First day of the week, 2.9k words!
Enjoy!
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"Klux"
Upon hearing his name called, the knight's neck snapped towards the source of the
profound voice, lowering the sword, bowing his head lightly.
"You're majesty. I will deal with this issue. There is no need for your interfere-"
"Klux"
"Very well, You're Majesty Markus."
Understanding his position before the king, Klux looked back to Fren for a mere moment
before handing back the sword to the soldier who had gave it to him and stepped back
with his hands behind his back.
Approaching the Farmer, the King curiously looked up at the man that seemed to have
lived quite the life in the farm, even compared to the other farmers and villagers he had
seen.
Cracked skin and scarred blisters that remained youthful, overly long dark brownish
hair on both his facial features and hair that seemed silky yet rough, and an expression
that bordered between what was considered dead, yet something that was alive
paradoxically.
A gown that was neither old, nor new, not expensive, nor poor, just enough to satisfy the
need of wearing clothing in the cold, yet enough to not to be a burden in the
scorchedness of the sun.
A thoroughly balanced outfit.
"Your Majesty, this man is unpredictable, and your safety is of utmost importance to
the kingdom. Should anything occur, the leading consequences are not to be taken
lightly."
Taking a side glance, King Markus merely watched Fren, not in anger, but of wonder
before raising his hand. Excusing the rudeness of his retainer, Fren nodded once before
taking a step back, hands behind back.
The King took off a small bag that he had always kept with him, placing his hand inside
it. A small space distortion occurred as his hand rummaged into the bag, before it came
in contact with a cold piece inside, causing him to take hold of it and take it out
carefully as not to cut his finger at its sharp design.
Placing his crown jewelled with numerous jewels atop his head, he mused over the
intricate vine design of the crown unlike most of what royalty wore.
"Speak, I give you permission to. Do not fear anyone, for I am here. Why did you not
greet me like your neighbours had greeted?"
The farmer did not give response to the King, not from ignorance or for sophistication,
but for his presences did not make enough of a mark in the farmer's heart to consider.
Tapping his chin, eyes narrowing, King Markus spoke on as if his impatience had started
gnawing at him at the lack of responsiveness of the farmer.
"Do you not know who I am? The man before you?"
Raising his voice slightly louder, the King looked around as he brushed his beard, a
small smile on his face.
"I am a King, King Markus of the Kingdom that you would not have the right to even
glimpse in your lifetime. A King whose name is known from the east to the west, from
the north to the south, from the river to the sea. So speak before you ignite my anger,
what is your name?"
The farmer did not respond, but instead he placed his palm on his gown and gently
patted it as if brushing off any dirt that may came on it, and stood up, the cracking of his
joints resounding from the actions he had been repeating over the years.
"What is your age?"
The farmer gathered the rest of the vegetables in one spot, before he dipped his fingers
into the ground and took it out, placing it before his nasal entrance. Observing its
fertility, he tasted it slightly before slightly spitting it besides him, taking his axe to
continue harvesting the earth.
SLAP
Unable to bear his impatience, the King struck his palm across the farmer's cheek, a
cool temperature making contact with the King's hand unlike the warmth he had
anticipated.
Yet the farmer did not show any reaction, merely shoveling the earth as if he had more
important matters to attend to than to entertain a king's errands.
The king's eyes went to the earth the farmer was harvesting, observing it for a few
moments. Without taking his eyes off the soil that held no significance in his eyes, he
snapped his fingers in elegance.
On cue, a soldier brought a well-built chair from the finest of craftsmen, before he
added it behind the king's back, walking to his original position.
The King unsheathed the hilt of his sword before placing it horizontally on the earth,
stabbing his blade vertically and sat on his chair, his eyes silently focusing on the
farmer working as if attempting to understand his thought process.
Hours flew by and the sky started darkening, the King silently watched the farmer.
Giving permission to a few of his soldiers to slumber, he merely sat, not moving from his
place, as he leaned forward, his chin on knuckles as he watched the farmer work
tirelessly.
His two retainers had attempted to convince him to move, yet to no avail, he did. As
night rose, the moon hidden by the clouds, the windy landscape pushing trees and
pulling them, did a question that irked the King leak out.
"What do you see on the dirt than you did not see in me?"
The farmer who had been working tirelessly for hours, stopped. The king, who had seen
this, straightened his back his eyes not leaving the farmer's figure. He adjusted the
lamp lighting in the dark and shuffled his feet.
"An asymmetrical question, an asymmetrical thought"
Yet, instead of earning a proper question, the answer he had received was something
he did not understand. Leaning back on his chair, the King asked once more, rubbing
his eyebrows in exhaustion of waiting.
"What do you mean by asymmetrical question? In fact, what does that have to do with
my question? What do you find asymmetrical?"
