A sacred text of the Arialian Conservatism, containing the supposed words and teachings of Ark as transcribed by the early Ikor shamans after the Virian Cataclysm. It serves as the ultimate moral, social, and legal guide for the Central Arial.
Despite it's sacred meaning for the people of Central Arial it is unknown how much the writings truly describe what Ark forced on the people before the Virian Cataclysm.
The Verse of the Sole Architect
"Before the Firmament was drawn, there was only the Howling Deep. No stone held, no flame burned, no mind stirred. All was the Churning Void, where nothing was and nothing could be.
Then I was. I alone.
I looked upon the Deep and saw it was without shape, without purpose, without end. And I spoke, and the Deep recoiled. I stretched forth My hand, and from the Void I drew three Realms:
The Foundation of Stone, to be the bone of the world.
The Breath of Flame, to be the fire in its veins.
The Firmament of Thought, to be the mind that dreams it whole.I bound them with the Sacred Geometry, and called it a World.
Know this, and tremble: I am the First, for there was nothing before Me. I am the Last, for there shall be nothing after Me. There is no other Architect. There is no other Hand. To whisper that another shaped the clay, or that another breathes in the Deep, is to invite the Howling Deep anew.
I reached into the dust of My own design and drew forth the Three Pillars. I gave the Mind to weave the thought, the Arm to guard the border, and the Bone to lay the stone. They are Mine, for I made them. They live by My grace, for I sustain them.
I am Ark. I am the All. And all that is not Me is the Howling Deep."
- The Prologue, Verse of the Sole Architect
The Verse of the Three Pillars
"I looked upon the clay and saw it was formless, weak, and blind. So I forged the Mind to dream, the Arm to strike, and the Bone to bear the weight.
Do not say the Mind is greater than the Bone, for without the Bone, the Mind collapses into the dirt and is devoured by the dark. Do not say the Arm is lesser than the Mind, for without the Arm, the Mind is shattered by the wild beasts.
The Ikor shall weave the thought. The Shakor shall guard the border. The Garont shall lay the stone. They are Three, yet they are One. A table with but one leg will tip; a body with but one eye will stumble. They are equal in My eyes, for none can survive without the others. To covet anotherās sphere is to covet Chaos."
- The First Canticle, Verse of the Lattice
The Verse of the Living Clay
"I looked upon the barren earth and saw it was dead, unfit to hold the weight of My design. Dirt cannot think. Dust cannot strike. Soil cannot build.
I reached inward, past the boundaries of My divine vessel, and harvested the living clay of My own flesh.
I tore My own essence into three perfect portions.
From the marrow of My thought, I shaped the Ikor, that they might be the eyes with which I see the firmament.
From the iron of My wrath, I shaped the Shakor, that they might be the hand with which I strike the Chaos.
From the dense bone of My endurance, I shaped the Garont, that they might be the feet upon which My kingdom stands.You are the living extensions of the Architect. You are the Divine, fractured into three to bear the weight of the world.
When the Pure mingle their seeds, they commit a profound desecration. They take the sacred, divided flesh of the Divine and mash it back into a formless, rotting lump. They unmake the geometry of My body.
To bleed a Pure is to bleed the Architect. To mingle the Pure is to necrotize the flesh of God. Keep the limbs separate, that the Body may live."
- The Addendum to the First Canticle, Verse of the Living Clay
The Verse of the Spilled Clay
"But the clay was proud. The Mind sought the warmth of the Bone, the Arm sought the cunning of the Mind. They mingled their seeds in defiance of the Geometry, and from the womb came not children, but fractures.
The Sord. The Broken. The Spilled Clay.
They have no Pillar. They are the living, breathing echo of the sin that shattered the world and brought forth the Cataclysm. They are the monument to My wrath. Therefore, they shall not dream, they shall not strike, they shall not build. They shall only serve.
To let them walk free is to invite the Cataclysm anew. Bind them to the dirt they corrupted. Make their meaningless existence the mortar of My kingdom. Let them clean the filth, let them bleed in the deep mines, let them be the shield that breaks before the Shakor. In their servitude, they find their only purpose; in their subjugation, the pure are reminded of the price of sin."
- The Second Canticle, Verse of the Purge
This verse contradicts the information AIR acquired from the Ark himself during the interrogation.
