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the Superior Unknows. Yes, neffe: He spoke me many times, and he still speak me, as he did
before you came, when the hum of bees vibrated, the sound of the Dordje of the Druids, and he
warned me that I would be attacked; but I have not responded to His messages. I have never
done it since 1945.
–For God’s sake! Why, Uncle Kurt?, How could you remain in silence, stay indifferent
before the Voice of the Gods? –I not comprehended his attitude and I was saying him almost
screaming. Chased by the Druids, by the White Fraternity, by an entire Hierarchy of infernal
beings: How could be despised the unique possible help, the succour of the Liberator Gods? Oh
mein Gott, how difficult was for me then to understand Uncle Kurt.
–I know that you can’t comprehend me, Arturo. But is that you would have to put
yourself in my position, be in my skin in 1945, seeing Germany destroyed by the Synarchy of
the Allies and checking that the Wisest men, the Initiates in the Black Order, disappeared
without leaving traces in the Antartic Oasis or through the Expanded Doors. And while they
were leaving, until the Final Battle or who knows until when, I received the order to stay in
Hell, alone, to comply a mission from which I knew nothing at all and in which I not believed.
Yes, neffe, you can call it faithlessness or as you want, but I not believed that my
presence here was really important: I felt abandoned, betrayed by the Gods, left to my luck.
What could I do before the Great Triumphant Conspiracy? And however I was wrong.
Now I know it, and I hope that it is not too late to correct my stupid posture. The letter
of Belicena Villca has shown me an unsuspected part of the History, a side that gives final sense
to my life. Because, naturally, it only rest for me to die with honour and save the stain of all
these years of ignoble quietude.
Uncle Kurt was torturing himself needlessly and, once again, I was the causative of his
pain. I accursed for having ask and I would have wanted the ground to swallow me right there.
And there was no way to stop his subjective self-criticism.
–I am a , Arturo! A Initiate in the Black Order ! –He said with desperation–. I have
remained in a comfortable situation; hidden all these years, but secure, comfortably secure!:
Accrused be me and all the officers who have acted in the same manner! We should
have fought, forming young consciences, revealing the Hyperborean Wisdom! But we preferred
to keep quiet, assume a coward attitude that pretended to be prudent: Imagine, Arturo: if
neither to the Gods I was capable to respond, how less will I would have to clarify anyone! And
you know why? Because we didn’t believe in the new generations, nor in the Triumph of the
Führer, nor in the Final Battle! Perhaps, and I just say «perhaps», we will be forgiven in part
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