the men of the mountain

Lethwei and pradal

“I came from Burma, a long long way from here in the Indochinese archipelago. I wasn’t born into exactly the most fortunate families and as a result I had to fight to keep the mortgage man away. My father and grandfathers taught me the sacred art of lethwei which is how the Burmese fight. It was such a deadly system that I eventually adapted to it and eventually won enough money to help my family as well as others. Ever since I was born I just wanted to help everyone but my only talent was fighting and I used to win money.

Money may not buy happiness but it buys roofs and food for the poor. I began my training when I was four and by the time I was fourteen money fell from the sky and brought the attention of overseas men, Very dangerous men who saw me as a mere punching bag. Regardless of this I befriended one of them called Pradal, Eventually a family friend we traded ways of fighting. However it came to an end when we were deviously assigned a fight between two men and ourselves in one night. We promised each that if either of us won we would make a gym to teach others what we wanted them to know about fighting and philosophy. However by the time we had got there in the last round we had been tired and frustrated with the abnormally tough opponents. It was revealed that they had taken anabolic steroids in order to make us fight harder and eventually one of us would die from the rage that followed. We could not see past our own folly and Pradal died by my hands. Fame and fortune surrounded me but so did grief.

I fell into the sea of regret and self-reproach. Abandoning the sport and the country that raised me I fled to the monastery in Bavaria and spent the rest of my days asking God for forgiveness for my crime. Leopoldo sympathised “and have you?” “well yes of course I have by teaching the things that I know the people here trust my well and I have found the water to douse the burning fire of redemption, you see I was disgraced, a disgraced fighter trying to forget a past of horror.” Leopoldo’s expression changed to scepticism “is that you answer then?”  

“The answer is that because such a crime the rest of the world looks on at you as nothing more than a killing machine, something that should not be alive, something that should be dead. That is how they saw me once, a murderer.” Leopoldo breathed calmy “so then the awnser is that after a crime the world cannot trust you anymore” he asked “no it cannot.” With that Leopoldo eased up from the cold chair and the long creature still quivering in Sereys hands “thank you for your time brother.” Serey hastily placed the creature back in its cave of dwelling and remembered something that he had not for a long time, his black foot smashing into the soft head of Pradal, his muscular body staggering back and his guard disappearing like cloud of steam then came the wolfs fangs closing in for the prey and then the breath stopped. Serey woke up to see Kano and Mirko two of most intelligent disciples both using his way of fighting but not to sort a disagreement but to make each stronger. In Sereys mind Pradal was still there in the world, just less of him.