Renewed Mission

[Fleeperpriest 1484]

 

APOSTOLIC LETTER OF THE SEE AT LEMON HILL

PENNED BY THE SUPREME PONTIFF LEVITICUS I

FOR THE DEFENSE OF THE TRADITION OF OWYN

THE WORSHIP OF THE CREATOR IN TRUE FAITH

FOREWORD

I could not know how many times an attempt upon my life, upon the whole of our way of life, has been planned and carried out. As I write to you today therefore, it is for two grave reasons.

 

Firstly, that you may hear my voice, and know that I am alive and of good health.

 

Secondly, that you may learn of the grotesque gravity of the continued crime, unparalleled in the history of Mankind.

 

A very small group of ambitious, unscrupulous, and at the same time unreasonable, criminally-unlearned “clergymen” have plotted a conspiracy to eliminate me and at the same time to eradicate alongside me practically the whole of the elector college of the Temple of the True Faith. The articles, which have circulated by the collaborative penmanship of several anti-civil Raevir elements under the suspected direction of one Ivan Spiveystrelt, show all the hallmarks of corrosively degenerate Carrionist conspiracy to insight schism, and it may not be ignored that they have endeavored to do so by the premature declaration of my death at the hands of Vörtibloodplague. 

 

The rumors, however, that I myself have contracted this disease are greatly exaggerated. I am completely unharmed, save for that I have endured over the course of my service to God and to His Holy Nation an unalarming accumulation of Imperial Fatigue. This is, according to the Surgeon General for the Physical Wellness of Apostolic Church, Cardinal Doctor Nerium S.T.D. Psy.D, by whom I have also been diagnosed, the very common and very natural consequence of the ceaseless pursuit of Order over the case of dozens, and in extreme cases, hundreds of years. He has determined in my own case it is the result of sudden and traumatic cessation of Total and Unending Hyperwar with Unimaginable Victory. 

Notable sufferers include Archlector Dante de Denelse whose body, following the completion of Third Mission, so shocked by the trauma of sudden peace, became wracked by sudden onset jaundice accompanied by potent spiritual psychosis; may God grant him Solace and eternal reward! 

 

It is simply a fact that great men of all stations are at high risk for Imperial Fatigue, from our Holy Imperator to the most devoted Imperial Knight. 

The Renewed Mission

It is this revelation of the continued war against the Holy Truth, demonstrated by the vitriolic work of these heretics, that I find the confirmation of Heaven in the mission set unto me by Providence, to continue to pursue my life purpose, as I have done for so many years before. For I may solemnly confess it before the whole of the Holy Nation that from the day on which I took up the Cup of Saint Lucien, by the witness of the Aengel Raguel, I had but one single thought; one driving fervor; to fulfill my duty to the best of my knowledge and belief, and that, as I realized that HYPERWAR was inevitable, and action against the Raevir Conspiracy could no longer be postponed, that I have since lived for the flock, my people, in worry, in ceaseless work and worry, and in countless days of sleepless nights! 

 

In an age in which the Imperial armies stand a gallant watch throughout the world, enforcing a peace not seen since the days of Emperor Godfrey himself, triumphant in our hardwon struggle against the nations of Edel, there is now again, as in antiquity, a small group of conspiring heretics that believe they could stab the dagger of “Canonism” in our backs, like they had done in Aesterwald in former days. 

 

But this time, they have been very wrong. The claim of these usurpers that I was no longer alive is now refuted at this moment as I write to you, my Imperial compatriots. The circle represented by these regressive heretics is remarkably small. They have nothing to do with the True Faith, with the Church, and especially with the administration of the Empire. It is made up, as is being revealed, of a miniscule gang of Raevir-cult criminal elements, and those who have fallen victim to their ploy to deign any minuscule degree of authority or wisdom.

 

I am therefore commanding at this moment:

 

1. That no clerical authority may accept any command from a service which these usurpers claim.

 

2. That no Imperial authority, no leader of a troop, no knight nor soldier is obligated to obey any order of these criminals. 

 

3. On the contrary, it is obliged that any who should come upon such an illegal order should see to the immediate arrest of the transmitter, or elsewise in the case of violent insistence of heresy reckon them immediately. 

