The Monk, The Warrior And The Farmers

A long long time ago, there was a province named Sophistia.

The majority of the people worked as farmers, toiling from 9am to 6pm on the farms. Some of these farmers were happy. But most were not. These farmers were the subjects of regional lords.

Becoming a farmer was the default path for citizens of Sophistia after they graduated from school at 15. If a citizen did not want to be farmer, there were two alternative paths.

1. Train to be a warrior or

2. Enter a monastery to become a monk

A warrior’s main role was to fight, win and conquer new lands for the province. After a decade, a successful warrior would have conquered enough lands to warrant the title of a lord, enjoying a life of respect and luxury. Titles, lands, farmers and beauties will be bestowed to him and his descendants.

On the other hand, the monk’s role in a monastery would be to convert the scriptures, chant them and serve the gods. They would also have to live a life of relative “suffering” and “deprivation” to appease the gods. After a decade or two of service, they could then go back to life as a commoner. They would not have to farm as grains will be offered to them monthly by the lords and farmers for their religious service.

This morning, Lord Lee and Reverend Ren met up for the first time after twenty years. They had been best friends in school but their paths had deviated after graduation.

Lord Lee arrived at the top of the mountain with a cigar in his hands. He had already spotted Reverend Ren from afar and waved his team of bodyguards to stay back. He was excited and looking forward to meeting his childhood friend after so many years. 

Lee: Ren, how have you been? Are you enjoying the tea my servants have prepared for you this morning?

Reverend Ren had been patiently waiting for his friend for over an hour. He didn’t really mind the wait since he had alot of time on his hands these days. He also understood that Lord Lee was an important man in the province and it was a privilege to yum cha with him alone. 

Ren: Lord Lee, it’s a pleasure to be meeting you today and this tea is definitely the best tea I have ever drunk in my entire life. 

Lee: Ren, let’s cut out these curtsies. Call me Lee, like you used to all those years ago. After all, you are not under my rule. And I really want to reminisce and maybe even rekindle our strong friendship from all those years ago. 

Ren: As you say so, Lee. I can’t believe it’s been 20 years. Look at what you have achieved, becoming one of the most important lords of the land, with thousands of farmers and endless acres of land under your control. 

Lee: Thanks bro. Once in a while, upon reflection, I am also taken aback by what I have achieved. But let’s be honest. It was not that difficult. For instance, I still remember that you were as good a fighter as me when we were 15.

Lee: All these could have been yours too if you had decided to become a warrior just like me. Imagine what we could have achieved if we were a tag team!

Reverend Ren pondered for a moment. His friend still bore grudges for his decision back then. He wanted to be diplomatic, but at the same time, he was not prepared to be chastised for his astute decision to enter the monastery. 

Ren: Lee, you might label me as unambitious but becoming a warrior was just too great a risk for me. I might have comparable skills to you, but the weapons I could afford were blunt at best. It’s like having a knife in lightsaber fights!

Ren: And most importantly, I could not afford armor. I would have been killed, not injured, if I lost. The average warrior is dead or resorts back to being a farmer. An average monk receives 10 bags of grains after two decades of service. 

Lee: You belittle yourself. I have never met an opponent who was quicker or stronger than you at your physical peak. Many of them have become minor lords with titles and lands to their name. A talent like you deserves more than 20 bags of grains a month!

Ren: 20 bags of grains is more than good enough for me and my family. After a decade in the monastery, the habits of frugality are ingrained. We consume 5 bags and exchange another 5 bags for a little milk and meat each month. The remaining 10 bags are surplus.

Lord Lee did not believe in the austerity of men. He had always second guessed the decision of his friend to join the monastery and sacrifice the riches and spoils of a winner. Sensing a chink in his friend’s armor, he probed further.

Lee: Hmm, the offerings are guaranteed by the lords and farmers. Why don’t you consume all of them? What’s your plan with the remaining 10 bags?

Ren: Erm, once we accumulate 1,000 bags, I intend to exchange for either a plot of land or a matching armor and lightsaber set for my son. 

Lee: Ah, so you are setting up your son to become a rich kulak or a warrior? And not enter a monastery just like you?

Ren: Sigh, the irony is most (if not all) reverends went down this path with the hope that their children and descendants would never have to follow down the same path as them.

Lee: I see, I see. Enough of this serious talk already and let’s have a game of chess!

The debate and chiding about their differences ended. After a few intense games of chess, Lord Lee and Reverend Ren enjoyed their tea while appreciating the sunrise. They also began bantering about farming work which they each performed for about a year after graduation. The disdain for life on the farm and being the subjects of another lord binded them together.

But the similarities did not end there. 

Especially to the farmer who had just reported to work at the farm and could observe the silhouette of two men enjoying themselves at the top of the mountain. 

This post was inspired by this article from Dr Wealth.

Thanks for reading.