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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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