 

SIMON OF KHAZAV

The rhetoric espoused by this criminal element should be familiar to any learned scholar of the True Faith. It is the sweet song by which the Sages and the Prophets were put to the blade. It is the sudden thunderous discord by which Holy Aesterwald were washed away in blood. A sudden blitz of strange and confusing argumentation conjured suddenly and overwhelmingly into a bloody torrent of unhuman slop, pouring fourth from the greatest minds twisted Edel can muster. 

 

The Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the True Faith is intimately familiar with this conspiracy, which we now identify plainly as the Heresy of Khazav, originating from the pen-name of the heresiarch ‘Daniel the Reader’, for reasons to be elaborated on shortly.

 

Before I am to engage in the arduous process of exposing the underlying anti-imperial, chaotic, regressive and heretical Khazavist view, I shall open with a prayer to beseech High Pontiff Regulus, who dwells now amongst the Skies along the angels, to pray for the unity of our faith, as he himself had worked in his life to bring unity of faith.

 

O’ Regulus, Scion of the House Winter;

Priest of your day, and past your days,

Author of Dogma, Defender of Faith,

Pray for us to the Lord our GOD!

 

That just as you had rebuked Khazav,

We may in our own troubled times

Defend the True Faith and Church,

Against those who would seek chaos.

 

Not by the great effort of any man,

But only by the good glory of the Lord,

Who has granted us this priesthood,

May then Preserve it throughout the ages.

 

Amen.

 

What is Khazavism?

The Khazavite rot has long festered in the sacred halls of our Temple, and long has it reared its ugly head (and petulant Raev rear) towards all agents of Virtue: those of the Magisterium, of our Sanhedrin, of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the True Faith. One may be tempted to associate it as Canonism, and it is by this banner that the Heresy shielded itself throughout history, but for the sake of perfect clarity a distinction shall be made.

 

Canonism is the manner in which the Priesthood has operated for most of the time since Daniel the Reader’s institution of such teachings. It has not been without interruption or rebuke in all that time, for both Lucienists, Owynists, and otherwise sects of the True Faith came and went across the ages to try and push against this revisionism; some facing remarkable success and reconciliation, only to be swept under the rug the next generation. Canonism, as a broad category referring to every faithful man who understood his religion in such a lense, is not as a whole absolutely condemned, its priests not defrocked. 

 

It is the Heresy of Khazav which was the doctrinal and institutional poison placed upon the True Faith which is condemned. The same poison which had seen the Church confirmed into a diminished role of political mediator. The same poison which contends all bishoprics across the realms must dress the same, and dismisses any unique vocations. The same poison which utterly rejected its mission to proselytize to the other races. The same poision which promotes the Godwinite worship of ancestors as lesser gods, even if not by name, and promotes that the traditions of mortal, documentably flawed emperors are the first and foremost condition of the faith.

 

This heresy came about during the time of Daniel the Reader, beginning under his penname as Simon of Khazav under which he aided one Basil of Sabris in condemning the legitimate pontiff Paul III of Darfey. This was done under the pretense that Paul III had engaged in egregious schemes against the laity, which shall not be rehashed when in its own day Regulus (as Pontifex Emeritus) rebuked the claims. The written goal of these schismatics was the establishment of the Emperor once again as Head of Faith, and to determine his own High Priest.

 

It was by the very same methods we observe today that the Khazavist heresy mutated the Chivay Empire into a dark, perverted weapon against the Church of the True Faith, deposing High Pontiff Paul III of Darfey in favor not, of course, of the Raevir themselves, but of the Emperor of their feigned worshipful devotion. Ah, but being that all good priests of the Empire have been confined to arrest, or else put to death, it seems the ‘loyal’ Raevir must step forward to serve the Emperor in filling the ranks of this novel “Imperial Church”.

 

The consequences?

 

Divorced from the grace of God, and swarmed by the worshippers of Carrion, it was not long before the Chivay dynasty was nominally extinct, a Carrion sat upon the throne, seized from the inside. Thus the Ring of Saint Lucien gave way to the Throne of “Daniel the Reader”, and to no one’s surprise, our Simon-Khazav’s colors show, the facade of the revolutionary cleric dissolving, leaving the true visage of a newly-hatched Raevir patriarch, first High Pontiff of the “Canonist Church”, destroyer of past things, the nephew of Siegmund, his idol and false prophet made the final divine prophet to conclude the salvific plan of GOD. 

