castle fortress cliffs

A New Order, A Call to Arms

A young boy walks across a beach with a fishing rod over his shoulder. Above him at the top of the cliffs a castle looks out over the glittering Mediterranean. He grew up on his father’s stories about the Crusaders who had defended Europe here. Those knights have been gone for centuries but their ghosts still walk the ancient halls.

Now a new Order had come. Flags of Saint George fly from the towers. The arrow-slits glow with firelight. But these men on the walls carried rifles and the gaps in the old walls were filled with sandbags and razor wire.

They had arrived six months ago from out of nowhere. Some were local men. Others had answered the call from across Europe. They were a mixture of soldiers, adventurers and the dispossessed, come together under the flag of the Dragonslayer.

They drove the invaders into the sea and turned the boats around. They told the corrupt officials, judges and journalists that they would comply or else. Those impostors slouching on the thrones of Europe had not yet been deposed but out here on the Southern frontier they were a long way from the corrupt halls of government power. These men were a new order. A church within the church. A state within a state.

They repaired the fishing boats and nets and kept the seas clear of pirates. They built a school. They dug wells. They fixed the church roof and the pews started to fill up again. The drug dealers and pimps disappeared and nobody asked where they went.

There’s a chapel in the castle grounds. Chickens run in a courtyard. Men tend livestock and crops. Wheat fields and orchards line the surrounding hills and sheep roam in pastures. They train like soldiers in the open-air gymnasium and read like monks in the library.  At night they eat together by candlelight in the great hall.

Sometimes a bell rings out from the tower and the men pile into their fast boats and skip away across the sea, the flag of the Dragonslayer streaming in the air behind them. The bell that once called the faithful to prayer now calls them to action.

The young boy with the fishing rod walks across the beach. A colourful piece of driftwood is tumbling in the surf. He stops to look at it. It looks like it came from the hull of a ship. He remembers how things used to be, with the boats crammed full of strange people, and when nobody dared to stop them. He looks back to the men with rifles dragging their boats up the shore.

‘One day that will be me,’ he says.

I know we think the same.

 

7 thoughts on “A New Order, A Call to Arms”

  1. The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the name of their sons.

    Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry or in high cold towers asking questions of the stars.

    And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin The line of kings failed The White Tree withered; The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men

  2. Brother, your writing along with Jack Donovan’s The Way Of Men have transformed my thinking and my idea of not only men, but all of society and what is wrong in the world. I want to thank you for that and for giving me hope that we here in the former US can raise the warrior spirit and drive back those who who usurp our lands and enslave our children. Keep raising the alarm, others will answer. -55six

  3. I ponder the negatives of the sick, perverted US society I exist within where the unholy alliance between big business and big government with their all-consuming lust for wealth and power driving their actions relentlessly negatively affects all of life. Their near-total control of the mass media directs the thoughts of so many of the masses that those tyrants lording over the masses have created a country full of near-serfs so well-indoctrinated that they actually support and will defend to the death those overlords and the systems created allowing the few to rule the many.

  4. And at dinner, the head of the order stands and recites the following:

    “Men of Europe, sons of Europe, defenders of civilization:
    The blood of our fathers was spilled to give us our birthright. This is our land. This is our inheritance. This is our people. This is our legacy. Our people must survive.

    Remind yourselves, day by day, that one day you will die. Treasure every waking moment and do not waste a single hour. This is our time. We were born to fight today’s battles; let no man back down from the just fight! Let your life be worthy of remembrance and legend. Discipline yourselves, my brothers, and defy all fear. Fear the Lord, and no one else.

    One day, our sons will inherit what others’ fathers have thrown away. The just and noble will claim the scoundrel’s lands. Brother, teach your sons well, that they may surpass even yourself in virtue.

    We are the future. We are timeless. We are the destiny of good men. We are the counter-revolution. We seek nothing less than complete victory and total annihilation over those who rule unjustly. Let us drink to victory! Viva Christo Rey!”

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