Summa Elvetica: Chapter One
Jan. 19th, 2026 07:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_Sporking2; previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to begin our journey through Vox Day’s “Summa Elvetica,” prelude to his “epic” fantasy saga, The Arts of Dark and Light! As this novella is short, we’ll be jumping right on in, as we’re introduced to our “hero” and to his mission. But first off, it’s time to be introduced (or reintroduced) to the companions who will be joining us on this venture. If you’ve followed some of my previous sporkings, especially of Ed Greenwood’s books, you’ll have met them before, but for now extend a warm greeting for Calassara and Errezha!
*two women materialize in the sporking chamber; the first is a lithe elf woman in green, with impish features, dyed-green hair, and solid black eyes without visible sclera or iris; she has a rapier at her waist, a lute slung over her shoulder, and a mischievous expression; beside her is a tall, lean, sharp-featured tiefling with bright red skin, yellow eyes with slit pupils, and a sour expression; she wears a long black coat that covers most of her body, gloves on her hands, and a tall, broad-brimmed hat that shades her face*
MG: For those meeting them for the first time, or who need a refresher, they’re OCs from my sadly stalled adaptation of the Pathfinder adventure path Rise of the Runelords; Calassara is an elf bard, storyteller and historian from Kyonin, and Errezha is a tiefling sorceress from the devil-haunted empire of Cheliax. And I will freely admit I picked them for this job because I knew that of all my sporkers, they’d probably annoy Vox Day the most, and be themselves among the most annoyed by the contents of the story to come (I think Yhani might be the angriest, actually, but she just gave me a silent, icy glare and made it clear in no uncertain terms it wasn’t happening). Sorry, ladies; thankfully, while this may get rough, it’s also just a novella, so it’ll be short. And when we finally get to Arts of Dark and Light proper, I plan to have some new characters to introduce to help shoulder the burden…
Anyway, with that out of the way, let us begin!
PROOEMIUM
MG: …anyway, the chapters in this thing don’t have numbers or titles, as such. We begin with this one, which bears a Latin-derived term for a preface or introduction, and the subsequent chapters have… stranger numbering, as we’ll see. This actually has in-universe significance, but for my own sanity and your convenience, I went ahead and gave them all regular numbering in the ToC.
Errezha: …this already bodes ill.
MG: You have no idea. Anyway, we also open with an epigraph!
Quaeritur de Aelvi per comparationem ad homines. Primo, utrum Aelvi habeant anima naturaliter sibi unita. Secundo, utrum assumant gloria. Tertio, utrum in gloribus assumptis occupant opera vita aeterna.
Calassara: …that does not appear to be your language, nor is it any language I recognize from our world. Care to explain?
MG: *sighs* Yes, it’s Latin. Yes, it has significance going forward; for now, I’m leaving it as is, but let’s just say all the chapter epigraphs are from the same in-universe text, and we’ll be talking about them at the end of the novella.
Errezha: Oh, goody. In any case, it’s time to get started with the actual story, as we meet who I presume to be our protagonist:
Marcus Valerius looked up from the faded Numidican manuscript in irritation. The light from the study window was growing dim. Already he’d been forced to light a candle in order to make out the obscure scratchings of the historian Quintus the Elder, whose colorful accounts of his encounters with the pagan desert tribes were as dubious as they were vivid. The imperative knocking at the door threatened a lengthy interruption, one that might cost Marcus what little daylight remained.
Errezha: …I hate him already.
MG: There’s just something I find off-putting about this writing style in general, honestly. I mentioned in the intro that Vox Day writes in a style I find to be very adolescent (it’s worst in this novella, IMO, but never really goes away) in that it feels like it’s trying way too hard to impress on us both how sophisticated the writing itself is and how cool and smart our protagonist is for his choice of reading material, and it misses the mark just badly enough to be deeply obnoxious instead. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s a feeling I have a hard time shaking.
Calassara: Well, we soon find that the interloper is his cousin Sextus, whose brown eyes were dancing with mischief. “This better be good,” Marcus warned him. “I was just getting to the part where the tribal chief is about to sacrifice the centurion to his devil-gods.” Hmm; Marcus seems to be quite expositive in his irritation; perhaps this will be a trend? Sextus decides to do Marcus a failure by spoiling the ending for him: the Amorran legions march in, the day is saved, and the “heathens” all see the error of their ways and convert, hallelujah and amen! To Marcus’s great irritation, and on the one hand, I would normally be sympathetic, but that seems like the most trite and predictable ending imaginable, doesn’t it? And isn’t this supposed to be the work of a historian, at least ostensibly, and not a work of fiction? Was Marcus really in so much suspense to see how it ended? Was he reading it for actual scholarly purposes at all, or merely entertainment?
MG: Considering the… dubious subject matter and the way Marcus’s reactions are treated, I’m genuinely torn on whether this is meant to be low-brow slop in-universe trying to present itself as something more serious and lofty than it is, or if this genuinely is Beale’s idea of what great ancient literature that a scholar monk might study would be like. Not sure which is worse, tbh. Though honestly, if Marcus had been reading a cheap pulpy adventure novel and tried desperately to pass it off as doing serious scholarship when he was interrupted, it could’ve been actually funny and made him more endearing and humanzied.
