Hymm of Sacred Blood (essay)
Title: Hymn of Sacred Blood Author: Lord Silvean Rashere
Among the Faendryl there is a long tradition of writing short essays or speeches in honor of the Patriarch. It is unheard of to convene a major festival or commemorate a civic transition without including the presentation of such works. It is likewise outrageous for any scholar or essayist to claim prestige without first bending his head and raising his pen to this sacred task. I have neglected this duty for too long and now it is time to remedy my offense. Already this is a transformative undertaking: my desk has become a place of reverence, my pen a holy object.
At every moment the Patriarch receives spontaneous and ephemeral honors from a privileged people. Perhaps, among these frequent thoughts, one in ten thousand is set to paper for future generations. Even so, our libraries overflow with panegyrics extolling the individual and particular virtues exemplified in each of Korthyr’s heirs. For this reason, it is not my task to explain what is perfectly clear or heap praise upon the wholly resplendent. The knowledge of our Patriarch humbles the scholars of all nations. The wisdom of our Patriarch shines forth to all lands. The compassion of the Patriarch touches the hearts of his fortunate people and we, his family, are made whole.
No, I shall turn from the honor of elaborating these virtues so that I may dwell upon the great mystery of the Patriarchy itself. It is the lot of all those who wander Elanthia to suffer frequent and arbitrary indignities. Disease runs rampant, deadly beasts rend the innocent, and decaying corpses eschew well-deserved rest for murderous occupation. In such a world it is easy to believe that we lack a sure foundation, that chaos and destruction are the only certainties. Every child with open ears and a love for history has wondered at those who survived the fierce and indiscriminate claws of the gluttonous drakes. But those claws persist in countless permutations! What comfort can there be for us? Shall we turn to the fickleness of the Arkati for salvation? The embrace of the Arkati is like the arms of a lover with ever-wandering eyes; it can bring only pain and enhanced insecurity. The nothingness of the void is a blessing by comparison.
Yet the disorder of Elanthia belies the great truth of the Patriarchy. Faendryl glorify the Patriarch always and everywhere because in him we are given access to a sure foundation and infinite hope. At this reverend desk and with this holy pen my veins are cut open and they bleed upon the page with sacral blood. This is blood sanctified by its connection with the pinnacle of existence. It is blood that sings and pulses in time with an ordered reality drawn upward unto the heavens by the outstretched hand of a Patriarch who will see to the right ordering of all things. Claws and chaos hold no fear to those of us who, with bended knee and open eyes, begin to comprehend the mystery of the Patriarchy. We Faendryl are the privileged few called to gaze upon a Patriarchal perfection that will once again be mirrored by an ascendant empire and supplicant world.