The farmer did not respond immediately, merely wiping his blackened hand from the
ground on his clothing, before responding.
"What is the difference between an animal and a human?"
The King pondered over the unexpected question, a response moving with the
movement of his tongue.
"That is a fundamental question. It is appearance, ability to think, ability to
understand.... the differences are countless. In fact, what is the difference between a
human and an animal would be the correct question, not the opposite."
"That is subjective"
"Subjective?"
The King asked quizzically, as if he couldn't fully understand the farmer's point.
"Yes, everything in this world is subjective. You are subjective, I am subjective, meaning
is subjective, even reality is subjective. But no matter how we think about it, everything
in this world is subjective. Meaning has no meaning until we give it meaning. But why do
we give it meaning? That is subjective."
"Take another example. Reality, we think we truly perceive true reality, but is that so? Or
is it mere vainglory? There are many birds that hear different frequencies, animals that
see different colors, beings that perceive reality different than we do, and see them in
different ways. So in what way can we say that our version of reality is the real reality?
That is subjective"
"In fact, the existence of reality is subjective. We do not fathom if existence exists
within reality, or if reality is within existence"
The King closed his eyes, running his hand roughly through his hair, licking his dry lips
before speaking.
"Foolishness. I do not understand what you are saying, and it does not seem to be
useful in the first place. What does that have to do with my question? What is it that you
see in the dirt that you do not see in me?"
The farmer gave the same answer.
"Symmetry"
"Explain"
The farmer paused, before giving the King a small look that did not seem to judge him
with his lack of enthusiasm at the philosophical farmer's explanation.
"To live, we need meaning. To have meaning, we need a benchmark to live. The
benchmark to know what is true, and what is evil. So let me question, are light and
darkness opposites?"
The King denied it.
"Light and darkness are not opposites, they are continuations of each other. Just like a
male and a female. Or the earth and the heavens. They are continuations."
"Is that not symmetry?"
"It is not symmetry. For symmetry is where two sides exist that reflect each other,
balanced. And yet continuations dont reflect the same thing, different things, but
continuations. So your statement is incorrect"
"Then let me ask, can you die without living?"
The king's parted lips slowly closed as he gazed at the farmer before him.
"What is your point? Why did you not escape when you had the chance to live a longer
life, perhaps get married, and even enjoy the rest of your life? A life where someone like
you, a hardworking and philosophical individual, would live satisfyingly?"
The farmer gathered all the vegetables he had gathered that day before he walked
towards one of the older huts and brought his axe down to the base.
After a few minutes, the farmer had made the old hut collapse, and pulling the wood
with his arms, he placed the wood around the vegetables. Upon putting down the last
piece of wood, he gently strolled towards the seated King and took the lamp with the
flame besides him.
The King did not stop him and merely observed the farmer's actions who took a torch
like piece of wood and placed it on the lamps fire.
The wood started to smoke for a few moments, an invisible flame forming before the
familiar flame appeared, eating at the wood at neither a fast nor slow pace. The farmer
walked towards where the vegetables and wood were slowly with the burning wood
before he threw it towards the vegetables.
The wood around it caught on fire in a matter of seconds, the vegetables inside burning
as the farmer opened his dry lips after a while.
"Because it would be asymmetrical. A violation of the correct balance."
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Asymmetrical.
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If I had run, the sixth grave that was dug would have not been filled with my corpse. That
would be asymmetrical.
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Asymmetrical
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If I were to live longer than the villagers, then I would be asymmetrical to their corpses.
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Asymmetrical (?)
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If symmetry is to balance life and death, then why is it that we have no choice to live,
but when it comes to death, we repel the very notion of it, when it is asymmetrical to
life? We never had a choice to live longer. We don't have the right to choose to live or
die. So escaping is meaningless. Nihilism is meaningless.
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"You, King, are not the sun. For the sun gives the soil whether it is dry, or wet. Nutrious,
or dead. And the soil... the soil receives it all. It does not choose. It accepts the seed,
the corpse, the blood, the rain. It is patient. It is silent. It is symmetrical."
"Yet despite their positions, the sun is not greater than the soil, and the soil is not lesser
than the sun. Because as you had said, they are continuations. And as I have said, they
are symmetrical. So you are not the sun, but you are lesser than the soil"
The King stood from his chair, his eyes not leaving the farmers as he roughly rubbed his
lower lip, his breathing slightly irregular.
"You are a hypocrite, no different from them. Not a righteous, but evil man. I should
have known the moment I saw you. For all you peasants have ever grown with are
livestock, and lived with asses. Klux!"
Two knights appeared upon one being called, and they took of their helmets, revealing
their age that revealed their experience.
