And so I would caution the warring nobles, who ever seek advantage over their rivals, that violation of the body marks the first step toward ultimate pollution of the soul.
Ye who in your ambition would graft all manner of artifices upon the frame the Pancreator has provided for you, reflect upon this: Did the Empyrean wish ye to bear a retractable blade, a cleverly implanted needle gun, a subdermal cuirass, would these things not have been provided for ye upon thy exit from the womb? And if these things be not the Pancreator's will, then by whose grace are these gifts bestowed?
Look upon the loathsome Engineers; remember how you shudder as their red-litten, glassy optics impassively scan you; recall your revulsion as their metal claws twitch and click upon the styluses of their think machines. Would you be as they?
