The Emperor
Chapter 5 — Writing and Pathworking the Tarot [a fictional #slog (story-log continued]
It was a long and steady climb leaving the valley. The abundance of greenery gave way to a mountainous terrain.
I had been on the road for over ten hours, when ahead I saw a man in armor look up from a table. He banged something down and clasped his hands behind his back, then marched to his throne and sat.
He stared at me, and I realized I wasn’t moving. He waved his hand to beckon me forward.
I approached but grasped the straps of my backpack, and prepared to breakout into a sprint if need be. I wagered I could outrun him, since he wore armor.
I stopped close enough to see and hear him, but out of his reach.
He leaned towards me. “Take out your sword and rod.”
Was he engaging me in battle? Was it time to run? Was it the mere specter of his authoritative appearance and deep baritone voice I found menacing?
He sighed and glared. “Take. Out. Your. Sword. And. Rod.”
“Wh — .” I cleared my throat. “Why?” I asked.
He snarled, and I thought I saw smoke from his nostrils. “Because it’s time to get to work.” He leaned back on his stone throne. “What are your plans?”
“Huh?”
“What do you intend to do right now?”
“Look for a place to sleep for tonight, and then to continue on this road, to see where it leads.”
“Like a tourist? Are you vacationing through your life?”
“No, I’m — .”
“You’ve spent some seven months with the Empress. Surely you have some…spark? Ideas?”
“Yes. I’m not sure how to put them into action, but yeah.”
“And which of your tools do you think will help you at this point?”
I shifted my stance to face him. “Well, I’m confronted with an obstacle, since I don’t know how to proceed, my sword would be most helpful.”
The scowl on his face became a sarcastic smile. “Hmph. Gonna just slice your way through, huh?”
My cheeks warmed. “I’ll have to think about it.”
He slammed his metal fist on the armrest and pointed at me. “That’s right!”
My eyes shifted down to the left, taking my eyes off him for the first time. I tried to make sense of what he was saying. I felt I had the pieces of the puzzle, but couldn’t fit them together.
He removed his iron meshed gloves and forearm pieces of his armor, then stepped down from his thrown.
He towered over me. “Once more. Put your sword and rod on the table.”
I followed his instruction.
“For your plans or dreams to manifest, you begin with passion — your chalice — of which you have no lack. In the absence of economic resources, money — your pentacle — you’ll need to think of a strategy which includes compensation for that deficiency — your rod.”
He peered down at me, “Finally, and especially for you, willpower and discipline — which is how your rod and sword will work in tandem.”
The last point struck a nerve for me, and I felt the blood once again rush to my face.
“Let’s begin,” he said with a loud clap of his hands.
“Now?” I asked. As I looked at the sinking sun.
“Yes, now. Never end your day without a plan for tomorrow.”
“Well, can we plan to discuss the plan tomorrow?”
He frowned.
“Never mind,” I said realizing procrastination wasn’t an option here.
He nodded with squinted eyes. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Take out that bread and jam the Empress gave you.”
With rigorous questioning, the Emperor drew out of me a strategy. The regimented schedule was for the next four months. While most days were long, the structure kept me on track without being overwhelming. Daily accomplishments would strengthen my resolve.
The night had not been as long as I had dreaded. If I adhered to the overall plan, I’d avoid late nights. Rest was to be a priority and on the agenda as well.
I woke up the next morning to the rustle of his armor as he moved about the table. He made no effort to be quiet.
I packed up and went to say goodbye.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for your help.”
He walked over to me and put his steel hands around the top of each of my arms. “Git ‘er done,” he said with a wink.