L'Eglise Aristotelicienne Romaine The Roman and Aristotelic Church

[Cremonesi]

O Padre Afonso Cremonesi estava tomado por uma doce ansiedade na véspera de sua primeira vigília pascal em Roma. Os aromas sutis do incenso, o murmúrio das preces e toda a egrégora de fé que pairava no ar envolviam sua alma em profunda reverência. Era como se o espírito, em plena celebração da Páscoa, já se banhasse em luz.

Seguiu em silêncio e oração até a Basílica de São Tito. Seus olhos, deslumbrados com a beleza de cada detalhe ao redor, acompanhavam o ritmo acelerado do coração, que pulsava com emoção a cada passo dado.

À distância, avistava a grande fogueira que iluminava a noite santa, símbolo vivo da Luz do Criador ressuscitado. O calor que dela emanava não era apenas físico, mas impregnado de fé e esperança pascal. Movido por esse mistério sagrado, o padre encontrou um lugar discreto onde pôde recolher-se em oração, unindo-se espiritualmente à liturgia que se desenrolava. Ali permaneceu, em íntima contemplação, deixando-se envolver pelo silêncio orante e pela presença viva do Ressuscitado que iluminava aquela vigília tão esperada.

___________________________

Father Afonso Cremonesi was imbued with a serene anticipation on the eve of his first Easter Vigil in Rome. The lingering fragrance of incense, the gentle murmur of prayer, and the palpable presence of the faithful created an atmosphere of profound devotion that enveloped his soul. It felt as though his spirit, already steeped in the Paschal mystery, was being quietly transfigured.

He made his way to the Basilica of Saint Titus in silent recollection. His eyes, wide with wonder at the sacred beauty surrounding him, mirrored the fervour of his heart, which beat ever more swiftly with each step towards the holy place.

From a distance, he beheld the great fire that illumined the holy night — a living symbol of the Light of the Risen Christ. The warmth that radiated from it was not merely physical, but imbued with faith and Paschal hope. Drawn by the sacred mystery, the priest found a quiet place where he could recollect himself in prayer, uniting his heart to the unfolding liturgy. There he remained, in silent contemplation, allowing himself to be enveloped by the prayerful stillness and the living presence of the Risen Lord, who illumined that long-awaited Vigil.

[Grimaldi]

Grimaldi, évêque de Autin, arrive également à Rome pour participer à la veillée pascale.

[Agness]

Agness arrived just as the Easter Vigil was on the verge of commencing, thus she chose to remain at the rear, behind the throng of the faithful, to avoid disrupting the solemn ceremony.

The flickering flames of the bonfire instilled within her a sense of renewed and heightened faith.

As the vigil concluded and the congregation made their way towards the Basilica for the Easter Mass, she finally encountered her cousin, the deaconess Lyssah, as well as her father, Cardinal Adonnis, and joined them in their proclamation of faith.

[Ferreiramelo]

Com o rosário nos dedos, Ferreira Melo observava os preparativos para a Vigília Pascal. Sentia no ar algo diferente este ano, uma promessa de renovação mais intensa. A primavera precoce não explicava a profunda expectativa que lhe ia na alma.

Quarenta dias de jejum findavam, e a imagem da luz a vencer a escuridão ecoava no seu coração crente. Ali, junto ao obelisco, imaginava a congregação reunida, testemunhando o triunfo da bondade.

Roma estendia-se aos seus pés, um testemunho da fé através dos tempos. O vento açoitava-lhe os cabelos enquanto murmurava: "Fiat lux". A velha frase parecia carregar um significado ainda maior naquela noite especial.

Em breve, juntar-se-ia aos outros, pronto para celebrar a noite que se tornaria amanhecer, a noite da vitória da luz. Ferreira Melo, com fé inabalável, aguardava a manifestação da graça divina na Páscoa que se aproximava.

****************************************************************************************************************************************

With his rosary beads clutched in his wrinkled fingers, Ferreira Melo watched the preparations for the Easter Vigil. He sensed something different in the air this year, a promise of more intense renewal. The early spring did not explain the deep anticipation that stirred within his soul.

Forty days of fasting were ending, and the image of light conquering darkness echoed in his believing heart. There, beside the obelisk, he pictured the congregation gathered, witnessing the triumph of goodness.

Rome stretched out at his feet, a testament to faith through the ages. The wind whipped his hair as he murmured, "Fiat lux." The old phrase seemed to carry an even greater meaning on this special night.

Soon, he would join the others, ready to celebrate the night that would become dawn, the night of the victory of light. Ferreira Melo, with unwavering faith, awaited the manifestation of divine grace in the approaching Easter.
_________________

[Puta_z_ryzmberka]

A man in a simple white robe quietly joins the gathering. The hem of his cloak bears the dust of the road, a silent testament to the miles behind him. He arrives without escort, marked by neither insignia nor ornament. He has come from Moravia. In Rome, he studies – and tonight, for the first time, he steps into the presence of the Basilica of Saint Titus.