Errezha: Marcus, annoyed, manages to swallow his instinctive response in time to just tell Sextus to go away – my, my, that’s about what I already want to say to Marcus – but Sextus, or rather Sexto which I presume to be a nickname of some sort, sticks around, and we are instead treated to a description of him:
Sexto was half a hand shorter than Marcus, but with a slim build that made him appear taller than he was. Like Marcus and the rest of their family, his eyes were dark brown, but he was no scholar, and his skin was deeply bronzed by the sun. He wore a plain white tunic devoid of any equestrian stripes. He was barefoot, and his belt was an unadorned strip of worn leather. Besides the intrinsic arrogance that radiated from him like heat from a fire, only the finely carved silver buckle clasping the belt showed any sign that he was a senator’s son, let alone a Valerian.
Errezha: …charming. Sextus asks if Marcus wants to know why he’s here, and Marcus asks if it’s to keep him from his learning (so, perhaps the nonsense he was reading was meant to be serious literature? That, or Marcus is lying… but Sextus already knows what he was reading and how it ends…) but Sextus is apparently here in his capacity as a priest (…a thing his previous description gave not a single indication of him being) to tell Marcus that someone named Father Aurelius has been sent to escort Marcus to the Sanctiff. Marcus is left stunned.
The Holy Sanctiff was the highest ranking official in the land since Amorr had no king. Officially, the Lord God Himself ruled over the Republic. However, as the earthly head of the Amorran Church, the Sanctiff was God’s voice and viceroy from the banks of the Tiburon to the shores of the Rialthan Sea.
MG: The rest of this series will further snarl this, admittedly, because Amorr also seems to have both a Senate and a full set of Roman Republic-style elected magistrates (though Beale doesn’t seem to understand how Consuls work, which we’ll need to get back to later…) who actually run both the city and the empire, leaving it unclear where the Sanctiff actually fits in to the government at all, if he even does, or if his political role is meant to be as a mere figurehead or something more substantial. See what I mean about Beale sort of mashing the Republic and the Papal States together? “Sanctiff” is pretty obviously a mashup of “sanctus” and “pontiff” – not sure if it would’ve been better or worse if Beale had just gone full Roman and went with pontifex maximus instead (or rex sacrorum, if he wanted to be a bit more obscure and technically higher ranking).
Also, this feels like the time to note that “Amorr” is just “Roma” spelled backwards and with an extra “r” added onto the end. Real subtle, Beale. *rolls eyes*
Calassara: Well, Marcus has no idea whatsoever why the Sanctiff would want to see him, personally; we then cut to the greatest structure in Amorr, the Holy Palace, which boasted twelve spires ringing one massive cupola, a representation in marble of mankind’s Savior and His twelve disciples. *arches an eyebrow* Only mankind’s? I was under the impression this world has multiple intelligent races. That seems quite the oversight.
MG: I suspect it is, on Beale’s part – especially in “Summa Elvetica” it really does feel like he just tried to port medieval Christianity over to a fantasy world without considering, well, any of the social or political factors that might be influenced or different about its history or teachings in such a world, resulting in a church that at times barely feels like part of the same setting as everything else around it.
Calassara: …lovely. We learn that Marcus is relieved he’s not going to the Hall of Judgment which is dreaded by every sane and sober Amorran (drunk and mad Amorrans have no sense of self-preservation, one can only assume…) but instead to a small private antechamber, its walls lined with scrolls, where the Sanctiff himself awaits.
His Holiness was reclining on an unimposing, leather-wrapped chair that looked as comfortable as it was worn with age. He wore none of the trappings of his awesome office, only the simple blue robe of a Jamite brother. The robe was darker than his cerulean eyes, which were encased by thin folds of sagging flesh and surmounted by a pair of bushy white eyebrows. But he smiled warmly at his visitors, and Marcus could easily have thought of him as someone’s good-humored pater familias were it not for the gem-encrusted ring of office adorning his left hand.
Calassara: Alas, I fear that being a Jamite brother has nothing to do with jam… though a church dedicated to jam might be interesting to visit, I’ll have to see if anyone has heard of one…
Errezha: You do that. I, however, have long since learned not to trust smiling old men in robes, so I feel compelled to be on guard for this entire conversation (though I will note that apparently the sanctiff’s “ring of office” is somehow not one of the “trappings of his awesome office,” which we are explicitly told he’s not wearing). The sanctiff thanks Father Aurelius for bringing Marcus and compliments him on his work with the junior scholars, which might mean something if Father Aurelius had had a single line of dialogue or any character at all thus far. He then greets Marcus as the latest prodigy of the Valerius House, who he hopes can do for the church what his famous ancestors have done for the legions. *sniffs disdainfully* Bastard hellspawn I may be, but I am of noble birth, and I know flattery when I see it; if a person of high standing greeted me as the “latest prodigy of House Leroung,” I would immediately know they wanted something from me. Let us see if my instincts are correct, shall we?
