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The Parable Of The Merchant
(You asked for a Serco perspective, here is the first part of it.)
Excerpted from The Book of Parables, Serco Holy Library, SkyCommand.
It so happens, children of mine, that there was once a rich and powerful merchant in the ancient city of Maqash, upon Terra II. He possessed five hundred beasts of burden, owned much property and kept a stable of fine guises that he pitted with great success in the Grand Arena. His name was Saldat, and he was said to be a happy man.
On one fine day, Saldat rose from his silken cot and walked out into the city to survey all that was his. It was there that he found a veteran, crouched in an alley and begging for alms. As the merchant approached, the soldier held out his legion helm and looked up intensely, catching Saldat’s eye and holding him fast with a strange stare. Instead of tossing a coin or two into the helm, or passing by as he usually did, Saldat held out his hand and asked the soldier to accompany him. The warrior agreed, it being a hot day, and together they retired to the merchant’s home.
That evening, in the smoky quiet and leather armchairs of the merchant’s lounge, music echoing through the room, and enjoying fine brandy, Saldat offered the soldier a deal. He could go back to begging on the streets, or come and be taught, learn the ways of the market, and find his fortune among the upper crust of Terra II’s society.
Being no fool, the soldier chose to become a merchant, and under Saldat’s wise tutelage, he learned the liquid ebb and flow of the economy, watched how the vigilant might choose the right moment to jump in, and the right moment to sit out, and so become wealthy. "He watched the merchant buy and sell goods. Saldat was a ruthless businessman, and the soldier observed as in his dealings he made friends and enemies alike."
In two years’ time, he had learned all he could from the merchant, and Saldat again brought the soldier to sit in his tall leather chairs. Over a glass of fine brandy he offered the soldier one final piece of advice.
“Remember, friend. You owe nothing to me, nor to any other man. It is the pleasure and privilege we merchants hold to choose when and whether to help those less fortunate. One does not become wealthy nor stay wealthy by helping all of those in need, for of the needy, there is an endless supply, and he who devotes himself to others dies poor and forgotten.”
The soldier looked at Saldat incredulously. “Why then did you help me in my time of need?” he asked.
“Friend”, the merchant said, “I know also that he who helps nobody dies wealthy and forgotten, and who is to say which is the better life and which the better death?”
With that, the Soldier went on his way, Saldat was left to his business, and things progressed, as they must, for several years.
The tides of fortune swept ever in and out, taking with them the lives of many. Men grew richer or poorer as they tend to do, and in the seventh year after the Soldier’s departure, the Merchant caught the lungrot.
Saldat was bedridden for three months, and during this time his surrogate siphoned away a very large amount of money. When the Merchant at last rose from his silken cot, he was outraged, but his surrogate had fled the city, and Saldat’s fortune was lost. The merchant cried in frustration, screamed his anger to the unhearing walls of his palace, and in the end could do little. Things now went badly for him, friend after friend turning him away. His money dwindled, until at last he was left with but the torn remnants of his former glory.
It was in this decrepit state that he arrived at the doors of the soldier’s palatial villa, for fate had treated the soldier well, honoring his will and perseverance with good fortune and much wealth. Saldat was invited in, and seated in a lounge with high-backed, luxurious red leather chairs. Treated with brandy, he was told to wait until the master of the house could see him. For three hours the merchant waited, and when at last the Soldier came to meet him, Saldat attempted to plead his case.
“As I once helped you, noble warrior, I now require your help. Please, lend me but a fraction of your wealth, that I may begin again.” He begged, humiliated that he had been brought to this. The soldier looked at him for a long moment, and then spoke.
“When you sent me away, you told me that I owed no man, and that charity would bring me to ruin. I see that you were wise in your tutelage. He who dies poor is forgotten, and that he who dies rich is likewise forgotten.” The soldier stood, and gathered his robe around him, then spoke again. “but he who dies rich lives comfortably and dies on a fine silken cot, while he who dies poor does so with only the street’s hard cobbles as his deathbed. It is my privilege to say that the rich man's death is the better one.” With that, the soldier stood and walked from the room, and several strong men removed Saldat from the premises. As the doors to the soldier’s palatial mansion clicked shut before him, the merchant felt suddenly very old, and sitting down upon the hard cobbles of the street, he wept.
Excerpted from The Book of Parables, Serco Holy Library, SkyCommand.
It so happens, children of mine, that there was once a rich and powerful merchant in the ancient city of Maqash, upon Terra II. He possessed five hundred beasts of burden, owned much property and kept a stable of fine guises that he pitted with great success in the Grand Arena. His name was Saldat, and he was said to be a happy man.