He lingers near one of the columns at the edge of the square, adjusting his sleeve as if to still his thoughts. His gaze traces the patterns of the mosaic beneath his feet, then slowly rises to the great dome overhead – vast, quiet, eternal.

From a distance, he notices the gathering near the obelisk, where the fire will be lit. Cardinals and bishops move with calm intent. He does not draw near. He does not speak. He simply remains – quietly, humbly – present in a silence that needs no name.

[Talitasx]

A noite sagrada havia chegado.

Talita ajeitou o véu com reverência antes de cruzar o átrio da imensa basílica. A pedra antiga parecia viva sob seus pés, como se cada passo ecoasse na eternidade. As sombras envolviam o espaço, mas não o coração. Lá dentro, ela levava a chama da esperança, como tantas mulheres haviam feito antes dela.

Caminhava com humildade, mas também com uma alegria que mal podia conter. Ao lado dos fiéis, unia-se ao silêncio expectante, à oração que brotava mais do que dos lábios — nascia da alma.



The sacred night had arrived.

Talita adjusted her veil with reverence before crossing the atrium of the immense basilica. The ancient stone seemed alive beneath her feet, as if each step echoed into eternity. Shadows filled the space, but not the heart. Within, she carried the flame of hope, as so many women had done before her.

She walked with humility, yet with a joy she could barely contain. Beside the faithful, she joined in the expectant silence, in a prayer that rose not merely from the lips — but from the soul.
_________________

[Adonnis]

The time had come for the Holy Fire to be lit. The Cardinal de Sagres, who was at the Palazzo Taverna - his private residence and that of his family in Rome - came riding, accompanied by a small private guard, from the Rione Ponte to Piazza Aristotle.

Dismounting, Adonnis lit a cigarette and, in his company, walked toward the place where the fire would be kindled.

The Sagres could still see several workers moving silently, carefully arranging every detail for the Holy Fire and the blessing of the hundreds of candles.

He was tired, and precisely for that reason, had remained in Rome. The atmosphere of the Eternal City always had the power to debug his energy and recharge his spirit.

The Cardinal had recently concluded his Task in his Homeland. The Regency had ended, and with it, the need to guard the Throne, the Country, and the People until the ascension of a new Monarch.

Although satisfied with having completed his mission, it was undeniable that each time he was placed in that position, a piece of himself was worn down. It had only been seven years since he returned to Portugal, yet at times it felt like decades, given everything that had happened during those years.

As he walked through the gathered crowd, the Cardinal nodded in greeting to those he knew. With a light touch on the shoulder, he also greeted the young Cremonesi, Agness, Ferreiramelo, and Talitasx - all his students and brilliant members of the Portuguese Aristotelian Community.

Reaching his niece, Adonnis stopped by her side and extinguished his nearly finished cigarette. With a gentle gesture, he rested his hand on her shoulder in a sign of affection, while silently observing all that was unfolding.

_________________

.....Cardinal-Presbyter of Saint Anthony of the Portuguese / Grand Audiencier of the Holy See / General Inquisitor of Portugal
...............Primate of Portugal / Metropolitan Archbishop of Braga / Bishop of Vila Real / Duke of Monte Real

[Bibiano]

O Arcebispo português viajara desde sua terra até Roma especialmente para as comemorações da Páscoa, a comitiva portuguesa era numerosa, seu coração estava imensamente cheio de alegria ao ver o rosto de tantos conterrâneos ali.
Caminha em silêncio profundamente reflexivo e em oração aguardando a cerimônia.

---

The Portuguese Archbishop had traveled all the way from his homeland to Rome especially for the Easter celebrations, the Portuguese entourage was numerous, and his heart was immensely filled with joy at seeing the faces of so many of his countrymen there.
He walked in silence, deeply reflective and in prayer, awaiting the ceremony.
_________________

• Conde de Ervedal • Capelão Régio • Arcebispo Metropolitano de Évora •

[clemente]

Clemente with shining eyes and a delighted smile...

Wow, what a wonderful scene this is, he thought to himself. Seeing all this preparation, the reverent silence, the hope that is renewed... it’s a unique experience. He never imagined that a celebration could convey so much joy, faith, and renewal.

From afar, he recognized some familiar faces from other places. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he held his rosary and recited prayers while waiting for the much-anticipated ceremony to begin.

[Cremonesi]

Entre preces e pensamentos silenciosos, Padre Cremonesi ergueu o olhar e, com discreta alegria, reconheceu entre os fiéis alguns conterrâneos que também participavam da vigília — entre eles, Adonnis e Bibiano. Com um sorriso sereno e um aceno reverente, saudou-os com o coração transbordante de gratidão, unido na fé que ali os congregava.