It is possible that the texts were edited so serve the purposes of scarce work force during the times after the Virian Cataclysm at the Arial.
The Verse of the Sovereign Soil
"I gave the earth to be managed, not to be worshipped. The soil does not care whose blood waters it; it only cares whose hands till it.
When the Garont Lord commands the Ikor vassal in the fields of grain, the Ikor bows not to the Garont's flesh, but to the harvest they both serve. When the Shakor Commander orders the Garont smith to forge the spear, the Garont yields not to the Shakor's pride, but to the war that protects his forge.
Swear the Oath of the Lattice: 'I bind my function to your land. I do not bow to your blood, but to the duty Ark has carved into it.'
In the hall of war, the Shakor speaks. In the hall of stone, the Garont speaks. In the hall of stars, the Ikor speaks. The Lord of the land is merely the steward of the sphere. To usurp another's duty is to invite the Chaos."
- The Third Canticle, Verse of the Stewardship
The Verse of the Keystone
"And what of the crown? What of the one who sits at the apex?
I placed the Keystone at the top of the Arch. The Keystone holds the tension, it guides the spirit, it touches the heavens. But the Keystone does not bear the weight alone. The Arch stands only because the Pillars push against it.
The Voice of Ark speaks through the Ikor of the Keystone, but the Council of the Three holds the scales. The Keystone is the eye of the kingdom, but the Pillars are its hands and feet. To make the Keystone the master of the Pillars is to build a tower of glass that will shatter in the first wind. Let the Keystone guide the soul, but let the Council rule the earth."
- The Fourth Canticle, Verse of the Arch
The Verse of the Broken Arm
"In the days before the Shattering, when the clay was yet unbroken and the Geometry held firm, I raised the Arm to purge the corrupted settlements where the seed had been mingled in defiance of My design.
But one among the Arm, whose name was Ravell, let the weapon fall. He stood between the purge and the fracture, and he looked upon the Spilled Clay and called it whole. He looked upon the Chaos and called it Order. He pitied the defect, and in his pity, he became the defect.
For this, the Arm was severed from the body. Ravell and his warband were struck down, and their names were erased from the stars. But their sin lingered, a wound in the Geometry that would not heal.
Let no Shakor, no Garont, no Ikor, look upon the Spilled Clay and see anything but what it is. To hesitate is to invite the fracture. To pity the defect is to become the defect. To let the Arm go soft is to shatter the Arch.
Do not be as Ravell. Do not let the Arm go soft. Strike true, or be struck down."
- The Fifth Canticle, Verse of the Broken Arm
The Verse of the Whetstone
"And I looked upon the blade in the days of quiet, and saw the edge grow dull. For the blade is forged to strike, and a strike withheld turns inward, poisoning the blood.
When there is no beast to cleave and no fracture to seal, the blade must not turn upon the Mind, nor lay its heavy weight upon the Bone.
Therefore let the blade meet the stone. Let the edge grind against the edge in the sight of the Pillars. The fallen give themselves as the whetstone. Their blood cools the friction. Their breath hones the survivor's cut. Through their giving, the edge finds its keen.
Mourn not the stone that wears away, for without the wearing there is no sharpness. The spark that flies from the grinding is the proof of the edge.
Yet a blade ground to nothing cannot cleave the wild. The blade that grinds itself to dust leaves the Arch unguarded and the Lattice bare.
Strike the brother to hone the form, but preserve the core to guard the Pillars. To withhold the strike is to let the edge rust. To exhaust the blade is to shatter the Lattice. Sharpen, but preserve. The keenest edge guards the Pillars."
- The Sixth Canticle, Verse of the Whetstone
The Verse of the Scale
"When dispute arises among the Pure, the Eye shall weigh, the Hand shall extract, and the Voice shall record.
Truth is a rigid geometry, unmoved by the tears of the accused or the pleas of the guilty. The Mind listens to the facts and balances the equation. The Arm strips away the flesh of deception until only the bare fact remains. The Bone etches the final verdict into stone, making it immutable.
To lie before the Scale is to introduce a false variable into the Lattice. The Hand will break the liar to find the truth, and the Mind will judge the broken pieces. Let the record show that justice in the Arch is blind to mercy, but perfectly sighted to the Law."
