(as told on The Summit today)
The one who stayed behind
♫ I have come to say good bye
The others have gone ahead, they are waiting
Yet in the air, your scent lingers… ♫
There are a multiple versions of that story, but here is one.
Once upon the time in the Darkness, there lived a young man called Milian, and he was one of honour and one of passion, like young tribesmen tend to be. His was a clan in a key position when the Rebellion came; a high-class clan, managing a Holding, irreplacable for the local Lord.
Yet when the Dawn broke, his cohort and his clan and every one of his blood went with it, and they prepared to fight. At the darkest hour, just before sunrise, the young Lord of the house came to Milian, and he said; love, I know what is about to transpire. And Milian said, my Lord, I know you know.
And after that, there was nothing to else say. Milian’s cohort waited for him, but he never came; the young Lord’s family waited for him, but he never did, either. Dawn broke, and the House burned, and when it was all over and the free people stood on the ruins, they found the bodies of the two, with no battle wound on them, and no honour in either death.
When all other ways close, the Way of the Knife opens.
This is a teaching story.
What would you do, were you Milian? If you were the young Lord? If you were Milian’s cohort?
There are no right answers.