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Adria


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Adria

Written by Father Gawain Briarwood, FSSCT

Edited by Acolyte Vinzant var Ruthern

 

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"The Count of Norfolk"

A Kaedreni sketch depicting St. Adrian of Leuvaarden in the last year of his life.


Author’s note:

 

After having spent much time in the libraries of the Imperial Academy, I have read several historical books that speak highly about the Duchy of Adria. It seems to be a duchy that has been held closely to the hearts of so many, and yet, it seems not many know of the namesake for this glorious duchy. To be frank, I was unsure if I was to write about the namesake, St. Adrian of Leuvaarden (known as Hadrian de Sarkozy in his life). However, upon seeing quite a disgusting play published about him by a certain playwright, I decided to clear up such inaccuracies. St. Adrian is described in the play as having “ceaseless machinations and manipulations rolling beneath his pleasant facade.” I wish to dispel this notion within modern day society that St. Adrian is a man only sainted due to his association with Ex. Sigismund and St. Lucien. He was sainted for his statecraft, counselling and his wisdom. This is one such story where he displays his virtue and wisdom.

 


 

Hadrien de Sarkozy stepped into the pontifical throne room with an aura of curiosity. Only days before, a conclave was conducted on the ongoing situation with the holy land of Balion. A uruk horde was raiding the countryside and putting many men to the axe for no other discernible reason than the senseless slaughter of Man. But even with the situation unfolding at the moment, Hadrien knew the High Pontiff Lucien was uneasy about formally involving himself in the conflict. While the High Pontiff had spent a majority of his life, at this point, working for the White Rose Order, his personal beliefs had always held that the head of the True Faith should prioritize spiritual matters. Opposite to Lucien’s beliefs, Hadrien led the opposition who supported for a holy war to be called against the orcish threat alone. After he left the conclave the other day, however, Hadrien was under the assumption that the High Pontiff would not involve himself.

 

“Seneschal Sarkozy,” the High Pontiff spoke down to Hadrien from his heightened position on the throne he sat upon, “you have arrived.” The sun was beginning to set at this hour of the day and it shined brightly through the stained glass window behind Lucien’s head. As the light shone through the glass, it casted a large shadow on Sarkozy. 

 

“Your Holiness, I have received the summons from you. You wished for me at this late hour? It is a matter of urgent importance surely.” Hadrien inquired, posing his question as moreso a statement, as he awaited  Lucien’s response. It had been a common occurrence at that point that most conclaves and meetings were to be held in the morning. This was most unusual.

 

Lucien sat regally upon his magnificent throne, his face brimming with doubt. “I awoke today to find myself drenched with worry over my decision at the conclave to not call humanity to arms. As we speak, the uruks continue their attacks on us while our soldiers stand helplessly against them. It has been unrelenting as much as we try to stop them. They continue to attack and attack, which is why I called you today, to make your case once again.”

 

Hadrien stood there quite stoically as the words reached his ears. He had been given a second chance to offer his case to the High Pontiff, and would make every effort to convince him. With the continuous on-slaught, the very lives of men were at stake, should he not make an efficient case. “You have called me to make a case against the orcish threat?” the Seneschal spoke. 

 

“No, I call you to tell me your reasoning once more. You so fervently spoke against me at the conclave, so I wish for you to make your plea once more in a more quiet setting with no shouting over you. As you can see, even my rentinue is not within this room.” Sarkozy looked around and saw this statement to be true. Save for one scribe, he was met with an empty foyer.. His pen scrapped across the paper, the sound echoing throughout the room.

 

“Your Holiness, I thank you for your offer-” A gap of silence was taken as Hadrien cleared his throat, “for it is a matter of life and death the topic in which we speak of. As the Prophet Owyn, your ancestor through Silis, raised his blade in the defense of the Lord in an aggressive war so too must you.”

 

“Did the Prophet raise his sword in defense of the Lord when he slaughtered his uncle? Was he blessed for this action? I have said this before. The sin of my forefather may have been cleansed by his penance to the Lord, but the Ashfords will never forget their forefather’s sin. For penance will never justify sinning in the first place.” Lucien stated with some somberness in his tone. The High Pontiff had always pondered on his own sin internally after every day.

