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Taken from the sermons of Deldrise Morvayn, Fourth Tourbillon to the Mainspring Ever-Wound.
By the word, I wind the gears.
The Mainspring Ever-Wound values craft above all things. She who shapes and assembles, he who conceives and creates—these are the true children of the Clockwork God.
Your labors need not whirr and hiss like the sublime clockworks of Sotha Sil. The brush, the auger, the tongs, the needle—each and each may honor the Father of Mysteries, so long as they speak His truth. And what is His truth, child of Seht? Perfection only? No. Hear the words in sequence! Simple precision is naught but the shadow of virtue. Even a faithless smith may fashion the blade with the keenest edge. The perfect sphere, the clearest glass, the truest angle—all fall short of His favor. Only through the purest incongruities and greatest doubts do we earn His blessing. You must think with the thrice-folded mind. You must gaze upon the unsequence.
No mortal may grasp the unsequence fully. We see the edges only—the liminal truths. For some, the unsequence brings despair. Others look upon it with a child's bewilderment. But for the precious few, the Nameless explorers, this thin ray of understanding may serve as the Bridge of Infinite Curve. The Walking Wheel.
Know this, ash-child: only the intrepid mind may walk this path. For you see, the Nameless soul is the tightrope walker that strides in circles only. Below and aside, waits the gaping maw of Sheogorath's lie. Ahead and above, waits Tamriel Final. Anuvanna'si.
I hear your cries, child of Seht! "How does one walk the wheel?" you ask. Here lies a Nameless truth. Just as no wrench fits all bolts, no walk fits all souls. For the sculptor, it may mean an angle inverted, or a form transposed—an abandonment of the Named resemblance and an embrace of the abstract. For the scholar of maths, it could require half-mad theorems—rooms of cubic numbers and functions only imagined. For the inventor, it may demand a tool without any known use, or an answer-machine that prints only questions.
Craft perfected, and use obscure: this is the surest path to Tamriel Final. Anuvanna'si.
By the word, I wind the gears.