Without looking towards them, the King spoke with his voice low, his gaze fixed on the
farmer.
"Get me the two survivors remaining. Farmer, for I will grant you one final chance.
Should you truly pass this trial, you would truly be symmetrical as you had stated and
become my counsellor in law. That is in the case you truly believe your own foolishness.
And in the case you fail, your corpse will be hanged at the center of my plaza for no less
than one year and seven days with no head to spit upon."
The farmer did not respond and merely watched the cackling fire that burned the effort
of his day.
A few minutes later, the two knights had brought the two survivors who they had
allowed to hide until now; a young man who seemed to be in her twenties, and a young
boy who appeared no older than ten years old.
Their appearance was miserable, injuries on their body, the young boy's body battered
and bruised, tears streaming down his face. The woman embraced his trembling body,
eyes that seemed on the brink of collapse, yet the hope did not extinguish from them.
An older sister, and a younger brother.
The King gave a smile that did not show his strength, but displayed his weakness, the
soldiers who had awoken standing in straight lines as if they had never slept.
Taking the sword of his knight, the King presented the sword towards the Farmer.
"I will give you a choice, now, Farmer. Pass, and you become a counsellor. Fail, and
become a corpse. You will either take the life of the beautiful woman, sending her
younger brother to the abyss of despair, or steal the boy's life, pushing the older one to
suicide. Choose, for you have less than 5 Portens (seconds) to choose"
Yet, the sword that was presented by the King to the Farmer was never taken. The
farmer did not reach out his hand. The king's smile widened, for his thoughts were
correct-
NO.
They were incorrect.
The farmer's fingertip trailed on the blunt edge of his axe that he had worked with
tirelessly for countless hours, before looking down to the two poor individuals shivering
on the earth, pleading for hope.
A single ray of hope.
Yet hope was meaningless. Because meaning has no true benchmark in the reality we
live in. Hope was created for purpose, purpose was designed by us humans as a way to
live, and living was subjective, living without a purpose was possible, so because our
main goal was to live, then the existence of purpose was questionable.
Happiness could be associated with the lack of purpose as well; it wasn't fundamentally tied to purpose.
Humans are much more capable that they let on.
CRAVASH!
For a heavy weapon struck the heads of the two, crushing them completely into one.
The two bodies did not collapse, yet stood mingling with each other, sitting as if nothing
had occurred. Brain matter and other coloured liquids slightly dripped to the earth, yet
nothing moved.
"For you thought I would choose one and leave the other. Yet had I left one alive, the
asymmetry of one being alive, and one being dead would be too severe."
Opposites are not symmetrical.
"Thus, for their rest, I made them symmetrically balanced. I showed them the greatest
act of balance that I could. The greatest act of being symmetrical, being one, despite
being two different continuations. A brother and a sister. Yet one in family."
Continuation is symmetry.
"And for it, they should feel thankful to me. For I had gathered them into one with death
despite them being opposites in gender and roles."
The man spoke, and for the first time, something glimmered in his eyes, something very
emotional.
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The story of the Farmer was a very teachingful lesson. For the Farmer was taken as a
counsellor by the king, married his beautiful daughter, and even had a glamorous son.
The story should have ended there.
The story of a cruel man who wanted happiness for the world.
The most symmetrically balanced man who was kind, yet evil.
A man who hated every act of imbalance yet caused imbalance himself in his logic.
Yet that was the mere start of the story.
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Elias started giggling, her complexity changing as something was felt off from her
unusually cheerful attitude.
"But in fact, that was the start of the story. You were about to ask...."
Mimicking speech using a change of tone, playfully moving her head from side to side,
and open and closing her fingers as if they were talking, she spoke.
"Then how did he get executed, you want to ask?"
She paused.
"... The farmer once mentioned that the world was like a mirror. How it was structured,
its environment, the civilizations that were resided in it, they were all like a mirror. Even
its laws were like a mirror, similar, yet opposites. Continuations, yet endings."
"And the Farmer was not wrong on that part. Do you know why?"
Humming lightly, she exhaled.
"Because it was his very continuation, his very own son that became his ending."
"His son who you have already met the first time you came to this world. The so-called
Frieztdal, the man with the black suit and newspaper you were familiar with."
"But isn't it odd? How is it that his son was the ending of his wise, yet unwise father?
What would be the cause of his death?" She asked.
"Because he was the opposite of his father. He was A-s-y-m-m-e-t-r-i-c-a-l. And
because of that, he was also the cause of death of the eighth King of this world who
became the sheep of his father. A being that became symmetrical as well. The Great
King of Architecture, Markus Evangelion VIII."
"I once again reintroduce you to the castle you are in, Noel. The castle of Frieztdal the
Drunkard."