The fat god watched the lord of the lake with a face that encapsulated all that could be interpreted as disdain. That rubber-skinned pox-spotted wart-loving bastard of a place had had the gall to attempt to go beyond categorisation – and succeeded. No matter what books, what codices, what prophetic fool he had spoken with or read, none gave him an answer. And so, he had lost the bet. He, the wisest of all, had lost. Lost to a fish who had learnt to walk upon its tail.
But you and I both realise that he hasn’t tried everything, so as the fish laughs and says:
“You have failed, you old fool. There is nothing your wise men, your aides, or anyone else can tell your fat, weighted, mind that can convince you that there is something to call me.”
We expect him to respond with a new way to place him, a new genus, genera, species, anything – because that is what one does when shown the incomprehensibly alive. Unfortunately, your mind is wider than the larded-lord of eagles’ – for you have not heard the actual wording of the Fish-faced vassal’s challenge.
“Find, within your vast sums of knowledge, a place for me and my kin, among all that you know.” The winged halibut had said. That second word, “within”, had constrained the king’s mind into looking for it in the facts, not the mindsets, of the books he had read and encyclopedias he had asked written. His mind had been dragged down the tunnel of what is known, not on the plains of what is thought, so it is lost to him, this challenge, and his coin too.
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