still one of the monsters who has swallowed one seventh of creation, those fangs have sharpened themselves on countless worlds.
He’s such an adorable old man.
All must adore Him
Wow so much and so long its just dirt now.
Wonder how long the amicability will last
Blind idiot god,
In a tower full of blings,
Nice in fact, huh.
SUCH A NICE TERRIFYING DRAGON-GODLET.
So polite and gentle. And lost, too, in his own accumulations. (There’s a message in that.)
And it does appear that the sigil in his halo isn’t a khopesh after all, as I speculated earlier.
IA IA IA
Seems the dragon has lost count
I’ve built walls
A fortress, steep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship
Friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock
I am an island
Paul Simon
Excessively glib answer: “I can help! I could move it all elsewhere, so that none is here, and you can count it quickly.”
*Gasp* Dark Lord Reasonable???
The “APOLOGIZE” rung too close to this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CUjVaaT60qY
And that monk is cool and all, but I’ve heard better analogies for that kind of thing. They involved bread.
Pity him
Counting one’s money by hand is for the poor, and perhaps the most bored of the immortals.