Injustice: An Essay and Plea

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Spoiler

They were mistaken, so terribly mistaken. There were no shades of grey, no ‘special circumstances’. There was right, and there was wrong. There was justice, and there was injustice. This is not what he would have wanted. They had betrayed him, left him to die. All because he had brought their transgressions to light. For not even the sun was devoid of wrong. The only purity, the only good was justice. But what was justice without retribution, without vengeance. Nothing but words. The utopian fancy of those cloaked, laden in their own hubris. All this time the master had been right, and in his purity of purpose they had found their envy, their fear. For the sinner dwells in terror of the Gavel of Justice. 

-Malleus

 

Spoiler

 

 

My heart weeps for the Faith in which I was raised, for the Kingdom that never should have been

 

I stand alone upon a mountain, as Edvard had done so long ago when his people forsook the Father’s Faith. In his writings he beseeches us, “When will the time come for us to stand, to say, this is a price we will not pay, this is a line you will not cross.”  He asks this of us, those few who defend the Father’s light and our Nordish way of life. Yet I am not of Edvard, I am of Eirik, the brother who cast his kin from the throne when wytchcraft and daemons were allowed to run rampant, who did as the Red Scrolls told us, do what is right, be it hard or soft going. For it will never be easy to be a Fatherist, our lands and people always in turmoil, near always at war with those who have wronged our kin, or on the cusp of another rebellion once conquered. We are a proud people, a people who will always refuse to kneel before others, even our own rulers. 

 

With this knowledge of our pride, of how fervent our ancestors were in their defense of the Faith, I cannot help but wonder how such injustice has slipped through the ashes of your beloved trees. Death, in all forms, occurs every day and is a welcome part of our culture and way of life The lands in which we are born and raised are unkind, yet there are two inexcusable deaths: the death of Faith and the murder of fellow Fatherists. The death of Faith in a soul is something only the Father himself may judge, but the second inexcusable death is something we, as Fatherists, must raise our voice against in protest. It sickens me to see the silence and lack of justice that mars the murder of Alifer Amice, an ancient but loyal Keeper of the Father’s light.

 

How does your blood not boil at such tolerance of wickedness, followers of the Red Faith? Have you truly interbred with the soft-spoken and weak-willed ilk of Horen so thoroughly that you no longer care for justice and honor within your own Faith? I call out, too, the High Keeper, for her lack of investigation into this matter, for the lack of Father’s justice to those responsible for his passing. The High Keeper has failed in her duty in this regard, perhaps the wickedness of the void has consumed her soul thoroughly, but that will be for you and yours to decide. I close this letter with a firm reminder of the Father’s code, Tolerance is Cowardice. Suffer no Evil. Do not allow the sin of murder in the Faith go unpunished or there will be a price to pay, if not in this life, then when the Father judges you and yours in death.

 

Iron From Ice,

Aurea

 

 

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Sir Erik Othaman signs the Lorraine Cross over himself. “Yam had niet idea these Red Faith bastards were still kicking around. When will they learn?” he’d mutter as he continued his chaplain training.