Transformation Everywhere
Everything is a construction zone – because Hyne is “improving” everything.
The previous owners of “Schwert Haus” in Sternenberg, Switzerland were a consortium off wealthy industrialists from South America who had visions of turning the imposing stone structure into an elite “Corporate Retreat” for wealthy CEOs and Investment Magnates. They sank dump trucks full of money into upgrading plumbing and water infrastructure, bulletproof and cold-impervious fenestration and a central boiler facility for heating every square inch of the huge, multiroomed manor house. An Olympic pool, expertly outfitted gourmet kitchen, gymnasium, weight room and state-of-the-art technical center bristling with computer mainframes and servers were installed. These projects were completed before Hyne purchased the place. The reasons why the original investors lost interest in their “Corporate Retreat” project and abandoned it are murky. Rumors of criminal activity, money laundering and insider stock trading swirl around their abrupt departure from Switzerland months ago.
Surveillance systems are in place that rival most NATO military facilities – but Peter Xiang-Li brings in special Swiss engineers to upgrade the security systems even further. He brings in another phalanx of Swiss engineers to install a natural gas turbine powered electrical substation that can provide off-grid electricity to Schwert Haus and power a number of farms in the surrounding countryside.
Additional Swiss engineers secure government approval for placement of a large signal dish antenna up on the Schwert Haus’ mountainside that can receive digital data streams from anywhere in the world. Local law enforcement offices in the Canton eagerly jump on Hynes’ antenna application, all looking to piggyback on it and upgrade their signals traffic capabilities. They offer to pay for a tie-in license for Hyne’s dish antenna project, but Hyne waives all connectivity charges. Maintaining good relations with the local Gendarmerie is well worth the investment.
Finishing carpenters, painters, plumbers, electricians, stonemasons, curtain-hangers – you name it – are everywhere. The procession of craftsman’s vehicles snaking up the long drive of Schwert Haus is never-ending – but they’re all in the final phases of this vast undertaking.
Peter Xiang-Li is managing all the expenses with his usual “eagle-eyed” attention to figures – the boys call him “the Human Abacus” – but Hyne surmises that his warp-speed renovation crusade is burning through cash like a forest fire. He remains, however, resolute. This is his home. Not Simon Magus’ operations center at Paulus Hook on the Hudson River – or Simon Magus’ beach compound in Limassol, Cyprus. Schwert Haus will soon be Christened “Hyne Haus” and known far and wide by that name. This place is his refuge …. his Citadel.
Xen-Chen and Dirk Fremd build an arsenal in the deep basement recesses that can make third world countries jealous. Mostly Warsaw Pact and Russian firepower – together with ACP’s, grenades, handguns and tactical gear. They have enough ammunition to start – and finish – a revolution. Hyne’s reaction is utter disbelief when he sees it – “Pity the poor bastard that attacks this place!”
Per L’Enfant is occupied placing and supplementing the artwork with new, exclusive and noteworthy purchases. He’s currently managing the workers hanging huge medieval tapestries in the main hall. They’re also mounting authentic French Knights Templar heraldic shields, iconic White Mantles emblazoned with the Templar Red Cross, Broadswords and Broadaxes (actually used in the Holy Crusades), sculptures and period pieces. He tells Hyne –
“I don’t want it to look like a museum – but a tasteful, historically reverential place of serenity, solidity and probity. A Manor House of gentlemanly repose for modern-day Templars…”
Hyne is so absorbed in the day-to-day transformation of Schwert Haus into his ideal, supersized pied-a-terre that he almost misses a cell phone call. The voice on the other end is brief – “Please hold for the Papal Nuncio. Thank you.”
Another voice soon continues the conversation.
“Monsieur Heinlen? I am Monsignor Ambrose, Papal Nuncio and Special Aide to Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq of the Canton of Zurich.
The Cardinal and another Church Father and his assistant will be in Sternenberg tomorrow and wishes to pay you and your associates a brief visit at Schwert Haus. Will that be possible? Shall we say 3:00PM?
An advance team will arrive about 2:30PM and set-up in the Great Hall. I trust you’ll have no objection to a passive security scan?
Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq and Metropolitan Krysk will request a private word with you before the ceremony begins.
The Celebrants must leave promptly at 4:00PM to continue their journey to Lausanne. Casual attire, please. Thank you.”
“Well boys”, Hyne announces as he signs off the call.
“We’ll be on our best manners tomorrow. Important visitors. Business casual attire. All the workers will be sent home early.”
