The Master's art

N. Lygeros

Translated from the French by Vicky Baklessi




The master of time didn’t have a school strictly speaking. He wasn’t looking for disciples. It was the latter that were coming to him by necessity because at a moment of their life they would feel the sentiment of humanity. The master of time was aware of the brilliant variety of the heraldic colors, the gules, the azure, the or, the sanguine and the prowess of the valiant knights. But he had also seen the dreary succession of bad riders charging into the greatest disorder and without any glory, before a handful of spectators died of boredom. He had turned the page of the tournaments because the war against barbarity had become a humane necessity. No code of honor had resisted such barbaric invasion. No generosity, no bravery could fight against the vile beast. He had had to change strategy because humanity was heading towards its end. It was then that he had decided to let go of his armor. It had become cumbersome. It no longer corresponded to this new confrontation where everything was permitted. He had to work on the minds of human beings. It was the only way of being effective in facing the mass of the enemy. He has worked the body with the force of the spirit. Because he had to be capable of attacking there where the enemy couldn’t even imagine. No obstacle should be insurmountable for these human beings. With bare hands, they were capable of coming to the end of impenetrable walls. He had taught them the art of death. No other could fight against the invasion. These disciples were always excelling within a domain before the meeting. Some maneuvered with dexterity the sword, the others the sledgehammer, also others the flail. In all cases, they didn’t know how to face the knight without armor. Also he taught them how their unique weapon could be transformed into an Achilles’ heel if their spirit was not that of a mental fighter. The sword, the sledgehammer or the flail were not but objects. Nothing could be equivalent to the force of the spirit. Such was the teaching of the master of time. That was how the knight without armor had formed a mental battalion which nothing could resist it. This was the reason for which it had become the barbarians’ worst nightmare. The accomplishments of their missions caused such an impact on the enemy, that he abandoned certain positions. Only the master of time knew that the most important shock had not yet occurred. So he began preparing the team of the effigies. They were the elite of his battalion. They were five united like the fingers of a hand and this hand was the hand of the knight without armor. Because a handful was sufficient to open a door if it was considered sublime.







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