Calassara: I would say “yes,” because Marcus is amazed that the sacntiff has seemingly spoken to his deepest, most hidden desires (hmmm, a young noble who wants success and glory – hardly that hidden!) and modestly says that he seeks only to serve. The sanctiff is pleased at Marcus’s courtesy and notes him to someone else named Caecilus Cassius, as a thin man in a black robe and a Jamite monk in blue enter the room. Apparently, Caecilus Cassius Claudo was the Bishop of Avienne and one of the Church’s leading intellectuals. His famous treatise, the Summa Spiritus, written on all the diverse races of Selenoth and their distinct places in the Will of God, had sparked a raging flame of debate that still roared through every scholastic circle in the Republic. …speaking as something of a scholar myself, that is absurdly overdramatic! Or perhaps I am a mere dilettante whose works have never reached such rarified heights as to “spark a raging flame of debate that… roared through every scholastic circle,” hmm? I’m also not certain as to why a human would feel the need to categorize every intelligent race in the world and their distinct place in the divine order, especially in a church and empire that so far seems to be dominated exclusively by humans… but regardless, Marcus himself had apparently written his own commentary on the Summa Spiritus not long ago.
Errezha: *sniffs* Speaking as someone who is only part human, raised in a human-dominated empire, I doubt it means anything good. Claudo still thinks Marcus is impudent (what is in that commentary, I wonder?) though the Jamite disagrees. “A refusal to abase himself before your lofty eminence does not indicate an inclination toward boorish behavior. Why, it’s nothing more than a sign of sheer good sense!” *groans* In the unholy name of the Prince of Laws, why are all these people so thrice-damned pompous? The Jamite then introduces himself as Quintus Servillius Aestus, a humble priest in service to the Lord Immanuel and, of course, His Holiness. He then shakes Marcus’s hand, but doesn’t explain why he’s here, though Marcus is stunned since he’s apparently one of the only intellectuals in the church who’s dared debate with Claudo. The Sanctiff finally clears his throat and Aestus smoothly effaced himself but not before shooting Marcus a disconcerting wink. My, my, I think Marcus has an admirer.
MG: And yes, the Amorran Church literally calls their messiah “Immanuel,” among other things (we’ll even get a couple of “Christs” later in the novella, though I don’t think either “Christ” or “Immanuel” is used in the main series at all), if “Beale just tried to plop the medieval church into a fantasy world and barely bothered dressing it up to make it fit” wasn’t obvious enough by now.
Calassara: If I understood that reference, I suspect I would be irritated. Well, the sanctiff gives Father Aurelius permission to withdraw, since apparently the two scholars have a question they want Marcus’s opinion on (ah, yes, the two leading theologians of their church want Marcus’s opinion on something… this bodes well…). Aurelius kisses the sanctiff’s ring, gets a blessing, and departs, leaving Marcus alone and intimidated. Once he’s gone, Claudo gets to the point.
“Marcus Valerius, I have read your commentary on the Summa Spiritus. It is … not without merit. But when you say that one does not know, indeed, that one is not even capable of knowing, whether a particular form or being possesses an immortal soul, are you not treading perilously near a concept that could easily be construed as heresy? Or is this passage nothing more than the sophomoric pedantry of a young scholar who has manufactured a reason to doubt the immutable fact of his own existence?”
Calassara: …do I have to pretend to understand what any of that means? Perhaps if any of these people had bothered to define what they mean by “soul” I might have a starting point? Marcus, however, knows that he’s being asked if he’s a heretic or a fool, and while the church apparently no longer burns heretics outright, he still doesn’t want to be accused of being one. Now, now. I feel like we could reasonably argue that Marcus is indeed a fool! *beat* Whether he’s also a heretic, I’ll leave to the experts to determine.
Errezha: Well *glances down at herself* being what I am, I was never guaranteed of having a soul, as I’ve been reminded repeatedly for my entire life. Let us see what the Amorrans have to say, hmm?
“Only a philosopher or a fool doubts his own existence, Excellency,” he said. “It is true, however, that the two all too often prove to be one and the same. I assert that I am neither. The verb ‘to know’ contains a number of interpretations, and in the sentence of which I believe you are speaking, I made use of the concept in its most concrete sense, the sense in which a thing is proven beyond any reasonable possibility of doubt. As in the case, for example, of a mathematical equation.”
“Your Excellency, as you know, where there is surety, there is no faith, no belief, per se. And therefore, knowledge of the soul rightly belongs in the realm of faith, not mathematics.” He placed his right hand over his heart. “Do I have a soul? Yes, I believe so, with all my heart. But regardless of my faith, it is either so or it is not, as the Castrate wrote so wisely. My personal belief does not have the capacity to dictate the truth. Indeed, before the eternal truth of the almighty God, my own humble opinion is of no account.”
Errezha: For someone who denies being a philosopher, he certainly seems to be engaging in philosophy… though some who are less kind might term it sophistry instead. But the gist seems to be “my own empirical knowledge of spiritual matters can never be absolute, but absolute truth exists independently of me” together with “faith means believing in things which by nature can be neither proven nor disproven,” which is reasonable enough, I suppose. Though perhaps if he came to Cheliax he might learn to think differently about some of it, to his sorrow – souls are quite hotly traded commodities, among devils and diabolists. The sanctiff thinks Marcus makes a good point, unless Claudo has a literal divine revelation to counter it with; Claudo begrudgingly agrees, though he thinks a decision must be reached even if they are all fallible. So, are we perhaps to finally get to the point?