Lacas fixes them a regal early dinner, and they all retire before Midnight in anticipation of tomorrows’ rather mysterious visitation. Hyne can only imagine – what is this? A local meet and greet? A “Ceremony”? An “Advance Team”? “Security Scan”? To do what – sweep him for bugs so they can converse freely? “Papal Nuncio”?
Perhaps some appreciation for their retrieval of those Cursed Scrolls from the Rebbe, the Cardinal and Pistorius is the reason. Hyne is gratified by the thought. A bit of recognition for his men would be delicious. As for himself…. he’s too weighted down by personal grief to celebrate anything. He’s walking around in a funk. His brief “Family” days were a pleasant new experience for him. Being with Leeds was fun. They enjoyed some joyful days in Cyprus, romping about with Arkan in the blue Mediterranean waters. But the weight of her deception crushes him. Was her convenient “prophecy” of an imminent nuclear False Flag event in New York City only a ruse to take the kid away from him sooner rather than later? His heart is truly broken.
Hyne goes about his days in quiet solitude, talking little and taking endless hikes through his Alpine paradise. He’s ashamed of his fall from grace. He is ashamed to even stand before his Icon of the Divine Theotokos – the Blessed Virgin Mary – that he’s hung near his bed. There is a small chapel in a far wing of Schwert Haus – and many a day he just sits on a bench there in quiet contemplation, tears streaming down his face. He ponders the meaning of his life and future of his soul. He yearns to have his faith restored and feel spiritually cleansed. His Act of Contrition prayer with Archangel Gabrield was a start – but he has many rivers yet to cross. Per L’Enfant seems to understand and ofttimes joins him on the chapel bench – in silence. The two men try their best to make peace with God – but, even in L’Enfant’s case, the tears come. Neither discuss their pain with each other. Their shared, silent communion is the best they can do.
The next day is a perfect Alpine Spring Day with radiant sunshine and verdant greens stretching for miles up to the very bases of some of the most impressive mountains God ever created. Hyne gets up early and catches up on the news from the USA while he eats a substantial ham and whipped egg omelet with French baguette toast and coffee. He barely has time to review the remaining ongoing construction projects when a black Mercedes panel van pulls up the drive. Six young Priests pile out dressed identically – black suits and clerical collars – and commence rolling what looks like a telephone booth on wheels with fluorescent lights inside through the massive front doors of Schwert Haus. They pleasantly ask Hyne where the “Great Hall” is and continue with their business. They return to the panel van and come back carrying two large boxes and two altar crucifixes – one Roman and the other Greek Orthodox – and place them on the oversized, rough-hewn oaken table in the room.
Hyne is about to ask if they want any refreshments when the most serious-looking young Priest in the group – who introduces himself as Father Bertoli -addresses him.
“Aha! Monsieur Heinlein! Could you please step into this diagnostic booth and place your right hand inside the opening in the extended horizontal side panel? Grab the handle inside firmly. You’ll feel a small pinch and hear some humming – then we will remove our infernal machine from your lovely home.”
Hyne does what he asks. He climbs inside and grips the enclosed interior handle. He feels a pinch as something pierces his palm. The machine hums and he can feel a sensation of rotating magnetic fields all around him. Finally, it stops and the young Father Bertoli touches his elbow, signaling it’s all over.
‘Thank you! We will now remove our rather rude contraption. The control panel indicates that its job is done. X-Rays and blood analysis protocols are complete.
His Eminence, Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq, Metropolitan Krysk and Father Constantin will be arriving shortly. They will need a few minutes with you alone in the antechamber near the front door before proceeding with their ceremony – or celebration – whichever it is to be.
Please assemble your men to receive him in the Great Hall. I will be attending the Cardinal while my companions remain outside to collect our religious items after the proceedings are concluded.
Oh! One last detail, Monsieur. Recently you were given a special Box – can you bring it with you when you meet with the Cardinal and Metropolitan privately? Thank you.”
The Paladins drift into the Great Hall, dressed appropriately – to Hynes‘ great relief. Of course, Per L’Enfant, naturally, is dressed to the nines like James Bond – a Brioni jacket and slacks and an open white shirt, straight out of Casino Royalle. He’s rockin’ a Rolex watch and a Galois cigarette dangles from his mouth. Xen Chen and Dirk Fremd are as “put together casual” as Hyne can hope for. They’re not guys that do the “dress up” thing too well.
