Swords and Tongues

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A politician and a warrior stood at a crossroads, a dozen paths laid out before them, each as convoluted as the next.

“I despise warriors,” began the politician. “A warrior will meet any problem he comes across with violence; raising first a sword before an olive branch. Though, I envy their simple existence. They act as though any problem can be solved by merely cutting it out. They claim this is the honorable way, but there is no honor in war; a lie told by those who wish it so. Nor is there mercy, as a warrior will end a life before it is set to end.”

 The politician’s companion sat in silence for a moment, pondering the former’s statement.

 “I despise politicians,” the warrior said at last.  “Whose silver tongues drip with honey as they twist the words of others to fit their needs. Politicians preach of peace through a paper trail of agreements and bargains; forgetting so easily that peace is an abstract concept. There is no honor in politics, where rather than confront a man face to face you would stab him in the back with a smile and a handshake, taking words sharp as knives to another’s reputation, destroying a life which must still continue on.”

The politician and the warrior gazed at the maze of twisting paths that now surrounded them.

“I suppose,” mused the politician. “That no way is ever entirely right.”

The warrior nodded, “Nor is it ever entirely wrong.”

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