At the Mountain of Knowledge

Once upon a time...

Back when the country didn’t have a name, and the land underneath it was a slumbering demon, an elderly man, Ly, retired from his role as chief of the village, and readied himself for the last trip before he returned to the Earth. However, before he could put the land of the living behind, Ly lamented the fact that his only son and soon-to-be-chief, Long, was rather unrefined, a gem so deep in the rough people regarded him as The Giant Rock. All Ly wished was for his village to thrive under Long, and for the villagers to give his son the same respect they’d given him. For that to happen, perhaps a trip to the Mountain of Knowledge was in order, Ly thought, for although the trip was long and treacherous, it was a tradition for his father and his father’s father and father’s father’s father to take their sons to the Mountain. The only reasons Ly hadn’t taken Long there until now was the series of unfortunate events the village’d faced. Thus, the trip was planned, and walking for seven days straight, Ly and Long reached the bottom of the Mountain of Knowledge as the sun was beginning to set.

“Father, where are we to stay the night? A young person like myself does not mind the grass, but I do not wish for you to fall ill.” – Long said matter-of-factly, looking straight into his father’s eyes with concern and seriousness.

“Son, what have I told you about the power of your words? I know you care for my well-being, but what you have said saddened me so, for it reminded me of my old age.” – Ly laughed, happy of his son’s kindness, worried for his inflexibility.

“Father, sensitivity will not change the fact that the night is cold, and our legs are sore.” – Long was adamant.

“Yes, son, but insensitivity will not bring us a warm bed either.” – Ly smiled again. There will be no bribery in his son’s reign. The old man held his son’s hand.

“What then, are we to do, father?” – Long relaxed.

“We pray. The Mountain ahead is home to the Gods. I have seen them with my own eyes, so did my father and his father. Gods will only grant knowledge to those with faith, and up ahead is a temple for us to prove said faith.” – Slowly, Ly led Long through the cedars that led to the temple, explaining to his son how to ask not for himself, but for his village.

The temple grounds were felt before it could be seen or heard. In fact, its holiness erected a sort of barrier that barred even the smallest of pebbles and the sound of water flowing from the nearby waterfall. Air was dense enough to touch, and Ly and Long found themselves forced to their knees by the atmosphere alone. After a period of incantations, the pressure lifted, as if the unseen Gods were satisfied. Still, the two men kept their eyes shut and their mouth ran until deep into the night. As the Moon showered them with light, Ly started the story he heard a long time ago.

“The Gods breath lives into all things, from the soil you trekked, the rocks you sat on, and the grass we made into our homes. One of them, a Princess, wiser than all, threw a crane’s feather into the far-off sky, and this mountain is where it came to rest. When the Princess arrived, she named the surrounding land her own, and picked your great great great grandfather as the chief. That our family was chosen is the result of a happy bond, transcending a single life. Although you are young, you must never neglect your faith.” - Ly spoke softly, his voice clear and wistful. Somewhere in the distance, a crane can be heard, like someone clicking their tongue, observant, judgmental.

“So, this is why crane inhabits this place.” – Long was wide-eyed. He’d never believed in the stories of old but being in the temple felt like he’s been transported to another world.

Long strained his ears to hear the birds again, only to sense danger. As the eldest son of the chief, he wielded a spear before he could walk, and many assassins had tried for his head soon afterwards. He lived, still, was testament enough. He drew his axe.

“Be calm, son. It is unsightly to unsheathe your weapon in presence of the Gods. Whoever comes will have already been smite if they had bad intentions.” – Ly laid a hand on his son’s broad shoulder.

Soon, a young man approached the gates of the temple.

“His Excellency hath cometh.”

With that came the echo of clogs, as The Emperor – evident by his golden robe – ascended the steps and passed the gates.

“Is this not the Mountain blessed by a Goddess, peasants?” – The Emperor addressed Long and Ly.

“Indeed, Sire.” – Ly stood up and answered.

“You kneeled for the temple, yet stood to greet me, old man? Do you not know who I am?” – The Emperor screamed.

“You are an emperor, I can tell. But this land is of the Gods’, and we are not under your rule.” – Ly said, his voice turned stern and cold, with enough force to rumble the walls of the temple.

“Insolent fools. Answer me, then, if your Gods were so powerful, why is it the river that flows throughout this land so poisonous. I came with a hundred man, and only I remained.” – The Emperor was still screaming, but it sounded less than the squeaks of mice.

“We have lived here for generations upon generations, off the generosity of the Gods, our children healthy, our crops plentiful. The water that came from Gods harm not those who have faith, Sire.” – Ly continued.

“I am The Emperor. I have faith in no Gods.” – Each word that came from The Emperor’s mouth was that of pain, as if his innards were twisted. Trembling at the word “Gods,” he made a final act of defiance and spit on the ground. The Emperor fell soon after. The young boy’s long run away.

“Kings and Emperors, humans in the end.” – Ly closed his eyes once more and offered a prayer.

Long, meanwhile, looked at the corpse, terrified. At a loss of what to do, he stood motionless for a time, and then, as the eastern sky brightened, he returned to his father’s side and chanted the Princess’s name. Finally, as the darkness in his eyes was pierced by the Sun, he opened them and raised his head toward the mountain top, wondering about the secrets awaiting him.