Hyne wears a tweed English Gentlemen’s jacket, khaki trousers and a medium-weight linen shirt. He takes a stroll to make sure things are all set for their guests. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two large black Mercedes-Benz Sedans creeping up the driveway and stop. A thin, surprisingly athletic Priest gets out of the back of the first car. He’s obviously Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq. He stops near the car, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bright red Stole – the vestment a Priest wears when he’s about to celebrate Mass or other solemn Church Ritual. He then scrolls through his IPhone like it’s an old friend.
From the rear of the second black Mercedes-Benz emerges an older man with a full gray beard wearing a clerical collar. Hyne assumes this is Metropolitan Krysk. A second man – Father Constantin – gets out of the car – younger and wearing a full back cassock – and helps the bearded cleric into full Orthodox ecclesiastical regalia. The dressing ritual is fascinating – and the order of garments dates back centuries. First is the Sticharion, or long robe. Second is the Epitrachelion, or stole. Finally, the Phelonion, or outer cloak, under which is wrapped the Zone, or large embroidered gold belt. Hyne was an altar boy in his youth at a Russian Orthodox Church where he grew up. Seeing the vestments and care with which the assisting Priest helps the Metropolitan prepare for the invocation of the Holy Presence brings him back to his younger days.
Father Constantin then extracts from the cars’ trunk a final object: a gold incense burner, suspended by chains to be swung during Liturgy to bless the surroundings with incense smoke. In the Orthodox and Roman tradition, it is called a Thurible or Censer. The Priest carefully reaches inside and lights it.
The three men make their way to the massive front doors of Schwert Haus, where Father Bartoli awaits them.
Hyne meets them and, as etiquette requires, introduces himself. They formally respond in kind. He directs them to a small antechamber off the main hallway where they sit in large, comfortable chairs conducive to frank conversation. He holds the Angelic “Box” in his hands.
CARDINAL SECHELLE-BELLOCQ:
“Monsieur Heinlen, I apologize for that grotesque telephone booth-like contraption we made you to step inside – but thank you. All of our questions have been answered. Its rather comprehensive diagnostic data analysis has been uploaded to my IPhone.
As Americans say – Bottom Line? Your DNA was never altered or spliced or damaged. You are still the same William Heinlen that was born years ago. Your blood shows signs of advanced performance-enhancing drugs, which may have enabled and supercharged the night-vision receptors in your eyes. These drugs are dissipating and will soon be entirely filtered out by your liver. The off-planet “physicians” you consulted did little more than monitor you and employ sophisticated magnetic-field, scalar wave technology to heal your brain lesions. Bravo for them.
Leeds, however, is a different story. She is a Hybrid. She has naturally enhanced physical strength and night-vision capabilities. Her handlers obviously maintained you on drugs to keep up with her. The scalp implant, for example, slowly leeched into your bloodstream a steady cocktail of drugs that altered your perception and physical abilities. Your men experienced the same effect and will soon return to their normal blood chemistry.
Leeds also communicated through thought transference – speechless communication. She could “read” the unguarded thoughts of others. She exerted regular psychic contact with – and control – over you. This, too, will fade over time. It probably has already. Holy Mother the Church has much experience with such entities. Our bag of tricks includes more than just Exorcisms. The Vatican is heavily invested in CERN, the world’s leading particle physics laboratory in Geneva. Our Jesuit physicists were trained at MIT and CERN. They are top tier and understand Einstein’s “Spooky Action at a Distance” backwards and forwards. These days, if there is one thing the Vatican embraces and respects – it is Science! Or rather – dare I say – Science tempered by Faith!
Monsieur Heinlen, we are indeed gratified by your test results. If your DNA had indeed been altered or – worse still – hybridized – we could not have proceeded with today’s Holy Consecration ceremony. The Old Ones – as you refer to them – are the “Fallen Angels” described in the Book of Enoch. They are the Nephilim. They are cursed by God. We cannot consecrate one of their blood. That is why your dalliance with Leeds was such a controversy and we had to perform a scientific analysis of your blood, brain injury site and DNA. We now know your body and soul are untainted by Nephilim blood – hence free of mortal sin.
Welcome back into the fold, Monsieur! Like the Prodigal Son in the Bible – you were lost and now you are found!
Finally…alas…the boy, Arkan, is not your “Son”. I’m sorry for your pain in this regard. It is a crushing truth that I genuinely regret having to confirm for you. Such is life.
And now – the Box. May I have it?”