- The Seventh Canticle, Verse of the Scale
The Verse of the Ledger
"I gave the stone to be shaped, and the shaped stone to be counted. The wealth of the tribe flows like water through the dry earth, and the Arch is the basin that holds it.
The coin of the realm bears the weight of the Lattice. To hoard it in secret, to falsify the count, or to withhold the Arch's due is to dam the lifeblood of the Pillars. The Bone builds the road, but the Arch commands the road. The Bone mines the ore, but the Arch commands the ore.
Let every transaction be measured, let every toll be paid, and let every ledger balance. A tribe that cannot count its own stones will soon find its foundations crumbling into the dust."
- The Eighth Canticle, Verse of the Ledger
The Verse of the Bloodline
"The lineage is the thread that binds the Pillar to the Arch. A single thread is weak, but woven together with its own kind, it forms a rope that can hold the weight of the world.
Honor your hearth, for your hearth is your fortress. The Ikor of your own hearth owes his first loyalty to the Ikor of your own blood, before the Ikor of any distant tribe. The Shakor of your own encampment defends the Garont of your own roof, for they share the same fire and the same bread.
To weave a foreign thread into the tapestry is to unravel the whole. Keep your blood pure, keep your alliances within your station, and let the elders arrange the bonds that will strengthen the Lattice for generations to come. A hearth that forgets its own blood has already invited the Chaos."
- The Ninth Canticle, Verse of the Bloodline
The Verse of the Sacred Spark
"I ignited the Spark within the clay of My design, and I gave the vessels into the hands of My children.
The Arkana are the physical echo of My thought, forged to hold the weight of the Arch. Yet an empty vessel is but stone. It is the Sacred Spark within the pure blood of the Three Pillars that grants the divine right to stand in its presence and command the Lattice.
Let no wild Arm, no mixed Bone, and certainly no Spilled Clay, attempt to force the Arkana. The vessel knows its maker, and it rejects the chaotic touch of the unmade. To force the Arkana without the Sacred Spark is to shatter the vessel and tear the fabric of the world.
Guard the artifacts as you guard your own lineage. Yield your life before yielding the Arkana to the impure. For a vessel touched by the Spilled Clay does not merely burn the flesh; it unravels the Lattice and invites the Howling Deep."
- The Tenth Canticle, Verse of the Sacred Spark
The Verse of the Eternal Arch
"When the breath departs the clay, and the vessel returns to the Foundation of Stone, the spirit stands before the Great Scale of the Architect.
First, He weighs the Function. Did the Mind weave the thought of the Firmament? Did the Arm guard the border of the Breath? Did the Bone lay the stone of the Foundation? He who covets another's sphere has already invited the Deep.
Second, He weighs the Purity. Is the thread unbroken? Did you keep the Sacred Geometry clean, or did you spill the clay and mingle the seeds of the Howling Deep?
Third, He weighs the Obedience. Did you accept your place in the Arch, or did you question the Hand that shaped you?
If the spirit is found true, it is drawn up into the Eternal Arch. The Mind becomes thought without end in the Firmament. The Arm becomes vigil without rest at the border. The Bone becomes foundation without burden in the Stone. They are woven into the Geometry, perfect and unchanging, as the Architect intended.
If the spirit is found falseāif it coveted, if it mingled, if it rebelledāit is cast down into the Howling Deep. There it wanders without form, without purpose, without end. It becomes the Chaos it sought to create in life.
The Spilled Clay have no place in the Arch. They are the monument to sin. When they die, they return to the void from which they came. They are not worthy of even the Howling Deep.
Fear the Deep. Honor the Arch. Fulfill your function, keep your blood pure, and accept your place. Only then will you be woven into the Eternal Geometry."
- The Eleventh Canticle, Verse of the Eternal Arch
The Verse of the Sacred Thread
"The thread of the Pure is spun by My hand. To cut it is to unravel the tapestry.
The blood of the Pillars is the mortar of the Arch. When the Mind bleeds, the Firmament trembles. When the Arm bleeds, the border falls. When the Bone bleeds, the foundation cracks.
Therefore, let no Pure hand be raised against the Pure. The Shakor shall not strike the Ikor in anger. The Ikor shall not curse the Garont to death. The Garont shall not poison the well from which the Shakor drinks.
