"Not everyone deserves to be at the top. The top is not a place for everyone. Some strive to sit at the top of the mountain, but in the end, they discover they are not ready to pay the price. The top is not easily earned. You can only reach it if you have the strength to bear the burdens of leadership, influence, and making a profound difference in this world."
The father walked quietly down the street, his eyes moving between faces, observing passersby as if each one carried a different story, a story that could change the world if circumstances were different. He smiled at his son and said, "Many people deceive themselves into thinking that reaching the top is just a matter of luck or opportunity, but the truth is that the top is made. It requires strength, determination, and patience."
The father pointed to a man sitting on the sidewalk, leaning on his small bag. His clothes were worn, his hair disheveled, but his eyes sparkled with wisdom and deep thought. "Look at this man. Some might see him as weak, defeated by life, but in reality, he has something profound. He doesn't have money or beauty, but he is still here, resisting life. His strength is not in his appearance, but in his ability to stay. Despite the difficult circumstances, this man is still here."
The father smiled and said, "His strength is like the strength Nelson Mandela had, who spent many years in prison and did not allow the barriers to confine his mind. It wasn't the prisons that defined his strength, but his deep faith. Mandela wasn't fighting for himself alone, but for the future of his people. He understood that true strength lies in the ability to endure, to maintain faith in freedom despite prolonged suffering."
Then the father looked at a small vendor standing in front of his shop, selling fruits and vegetables. He appeared simple, not boasting of what he had, but he dealt with his customers with a smile and care. "And this man, despite his simplicity, possesses another kind of strength. He knows how to build relationships with people. How to make them feel comfortable, and gain their trust. His strength lies in the connection he creates with every person who passes by him."
The father added, "This strength is like the strength Mahatma Gandhi had, the man who led his people to freedom through peaceful means. He didn't have an army of soldiers, nor did he have wealth, but he had something stronger: the ability to change the world with simple words and a powerful idea. His strength wasn't in his body, but in his ability to influence others. He was like a ship sailing confidently through a storm, knowing its destination and trusting in its ability to reach it."
The father took a deep breath and pointed to an elderly man walking slowly across the street. His hand leaned on a cane, and his eyes were filled with the wisdom of years. "Look at this man. He doesn't seem strong, but his strength lies in his experience, in the years he has lived through challenges and faced the difficulties of life. He knows well that life is not about physical strength, but about one's ability to make wise decisions, to choose the right path amid life's maze."
"His strength reminds me of Martin Luther King, who had the ability to influence an entire nation with sincere words. He didn't need to be the strongest physically, but he needed to be the strongest in his message. Like this man, who, despite his old age, can still walk with confidence, because he possesses something more valuable than physical strength: wisdom."
The father then looked at his son and said, "True strength comes from within. It's the ability to influence others without imposing your will on them. It's the ability to stay, to keep going in the face of difficulties, and to change the world in your own way. Strength is not in wealth or the body, but in the unyielding spirit."
The father added, "Life is like the sea. We all sail in this vast ocean. The ship that has no compass will sink in the end, but the ship that knows where it is going, that has a wise captain, will keep sailing confidently, no matter the storms. Life needs a compass, someone who knows where they are headed and how to face the waves."
Then the father said, looking into the distance, "True leadership doesn't come from physical strength or wealth. Leadership comes from the ability to influence, from understanding others, from the ability to remain in the field despite all the hardships. As Mandela said, 'It seems I cannot change the world, but I can change myself, and then I may change the world.'"
The father added quietly, "All of these people possess qualities that can create greatness, like patience, wisdom, and the ability to influence. But despite that, they didn't make history in the same way as those great figures who carved their names into the annals of history. Do you know why?..."
---
The breathing was heavy, and hearts seemed to beat audibly in that dark hall, filled with the scent of wood scented with beeswax and old books.
Sauron stood in the middle, his face directed toward Miragen, as the eyes of the onlookers watched every movement and every word. Time had run out, and everything was at stake. Every step he took seemed to add to the weight of the situation. Deep inside, he knew this moment could be the beginning of an inevitable conflict, or perhaps its end.
"Sir Miragen," said Sairon in a measured voice, but no one missed the tension that lurked in every word. "My absence was not an escape; it was a difficult decision. There were covert movements in the shadows, and I was aware that what was happening behind the curtain was more dangerous than what appeared to everyone. That's why I withdrew, not because I was afraid, but because I needed to examine the bigger picture."
"I tell you this because we are facing a danger we may not yet see, but we know it deep within us. The Sairon family has never been blind to what happens outside." Sairon spoke as though delivering a message to Miragen, but he was addressing everyone in the hall.
Miragen, who was seated on his throne at the front of the hall, slowly raised his eyebrows. His eyes were fixed on Sairon, but he showed no reaction. His movements were few, but each one carried meaning. He was like a dormant tiger, waiting for the right moment to strike. "Do you really think that staying in the shadows will protect us?" Miragen finally asked, his voice tinged with unspoken anger. "You remember we live in the western part of the city, where small farms and mountains abound, and our people feed on peace. But what if other forces unite against us? Will neutrality still be our refuge?"
Miragen's words pierced Sairon's inner barriers like arrows. He knew this was the true test. There was no turning back now. His eyes moved among the attendees, catching every glance, every movement, as if they were decisive decisions being written in the moment.
