War of Honor

In the great game, the pieces are honor and virtue, the subtle poison and the swift knife, the spider and hornet. The game board is the virtuous heart, or the knife's sheath, or the hornet's nest. The outcome is never in doubt, for matters of honor always outweigh virtue. The subtle poison is always more efficient in its task. The spider has webs of conspiracy to keep it safe. What is always in doubt are the final moments of the game, for the time of its end can never be foreseen and it is always possible that in the end both game pieces shall fall.

Perhaps an illustration is in order. Here is the story of one such game. Here is the story of a red hornet and a black spider.

The hornet's nest lay under the deepening red of the evening's sun. Wind blew strongly from the east, carrying the promise of new opportunities and a warning for the hornet. However the hornet was not disturbed from its buzzing nest. It had lived with its threat for a good three months now. It knew that sooner or later the spider would come and that it could not be stopped, what could be done to stop an unseen foe?

From a nearby tree the spider watched its prey. Honor must be upheld it knew. The game must be brought to a close. It had waited for weeks, leaving its lair only few nights before. It had waited and watched its prey, noted its weaknesses, its strengths. It could wait no longer. Honor must be upheld.

As the sun sank towards the horizon, the hornet walked into the small garden outside of its nest. It contemplated its refusal of the yellow hornet's exchange of gifts, a refusal that had proved costly. The yellow hornet had been so maddened and its buzzing had rousted the spider from its lair. Yet despite this cost, the red hornet would still willingly have refused the exchange once more given the opportunity. Honesty is a virtue and should not lightly be tossed away.

Silently, the spider crept from its perch. In the gathering gloom, it could hardly be seen from within the hornet's nest. It could strike now if it wished, without weakening the hornet with its venom. But that was too risky; the hornet was skilled with its stinging dagger and the spider's skin was far softer than that of the hornet's. No, it would not strike yet.

The hornet walked to its nest and prepared to cocoon itself for sleep. First, however, it would need its drink of cormberry's nectar. One of its servants slipped off to fetch this. Slowly it settled into its cocoon, still wearing its thick shell and keeping it's stinging dagger close at hand.

With a muffled thud, the spider captured the hornet's servant and wrapped it within the thick threads of spider silk. The spider took the cormberry's nectar and placed a single drop of its subtle venom into it, more than enough for to subdue the hornet. After doing so, it slipped down the halls of the hornet's nest and placed it just outside the hornet's chamber and knocked upon the hornet's door before slipping into a place from which it could watch unseen.

The hornet opened its door and took the nectar, letting it spill into its mouth drop by drop. It then reentered its chamber, not noticing the subtle poison of the spider.

Quietly, the spider slipped from its hiding place and crept into the hornet's chamber, ready to wrap its limbs around the hornet's neck in a deathly embrace. It knew there was still a danger of the hornet's stinging dagger, but the spider was confident it could kill the hornet long before the stinging dagger could be drawn. With this confidence, the spider reached for the hornet's neck.

Clutching its side, the spider staggered away from the broken body of the hornet. It would die soon it knew, but that was not important. It had taken the life of the hornet. Honor had been upheld.

Thus the game ends. The outcome was never in doubt, but this time both game pieces, the spider and the hornet, the subtle poison and the swift dagger, honor and virtue, fell.

Those of you who do not understand the great game remember this story. Think upon it, think upon its beauty and its darkness, and do not be so quick to degrade it, for it is not murder or close-minded tradition. It is a war of pure honor, fought between two individuals each with an ample chance to survive. Perhaps, perhaps, it is archaic, an anachronism, as you say. But, in the end, honor must be upheld.