 

Khazav radically and unilaterally transformed the doctrine of the faith in regards to institution, reading of scriptures, and of providential history. This was the Khazavist Heresy, in which the word Canonist was first coined as a cover to the methods. A revisionist doctrine which seeks to place first its own order of the world, and as a ritual of humiliation demanded that any scholar who knew better denounce their own wisdom. 

 

There is, nor shall, God willing there ever be a race of Men more devoted to the Empire than the Vander Volk. In the wake of the shadow of this nightmare remained the Apostolic Konigreich of Aesterwald, that GOD alone could have arranged to be set apart from Carrion hegemony that the True to GOD may be preserved, and even in defeat it was from Aesterwald that those who refused to denounce their own Wisdom preserved a Flame, and carried truth across the ages.

 

Khazav today- Edelites in the Empire

It was the war between Aesterwald and Carrion Church which started the Schism War, the very same war reignited upon Aevos as the princes and powers realized the Temple was to be restored, and would not shy from embracing wisdom once more. The enemy is known, and has been known, but has been quelled. They were purged through saintly fire and powder in great numbers at the Siege of Koppany, and they were reduced to that which they are - Edelites. 

 

It is this very conspiracy –though they may have turned coat, though they may bow their heads to conceal the sneer on their face as they lick the victor’s boot– that has come to blossom grotesquely into a pandemonium of parrots reverberating dialect of ambitions off of each other, growing giddy and aroused at the thought of heresy, schism, treason, apostasy, and every crime a beast could hope to sin by. They have laid dormant, and silent, and unwilling to act; they have laid in the lower echelons of the clergy, not zealous or true enough to their faith to voice their concerns in any measure of the tradition they cling to.

Recognition and Condemnation of Schism

We condemn this conspiracy against the Third Temple and the Holy Imperium - the schism, heresy, and treason - in words simple and succinct:

 

It is Schism, coveting the authority of the Supreme Pontiff, and of the High Priesthood, and an intentional provocation of division with a displayed disinterest to compromise amongst many interviewed ranks.

 

It is Heresy, insofar as it is the fruit of the doctrine of excommunicants, designed to lead Mankind astray from the Truth in deliberate, knowingly obstinate falsehood. Worse yet, this falsehood is pursued not for sake of any theology of GOD, but an idolatrous desire to worship favored saints, and indignation of the recognition of the sins of man.

 

It is Treason, desiring severance of the Holy Imperium from its sacred unity with the Temple, the destruction of the foundation of the Coronation, and testified attempts to sway vassals to involve themselves on one side or another.

 

It is High Treason, setting man upon the all-to-familiar path of Imperial dissolution, or, worse, the usurpation of the royal privilege of the House of Horen, as the Khazavists have proven time and time again to seek.

 

It is a Caeseropapist plot, soliciting the Holy Imperator himself to intercede by their temptuous invitation in the selection of a pontifical substitution, and the regressive redefinition of the law. 

 

A greater tragedy to Mankind could not by any sane mind be conjured than to conspire to blacken the soul of the Emperor of Mankind. The very man who, like his father Godfrey before him, and his father Horen before that, forged by the blade a covenant between Man and God through the Church. To entice the Emperor to raise his hand against the Church is to compel a man to take his own life. Should you think him such a fool as to condemn the hands by which his brow were anointed? Should you think him so lowly, that he would repeat the sin of Holy Johannesburg, and strike at the Lord’s anointed? This unforgivable sickness cannot be overstated. 

 

But is it very likely that this conspiracy would seek the corruption of our Anointed Emperor? Who could call themselves a son of Horen and all the while seek to undermine the Soul of Man?

 

Were that we suspected Horen’s own sons were responsible, it would not be likely. But these criminals which we see now, they are not Men. Who, or what, then, are they?

 

Who else but the sons of Edel, in the name of the Raevlord Sigismund? The very same blighted race that put our fathers to the sword, and set Iblees’ heel upon our neck for six hundred years?

