Brother Ciprian: Sermon of the Shield and the Sword
Posted: Fri Oct 31, 2025 8:01 pm
The Sermon of the Shield and the Sword
Ritual Homily of the Ashen Cloak
Officiated in the Name of The Four: Kamilini, Kinurugi, Talathas, and Adalia
[The congregation gathers in silence. The sound of distant thunder echoes through the temple hall. The officiant steps forward, clad in the blue robes of Mercadia.]
Invocation
Officiant:
Before the eyes of The Four, we gather.
Before the Mother who kindled desire, the Father who forged the cycle,
the Shepherd who guides order, and the Maiden who mends the broken—
we stand as soldiers beneath heaven’s weary gaze.
Congregation (in unison):
By The Four we rise. By The Four we are bound.
Officiant:
Let no soul stand alone in this hall of iron and breath,
for the lone warrior walks in pride’s shadow,
but the soldier stands within the light of his brethren.
Congregation:
One blade alone is brittle. Many blades form the shield.
The False Glory of the Warrior
Officiant:
Hear me, O children of ambition.
There are those who seek to carve their names upon the bones of the fallen—
who call solitude “strength” and pride “honor.”
They fight not for their kin, nor for cause, nor for The Four—
but for the echo of their own voice upon the wind.
Congregation:
Their glory is hollow. Their victory fades.
Officiant:
Kamilini the Mother gave us desire to drive us forward,
not to chain us to our reflection.
Her flame is meant to kindle the forge,
not to burn the heart to ash.
But the lone warrior drinks of her fire
and leaves none for the host beside him.
Congregation:
The Mother’s gift is shared, not hoarded.
Officiant:
He is a spark that leaps from the hearth,
bright for a breath,
then gone—
while the soldiers he abandoned still stand, shoulder to shoulder,
within the enduring blaze of her will.
The Soldier and the Cycle
Officiant:
But the soldier—
Ah, the soldier knows the rhythm of Kinurugi the Father.
He lives and dies as part of the divine turning.
When he strikes, he does so not for vanity,
but for the life beside him.
When he falls, it is not alone upon the dust—
his brothers carry his name to the gates of the next dawn.
Congregation:
From life into death, from death into life again.
By Kinurugi’s hand, the soldier endures.
Officiant:
Know this, children of battle:
a lone blade may cut deep,
but a formation cuts true.
When one shield breaks, another rises.
When one arm falters, another steadies the line.
This is the Father’s cycle,
the holy pattern that even the gods themselves obey.
The Law of the Host
Officiant:
Talathas the Shepherd walks among the ordered ranks.
His voice is the cadence of the march,
his will the shield-wall that turns aside chaos.
The warrior mocks discipline as a chain,
but the soldier knows it as a covenant—
a sacred bond between souls that outlasts death itself.
Congregation:
Order binds. Order protects. Law is the breath of unity.
Officiant:
Talathas blesses not the hand that acts in passion,
but the hand that acts in purpose.
He blesses the rank that moves as one,
the hearts that beat in rhythm beneath his gaze.
Where law fails, chaos reigns;
where order holds, the light endures.
Congregation:
The Shepherd leads. We follow, steadfast.
The Mercy of the Maiden
Officiant:
And when the smoke clears,
when the air hangs thick with the scent of kin and carrion,
there comes Adalia the Maiden,
barefoot among the slain.
Her hands glow with the warmth of compassion,
her tears fall for both friend and foe.
Congregation:
Her mercy is the balm of the weary.
Her touch redeems the faithful.
Officiant:
She asks no title, no triumph—
only remembrance.
She gathers the souls of the fallen soldiers,
those who fought not for pride,
but for purpose.
They are lifted from the mire and washed in her light.
But the lone warrior?
He is left in silence,
his spirit wandering,
for none stand beside him to speak his name.
Congregation (softly):
Forgotten is the warrior of pride.
Remembered is the soldier of purpose.
The Benediction of the Host
Officiant:
So I tell you now, O children of The Four—
Do not chase the hollow glory of the solitary blade.
Stand as one,
fight as one,
die as one.
Let your will be the chorus of a thousand hearts,
your strength the bond that no darkness can unmake.
Congregation:
One host, one heart, one flame eternal.
Officiant:
For when the end comes—
when even the stars gutter and the gods themselves fall silent—
it will not be the lone warrior who endures.
It will be the host, bound by faith and purpose,
forged in the fire of The Four.
Congregation (raising voices):
We are the soldiers of The Four!
We are the shield against the storm!
We are the flame that will not die!
Officiant (final blessing):
Then march, my brothers and sisters of the host.
March beneath Kamilini’s fire,
Kinurugi’s shadow,
Talathas’s law,
and Adalia’s mercy.
Go forth as soldiers of the greater good—
and when you strike, may the heavens tremble.