Calassara: Alas, seemingly not, as Father Aestus breaks in to save Marcus from embarrassment by asking if he rides and Marcus says he does, as all Amorran patricians do (after Aestus is forced to clarify he does indeed mean horses and not cows or something else, in what seems like it’s supposed to be a joke). Aestus has no further questions, and Marcus is left even more confused. Wouldn’t the reasonable assumption at this point be that they’re planning to send him somewhere? But Marcus is left wondering if the sanctiff is going to ask him to juggle next (I can juggle! I can also recite epic poetry or bawdy tavern songs, depending on one’s preference, while I juggle. If that talent is actually needed, of course…). But instead, when neither scholar has any objections, the sanctiff proceeds to explain that Marcus is going to help him answer a question. To make a long story short, both scholars present have written treatises on the nature of the soul, though Aestus has not published his, Ordo Selenus Sapiens, yet, so Marcus hasn’t read it; the two agree on many points but disagree on one important one, and so Marcus is going to help them settle it. Nothing we’ve seen from Marcus so far suggests he’s qualified for such a thing, but maybe he’ll surprise me! Marcus agrees, and the sanctiff says he’s sending an embassy to Elebrion, and the two scholars are going and Marcus is to accompany them. And then, of course, we come to the meat of the matter:
Marcus put his hand over his mouth. Now he understood what the Sanctiff had in mind, and the sobering realization of terrible responsibility hit him like a blow to the stomach. “By the blood of the martyrs,” he cried despite himself. “You’re going to decide if the elves have souls!”
Calassara: *flatly* I was unaware the matter was yours to “decide”; perhaps at most to “determine,” but even that is presumptuous in the extreme, no? And why, dare I ask, if the elves live near enough to your republic that sending an embassy can be done so readily, has this question not been settled long ago? Unless the elves are newcomers to this region?
MG: In fact, they are not! Regardless, the chapter ends here! I’d initially wanted to do the first two chapters, since this first one is so short, but I actually think we’re going to stop here for today because we ended up having more to say about it than I’d thought we would, and one could argue that being a “Prooemium” makes it more like a prologue than a proper first chapter (though it doesn’t really feel like a prologue otherwise, IMO). And honestly, my biggest takeaway here is that I really, really hate Beale’s writing style – I feel like I ended up quoting more than I normally would from a section this short, mostly to try and convey just how insufferable this thing’s narrative voice is, and I’m really not sure I managed it. But to be brief, trying to get through Beale’s writing quickly turns into a slog. Making it worse is that I find myself bouncing hard off of our protagonist; while Marcus (and is it just me, or does it seem like every Roman-inspired fantasy has to have at least one Marcus? Admittedly, it’s not like the historical Romans were all that creative with their praenomen either) is supposed to be a rising young scholar of the Church who the sanctiff himself can apparently count on to serve as a third opinion alongside two established intellectual heavyweights, the overall vibe I get from him feels more like a bright but rather aimless college student than anything, with the exception of the one point where he pompously runs his mouth at enough length to make a rather banal argument seem deeper than it is. And we also get some examples of Beale’s sloppy worldbuilding, including our first hints of the political structure of Amorr and its inconsistencies, and also the halfhearted attempt at making the Amorran Church feel like anything more than a just barely reskinned medieval Christianity.
If all of this seems pretty superficial, it’s because we barely get into the actual substance of the story yet, just a bunch of people talking vaguely about their mission without defining what it is until the very last line. And really, if this “Prooemium” is meant to hook us on the story, I don’t think it does a very good job. We’re left with no real understanding of the debate between the two scholars, other than that it somehow elves whether elves have souls or not; what we’re not told is what their positions are, what the significance of the debate is (both the elves and the Amorrans seem to be getting along just fine with the question unanswered) or what Marcus personally is supposed to do about it (the most we know is that he wrote some commentary on Claudo’s treatise and Claudo apparently found it impertinent). Now, all of these will be addressed later in the novella, but again, if the Prooemium is supposed to hook the reader’s interest for the story, failing to effectively describe either the stakes or why our protagonist specifically is actually involved does not help with that!
Anyway, that’s all for today! Next time, Marcus will get ready to set off on his mission and we’ll get to see more of his family and life in Amorr. We’ll see you then!
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to begin our journey through Vox Day’s “Summa Elvetica,” prelude to his “epic” fantasy saga, The Arts of Dark and Light! As this novella is short, we’ll be jumping right on in, as we’re introduced to our “hero” and to his mission. But first off, it’s time to be introduced (or reintroduced) to the companions who will be joining us on this venture. If you’ve followed some of my previous sporkings, especially of Ed Greenwood’s books, you’ll have met them before, but for now extend a warm greeting for Calassara and Errezha!