 

Hadrien shook his head as if to correct the High Pontiff, “The Prophet slayed his uncle in rage, this is true, but I call for a holy war for justice. Exalted Owyn was still called to make war against his uncle.”

 

“A war for justice...? Remind me, Sarkozy. When the Prophet anointed Evaristus and Clement, did he anoint them as priests or as commanders?” Lucien disagreed, “ The priestly line of Exalted Owyn must not meddle itself in the affairs of warfare, but the affairs of spirituality.”

 

“Does the affairs of warfare not affect the affairs of spirituality? Do the things of this world not affect the things of the spiritual world? The body and soul are intertwined.” Hadrien rebutted, “For when the body is hurt, the soul is hurt. When the soul is hurt, the body is hurt. To have your sword on your person but have the insight of the soul leading the blade is the way God has instructed us to conduct ourselves. These uruks are as much of a spiritual threat as they are an earthly threat.”

 

Lucien gripped onto his Kaedreni cross as he pondered. He asked a question, “Prophet Owyn, did you grant your successors the authority to make such decisions…?” His voice reverberated, but no response was given.

 

At least, no response was given by Ex. Owyn. Hadrien spoke once again as it was clear Lucien aimed not to. “Krug’s children have given themselves into the bloodlust instilled into them by the Deceiver, your Holiness. It is a mercy to them that they may not sin anymore by being sent into the afterlife. It is a mercy for those who are senselessly slaughtered by them that they may yet live longer and more fruitful lives. And it is a mercy for God, that he may no longer be burdened with the sight of death.”

 

“And you say this with calmness and not with anger? With war as a means to peace and not war as a means to kill?” Queried Lucien.

 

“I say this with the knowledge that not only the bodies the souls we inhabit shall not be lost, but that Krug’s children not be left in their sin and that Man have long lives to repent.” Said Hadrien, finishing his case.

 

And with that, High Pontiff Lucien I’s decision had been made. He turned to his left side to nod and whisper to the scribe and then told Hadrien, “A holy war shall be called. May the Lord bless my decision… Let us hope this is what God wants from me. Lord be with us.”

 

When the banners had finally been called and humanity marched to remove the orcish threat, both Lucien and Hadrien stood side by side on a hill overlooking one of the battles. The crusaders fought bravely and decimated the ranks of the orcs, dispatching them with ease. Lucien looked to the side of his friend and advisor, and remarked warmly, “Without men such as yourself, God would look down on us with sadness. You advised me well.”

 

At that time of day, the sun shined brightly overhead and not a single shadow could be seen across all the land.

 


 

Through the wisdom of St. Adrian, shall we not thrive?

For who is a smarter than a saint that is in the bosom of the Lord?

Who is stronger and more virtuous than a saint that consulted saints?

That is why we beckon for your prayers, o good one.

For while your wisdom has been abundant always,

we are but foolish and wayward children of God.

Bring us back into His arms.

Amen.


 

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"A beautiful piece on St. Adrian, Father Briarwood." The Ruthern Acolyte grins, finishing his edits on his thesis!

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"Well, not even I knew that" Albrecht Euler says, quite surprised "I haven't heard the name of the Duchy for a long time. Maybe not in eighty years. But Adria is always a wonderful thing to remember... It reminds me of my youth and my old friends" the presumably last living Adrian Dog utters with a small tear running down his face

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A long dead Adrian peasant wept. 

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Sugha stood near the grave of Cardinal Francisco, stabbing a claw towards the grave accusatorially. "Dis wy lat kood nevah git mi ta zurv latz gud. Wi uruks kurzd wif da rayg, doe wi bee onerabul. Mi fyte uhganzt it al da tyme. Butt lat chirchiez cun nub hep butt dam uz fer it. Wel dam latz chirch. Lez zee how wil dey dele wiv a kurz lyke da orks!" He spat on the ground and walked away.

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