Ostria
Administrator in Occultation
- Joined
- May 9, 2014
- Messages
- 51
- Capital
- Osterode
- Nick
- Kyiv
It was a fine day.
There was a celebration in town today, and it was Father Johannes favorite time of year. Spring was in full bloom. The trees were green, the bids singing and the sun was warm. It was this last fact that he appreciated the most, he was an old man now and the winter chilled him to the bone. But there was more to it than that. Spring was the season of new life and renewal. Was it not in spring when the Lord rose from the dead?
Death.
Such thoughts had been weighing heavily on Johannes mind. He considered himself blessed to still be able to tend to his flock in his 77th year, but still he could feel his body was failing him. He would not be able to enjoy many more warm springs. He did not feel burdened by regret, regret what he may he had long ago come to terms with the mistakes of his youth. But he was afraid.
The Regiment had come into town today. It was always a popular event with the children, and seeing as the weather was fine all the townsfolk had come out for a fete. It was Father Johannes was here today. But has he looked on the tanks, with their angled plates and imposing cannons, he remembered what he was afraid of. His army service in the Imperial Cavalry was almost a lifetime ago, but in the grand sweep of history one lifetime was barely the blink of an eye. These war machines had not existed when he had trained to fight for the Emperor on horseback. So much had changed in his lifetime had he not lived it he would scarcely believe it. The world he had been born into had vanished like smoke, and he suspected, there were even greater changes to come.
Throughout his life there had been only one great constant, his faith in the Lord, and he always strove to share that constancy with his flock. But soon his ministry would be over. Who then would take up his work, who would guide shepherd the souls of his flock to the Lord in this time relentless change? Who could? Ostria had many priests, and as he had come to realize, many who were weak in faith. There were many children in his parish, and he feared that unless they were blessed with a shepherd who was strong in faith they would be lost as surely as sailors in a typhoon.
So God sent unto us the Legion.
The Legion. He had no always embraced. Once, a long time ago, he had even struggled against them. But now he had come to embrace them. Like all men they were weak, and he truly did not know if the Lord had truly called to them as they claimed, but their faith was strong. That is why he had decided to follow them. They could be harsh, even cruel, but he had seen the fruits of their labour with his own eyes. They had done what he had not believed was possible; they had filled Ostrian's hearts with the fear they had lost. The fear of the Lord.
He remembered the days of his youth in Osterode. The grotesque hedonism of the aristocrats, the crass materialism of the bourgeoise and above all the emptiness and brutality of working class life. But like so much of his youth, that world was gone now. The Legion had consigned it to the dustbin of history, to paraphrase a saying he had learned a long time ago. And this more than anything else brought him comfort at the end of his life. Imperfect thought they may be, the Legion was like a rock, the rock on which Ostria would be saved...
He felt something tugging on his sleave, then he saw the light and heard a voice calling him.
Father, are you alright?
Father?
He had fallen asleep on the park bench. And a young girl was tugging on his sleeve. Little Elisabeth, yes, he recognized her.
He looked at her and smiled. "Don't worry my child. Sometimes an old man like me just needs to take a nap in the sun. Now run along and go play, this beautiful day is a gift from the Lord and you must not waste it! Hurry!". After a moments hesitation she turned and ran off without saying a word. Good. It would not do for a fine young child to sit about worrying on such a beautiful day, like some old man.
And at that moment he realized what the topic of his next sermon would be.
There was a celebration in town today, and it was Father Johannes favorite time of year. Spring was in full bloom. The trees were green, the bids singing and the sun was warm. It was this last fact that he appreciated the most, he was an old man now and the winter chilled him to the bone. But there was more to it than that. Spring was the season of new life and renewal. Was it not in spring when the Lord rose from the dead?
Death.
Such thoughts had been weighing heavily on Johannes mind. He considered himself blessed to still be able to tend to his flock in his 77th year, but still he could feel his body was failing him. He would not be able to enjoy many more warm springs. He did not feel burdened by regret, regret what he may he had long ago come to terms with the mistakes of his youth. But he was afraid.
The Regiment had come into town today. It was always a popular event with the children, and seeing as the weather was fine all the townsfolk had come out for a fete. It was Father Johannes was here today. But has he looked on the tanks, with their angled plates and imposing cannons, he remembered what he was afraid of. His army service in the Imperial Cavalry was almost a lifetime ago, but in the grand sweep of history one lifetime was barely the blink of an eye. These war machines had not existed when he had trained to fight for the Emperor on horseback. So much had changed in his lifetime had he not lived it he would scarcely believe it. The world he had been born into had vanished like smoke, and he suspected, there were even greater changes to come.
Throughout his life there had been only one great constant, his faith in the Lord, and he always strove to share that constancy with his flock. But soon his ministry would be over. Who then would take up his work, who would guide shepherd the souls of his flock to the Lord in this time relentless change? Who could? Ostria had many priests, and as he had come to realize, many who were weak in faith. There were many children in his parish, and he feared that unless they were blessed with a shepherd who was strong in faith they would be lost as surely as sailors in a typhoon.
So God sent unto us the Legion.
The Legion. He had no always embraced. Once, a long time ago, he had even struggled against them. But now he had come to embrace them. Like all men they were weak, and he truly did not know if the Lord had truly called to them as they claimed, but their faith was strong. That is why he had decided to follow them. They could be harsh, even cruel, but he had seen the fruits of their labour with his own eyes. They had done what he had not believed was possible; they had filled Ostrian's hearts with the fear they had lost. The fear of the Lord.
He remembered the days of his youth in Osterode. The grotesque hedonism of the aristocrats, the crass materialism of the bourgeoise and above all the emptiness and brutality of working class life. But like so much of his youth, that world was gone now. The Legion had consigned it to the dustbin of history, to paraphrase a saying he had learned a long time ago. And this more than anything else brought him comfort at the end of his life. Imperfect thought they may be, the Legion was like a rock, the rock on which Ostria would be saved...
He felt something tugging on his sleave, then he saw the light and heard a voice calling him.
Father, are you alright?
Father?
He had fallen asleep on the park bench. And a young girl was tugging on his sleeve. Little Elisabeth, yes, he recognized her.
He looked at her and smiled. "Don't worry my child. Sometimes an old man like me just needs to take a nap in the sun. Now run along and go play, this beautiful day is a gift from the Lord and you must not waste it! Hurry!". After a moments hesitation she turned and ran off without saying a word. Good. It would not do for a fine young child to sit about worrying on such a beautiful day, like some old man.
And at that moment he realized what the topic of his next sermon would be.