*two women materialize in the sporking chamber; the first is a lithe elf woman in green, with impish features, dyed-green hair, and solid black eyes without visible sclera or iris; she has a rapier at her waist, a lute slung over her shoulder, and a mischievous expression; beside her is a tall, lean, sharp-featured tiefling with bright red skin, yellow eyes with slit pupils, and a sour expression; she wears a long black coat that covers most of her body, gloves on her hands, and a tall, broad-brimmed hat that shades her face*
MG: For those meeting them for the first time, or who need a refresher, they’re OCs from my sadly stalled adaptation of the Pathfinder adventure path Rise of the Runelords; Calassara is an elf bard, storyteller and historian from Kyonin, and Errezha is a tiefling sorceress from the devil-haunted empire of Cheliax. And I will freely admit I picked them for this job because I knew that of all my sporkers, they’d probably annoy Vox Day the most, and be themselves among the most annoyed by the contents of the story to come (I think Yhani might be the angriest, actually, but she just gave me a silent, icy glare and made it clear in no uncertain terms it wasn’t happening). Sorry, ladies; thankfully, while this may get rough, it’s also just a novella, so it’ll be short. And when we finally get to Arts of Dark and Light proper, I plan to have some new characters to introduce to help shoulder the burden…
Anyway, with that out of the way, let us begin!
PROOEMIUM
MG: …anyway, the chapters in this thing don’t have numbers or titles, as such. We begin with this one, which bears a Latin-derived term for a preface or introduction, and the subsequent chapters have… stranger numbering, as we’ll see. This actually has in-universe significance, but for my own sanity and your convenience, I went ahead and gave them all regular numbering in the ToC.
Errezha: …this already bodes ill.
MG: You have no idea. Anyway, we also open with an epigraph!
Quaeritur de Aelvi per comparationem ad homines. Primo, utrum Aelvi habeant anima naturaliter sibi unita. Secundo, utrum assumant gloria. Tertio, utrum in gloribus assumptis occupant opera vita aeterna.
Calassara: …that does not appear to be your language, nor is it any language I recognize from our world. Care to explain?
MG: *sighs* Yes, it’s Latin. Yes, it has significance going forward; for now, I’m leaving it as is, but let’s just say all the chapter epigraphs are from the same in-universe text, and we’ll be talking about them at the end of the novella.
Errezha: Oh, goody. In any case, it’s time to get started with the actual story, as we meet who I presume to be our protagonist:
Marcus Valerius looked up from the faded Numidican manuscript in irritation. The light from the study window was growing dim. Already he’d been forced to light a candle in order to make out the obscure scratchings of the historian Quintus the Elder, whose colorful accounts of his encounters with the pagan desert tribes were as dubious as they were vivid. The imperative knocking at the door threatened a lengthy interruption, one that might cost Marcus what little daylight remained.
Errezha: …I hate him already.
MG: There’s just something I find off-putting about this writing style in general, honestly. I mentioned in the intro that Vox Day writes in a style I find to be very adolescent (it’s worst in this novella, IMO, but never really goes away) in that it feels like it’s trying way too hard to impress on us both how sophisticated the writing itself is and how cool and smart our protagonist is for his choice of reading material, and it misses the mark just badly enough to be deeply obnoxious instead. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s a feeling I have a hard time shaking.
Calassara: Well, we soon find that the interloper is his cousin Sextus, whose brown eyes were dancing with mischief. “This better be good,” Marcus warned him. “I was just getting to the part where the tribal chief is about to sacrifice the centurion to his devil-gods.” Hmm; Marcus seems to be quite expositive in his irritation; perhaps this will be a trend? Sextus decides to do Marcus a failure by spoiling the ending for him: the Amorran legions march in, the day is saved, and the “heathens” all see the error of their ways and convert, hallelujah and amen! To Marcus’s great irritation, and on the one hand, I would normally be sympathetic, but that seems like the most trite and predictable ending imaginable, doesn’t it? And isn’t this supposed to be the work of a historian, at least ostensibly, and not a work of fiction? Was Marcus really in so much suspense to see how it ended? Was he reading it for actual scholarly purposes at all, or merely entertainment?
MG: Considering the… dubious subject matter and the way Marcus’s reactions are treated, I’m genuinely torn on whether this is meant to be low-brow slop in-universe trying to present itself as something more serious and lofty than it is, or if this genuinely is Beale’s idea of what great ancient literature that a scholar monk might study would be like. Not sure which is worse, tbh. Though honestly, if Marcus had been reading a cheap pulpy adventure novel and tried desperately to pass it off as doing serious scholarship when he was interrupted, it could’ve been actually funny and made him more endearing and humanzied.
Errezha: Marcus, annoyed, manages to swallow his instinctive response in time to just tell Sextus to go away – my, my, that’s about what I already want to say to Marcus – but Sextus, or rather Sexto which I presume to be a nickname of some sort, sticks around, and we are instead treated to a description of him:
Sexto was half a hand shorter than Marcus, but with a slim build that made him appear taller than he was. Like Marcus and the rest of their family, his eyes were dark brown, but he was no scholar, and his skin was deeply bronzed by the sun. He wore a plain white tunic devoid of any equestrian stripes. He was barefoot, and his belt was an unadorned strip of worn leather. Besides the intrinsic arrogance that radiated from him like heat from a fire, only the finely carved silver buckle clasping the belt showed any sign that he was a senator’s son, let alone a Valerian.
Errezha: …charming. Sextus asks if Marcus wants to know why he’s here, and Marcus asks if it’s to keep him from his learning (so, perhaps the nonsense he was reading was meant to be serious literature? That, or Marcus is lying… but Sextus already knows what he was reading and how it ends…) but Sextus is apparently here in his capacity as a priest (…a thing his previous description gave not a single indication of him being) to tell Marcus that someone named Father Aurelius has been sent to escort Marcus to the Sanctiff. Marcus is left stunned.
