Why are we, who hold the honored status of laborers,
so willing to throw the first stone at those of higher status?
Do we not all strive to someday attain the satisfaction
that comes with earning your place in the world?
Do we not envy the power that comes with wealth?
Do we not see and wish fervently that we had within our grasp
the prestige that comes with a position of importance?
Do we not know that while some people are born into riches
others rise from the darkness of a painful past?
Crawling step by agonizing step,
they trudge through battle after battle
in the continuous wars of the classes.
At some times they forge ahead,
with only sheer determination and dogged tenacity for weapons,
tearing the knowledge of their forefathers out of manuscripts,
absorbing the wisdom of village sages as they sit with other adventurers,
some more promising than others.
If they pass the perilous tests set for those shining few hopefuls,
by feudal lords seeking mercenaries to bolster their ranks,
the young warriors move on to grueling years of training,
with harrowing tasks and bloodthirsty rivals around every corner.
Those who cannot hold their quest firmly in their life,
Are as an animated corpse,
falling weary and defeated by the wayside lamenting their choices,
turning away from the path of glory to sink once more into the mires of darkness.
The surviving veterans don their armor of knowledge,
and set out into the world.
Of these soldiers few will survive all the battles ahead,
many will will tire of the fighting and cast away their armor.
Many will die under the command of a lesser lord.
The few who live beyond commanding armies of their own rise as kings,
Finally grasping victory in an adamant fist,
hoping against all hope that their defenses are strong enough
to withstand the violent storm that is the clan of kings.
The lone castles which weather the storm,
rear their heads in absolute defiance.
Daring the old kings to refute the power so valiantly gained,
through strength of body and of mind.
The surviving lord,
He who has risen from the pits of hell.
He who has walked among the dead.
He who has held court with fellow lords.
He who has danced with Lady Grief and courted Lady Love.
He who has contested the gods in their own realm.
He who has fought with his mind and lived by his heart.
This man,
This worshiped and despised man,
Has found peace of mind among the clouds.
His quest is ended.
His glory won.