Hyne hands Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq the box, who immediately passes it to Metropolitan Krysk. The Greek Orthodox Priest gently opens it – and removes a red velvet bag. Inside the bag is a heavy, exquisite traditional Greek Orthodox crucifix and chain. The Metropolitan literally gasps out loud. His voice shakes with reverential awe. His hands can barely hold it – they tremble as if he has been stricken with palsy.
METROPOLITAN KRYSK:
“Praise be to God! The Cross of Rurik! Worn by the great Varangian Hetman of Kievan Rus – then given by his own hand to Simon Magus! And now you! You are truly of Rurik’s Varangian Bloodline. You are the true Heir of Simon Magus.
Praise be to God! The sacred Crucifix has come home!
From this moment, your consecrated title will be Hetman of Rus. One of a select handful in the Varangian Keivan Rus Bratva. “
Metropolitan Krysk gets up off the chair and places the Angelic crucifix around Hyne’s neck. Hyne immediately notices the weight of it – literally and figuratively. For the first time in his life, he feels truly humbled and almost embarrassed by his inconsequentiality. His nothingness before the majesty of God is almost palpable. His mind is caught up in a maelstrom of emotions.
Hyne takes a chair with his men facing the Great Table. They are seated in a semi-circle at the edge of the room behind the large improvised oaken altar with the Roman and Orthodox crosses already positioned on it. The Priests slowly take their positions. Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq wears his red cap and priest’s Stole. Father Krysk is resplendent in his heavy golden raiment and his aid, Father Constantin, is already swinging the incense burner or Thurible in all directions to cleanse the space wherein a Holy Celebration is about to occur.
The Priests solemnly face Hyne and his men. The room is quiet. Metropolitan Krysk begins to sing an Orthodox benediction in Old Slavonic – in recognition of and respect for Hynes’ Varangian Bloodline. The atonal music is otherworldly yet strangely uplifting. Father Constantin moves about behind the other Priests, strategically directing his Thurible to spread incense smoke throughout the large room and it’s high, raw-beamed and gabled ceilings.
The song is surprisingly long – then it suddenly ends.
Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq commences speaking. His voice is practiced and stentorian – like a British thespian.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti………….
The Latin prayers go on for a good half-hour, interrupted by blocks of Old Slavonic translations from the corresponding Greek Orthodox Rituals, paying homage to Heinlen’s Varangian forebearers and the historical religion of Keivan Rus.
There’s much Thurible-shaking and incense spreading. There’s endless sing-song responses during the gravely momentous Latin and Old Slavonic renditions. These are rituals that go back centuries, celebrated in the Court of the Holy Roman Empire and the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. It is a wondrous, symbiotic and symbolic melding of Roman and Old Slavonic traditions – masterfully delivered by the clergymen as if the Great Schism of the Roman and Greek Churches had never happened in 1054 AD.
Heinlen is transfixed by the melodic beauty of it all. He’s transported to those moments he stood by his mother’s side at the Russian Orthodox Church they attended together when he was a little boy. For the moment, he feels the same safety and warm embrace of her presence before the Icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Divine Theotokos.
Finally, Cardinal Sechelle-Bellocq intones:
“May the Blessings of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit be upon you. May you bear your Holy Consecration as workers in the Holy Vineyards of the True Faith with Honor and Courage, always mindful of the awesome and terrible responsibilities you are called upon to perform. And may the Lord always guide your hearts and minds in the service of his Justice. Amen.”
Gentlemen – This concludes our services; however, I’d like to present your Hetman this letter from His Eminence, the Pope in Rome, expressing his thanks to all of you for services rendered to the Holy See. His Eminence extends his Blessings and makes available the Good Offices of the Vatican should any of you ever require them. He acknowledges the profound personal debt of gratitude he owes to all of you and offers his hand in everlasting friendship.
And then it’s over. Hyne is content. A weight is lifted from his heart. He has answers – and is at peace with God. He is a Hetman of the Varangian Keivan Rus Bratva and the acknowledged Heir of Simon Magus.
The religious delegation departs to continue their journey to Lausanne after warm embraces are shared all around.
Hyne passes out Heinekens to his newly consecrated Paladins. Even Peter Xiang-Li, their lawyer who practices a generic Han Chinese folk- religion blend of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, joins them. He hasn’t the slightest idea what they’ve been up to and couldn’t care less. They drink for hours – and even tap the Cognac reserves, a liquor Hyne is rapidly developing a taste for.
It has been a good day.
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI*
Copyright, 2026 – Jon Croft
www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
