Of the Crimeless Traitors

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Prologue: In Principio Erat Verbum | In Memoria, Adytum

Of the Crimeless Traitors


In times of old, an age long-passed
the world was into conflict cast
The War of the Flesh, as it's known
on its sides, factions two alone:

In one camp — titans tall as sky
their burning ANSWERS to deny
heretic calls the world then held
one leader to his men compelled

Their enemies — those brave with will
Once slaves with fearless faith instilled
that rose from shackles, led by One
and four Saints that were ruled by none

In chaos, one can hardly find
a man that truly kept their mind
But one of Gyaros found his chance
by skill alone he held his stance

Though sealed in cells as dark as night
he got to live, a newfound right


The man was young, and skilled like few
his voice a rule, his magic true
His warden — rare and pure of soul
through day and night, she would patrol

his cell and watch the man within
her metal frame bereft of skin
Metal plates and gears formed her bones
She'd guard the man in flesh-like robes

They eyed each other, through and through
and over time each of their crew's
orders so questioned in the night:
"How can this be so just and right?"

For the two were merely recruits
by the war itself made half-brutes
So to oppose what they were told
was in their nature brave and bold

When passing time made neither free
the man said: "Run away with me"


She raised a brow ("Was this a plot?")
but took the hand of who she caught
and with slight fear went where she'd please
to embrace the Nälkän breeze

It was a shock, to see so close
the men that anger past provoke
And though they varied widely still
they were not men that she could kill

The men within were young and old
and unalike all she'd been told
in godlessness, they lay unbound
in rule of will, they beauty found

She turned towards her new-made friend
and — forcing her worldview to bend —
she offered him the gift of choice
for him to listen to her voice

And so, shrouded in careful trust
he left home to embrace her rust


On far horizon he then found
a fortress with coherence bound
where men and women like gears turned
In this dance, of their god they learned

Where reason always reigned supreme
they had no king and had no queen
just laws of god they need abide
as taught by prophets in loud pride

The young man gasped, for what he saw
was nothing like he'd known as law
He'd always thought young they did kill
yet they had merely wills of steel

that so in knowledge widely grew
and made of chaos logic due
He saw so much he never dreamt;
shock to his heart a message sent

But time was up, that they both knew
They headed back with new taboos


Next months pretending they both spend
as if no such event occurred
But after many sleepless nights
the Nälkä said: "This is not right

I can no longer like this do
and therefore I must ask: can you?"
She closed her eyes, and focused deep:
"I hear them every night in sleep

Their beast-like screams, kids thrown as bate
I think — I want to meet this fate?
The answer's no, and break the wheel
we just must for once and real"

He moved his head with hope in eyes
his soul and words just simply wise:
"Then let's together out there go
to tell the world of what we know"

And so, though the two made no crime
they were now traitors of their time


They went away so far and wide
but never once did they decide
to turn their way back to their homes
even though they gave up their thrones

In alone time shared love they found
With no-one but themselves around
in years alive, they old did grow
still remembering years ago

But the world them remembered, too
and warlords knew exactly who
ran away in the past long gone
And in anger forth their swords drawn

They tried to run, they tried to hide;
no-one could understand their side
In mutual unbroken care
they still were for each other there

And even when darkness them took
not once did they regret their book


But ages pass, and so do lives
and their love too abides said rights
Hence millennia later two
none of the lovers still ensue

They both fought well, they both fought brave
but nature takes what it once gave
Pierced by flesh swords and vibrant spears
they faded into empty tears

So thanks to hate and thanks to time
the everlasting lay divine
in crypts below an unchanged world
in loving arms so gently curled

No sound to hear, no light to see
a promise empty to be free
fulfilled in death and nothing more
as cogs and flesh wage final war

And there they lay, within the deep
untill Ion wakes again from sleep

Translation notice: Originally written in an ancient dialect of the Ämärangnä language, the excerpt provided above is a translation of a part of a previously unknown, larger body of poems of anonymous hand, retailing the events of the War of the Flesh from the perspective of war victims and prisoners. Despite other Sarkic pieces of literature and tales appearing worldwide, we have found, so far, no evidence of a similar collection existing anywhere else. Reasons for this lack of existence — whether intentional by any parties or not — remain unknown.

— Dr. Judith Low, Senior Adviser at the Department of History, Religious GoI threat analysis

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