The Holy Sanctiff was the highest ranking official in the land since Amorr had no king. Officially, the Lord God Himself ruled over the Republic. However, as the earthly head of the Amorran Church, the Sanctiff was God’s voice and viceroy from the banks of the Tiburon to the shores of the Rialthan Sea.
MG: The rest of this series will further snarl this, admittedly, because Amorr also seems to have both a Senate and a full set of Roman Republic-style elected magistrates (though Beale doesn’t seem to understand how Consuls work, which we’ll need to get back to later…) who actually run both the city and the empire, leaving it unclear where the Sanctiff actually fits in to the government at all, if he even does, or if his political role is meant to be as a mere figurehead or something more substantial. See what I mean about Beale sort of mashing the Republic and the Papal States together? “Sanctiff” is pretty obviously a mashup of “sanctus” and “pontiff” – not sure if it would’ve been better or worse if Beale had just gone full Roman and went with pontifex maximus instead (or rex sacrorum, if he wanted to be a bit more obscure and technically higher ranking).
Also, this feels like the time to note that “Amorr” is just “Roma” spelled backwards and with an extra “r” added onto the end. Real subtle, Beale. *rolls eyes*
Calassara: Well, Marcus has no idea whatsoever why the Sanctiff would want to see him, personally; we then cut to the greatest structure in Amorr, the Holy Palace, which boasted twelve spires ringing one massive cupola, a representation in marble of mankind’s Savior and His twelve disciples. *arches an eyebrow* Only mankind’s? I was under the impression this world has multiple intelligent races. That seems quite the oversight.
MG: I suspect it is, on Beale’s part – especially in “Summa Elvetica” it really does feel like he just tried to port medieval Christianity over to a fantasy world without considering, well, any of the social or political factors that might be influenced or different about its history or teachings in such a world, resulting in a church that at times barely feels like part of the same setting as everything else around it.
Calassara: …lovely. We learn that Marcus is relieved he’s not going to the Hall of Judgment which is dreaded by every sane and sober Amorran (drunk and mad Amorrans have no sense of self-preservation, one can only assume…) but instead to a small private antechamber, its walls lined with scrolls, where the Sanctiff himself awaits.
His Holiness was reclining on an unimposing, leather-wrapped chair that looked as comfortable as it was worn with age. He wore none of the trappings of his awesome office, only the simple blue robe of a Jamite brother. The robe was darker than his cerulean eyes, which were encased by thin folds of sagging flesh and surmounted by a pair of bushy white eyebrows. But he smiled warmly at his visitors, and Marcus could easily have thought of him as someone’s good-humored pater familias were it not for the gem-encrusted ring of office adorning his left hand.
Calassara: Alas, I fear that being a Jamite brother has nothing to do with jam… though a church dedicated to jam might be interesting to visit, I’ll have to see if anyone has heard of one…
Errezha: You do that. I, however, have long since learned not to trust smiling old men in robes, so I feel compelled to be on guard for this entire conversation (though I will note that apparently the sanctiff’s “ring of office” is somehow not one of the “trappings of his awesome office,” which we are explicitly told he’s not wearing). The sanctiff thanks Father Aurelius for bringing Marcus and compliments him on his work with the junior scholars, which might mean something if Father Aurelius had had a single line of dialogue or any character at all thus far. He then greets Marcus as the latest prodigy of the Valerius House, who he hopes can do for the church what his famous ancestors have done for the legions. *sniffs disdainfully* Bastard hellspawn I may be, but I am of noble birth, and I know flattery when I see it; if a person of high standing greeted me as the “latest prodigy of House Leroung,” I would immediately know they wanted something from me. Let us see if my instincts are correct, shall we?
Calassara: I would say “yes,” because Marcus is amazed that the sacntiff has seemingly spoken to his deepest, most hidden desires (hmmm, a young noble who wants success and glory – hardly that hidden!) and modestly says that he seeks only to serve. The sanctiff is pleased at Marcus’s courtesy and notes him to someone else named Caecilus Cassius, as a thin man in a black robe and a Jamite monk in blue enter the room. Apparently, Caecilus Cassius Claudo was the Bishop of Avienne and one of the Church’s leading intellectuals. His famous treatise, the Summa Spiritus, written on all the diverse races of Selenoth and their distinct places in the Will of God, had sparked a raging flame of debate that still roared through every scholastic circle in the Republic. …speaking as something of a scholar myself, that is absurdly overdramatic! Or perhaps I am a mere dilettante whose works have never reached such rarified heights as to “spark a raging flame of debate that… roared through every scholastic circle,” hmm? I’m also not certain as to why a human would feel the need to categorize every intelligent race in the world and their distinct place in the divine order, especially in a church and empire that so far seems to be dominated exclusively by humans… but regardless, Marcus himself had apparently written his own commentary on the Summa Spiritus not long ago.