_________________
Amid silent prayers and quiet reflections, Father Cremonesi lifted his gaze and, with discreet joy, recognised among the faithful a few compatriots who were also present at the Vigil — among them, Adonnis and Bibiano. With a serene smile and a reverent nod, he greeted them, his heart overflowing with gratitude, united in the faith that had brought them together in that sacred moment.

[Filomena]

Her black dress was pierced by white moonstones, arranged in precise ornamentation along her sleeves and the side of the gown, interwoven with white Brussels lace that spilled over the silk like a majestic mandala. It bore symbols and equations alluding to the numerology of eternity, the divine, and the divine principle—yet only for those initiated into this powerful symbology to which Filomena willingly surrendered herself.

Her white-blonde hair was styled into a work of art, adorned with black onyx stones set in a golden comb—both standing out magnificently against her lustrous hair. Her delicate features were those of a sovereign mistress. The gaze of her jade-blue eyes held a certain coldness, and yet it was manipulative, captivating—like two gates to a deeper dimension that the devoted observer might be drawn to explore, to beseech. But there lay the danger of becoming lost in this mysterious new atmosphere, of perishing within it—within her.

Filomena played with this game of games—the power of her femininity, which could, with a single glance, offer sufficient reason for all terrible or blessed events. Her lips, painted blood-red, were always curled in a slight, dreamy, almost haughty smile. She was well aware of her allure.

Draped over her shoulders rested a cloak of steel-grey polar fox, solemnly framing her and enhancing her presence—supported, indeed almost balm-like, by the confident steps of her high-heeled leather boots upon the paving stones of the Place of Aristotle.

Her gaze rested upon the obelisk—that potent Egyptian symbol of life, power, and dominion. Not far from it, the fire would soon be kindled.

Fire—an element that defined her like no other. Like flaming rubies, devouring not only flesh and bone, but cleansing even the depths of the soul of their substance. Fire was power. It separated man from beast. It was a gift, a curse, a tool—and it promised both death and life.

Few things could stir so deeply within her as the licking flames of a fire and the heat that lived within her, reflecting off her pale skin—until her features would be forced to turn away.

But that moment had not yet come. A veil of hyacinth, black roses, and patchouli surrounded her in scent. She knew her brother would soon make his appearance. This was a ceremony to his taste.

_________________

[Lil.li]

[MissMoon]

The current Countess of the County of Porto, the Viscountess of Vila Viçosa, Luna Brightwater Elensar de Miranda, steps out last of the carriage where she travelled with her trusted friends and council colleagues, Duchess Vivian Lara Viana and Countess Maria Beatrice Lilliana de Viana, from the far lands of the Kingdom of Portugal.

They've come to celebrate the Pascal Vigil, as faithful believers in the Almighty, or Jah, as we call Him in Portugal, together with other believers from all around the world.

Luna was wearing a modest black dress, with lace details all over, giving it some grace but without standing out too much. In her head she had decided to wear a white laced veil, as it was customary from the lands where she was born. It had been passed along for generations, so she was very fond of it, along with another heirloom in her hands, a pearled rosary, and would always wear them for special occasions, as this event was.

They started making their way to the other Portuguese attendees, and celebrate together even on this distant sacred land.

_________________
Countess of the County of Porto
Viscountess of Vila Viçosa

[Izak]

The young marquess arrived soon after his great aunt and cousin. The last time he had been to Rome was for his father funeral, and the city in the young boy's memory was tinted with deep sadness. His heart heavy but the fiery golden glow of the ambers still heating the square, the smell of smoke and the faint sparks dancing in the wind gave the scenario a captivating yet solemn atmosphere. Great fires were always associated with great rites in the juvenile mind of the young marquess.

The fires of the forges, his daily companion, molding and forming the steel for both tools and weapons, shields and cuttlery, armor and mechanical equipment. And that fire had been similar yet different for it was a fire for the soul.

A few paces ahead of him, he saw his family members, and fast paced towards them.

- Cousin! - He called! - Great Aunt! Oh! Countess you're here as well! It is a pleasure to meet you this evening! - as he got near them, he completed. - My ladies, would you do me the honor of letting me keep you company?

[Ferraro]

After walking through the crowd for a while, appreciating the entire ceremony, he recognizes his friends, His Grace Augusto Bibiano d'Avis and his brother in faith, His Lordship Alfonso Cremonesi Highlander Silva. Dom Ferraro walks quickly to join familiar faces who could help him if necessary in this celebration. He greets them with a radiant smile and joins them in prayer. This was his first time in Rome, everything was new.

------------------------------------------

Após andar pela multidão um pouco apreciando toda cerimônia reconhece seus amigos, Sua Graça Augusto Bibiano d’Avis e de seu irmão de fé, Sua Senhoria Afonso Cremonesi Highlander Silva, Dom Ferraro caminha rapidamente para se juntar a rostos familiarias que poderiam lhe ajudar caso fosse preciso nesta celebração, comprimenta-os com sorriso radiante e se junta à eles em oração, esta era sua primeira vez em roma, tudo era novo.