 

A RENEWSED SENSE OF DUTY FOR THE PERSERVATION OF ALL MANKIND [Link]   An ancient Callahan, gaunt and drained of life, lurched up suddenly from his bed, sweating and feverish. Dreams again. Nightmares. He had seen these sights before. A bloody Harren, a bloody hall. A tattered dragon banner burning. He reached for a crown, his charge, his duty, the thing he could not lose– but it was gone. Guilt washed over him in his first frantic waking moments. The plague which he had so wished to deny had taken much from him.    The man was old, sick and haunted. The fiends would visit in the night, the sick-green-men, bringing plague more and more with every invasion of his sleeping mind. He was ever a potent dreamer, and it was only a matter of time before they neutralized him, certainly a long time coming. Before today, dejection took him. Two thousand years, and he was there again, there again at last before that blinding Holy Fire! How, then, could he have failed? It was as bitter as the day a burning blade cut all things short. A glory unthinkable, a victory impossible, and a flash of indescribable beauty– and he fell.    He dreams now of his father. A great golden ark basks a loving glow upon the home of a friend, reigning lonely from the dais of a livingroom, there where all the world forgot– save for the weeping man. The man was old, his face sut-worn, and the whole of him was bathed in fire-orange light. So tremendous was his love that one might know from the sight of his passion alone that he would travel to the depths of the abyss, if but that the golden seat deigned to sink first into the drink. There was weeping the author of the Virtue, the friend of God, calling out for aid. He made to take upon his shoulders the weight of glory, out of exile, out of here, which did not suit it. What is this tent, this hovel, no throne-room, no place for a King. But Horen’s son did not come aid him.    He dreamt of a banner, streaking proudly through the heavens, callout it unto its people for victory. He recalled the certainty by which he would chase it by the day, how he saw it in the sky, how he caught glimpses of its glory as he made about his quest. Golden threads, when he were lost, gave clues to its direction. These dreams are bitter now, since he had failed. The Banner of Rivia ran a bloody red, standing a grim witness over the ruins of a dead city, drenched in the price that its people had paid. His hands would never know it, and he could not go forth to give it honor– fore it came not to those who wished it theirs, but knew only the blood of its people– and it did not know him, fore he bled no more a heroes blood.   He dreamt of old faces. At his height he saw them well, with each day, and every victory, he knew them more. Arm arm, they cried! Arm arm, they cried! Arm arm, Arn Arn! Arn, Arn, they cried! The chorus growing ever louder with his march, he went forth the vengeful of nations, a great burning in his wake rising up a flame of fire; climbing, dancing, regal, royal, meteing judgment where they went! But here has come a Prince in Black, called out foemen from their path– see what cruelty is there with him, sut and ash, and all things burning, marching in the shadow of the exiles, see them dancing on the walls! Hear them singing out with vengeance, not so, not so, this blinding light, but here has come the Pyre’s Knight! Burning, burning– fever!   A small noise at the door. “Esther!?”   “Avartagh, your Holiness. I come from the diet.”   Perhaps, then, his war was not yet over– perhaps his war was not yet lost. Perhaps old ghosts, a hundred years evading him, had finally taken flesh to wage one final battle. Perhaps they waited for their time, for him to be weak, for the final sunset hours of his long watch. “I am reminded of the Schism in Aesterwald,” quoted the hobbit, thus the Vander saw the signs of hope.    SNAP! And he awoke, a cane flew to the floor. Even if it took the last of him.

 

CLOSING REMARKS

In order to definitively restore order, I have appointed Father Avartagh to the station of Inquisitor and regent in the absence of my presence in the Holy Office. He is ordered to take up a seat in the Holy Office of the Doctrine of the True Faith to replace the Lectordroid Cardinal General Enrique, who is currently missing pending peace time protocol update maintenance. 

 

Nothing changes in all other authorities of the Empire. I am convinced that, with the defeat of this small clique of traitors and heretics, we finally will create an atmosphere in the core of our Empire that the heroes of our triumph deserve. It is impossible that so many countless number of brave men gave their best for our Faith and for our Empire only to find at home and in the background a lousy group of ambitious, miserable Raevir bureaucrats labor ceaselessly to suffocate their sacred mission. This time they will be called to account in the way that we Lucienists are used to.

 

I am convinced that every respectable officer, every gallant soldier true to GOD will understand this order.

 

What terrible nightmare could have befallen the Church if this ploy had been carried out successfully, perhaps only a few can imagine. I myself do not thank Providence and my Creator for having preserved me that I should still live - fore my life’s duty is consecrated wholly to the concern and worry for His people. But if I thank Him, for that He has given me the opportunity to continue to bear this concern, to continue with my life’s work, the service of His Flame.