Errezha: *sniffs* Speaking as someone who is only part human, raised in a human-dominated empire, I doubt it means anything good. Claudo still thinks Marcus is impudent (what is in that commentary, I wonder?) though the Jamite disagrees. “A refusal to abase himself before your lofty eminence does not indicate an inclination toward boorish behavior. Why, it’s nothing more than a sign of sheer good sense!” *groans* In the unholy name of the Prince of Laws, why are all these people so thrice-damned pompous? The Jamite then introduces himself as Quintus Servillius Aestus, a humble priest in service to the Lord Immanuel and, of course, His Holiness. He then shakes Marcus’s hand, but doesn’t explain why he’s here, though Marcus is stunned since he’s apparently one of the only intellectuals in the church who’s dared debate with Claudo. The Sanctiff finally clears his throat and Aestus smoothly effaced himself but not before shooting Marcus a disconcerting wink. My, my, I think Marcus has an admirer.
MG: And yes, the Amorran Church literally calls their messiah “Immanuel,” among other things (we’ll even get a couple of “Christs” later in the novella, though I don’t think either “Christ” or “Immanuel” is used in the main series at all), if “Beale just tried to plop the medieval church into a fantasy world and barely bothered dressing it up to make it fit” wasn’t obvious enough by now.
Calassara: If I understood that reference, I suspect I would be irritated. Well, the sanctiff gives Father Aurelius permission to withdraw, since apparently the two scholars have a question they want Marcus’s opinion on (ah, yes, the two leading theologians of their church want Marcus’s opinion on something… this bodes well…). Aurelius kisses the sanctiff’s ring, gets a blessing, and departs, leaving Marcus alone and intimidated. Once he’s gone, Claudo gets to the point.
“Marcus Valerius, I have read your commentary on the Summa Spiritus. It is … not without merit. But when you say that one does not know, indeed, that one is not even capable of knowing, whether a particular form or being possesses an immortal soul, are you not treading perilously near a concept that could easily be construed as heresy? Or is this passage nothing more than the sophomoric pedantry of a young scholar who has manufactured a reason to doubt the immutable fact of his own existence?”
Calassara: …do I have to pretend to understand what any of that means? Perhaps if any of these people had bothered to define what they mean by “soul” I might have a starting point? Marcus, however, knows that he’s being asked if he’s a heretic or a fool, and while the church apparently no longer burns heretics outright, he still doesn’t want to be accused of being one. Now, now. I feel like we could reasonably argue that Marcus is indeed a fool! *beat* Whether he’s also a heretic, I’ll leave to the experts to determine.
Errezha: Well *glances down at herself* being what I am, I was never guaranteed of having a soul, as I’ve been reminded repeatedly for my entire life. Let us see what the Amorrans have to say, hmm?
“Only a philosopher or a fool doubts his own existence, Excellency,” he said. “It is true, however, that the two all too often prove to be one and the same. I assert that I am neither. The verb ‘to know’ contains a number of interpretations, and in the sentence of which I believe you are speaking, I made use of the concept in its most concrete sense, the sense in which a thing is proven beyond any reasonable possibility of doubt. As in the case, for example, of a mathematical equation.”
“Your Excellency, as you know, where there is surety, there is no faith, no belief, per se. And therefore, knowledge of the soul rightly belongs in the realm of faith, not mathematics.” He placed his right hand over his heart. “Do I have a soul? Yes, I believe so, with all my heart. But regardless of my faith, it is either so or it is not, as the Castrate wrote so wisely. My personal belief does not have the capacity to dictate the truth. Indeed, before the eternal truth of the almighty God, my own humble opinion is of no account.”
Errezha: For someone who denies being a philosopher, he certainly seems to be engaging in philosophy… though some who are less kind might term it sophistry instead. But the gist seems to be “my own empirical knowledge of spiritual matters can never be absolute, but absolute truth exists independently of me” together with “faith means believing in things which by nature can be neither proven nor disproven,” which is reasonable enough, I suppose. Though perhaps if he came to Cheliax he might learn to think differently about some of it, to his sorrow – souls are quite hotly traded commodities, among devils and diabolists. The sanctiff thinks Marcus makes a good point, unless Claudo has a literal divine revelation to counter it with; Claudo begrudgingly agrees, though he thinks a decision must be reached even if they are all fallible. So, are we perhaps to finally get to the point?
Calassara: Alas, seemingly not, as Father Aestus breaks in to save Marcus from embarrassment by asking if he rides and Marcus says he does, as all Amorran patricians do (after Aestus is forced to clarify he does indeed mean horses and not cows or something else, in what seems like it’s supposed to be a joke). Aestus has no further questions, and Marcus is left even more confused. Wouldn’t the reasonable assumption at this point be that they’re planning to send him somewhere? But Marcus is left wondering if the sanctiff is going to ask him to juggle next (I can juggle! I can also recite epic poetry or bawdy tavern songs, depending on one’s preference, while I juggle. If that talent is actually needed, of course…). But instead, when neither scholar has any objections, the sanctiff proceeds to explain that Marcus is going to help him answer a question. To make a long story short, both scholars present have written treatises on the nature of the soul, though Aestus has not published his, Ordo Selenus Sapiens, yet, so Marcus hasn’t read it; the two agree on many points but disagree on one important one, and so Marcus is going to help them settle it. Nothing we’ve seen from Marcus so far suggests he’s qualified for such a thing, but maybe he’ll surprise me! Marcus agrees, and the sanctiff says he’s sending an embassy to Elebrion, and the two scholars are going and Marcus is to accompany them. And then, of course, we come to the meat of the matter:
Marcus put his hand over his mouth. Now he understood what the Sanctiff had in mind, and the sobering realization of terrible responsibility hit him like a blow to the stomach. “By the blood of the martyrs,” he cried despite himself. “You’re going to decide if the elves have souls!”
