…from the battlements of Soliloquy in their disquieting bray. The Humarium walls had, centuries ago, been crowned with battlements worked in the grimacing likenesses of the spawn of damnation summoned to serve the Just of Pure Intent in their Trinitarian Purpose. The walls were not constructed to withstand rams, stone throwers or siege engines. The walls of Soliloquy had been long ago raised against an ever more menacing foe than the feuding secular knights and heretical sons of Barbary, who on occasion challenged the Swords of Elder Reorder. The knights of Soliloquy were peerless, and besides, the evils of Yore, when wicked workers hurled fire and thunder in Satan’s name in mockery of God, had long since ended; those ancient evil days put to rest by the blessed lore of his class, The Prentices of Just and Pure Intent.

The gargoyles above and without brayed more stridently above the unseen battlements as he donned his vestments and gathered his treasure dear, the velum Within the Sanctuary: The Mass. But prayer was not his only calling. For their were two other aspects of his Trinitarian Purpose: Curation of the Mysteries—that act which so compelled him deep in his soul—and education, the bestowal of understanding and purpose upon the laity and particularly among the brute class of the Swords of Justice. Thus, though Prentice Dolphin, orphaned as were all of his committed kind, since the inception of their order, 671st of his rank and 4th of his name, must ever meditate and recommit to memory the gross Acts of Men, so that those for whom he prayed might serve the Blessed Purpose with just and clear intent. That educational drudgery unfortunately compromised his third duty: Curation, his expression of adoration. If only he had been of noble birth he might have been admitted to a Holy Cloister down in the warm Heart of Christendom and enjoy a life of wonder and introspection committed only to Curation. But as it was, and the sad circumstances of his birth, he was consigned to serve the laity and knighthood as a teacher and chaplain—his passion, being Curation of the Mysteries, a purpose rarely observed. This made him a mockery of the True Monks and a servant of the ever jealous Priesthood.

Such was his lot, blessed in its way and fraught with trials, of which he was reminded as the gargoyles once again brayed in their defiantly hideous way…

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