“One hand may hold the blade,
But four hands bear the world.”
— Closing Benediction of the Ashen Cloak
Ritual Homily of the Ashen Cloak
Officiated in the Name of The Four: Kamilini, Kinurugi, Talathas, and Adalia
[The congregation gathers in silence. The sound of distant thunder echoes through the temple hall. The officiant steps forward, clad in the blue robes of Mercadia.]
Invocation
Officiant:
Before the eyes of The Four, we gather.
Before the Mother who kindled desire, the Father who forged the cycle,
the Shepherd who guides order, and the Maiden who mends the broken—
we stand as soldiers beneath heaven’s weary gaze.
Congregation (in unison):
By The Four we rise. By The Four we are bound.
Officiant:
Let no soul stand alone in this hall of iron and breath,
for the lone warrior walks in pride’s shadow,
but the soldier stands within the light of his brethren.
Congregation:
One blade alone is brittle. Many blades form the shield.
The False Glory of the Warrior
Officiant:
Hear me, O children of ambition.
There are those who seek to carve their names upon the bones of the fallen—
who call solitude “strength” and pride “honor.”
They fight not for their kin, nor for cause, nor for The Four—
but for the echo of their own voice upon the wind.
Congregation:
Their glory is hollow. Their victory fades.
Officiant:
Kamilini the Mother gave us desire to drive us forward,
not to chain us to our reflection.
Her flame is meant to kindle the forge,
not to burn the heart to ash.
But the lone warrior drinks of her fire
and leaves none for the host beside him.
Congregation:
The Mother’s gift is shared, not hoarded.
Officiant:
He is a spark that leaps from the hearth,
bright for a breath,
then gone—
while the soldiers he abandoned still stand, shoulder to shoulder,
within the enduring blaze of her will.
The Soldier and the Cycle
Officiant:
But the soldier—
Ah, the soldier knows the rhythm of Kinurugi the Father.
He lives and dies as part of the divine turning.
When he strikes, he does so not for vanity,
but for the life beside him.
When he falls, it is not alone upon the dust—
his brothers carry his name to the gates of the next dawn.
Congregation:
From life into death, from death into life again.
By Kinurugi’s hand, the soldier endures.
Officiant:
Know this, children of battle:
a lone blade may cut deep,
but a formation cuts true.
When one shield breaks, another rises.
When one arm falters, another steadies the line.
This is the Father’s cycle,
the holy pattern that even the gods themselves obey.
The Law of the Host
Officiant:
Talathas the Shepherd walks among the ordered ranks.
His voice is the cadence of the march,
his will the shield-wall that turns aside chaos.
The warrior mocks discipline as a chain,
but the soldier knows it as a covenant—
a sacred bond between souls that outlasts death itself.
Congregation:
Order binds. Order protects. Law is the breath of unity.
Officiant:
Talathas blesses not the hand that acts in passion,
but the hand that acts in purpose.
He blesses the rank that moves as one,
the hearts that beat in rhythm beneath his gaze.
Where law fails, chaos reigns;
where order holds, the light endures.
Congregation:
The Shepherd leads. We follow, steadfast.
The Mercy of the Maiden
Officiant:
And when the smoke clears,
when the air hangs thick with the scent of kin and carrion,
there comes Adalia the Maiden,
barefoot among the slain.
Her hands glow with the warmth of compassion,
her tears fall for both friend and foe.
Congregation:
Her mercy is the balm of the weary.
Her touch redeems the faithful.
Officiant:
She asks no title, no triumph—
only remembrance.
She gathers the souls of the fallen soldiers,
those who fought not for pride,
but for purpose.
They are lifted from the mire and washed in her light.
But the lone warrior?
He is left in silence,
his spirit wandering,
for none stand beside him to speak his name.
Congregation (softly):
Forgotten is the warrior of pride.
Remembered is the soldier of purpose.
The Benediction of the Host
Officiant:
So I tell you now, O children of The Four—
Do not chase the hollow glory of the solitary blade.
Stand as one,
fight as one,
die as one.
Let your will be the chorus of a thousand hearts,
your strength the bond that no darkness can unmake.
Congregation:
One host, one heart, one flame eternal.
Officiant:
For when the end comes—
when even the stars gutter and the gods themselves fall silent—
it will not be the lone warrior who endures.
It will be the host, bound by faith and purpose,
forged in the fire of The Four.
Congregation (raising voices):
We are the soldiers of The Four!
We are the shield against the storm!
We are the flame that will not die!
Officiant (final blessing):
Then march, my brothers and sisters of the host.
March beneath Kamilini’s fire,
Kinurugi’s shadow,
Talathas’s law,
and Adalia’s mercy.
Go forth as soldiers of the greater good—
and when you strike, may the heavens tremble.
“One hand may hold the blade,
But four hands bear the world.”
— Closing Benediction of the Ashen Cloak