Calassara: *flatly* I was unaware the matter was yours to “decide”; perhaps at most to “determine,” but even that is presumptuous in the extreme, no? And why, dare I ask, if the elves live near enough to your republic that sending an embassy can be done so readily, has this question not been settled long ago? Unless the elves are newcomers to this region?
MG: In fact, they are not! Regardless, the chapter ends here! I’d initially wanted to do the first two chapters, since this first one is so short, but I actually think we’re going to stop here for today because we ended up having more to say about it than I’d thought we would, and one could argue that being a “Prooemium” makes it more like a prologue than a proper first chapter (though it doesn’t really feel like a prologue otherwise, IMO). And honestly, my biggest takeaway here is that I really, really hate Beale’s writing style – I feel like I ended up quoting more than I normally would from a section this short, mostly to try and convey just how insufferable this thing’s narrative voice is, and I’m really not sure I managed it. But to be brief, trying to get through Beale’s writing quickly turns into a slog. Making it worse is that I find myself bouncing hard off of our protagonist; while Marcus (and is it just me, or does it seem like every Roman-inspired fantasy has to have at least one Marcus? Admittedly, it’s not like the historical Romans were all that creative with their praenomen either) is supposed to be a rising young scholar of the Church who the sanctiff himself can apparently count on to serve as a third opinion alongside two established intellectual heavyweights, the overall vibe I get from him feels more like a bright but rather aimless college student than anything, with the exception of the one point where he pompously runs his mouth at enough length to make a rather banal argument seem deeper than it is. And we also get some examples of Beale’s sloppy worldbuilding, including our first hints of the political structure of Amorr and its inconsistencies, and also the halfhearted attempt at making the Amorran Church feel like anything more than a just barely reskinned medieval Christianity.
If all of this seems pretty superficial, it’s because we barely get into the actual substance of the story yet, just a bunch of people talking vaguely about their mission without defining what it is until the very last line. And really, if this “Prooemium” is meant to hook us on the story, I don’t think it does a very good job. We’re left with no real understanding of the debate between the two scholars, other than that it somehow elves whether elves have souls or not; what we’re not told is what their positions are, what the significance of the debate is (both the elves and the Amorrans seem to be getting along just fine with the question unanswered) or what Marcus personally is supposed to do about it (the most we know is that he wrote some commentary on Claudo’s treatise and Claudo apparently found it impertinent). Now, all of these will be addressed later in the novella, but again, if the Prooemium is supposed to hook the reader’s interest for the story, failing to effectively describe either the stakes or why our protagonist specifically is actually involved does not help with that!
Anyway, that’s all for today! Next time, Marcus will get ready to set off on his mission and we’ll get to see more of his family and life in Amorr. We’ll see you then!
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Date: 2026-01-19 10:34 pm (UTC)It certainly wants me to take a needle to the whole thing, if only to hear that final, satisfying "pop" and never having to hear Marcus speak again.
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Date: 2026-01-21 12:46 am (UTC)I think that's a very understandable reaction.
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Date: 2026-01-20 04:21 am (UTC)Oh, this is gonna be good, and by good I mean awful.
Yeeahh, Errezha's back, I like Errezha.
Random Latin in your face baby.
Oh boy, starting great are we?
Lend me some haki google translate, this is base Vox Day we're up against.
The question is about the Aelvi in comparison to men. First, whether the Aelvi have a soul naturally united to them. Second, whether they assume glory. Third, whether in the glory assumed they occupy the works of eternal life.
I... Understand nothing of that... Oh, anyway.
any equestrian stripes
Somehow, a flurry of colorful ponies appears in my mind...
the time to note that “Amorr” is just “Roma” spelled backwards and with an extra “r” added onto the end.
Of course it is...
he just tried to port medieval Christianity over to a fantasy world without considering, well, any of the social or political factors that might be influenced or different about its history or teachings in such a world
Well, everybody know that medieval Christianity is an High Outer Metaversal constant that exist recursively in every work of fiction past, present and future... Yes even Pawn Patrol and Teletubbies... But it still can't beat Goku, sorry.
Or is this passage nothing more than the sophomoric pedantry of a young scholar
It is, bro, trust me, I speak of experience. When you had a essay to deliver, that the deadline is closing and it bore you the fuck out, good old sophomoric pedantry is here to help you pad the word count.
“By the blood of the martyrs,” he cried despite himself. “You’re going to decide if the elves have souls!”
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Date: 2026-01-21 12:48 am (UTC)Well, according to Chessybell over on Das Sporking if we assume this Church is functionally the same as the Catholic Church it's theologically nonsense, so... off to a great start!
Somehow, a flurry of colorful ponies appears in my mind...
*snorts*
It is, bro, trust me, I speak of experience. When you had a essay to deliver, that the deadline is closing and it bore you the fuck out, good old sophomoric pedantry is here to help you pad the word count.
I think you've got Beale and/or Marcus pegged.
LOL@ your gif.