Priory of Daggers: Holy Vows Part One

The Basilica of Eternal Devotion, more commonly called the temple, was on the southern facing on the mountain where our fortress cathedral was located. It was situated out on salient so the stained glass windows were never in shadow. My priory walked the thousand steps across the Path of Purity that lead from the rest of the fortress cathedral to the basilica. The Path of Purity was one thousand paces long, made of black volcanic glass, cut and polished smooth. Laser etched onto the surface were some of the more devotional verses. Across the way, set apart from everything else, I could see massive laser batteries, shield emitters, and jamming arrays carved into the rock. I shook my head briefly and cleared it from all distractions, using the rest of the path to focus my thoughts.

The basilica was an imposing structure, rising almost two hundred meters into the air, two hundred meters wide and six hundred meters long. It was the first structure constructed after the exodus from the Amarr Empire. By and large the workers only used the most basic equipment; more often than not they used hand tools. The arches and columns were intricacy carved and stained glass windows portraying important moments in the lives of the saints lined the long walls. Nine hundred and ninety-nine gargoyles perched on the edges of the roof, sneering down at those who would walk near. But the most imposing fact of the architecture was that the basilica’s exterior walls were all black marble.

We reached the portal, two oak doors, each twenty feet tall and entered the basilica proper. The narthex had four bowls lining the wall, silver basins containing water. An archaic stone statue of Saint Apollyon was placed on the east side and Saint Sagredia on the west. Unlike the exterior walls, the inside walls were cherry wood, darkly stained. The artificial lighting was kept dim, so as to not overpower the candles and torches that cast ever shifting shadows over the room.

I walked over to one of the bowls and dipped my hands in the blessed water. Then, with my hands still wet I touched my forehead, my mouth and my chest. “Oh God, may my thoughts, my words and my soul be acceptable in your sight as I enter your sanctum.” The ritual complete, I walked into the naive and my priory followed.

The temple never failed to impress. Unlike the narthex, the interior of the temple was all stone, hand fashioned and carefully laid. The only light came from flaming braziers on the walls and the interior columns. The carpeting on the central aisle leading to the altar was, of course, blood red and fastened to the floor with brilliant brass tacks on the side. The rows of pews where hand carved mahogany wood. As a small gesture to the members of the order, who would sometimes be sitting for several hours, they were cushioned.

Since the service was for an initiation of a member of my priory and since I was going to be participating heavily in the sacraments, we walked to the front of the temple to the very first pew and sat. After I adjusted my habit, I gazed on the altar. The same altar had been used since the founding of our order; it was one of the few things that they brought with them in the exodus from Amarr. It was a glossy black stone, or so it appeared. The centuries, millennia even, of sacrifice and use had removed or filled in all the imperfections and coloured it. Emblazoned in gold on the front was the Chalice emblem of our order that gleamed in the firelight; this was the only portion that was cleaned.

To the right of the altar stood the pulpit, where the bishop would deliver sermons. The cherry wood was bedecked with mottled red cloth. Again, carved into the wood was the Chalice. Behind it was a raised section for the choir, which started to file in. The orchestra filed in right behind. They started playing a march, with the soprano section providing choral overtones.

The bishop’s procession started to walk in. Arch Bishop Alar’s robes were the same mottled red as my scapular and the long train required four boys to help carry. Another carried the bishop’s Liber Sani. Abbess Verchar of the Sagredia Abbey, my superior walked behind along with other abbots and abbesses. Behind them walked several nuns and monks, each carried something significant: the Caerimonia Chalice, the incense brazier, the Sani Capilum. Callie trailed the procession, having to walk twice as fast to keep up due to her size. She was wearing the black silk robe that I had put on her still.

The procession went to their seats, but little Callie went to stand in front of the altar and faced the congregation. My maternal instinct, what little I had left felt for the girl; I remembered when it was my time to stand there. She bowed her head and found an interesting spot on the carpet to stare at while the bishop took the pulpit.

His rich baritone voice boomed out across the temple. “Brothers and sisters! Rejoice, for today another joins our order. Rejoice, as a soul finds its place in the cosmos. Rejoice, as our order becomes stronger! Callista Hinderville has been examined and found worthy. She has been cleansed and prepared for this day-this day she takes her destiny. This day she claims her spot in Paradise. This day she truly becomes Sani Sabik!” Inside I beamed. She would be a good addition to my priory.

“We believe in the Red God, Creator of all, Master of the Universe. We believe! Faith takes strength; devotion to God takes courage. The weak stare at the truth their whole lives, but deny the existence of God because they are afraid! God calls each of us, but only a few answer. Today, Callista answers the call. She stares unflinchingly back at God and says, ‘here I am.’”

“We have failed to be a perfect creation. Not a one of us is perfect! We have our flaws, our weaknesses. Callista is no different. But she is stronger for acknowledging them! The fools, the week look at themselves and say there is nothing that they can make better.”

“We believe that redemption is possible for anyone, but that only a few are able to prove themselves worthy and that each of us are responsible for our own salvation. She has proved herself. Her strength compels her to seek God and her own place in Paradise. The strong see what they want and take it; the weak, they are slaves to others, needing guidance. They drift lost, without purpose.”

“We believe that redemption requires a Blood Sacrifice. That only through Blood Sacrifice can we prove ourselves worth God’s grace and that only He can purify us. The taint of sins can only be washed away in blood. Blood! Today she offers blood for her sins, so that she can be pure enough to enter Paradise. The strong conquer the weak this is the nature of the universe. Self sacrifice-don’t make me laugh. The Sani Sabik are strong, we sacrifice others to God. The blood of sinners, the blood of the unbelievers, we will fill the valley once again!”

This elicited spontaneous cries from the congregation. “God is Great! We are His Chosen. We will fill the valley!” I joined in. The bishop continued once the cries had died down.

“Let us pray.” He waited until we had bowed our heads. “God of All, we come before you today to lift up Callista to the Sabik. She comes before you just as she is, cleaned, blessed and with an offering of blood. We come with her, as her brothers and sisters in faith, bound together by our devotion to you. Today she takes her holy orders and becomes a part of our order and dedicates her life to you. Allet.”

After the prayer was over, I stood and walked over to stand next to Callie. The bishop and abbess came over as well. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder and she looked up at me, confident. I smiled just a tiny bit.

“Kneel, Callie,” I said and she slowly went down on her knees. She briefly touched the small vial at her neck before clasping her hands together.

The bishop addressed the congregation, “When the Eve Gate collapsed.”

To which we responded together, “we did not lose our faith.”

“In the Dark Age.”