On one fine day, Saldat rose from his silken cot and walked out into the city to survey all that was his. It was there that he found a veteran, crouched in an alley and begging for alms. As the merchant approached, the soldier held out his legion helm and looked up intensely, catching Saldat’s eye and holding him fast with a strange stare. Instead of tossing a coin or two into the helm, or passing by as he usually did, Saldat held out his hand and asked the soldier to accompany him. The warrior agreed, it being a hot day, and together they retired to the merchant’s home.
That evening, in the smoky quiet and leather armchairs of the merchant’s lounge, music echoing through the room, and enjoying fine brandy, Saldat offered the soldier a deal. He could go back to begging on the streets, or come and be taught, learn the ways of the market, and find his fortune among the upper crust of Terra II’s society.
Being no fool, the soldier chose to become a merchant, and under Saldat’s wise tutelage, he learned the liquid ebb and flow of the economy, watched how the vigilant might choose the right moment to jump in, and the right moment to sit out, and so become wealthy. "He watched the merchant buy and sell goods. Saldat was a ruthless businessman, and the soldier observed as in his dealings he made friends and enemies alike."
In two years’ time, he had learned all he could from the merchant, and Saldat again brought the soldier to sit in his tall leather chairs. Over a glass of fine brandy he offered the soldier one final piece of advice.
“Remember, friend. You owe nothing to me, nor to any other man. It is the pleasure and privilege we merchants hold to choose when and whether to help those less fortunate. One does not become wealthy nor stay wealthy by helping all of those in need, for of the needy, there is an endless supply, and he who devotes himself to others dies poor and forgotten.”
The soldier looked at Saldat incredulously. “Why then did you help me in my time of need?” he asked.
“Friend”, the merchant said, “I know also that he who helps nobody dies wealthy and forgotten, and who is to say which is the better life and which the better death?”
With that, the Soldier went on his way, Saldat was left to his business, and things progressed, as they must, for several years.
The tides of fortune swept ever in and out, taking with them the lives of many. Men grew richer or poorer as they tend to do, and in the seventh year after the Soldier’s departure, the Merchant caught the lungrot.
Saldat was bedridden for three months, and during this time his surrogate siphoned away a very large amount of money. When the Merchant at last rose from his silken cot, he was outraged, but his surrogate had fled the city, and Saldat’s fortune was lost. The merchant cried in frustration, screamed his anger to the unhearing walls of his palace, and in the end could do little. Things now went badly for him, friend after friend turning him away. His money dwindled, until at last he was left with but the torn remnants of his former glory.
It was in this decrepit state that he arrived at the doors of the soldier’s palatial villa, for fate had treated the soldier well, honoring his will and perseverance with good fortune and much wealth. Saldat was invited in, and seated in a lounge with high-backed, luxurious red leather chairs. Treated with brandy, he was told to wait until the master of the house could see him. For three hours the merchant waited, and when at last the Soldier came to meet him, Saldat attempted to plead his case.
“As I once helped you, noble warrior, I now require your help. Please, lend me but a fraction of your wealth, that I may begin again.” He begged, humiliated that he had been brought to this. The soldier looked at him for a long moment, and then spoke.
“When you sent me away, you told me that I owed no man, and that charity would bring me to ruin. I see that you were wise in your tutelage. He who dies poor is forgotten, and that he who dies rich is likewise forgotten.” The soldier stood, and gathered his robe around him, then spoke again. “but he who dies rich lives comfortably and dies on a fine silken cot, while he who dies poor does so with only the street’s hard cobbles as his deathbed. It is my privilege to say that the rich man's death is the better one.” With that, the soldier stood and walked from the room, and several strong men removed Saldat from the premises. As the doors to the soldier’s palatial mansion clicked shut before him, the merchant felt suddenly very old, and sitting down upon the hard cobbles of the street, he wept.
*stunned look*
*applause*
*applause*
*seconds applause*
The wise philosopher, Solon, once advised: "Count no man happy until his final moment has passed."
Heh, nice. Sounds Ferengi, almost... :P
Good writing.
I fail to see the connection to the Serco. (aside from the bit about guises and beasts)
They're parables, and rather ancient so there's not much of the modern, recognizable Serco in them.
only problem with that ctish is that by the time serco had developed guises, they were modern serco, embroiled in a war with the itani.
it doesn't matter tho, a parable is a teaching tool, not an accurate rendering of historical fact. Ctishman was attempting to shed some light on the serco character.
it doesn't matter tho, a parable is a teaching tool, not an accurate rendering of historical fact. Ctishman was attempting to shed some light on the serco character.
Oh, excuse me for thinking that just over 2000 years ago was considered 'ancient'. How foolish. :)
Personally I'd rather see Ku Genin's Lady Serco stories as Serco Canon than any of this "parable" stuff.
Oh, you haven't seen the last of our Deadly Lady, not by a long shot.
I'm saying I find this less canon than the Lady stories would be. This stuff sounds more like UIT background.
This story is part of a greater series of parables (that I will finish after Finals week), whose purpose is to point out why the Serco chose the lifestyle we did.