Online:The Truth in Sequence: Volume 11
 The Truth in Sequence: Volume 11 |
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| ID | 4708 | ||
| See Also | Lore version | ||
| Up | The Truth in Sequence | ||
| Prev. | Volume 10 | Next | Volume 12 |
| Collection | Clockwork Mnemonix | ||
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Taken from the sermons of Deldrise Morvayn, Fourth Tourbillon to the Mainspring Ever-Wound.
By the word, I wind the gears.
I hear your whispers—your puerile laments. Even here in the Clockwork City, bathed in the oil of His divine wisdom, you cry out, "Where are the soft grasses and babbling creeks? Where are the heady wines and rich fruits? Where are the gentle rains, and sighing boughs, and swaying mushrooms?" Like hungry babes you weep, "Where is the Real?" Ease your bellows and steady your gears. You must gaze now upon the brass-wrought truth. See the Real of Tamriel Final. Anuvanna'si.
What makes a thing real? Is it the blood, or the sap, or the beating heart? Is it the shrieking trauma of an infant's birth? The low roar of the tides? The root's thirst for water or the lazy drift of distant clouds? No, child of Seht! Hear the words in sequence! Can you not see that your fears spring from Lorkhan's lie? Those soft forms and gentle comforts you covet are naught but corroded lies—fractured creation's panacea that deadens the soul's forgotten pain.
"But is Sotha Sil's sacred city not a replication?" you ask, "A Nirn in miniature?" Hear this, ash-child: the Clockwork City is no mere simulacrum. The copper leaves and sculpted hills are not Nirn's resemblance, but Nirn's refinement—worldly forms made whole by the steady hand of the Mainspring Ever-Wound. The glorious unity of Tamriel Final demands convergence. Anuvanna'si. Mer and machine made whole. Nature and engineering made whole. The past and the future made whole. In time, all of Nirn shall be pressed and fired in this forge of Seht's blessed imaginings—weighed and measured upon the Nameless Scales! Is this not the Real? Is this not the redemption of the et'Ada's sins? Do you see now the impoverished forms of the Nirn-Prior? The cheap and hollow falsehoods that masquerade as nature's splendor?
Seek out the dry, hard places, child of Seht. Anoint your tongue with His oil. Fill your stomach with His nourishing grain. Cast out what was and fix your eyes upon the Nirn-to-come—upon Tamriel Final. Anuvanna'si.
By the word, I wind the gears.
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