 

Every Imperial, no matter who he may be, has a duty to ruthlessly oppose these elements. They are to be arrested immediately, and, should they elect still to resist, be slain with no further ado. Thus is the order of the Supreme Pontiff of the Church of the True Faith. They will be prosecuted immediately, according to the devotion that only true Lucienists know. 

 

For me it is a special pleasure to greet you once again with joy, my old comrades-in-arms, with the knowledge that I am again granted the privilege of escaping a fate that did not hold terrible things for me, but that would have brought horror to the Empire and to our Church.

 

I see it also as a hint from Providence that I must continue my work, and therefore, I shall continue it!

 

 

D E V S ✠ M A G N V S

 

Edited July 26, 2025 by Fleeperpriest
קלח

[LordofCabbage 559]

"Our mission continues. It is a quest and adventure that never ends. For the fruit of virtue never rots." exclaimed Jurkha Faochak on his long travels when he heard the news.

[Nooblius 7965]

The High Priest Carandir read the lengthy examination and admonishments within the letter with some trepidation. His hair was grayed now, already he had lived through so much. How he longed to pause in his trek, to walk the garden and smell the Lemons! The adunian would give maybe anything for it, for some peace. Not for fear- this he had lost long ago. No, but for weariness did he now long for the fight to stop, that people would trust the Temple and compromise. There was no harm to them- they were promised their safety. But providence had always ordered another way for him, and it seemed there would be far from any rest. There was work to do, and he was willing to do it, though admittedly less eager. Carandir recalled words he had spoken to his friend, not long ago.

"Awake Fleeper! O' brother, o' teacher; you were not made to be a prisoner under the hill! The Lord GOD has raised you against all adversaries triumphant, he has put the brow of an emperor under your annointing oil; and it was not so that you may sleep then and there, before the job was done. One last triumph. Then, when it is done, may we rest with serenity."

[Urban 396]

  "NO FAITH BUT THE TRUE FAITH!" A young Radmir Radovid would shout whilst arguing with a schisming priest on the streets of Alba.

[ContestedSnow 1435]

"I hoped it would be something sensible after his long absence to recover but... still, it is the same hyperwar, the same conspiracies, and the same unwillingness to listen to the people he claims as his flock. At least half a century of this now." Aleksandr remarked disappointedly as he perused, and turned his sole ashen blue eye out towards the ripping gales of the desolate north.

[Morigung-oog 5697]

A pallid canonist, shunned by her own kind, readied her blade in GOD's name. The heretics stood no chance!

[Rig 17580]

The Inquisitor, though he might be secular, pursues the Church's enemies with vigor. 

 

The only difference between an Undead and a Raevir was that the Raevir hasn't died yet.

 

He would rectify that mistake.

[Cheese 8882]

"Imperial fatigue?" One heretic raised her brows, a snort escaping her at the missive. "That doctor ought to diagnose him with psychosis instead."

[Ramon 5186]

One Bishop Godfrey, not yet at the end of his years, and thus not dead, though not quite as alive as he used to be either, came to frown bigly upon having finished giving the most recently issued missive a read. Offering the Icon of Saint Tylos, Patron of Lost Causes among others, that he kept within his room the briefest of glances. Rambling to himself thereafter, or perhaps that icon, as he was still prone to doing, though having since reached the age of sixty, with less severity than he once used to- though it was to prove lengthy- and at parts even incoherent- still.

"So the good majority of clergy speak up to voice their concerns for the Mother Church at Diet, a thing that admittedly was not theirs to call, though was then turned public forum at the Pontificate's demand, with which they complied to the letter once things had cooled, and his first response is to decry them heretics ripe for slaying? And would-be usurpers that thought him dead? Are they afraid they are outnumbered? And would be outvoted by the clergy? I suppose they very well might be, what with how many lies are dotted across this pharisaic document so as to justify cutting out his fellow brothers of the cloth- and some rightfully concerned laity. Men that, though sometimes misguided in their zealotry, a fault of which he himself seems guilty also, spoke up not for own gain, but concern for our faith. Perhaps he has been misled as to their intentions? Or perhaps he truly is being malicious..? Hrm. I suppose I wouldn't put the latter past him. He has, afterall, shown himself to be quite the pharisee. Lamentable though it be."

