Free Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy and Other Stories by Vox Day

the near-midday sun, Serranus’s ominous words struck Marcus with chilling effect. Waiting to die? Fear of death that was born of an irresistible desire for extinction? Although he knew that war between Amorr and Elebrion was a real possibility, it had never occurred to Marcus that it might be the elves, not men, who were wishing for it.
    “Truly?”
    “Should the Sanctiff in his wisdom decide that they are creatures unfit to serve Our Immaculate Lord,” Serranus said, “I suggest it will be a mercy to put their cities to the torch and the remnants of their race to the sword. The High King will not lift his hand against us—not because he fears us, but because he desires what we can give him and his people in the same way that a mortally wounded soldier welcomes the last kiss of steel.”
    Marcus rode in stunned silence, the hoof-falls of the troop and the creaking of the wooden wagons the only sounds. The road had begun a slight incline and the horses were breathing harder than they had before. Fortunately, there were dark lines running parallel to the road in the distance that promised the possibility of shade once they crested the rise.
    Zephanus chuckled. “And here I’d always thought you won that pretty face fighting them in the borderlands, Claudius Serranus. I had no idea that they did nothing but bare their throats to your blade. If the elves are so ready to die, how did you get that scar on your face, then? Were you foolish enough to let Caulus Phillipus shave you?” Zephanus laughed at Marcus’s expression and held up a right hand with two fingers folded down. “Phillipus lost half his hand to an orc’s axe at Goxlims. Don’t let him shave you.”
    But Marcus wasn’t thinking about how Serranus had been scarred. He was more curious about where he’d been when he had been scarred.
    “Amorr doesn’t border on Merithaim, much less Elebrion,” he pointed out. “And the elves haven’t raided Imperial territory for one hundred years. So, either you are much older than would seem possible, Claudius Serranus, or you are telling us tall tales. Or … you were fighting on behalf of someone other than the Senate and People of Amorr.”
    Serranus laughed. But before he could reply, the horses at the front of the column abruptly pulled up. Marcus rose in the saddle to see over the bishop’s wagon. The lead horses had halted at a stone bridge passing over a shallow stream. In a booming voice that carried all the way back to their rearguard, Sir Hezekius announced that they would halt long enough to refresh themselves and water their horses.
    Normally it would be a slave’s job to help Marcus from Barat’s back. But although Marcipor was already cantering back toward him, Marcus didn’t wait for his help to dismount. With a groan he lifted his right leg over the saddle and dropped awkwardly to the ground. Lodi grunted and followed his example. The two of them locked eyes for a moment, then the dwarf grimaced and rubbed at his thick thighs. Marcus shook his head. It was going to be a long, long ride to Elebrion.

I A Q. VII A. I ARG. IV
Praeterea, homo in Die Sexto creatus sunt. In ordine naturae qui in narratione Creationis descriptus, perfectius praestat. Ergo homo est perfectior quam aelvi. Tum, perfectissima res animae estseparatio ab corpore, quod in illa re similior Dei angelorumque, et purior, quod separatur ab ulla aliena substantia. Quandoquidem non aeque perfecti atque homines, aelvi ulterius quam homines ab perfectissima re animae. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
    THEIR REPRIEVE FROM the road was far too short, but at least his stomach was full of bread, meat, and cheese now, Marcus thought. More importantly, his parched throat was well wetted by the cool waters of the stream. The brook flowed down from hills that were just beginning to become visible on the horizon.
    They wouldn’t reach them by nightfall, but everyone was looking forward to reaching them all the same, even