[date:-480|flashback,x]
The king of Magadha laughed. Not a wicked sort of laugh that one may have expected from the caricatures of him in plays – a jovial and genuine laugh of amusement.
“I don’t know why you ever sent me a messenger, Great King,” he said lightly, addressing his rival, “I made my goals quite clear to you from the start, did I not? What would your messenger have negotiated?”
The Licchavi Chief smiled nervously.
“For that matter, what have you come to talk about?” Ajātaśatru continued. “I could kill you right now, you know, just as I did to the messenger,” —the Licchavis unsheathed their swords and acted offended; Ajātaśatru ignored them and addressed the courtiers— “What would you do about it? I’m the messenger now. Ooh don’t shoot the messenger! But what if the messenger shoots you? I jest, I jest. War between us will not benefit anybody. Besides me.” The Magadhi king bared his teeth.
Trying not to look appalled, the Licchavi Chief folded his hands: “Great King … I have come to surrender to you.”
“Oh? Could you not have just killed yourself? Please do not be offended! I would quite enjoy murdering you myself, Great King, but I am quite the busy man, you know.”
The Magadhi chortled heartily, his courtiers laughing alongside him, while his rival was sweating. He turned to the Licchavi Minister.
“Ah, Chief Minister!” he cried. “How stoic your face is – how manlily you stand! You must be so intelligent, so firm, so righteous! And yet you lose to me – a short Magadhi barbarian who regards himself a genius for having invented one intrigue, while in the Western realms, educated Brāhmaṇas like yourself revel in the study of hundreds of such devices of their own invention! Do you wish to know why, Chief Minister? Do you wish to know my secret – why I win, and you lose?”
The Chief Minister did not answer.
Ajātaśatru continued.
“Everywhere from Vaiśālī to Takṣaśilā, the Brāhmaṇas present themselves as the manly, decisive, realist defenders of Vedic civilization – of great ingenuity and strong morals – with a grand master-plan, to be playing an elaborate and complicated game, so that every loss is truly a step to an eventual victory – that they will never allow the great civilization of their construction to fall to a deranged lunatic like myself.”
–he pointed at his own ridiculous wolf-skin outfit–
“Beware the wolf in sheep’s skin, they say! But I say: beware the sheep in wolf’s skin! Beware a man who possesses no goals but takes false glory from the appearance of a cunning, ambitious genius! That is all that most men are: sheep! and it is cheap to pretend – and pretending to be a wolf gives you all the benefits you desire: the vulvas of well-endowed women, social respect, some royal titles and grants – mainly the vulvas of well-endowed women – but the achievement of no real goals in life. And that is the reason why I win and you lose–”
The Magadhi king’s expression turned sombre, and he made an exaggerated gesture of clutching his temple with his forefingers and sniffling.
“–because you truly do not even care about defeating me! You care about appearing to care about defeating me – because that speaks well of your sense of judgement of what ought to be, whether that signal is true or false.”
Ajātaśatru sniffled some more, then punched his own minister in the face to address him.
“Do you want to know what I care about, Varṣākāra? Showing what, for once, a wolf – not even in sheep’s clothing – in wolf’s clothing–” he drew attention to his own attire “–can accomplish in a world of sheep. And that lesson, however expensive or destructive it may be, will be greatly beneficial to the world!”
“Will it?” asked a courtier. Varṣākāra sighed internally as the king of Magadha sliced the annoyance in two.
“Will it?” Ajātaśatru mimicked. “I DON’T KN— I DON’T CARE if it is beneficial! That was a lie! I spoke, in very clear terms, about what I cared about: showing what one wolf can accomplish in a world of sheep. If that is all I care about, obviously I’m lying when I say that is motivated by an even deeper desire to benefit the world. Oh, but Ajātaśatru, why did you lie? Why did you put on a pretense, why did you flash some sheep skin for a moment? Because I knew some idiot would say WILL IT REALLY? and I could then make an example out of him, and go on this whole rant; there are so many levels to my thinking, too deep for all your small intellects to comprehend, thus furthering my goal of demonstrating what a wolf can do in a world of sheep—” he gestured to those seated around him, “—Oh, and maybe I should just behead all of you, because you just believed the explanation I gave you for what I said and did, believed that I truly anticipated and predicted the reaction in advance and plotted it all, much like the foolish Licchavi Chief who believed this about his Minister, and now you do not know what to believe, thus furthering my goal of demonstrating what a wolf can do in a world of sheep.”
The king guffawed amusedly.
And then his expression turned serious.
“You know,” he said, “I’m very sad. Very lonely. When I ascended the throne of Magadha, I fantasized about fighting great wars, playing games of intrigue against intellects equal to my own in cunning and strategic acumen – to outsmart such minds and dominate them – to earn my victory, rather than simply have it be handed to me. But if my opponent’s goal is not to win at all, then what even is the game?”
Ajātaśatru beheaded the Licchavi Chief, whose allies rose in protest but quickly found themselves restrained by the Magadhas.
Forcing a smile, he asked no-one in particular: “But did I plan for that?”