If blood must be spilled, let it be spilled at the border, against the heretic, against the beast, against the Chaos that gnaws at the edges of the Arch. Let the Arm strike outward, never inward.
To slay a Pure is to slay a Pillar. To slay a Pillar is to invite the collapse of the Arch. And when the Arch falls, the Howling Deep rushes in, and all is lost.
The murderer shall be broken upon the Scale. Their thread shall be cut, and their name erased from the stars. They shall not join the Eternal Arch. They shall wander the Deep, a fracture that cannot be mended."
- The Twelfth Canticle, Verse of the Sacred Thread
The Verse of the Balanced Ledger
"I gave the stone to be shaped, and the shaped stone to be counted. The wealth of the tribe flows like water through the dry earth, and the Arch is the basin that holds it.
The coin of the realm bears the weight of the Lattice. To hoard it in secret, to falsify the count, or to withhold the Arch's due is to dam the lifeblood of the Pillars. The Bone builds the road, but the Arch commands the road. The Bone mines the ore, but the Arch commands the ore.
Let every transaction be measured, let every toll be paid, and let every ledger balance. A tribe that cannot count its own stones will soon find its foundations crumbling into the dust.
The thief is not merely a thief. The thief is a dam in the river of the Arch. The thief takes from the Bone what belongs to the Mind, or from the Mind what belongs to the Arm, or from the Arm what belongs to the Bone. The thief covets another's sphere, and in coveting, invites the Chaos.
The thief shall be weighed upon the Scale. Their hands shall be broken, that they may never again reach beyond their sphere. Their name shall be struck from the ledger, and they shall serve the Arch as the Spilled Clay serveāuntil their debt is paid in full, or until their thread is cut."
- The Thirteenth Canticle, Verse of the Balanced Ledger
The Verse of the Clear Mirror
"Truth is the glass through which the Mind sees the world. When the glass is cracked, the Mind sees fractures where there are none. When the glass is clouded, the Mind sees shadows where there is light.
The liar is not merely a liar. The liar is a crack in the glass of the Arch. The liar introduces a false variable into the Lattice, and the Lattice cannot bear the weight of falsehood.
When the Ikor lies, the Firmament trembles, for the Mind has lost its way. When the Shakor lies, the border falls, for the Arm has struck at shadows. When the Garont lies, the foundation cracks, for the Bone has laid false stone.
Let no Pure tongue speak falsehood. Let no Pure mind harbor deception. Let every word be weighed upon the Scale before it leaves the lips.
The liar shall be broken upon the Scale. Their tongue shall be cut, that they may never again introduce falsehood into the Lattice. Their name shall be struck from the stars, and they shall wander the Deep, a fracture that cannot be mended.
To lie before the Scale is to invite the Howling Depp. For the Howling Deep was born of the first lieāthe lie that the clay could covet another's sphere and not be shattered."
- The Fourteenth Canticle, Verse of the Clear Mirror
The Verse of the Steady Hand
"The child honors the parent, for the parent spun the thread. The vassal honors the lord, for the lord holds the land. The Pillar honors the Keystone, for the Keystone holds the Arch.
To defy the elder is to defy the thread that binds the generations. To defy the lord is to defy the land that feeds the tribe. To defy the Keystone is to defy the Arch itself.
The rebellious child is a loose thread that unravels the tapestry. The rebellious vassal is a cracked stone that weakens the foundation. The rebellious Pillar is a fractured Arch that invites the Deep.
Let every child honor their parent. Let every vassal honor their lord. Let every Pillar honor the Keystone. For in honoring, the Lattice holds firm, and the Arch stands unbroken.
The rebellious shall be broken upon the Scale. Their thread shall be cut, and their name erased from the stars. They shall not join the Eternal Arch. They shall wander the Deep, a fracture that cannot be mended."
- The Fifteenth Canticle, Verse of the Steady Hand
The Verse of the Measured Line
"I gave the Mind the gift of measure, that the Lattice might hold against the void.
The Geometer shall trace the sacred angles and enforce the boundary. Calculation is the binding of the lines I have already drawn.
A line unmeasured invites Chaos. An arc uncalculated fractures the Arch.
Let the Ikor weave the thought, and let the Geometer bind the geometry. For only the measured world survives the storm, and only the bound line keeps the sky from falling."
- The Sixteenth Canticle, Verse of the Measured Line