Barbaric tribes of east and west. Threats to outer reaches of reign. There our garrisons cannot rest their tools . Craggy mountains and treacherous forests are home to nomadic tribes which live to hunt and plunder , wild like their wilderness dwellings. They have neither patience nor skill to cultivate the land. They are not of that ilk.
Cities and orderliness are strange to them. They are curiosities amongst us .We are game in their company. They see our numbers and strength .They do not venture forth . An uneasy peace simply broken by the party which is the first to charge , cry out and first to snatch their arms out of their housing .
NINTH MORSEL
?Quot homines tot sententiae.? So many people so many opinions. The voice of the leader slices across the indiscernible chatter. All persuading , nobly commanding . A clear voice brings with it a defined course. The rest obey , they lack the chief?s possessions. ?Qualis Rex talis grex?. Such is the leader , such is the people. One?s virtues are taken note of .The most ardent admirers mold themselves to that manner. What their leaders do and and do not. Whatever those venerated say or withhold. There are imitators , emulators , travesty smiths. Once in a while , one or a small band of them rise to remold status quo. A wave is hatched and unleashed .It becomes an acceptable convention. It is the manner of people that which is proven will be used till the spring is parched or when something superior is offered and that offering tickles their longing. Far easier to remain constant than alter a course. Given the disposition toward ease , the well trodden tempts .Yet heed well that it is the passage of tribulation where the coronet of glory and honour rests on the head of those who are uncowed .They shall find that fame latches like their own skin to their name .
TENTH MORSEL
We who hold the torch We must be patient Decorum requires it The pride of a legion lives within its standard one standard bearer bears sacrament of cohorts
We who hold the torch We must be patient Decorum requires it One official?s carriage personifies the rest one written inscription ultimate seal of fate
We who hold the torch We must be patient Decorum requires it Make way for those better while we wait with patience allow them the better seats their merit exceed ours
ELEVENTH MORSEL
I am not one to dispute the will of God , divine will becomes our lot , but I question the logic of some . Foolish is the soul who enters the place , who announces his innermost desires , swears a gift in return , should they be fulfilled , by divine consent , upon his earthly cares , mortal souls have none to offer better , than the rewards of paradise , what are our trappings to heaven , when it is God who grants ? It is not worship or invocation , it is a wager posed by hubris , displace pomposity and affectation , come in a penitent pose , humility warrants attention , or else snuff the lamp , take the oil elsewhere .