Sairon raised his head, and his response came like a sharp shield: "Sir, the Sairon family is not just a farm in the countryside. We are a powerful force in the West, and every step we take leaves a mark. But that mark could become a warning to our enemies if we do not act." He added confidently, "We've been through tough times before. We need a new strategy, one that allows us to outsmart our opponents without entering direct battle."
The hall buzzed with whispers, especially when the Sairon family was mentioned. Some of the attendees exchanged worried glances, while others tried to hide their tension with weak smiles. Though silence reigned, the weight of the words cast a heavy shadow on everyone.
Sairon said, taking a deep breath, "If we allow our family to maintain this neutral stance, it will become too weak to bear us. Look at the Seorn family; even now, their movements have been more flexible and clever. They know how to move pieces on the board. If we continue down this path, the winds will carry us to where we don't want to go."
Everyone turned their attention to Oren Remel, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, observing the situation closely. He was the general strategist, tall and sharp-eyed, with his hands making precise movements as though writing something on an invisible table. At that moment, Oren stood quietly, leaning on his chair, and said, "What Sairon is saying is not just talk; it's a call for action. We all know that staying neutral is not a plan; it's waiting for death."
All eyes shifted to Rasslan Seorn, the financial officer of the Sairon family. He sat with a look of doubt and anxiety. His green eyes surveyed the room, and his hands gripped his wooden staff tightly, reflecting his inner turmoil. "And what do you suggest?" Rasslan asked sarcastically. "Are we going to turn our family into just a chess piece on a grand battlefield? How do we plan to fight when we know we'll lose?"
Sairon smiled faintly, but it was full of confidence. "We're not planning to fight; we're planning to dominate. Rumors are like a sword; they can turn the tide in an instant." He added, catching his breath, "Just imagine, if it were leaked that one of the major families had abandoned neutrality and began secretly training troops... do you think our enemies would stay idle?"
However, just as Sairon began to reveal his plan, Miragen interrupted with a sudden movement. "We understand everything, Sairon," Miragen said coldly, his gaze piercing the room. "But do you really think we don't see what lies behind your words? Do you think this trick will turn to your advantage?"
The movements in the hall began to accelerate. Some attendees looked at Sairon with regretful eyes, while others turned their faces away, trying to hide their unease.
"You're trying to ignite the fuse of war, while pretending to calm things down," Miragen continued, then suddenly turned to Sairon and said as he stood up from his throne, "If anyone is going to make a mistake, it's me. I thought you would be more cautious, but I... expected more from you when you spoke to me this way."
Sairon had no choice but to hold his ground. He knew well that Miragen wasn't talking about just one mistake, but the possibility that the whole plan might be a deception. Nevertheless, Sairon shouted, "What I want to say is that the next battle may not be a battle of blood, but a battle of minds. We need to be smarter than our enemies."
The hall stood on its toes, everyone watching eagerly, while Miragen's gaze was as sharp as a sword.
"I'll think about your words, Sairon," Miragen said at last, gesturing to the attendees. "But don't forget that the war you're trying to ignite might bring a fire that cannot be extinguished."
Then, in a deep voice, Miragen continued as he returned to his seat, delivering his final words that felt like a verdict: "Go to your room and review your calculations. You might need a long time to understand the meaning of what I said."
Sairon left the hall in complete silence. Deep inside, there was regret, but also a resolve as strong as iron. Miragen's words were a wound to his pride, but at the same time, they were a drive to do something bigger.
Sairon could hear faint whispers of laughter around him. "But... I..."
Sairon wanted to say something, but Miragen interrupted. "Don't add more to this. I've given you your time and more, gave you some hope... but as I expected, you're not like him."
Miragen waved his hands at Sairon. "Go back to your room and think carefully about your words, or read some books."
Sairon carried his body back to his room. He was not the hero they had claimed he was. The plan he had devised in his mind earlier... was a failure.
Sairon reached the door, and just then, he heard Miragen's voice behind him, with words he would never forget no matter how much time passed: "Young man, don't be fooled by yourself. Know your place well."
Sairon returned to his room and slowly closed the door behind him, as if trying to shut the world out.
He paused for a moment, then fell to the floor, as if his legs had lost their ability to hold him up.
Wasn't this the same person who used to run in the streets once?
Wasn't this the same person who laughed with his friends not long ago?
Why had everything become so fragile?
Why had everything in his life become tainted with emptiness?
He slowly closed his eyes and returned to those days, the days that seemed full of life, or perhaps they were just illusions.
What happened to that world? He asked himself the same question every day.
What happened to those buildings that once stood tall, to those streets that once lit up with his laughter? Where did that sense of hope go? Wasn't he the one who believed that life always carried a new opportunity?
Those trivial moments had become the best scenes in his mind.
Those silly friends had become the best people he had ever met.
Those silly laughs and shouts had become the most delightful memories.
Those memories of adventures, trips, and escaping school together had become something precious to him.
He even remembered his father...
But now, even the sounds of the streets no longer reached him, even his friends' faces had become ghosts, shadows that haunted him in his dreams...
Sairon smiled as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Maybe I just need to accept the truth."
[Author: "If you think you're reading a novel where the hero gets what he wants and easily achieves his goals, I tell you, you're in the wrong place."]