On top of the Ridge of Revelation, in an old study, First Fortune sits in a high-backed leather chair behind an old oak desk, upon which rests a gold-framed land deed. A menacing dragon engraved in a family crest rises from above the hearth, while the smell of leather settles thick in the air. 

An assistant ushers into the study a pastor from the Church of the Weeping Willow and First Fortune’s young son, TS who moves to the back of the room where he leans against the stone facade supported by reinforced beams. First Fortune stands, warmly shakes the guest’s hand, and motions to the small conference table where they sit. 

 

First Fortune says:

 

welcome christ’s church

glad progress has been made

to extend the ridge’s reach

as we hoped and prayed

            

Christ’s Church, a young man, trembling slightly, responds:  

 

yes first fortune 

our teams have agreed

to share this sacred land

to your grace we plead

 

a palace we do not seek

nor sword to guard the gate

we build with open hands

and leave behind old hate

 

the land is yours by deed

your family’s seal well known

extend that strength to us

let mercy mark the stone

 

please grant us the land 

beside the willow tree

so we can build a new church

where justice and love run free

 

Christ’s Church points toward the window where the Weeping Willow rises in the distance. First Fortune smiles and answers:

 

your words are finely wrought

compassion in their frame

yet cities built on hills

require a steady aim

 

hope is a fragile seed

when storms begin to press

a house must stand on law

not mercy’s gentleness 

 

First Fortune gestures toward the crest and a map of the Ridge on the wall pinned with thumbtacks as trophies. He explains:

 

this hall was once a chapel

then bench of law and right

my fathers held this ground

through prayer and might

 

the ridge was carved by will

not hymns in trembling tone

ancestors cleared these heights

and made this stone our own

 

yet i respect your aim

to shelter weak and small

a house that heals the soul

need not be doomed to fall

 

yet should my family require

for order, peace, or need

the land shall return at call

to serve a higher deed

 

Christ’s Church responds, cautious but grateful:

 

we trust your guiding hand

though clause is severe

but better a guarded field

than none to gather here

 

The assistant returns and walks Christ’s Church out of the study. First Fortune motions for TS to join him at the table where he sits down and asks, quietly:

 

father do you believe

the words you spoke of grace

or were those holy lines

just tools we must embrace

 

First Fortune, proud of his son, responds: 

 

belief is not a chain

nor something for show

it is the fire men use

to shape the world we know

 

when pagans held this ridge

in chaos, smoke, and fear

thou shalt bent wild will to law

and made god’s kingdom here

 

he did not ask for love

nor wait for heaven’s nod

he carved a city here

and named it land of god

 

his dragon marks our seal

not terror but command

for our order is a gift

when chaos stalks the land

 

First Fortune looks out the window at the Weeping Willow and then back to TS. He continues:

 

men ache to be relieved

from freedoms they cannot bear

they crave a steady hand

to draw their borders clear

 

the church laments decline

its voice no longer feared

but power fills the void

when destiny is steered

 

you were not born of sheep

no doubt within these walls

you bear a dragon’s name

answer when it calls

 

First Fortune stands up, steps around the table, and places both hands on TS’s shoulders. He continues, solemnly: 

 

align the purse and cross

let altar answer to throne

history will cave to will

that stands here alone

 

The father pulls his son into a warm embrace, not soft or lingering, but sealing. TS’s eyes lift to the dragon’s crest.