Then did he sigh, and ramble on about it just a little more.

"I think there to be little hope for any long lasting resolution- what with the issuing of drivel such as this. Indeed, what they have brought forth is BARELY a council meant to give the clergy true say! It is unfortunate he lacks the foresight to understand that all he now seeks to force through is to be built on shifting sands. And that perhaps not now, now that they can likely still live by might makes right, and end justifies the means for a time- likely with the intent of butchering us if need be, by the looks of it- same as were OUR venerable forefathers at the Bloody Diet of Karosgrad, and not his, though he would sure like to pretend he acts in honor of their sacrifice, while persecuting, or risking to persecute, all that they did die for, that is the Church- to which I say we shall gladly follow in their holy example and be martyred for this godly course of ours, to which we did swear at ordination, and about the intentions of which they love to lie, or rather purposefully misinterpret, if need be. ..But rather in perhaps some fifty, or hundred years, by the breaking and cutting away of all tradition, he risks causing the whole edifice to collapse unto the ground entirely when they have the capital to hold a flaming sword over people's heads to subdue them by means of fear no longer. And thus leaving everything worse off than ever before."

The Bishop eventually come to shut up again, and offer the matter up to God in prayer, before going about his priestly business- he had to take confession in a few months time, afterall. And such a matter was never to be taken lightly. Especially when it regarded a Petran- one of his own diocese. People for whom he would always make time- even when inconvenient. 

"Lord have mercy on him, and on us all, and on the Church entire especially. May He enlighten us as to whatever needs be done."

[siglms_ 932]

"This is... exactly what I expected."

An aging Beaumont, monk of the Canonist faith, laments.

[Bogatyr 335]

Mother and girl alike, of different dispositions but charged with mutual post of FLEEPER, prayed the old Judite rosary in this time. The mother picked her cuticles, and the girl picked orange peels. On the font of a Vander inheritance, they cradle the kohen's horn between puerile palms. One would say, of the mission, "This is good." And, the other said, also, "This is right."

[Mescaffier 6197]

Acolyte John studied with a renewed fervor, confined in the little hermits' place atop the hill of Lemons. Scattered tomes laid beside him, as he pondered on what he could possibly write a thesis on -- the choices! Perhaps the failed schismites could be his inspiration.

[Crevel 7557]

As Father Martin reads on and on, his grip tightens further over his Lorraine with the metal corners digging into his hand like ticks. With each paragraph, a prayer for the unrepentant; a prayer for the church; a prayer for the faith; and a prayer for himself. Blood begins to collect in his wrist, staining or perhaps enhancing his sacred prayers. Would it be the blood of a future martyr? Or merely the blood of an Alstionite priest? His grip loosens as he finishes reading, the blood not apparent to him in these moments. His prayers turn into a hushed whimper. Fear? Despair? Failure? Had God forsaken him? Or was this an obstacle in a great line of happenings to usher in the true last son of spirit? He cries out for God but his prayers remain unanswered. 

[LithiumSedai 5750]

"The three-hundred-year-old corpse-Priest rants and raves with brainrot-addled fervor that befits his age," said Black Knife Arcturus to his pallid Orenid comrades. He stamped the Orenid seal of approval upon the decree and disseminated it further - for what other purpose the ramblings of an Adunian pretend-Vander who orders Waldenians evicted and hunted by Salvan terrorists, who rejects the core teachings and holy texts of his own Church, who orders his own priests butchered like dogs, could serve than the furthering of the ultimate plan of Prophet SAUL?

 

---

 

 

 

[Wavey 2568]

The Templar-Shepherd, now just a missionary for the Rhenyar and the occasional pastor for the Lotharians, reads the writings of his once colleague. he had seen enough and heard enough throughout his long tenure. Yet, as he nears the latter stage of his life, he cannot help but laugh. 
 

“And then there are those to whom the LORD provides a gift. But when they ask for another HE provides it to them without question. Then they ask for a third, HE provides it thrice-more without question. And then they ask the fourth time, once again HE does not deny their request. But the fifth becomes a demand and then the sixth becomes a threat. HE grants the fifth and sixth; But there is no warmth in the bounty within their hands; For when they look up they realize that HIS patience wears thin.”