Life and Death

[Deuteragonist]

  

"God has decided to 'soon lead Faust to clarity', who previously only 'served Him confusedly.' However, to test Faust, he allows Mephistopheles to attempt to lead him astray. God declares that 'man still must err, while he doth strive'. It is shown that the outcome of the bet is certain, for 'a good man, in his darkest impulses, remains aware of the right path', and Mephistopheles is permitted to lead Faust astray only so that he may learn from his misdeeds."

- ???

Have you heard of the composer who wrote his greatest symphony while his body was gnawed at by incurable illness, completing it days before death? Have you heard those stories about people able to pull off inhuman feats of strength when their children are threatened? Too much, perhaps? Alright, then. An assignment allotted you five days for completion - day four, you start and complete it right before the deadline. 

Whatever they say, whatever you heard, I did not do any of this for him, or even for her. I did it for me, and for me alone.

Do not mistake my loyalty with obsession, my devotion for slavery.

Life is the sculptor, and pain is the chisel, the things we endure shaping us into who we are meant to be. That is how we want to believe it. It is the narrative that has been conveyed in most bodies of work I have read - that there is meaning in this meaningless world, in children dying in chains, mothers dying giving birth, disease, abductions, genocide, murder, famine, war. Because if we couldn't believe that these things were the work of some all-knowing, benevolent god or etched in fate, we'd have to face the very ugly, very likely possibility life holds no meaning at all, and our loved ones die for nothing, our failures were not to make us stronger, and that when we die, we rot. That we are nothing but the same organic, decaying matter as everything else in this world.

Grandiloquent. That is what I would call today. We the youth were both matador and bull in the ring to excite our elders before they inevitably croak, the moment of glory and the sting of defeat in that arena all-consuming for but one day, and smoldering in the breast for days, weeks, months. But eventually, time will heal it all. And yet perhaps, for a few of us, perhaps what happened after will change the course of our very lives. 

Should I have confronted her instead?

When I was younger, I hung on every word Armani spoke, as if it could not possibly be anything but the truth. Today, he told me sometimes we must lose, in order to grow strong - in order to change. How many tomes have I poured over that say the same? As I battled monsters and people worse than any monster, how often was I consoled in defeat by this very same bullshit? Heard parents mutter these sentiments to their children, rubbing their backs? Even said them myself? Meaningless. Those words are empty, a consolation to the loser. The people and things I believed infallible are just as unsure as I am.

They were just always better at hiding it than the scared orphan I was.

In fables and in plays, things are simple, because people, even the ones I fear, and the ones I respect, and the ones I love, enjoy simple things. Even if nuance is shown in the writing or character development, we want simple resolutions, when life is never so clear-cut. Case in point - the protagonist grows into a man, and slays the dragon. But what is the dragon? The dragon is man's most base, primordial fears made flesh. The dragon is fear, all-encompassing, a chimera, stuff fit to burst with characteristics everyone fears, and to defeat the dragon is to squash all self-doubt, leveling all obstacles on the path to become who you truly are. The dragon lying at your feet is the end of weakness, the end of fear, of uncertainty. Status, power, renown. Legacy. Life after death, as a legend, for all time. Is that not why you fought today, in the arena? The first step in carving a legacy we'd all remember, forever. You don't want to die, at least, not for good. It's the only thing all of us have in common.

The enemies of Osrona grow bolder by the day, and its allies more unsure. If things really do all happen for a reason - if the truth of life is that all things will come together in the end, even if not apparent right away, then we shall see. If you are truly what they say you are, you will rise to the task, just another test of many, because the hero always slays the dragon. But remember, you reading this: steel rusts, but music is forever. Time will prove only one side of the coming conflict right, and a moment's indecision in battle will ordain whose name is sung for all times. 

Ha...I wrote so much about everyone else, but in the end, no different from any of them, I'm left to wonder, will this truly affect me? As I try, I try so hard to play the unaffected, loyal servant, I hate this heart of mine, for I feel things, and I want more than I should. Do I have a place in all of this? Can my actions divert the course of fate, even the slightest? Even if they were, was that not simply my fate all along? Regardless, it doesn't matter.

After all - 

I'm only a butler.

And I doubt anyone will remember me.