A tribe gathered on the plains, ravaged and torn, they were many tribes, but few people. They gathered together and dumped armloads of wood they'd gathered and lit a fire. Soon there were people pulling game, biscuits, and flutes from pockets and bags and a merry night was had with song, food and dance. As they slept a watch stood guard and kept the fire burning and the wolves at bay.
At length these people began to erect a small structure to keep rain out. Then it was a lodge. Soon they had sorted out sleeping places. The loudest got to hang by the door where the air was freshest.
So the group was a tribe and they played and laughed, hunted and learned, loved and fought together.
Not many years later their lodge had grown into a town, a nice town with strong houses and a good wall. They prospered. The town bar continued to carry fights and sometimes they were terrible, but mostly everyone got along by consensus.
This town had a custodian, a keeper of the keys and fixer of broken things.
There was also in that town a person with ambition. Ambitious people want to be valued like everyone, yet they are unable to recognize it. They crave ever more validation, they will stand for nothing less, for they are blind to true value.
Power walked out one morning and discontented with childish pranks on others, it set out to rule the town. First it took a good look around and saw who was there. It walked out and began to give gifts around. Gifts it had stored up in itself, growing it's power by small thefts and overruns, a little extra here, a little more there, and nobody hurt because nobody noticed. So Power grew in it's storehouse like any fortune does. Now was this fortune spent. Spent gathering will from the people like wool from sheep. Anyone who did not fawn properly was carefully punished through the ones who'd bought into the contract. And so power grew yet more. Gathering from his pennies willpower all around the town. Will is priceless, but sold so cheap. There was in that town, a few folks cagey enough to keep fighting and these he put on a list quiet in his desk.
Power finally felt the fullness of his collection, he had the collective wills of the majority of the town. He called up the enemies over the hill and taunted them. When they rushed over the hill he rushed with his fellow man to defend his town. When they smote the town's only caretaker, he wept with all of them, even louder, perhaps. Wept and railed and rallied till they had plugged the wall. Then power's friend stepped in to his new post as caretaker. His fee for this plum post of power? The List. Power handed over the list and caretaker went around crying foul and with his keys he locked the doors and pointed long angry fingers. the sheep cried. the sheep dogs barked, the list got ticked off, one by one. Those who had fought so hard to stop tyranny saw Power's face from over the gate, weeping for them as they were sent into the woods.
In the town, the sheep bowed to the weeping Lord, knowing his depth of sorrow and how hard he and his caretakers worked to look after them and keep the enemies at bay.
Power sat most comfortably upon the lovely golden throne built to appease his grief and fed heartily on the sweetmeats given to comfort his troubled soul.
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