Desert Thrones - Part II

The Senate of Red Men

The Spice of Their Domain is the Ritualization of Power.

“She cloaked herself in tradition and sacraments, spoke peace while arming kings, and drank from the golden cup that glittered with the blood of saints.” - the Princes Iruloff

Behind every great empire stands a council of robes, men who do not govern, but who crown. They are not generals, yet they bless armies. They are not bankers, yet they demand tithes from the treasuries of men’s souls. They are called holy—but their hands are covered in treaties, contracts, and corpses. In the cosmos of Dune, they are the Lansraad—

Where the House of the Fat Man traffics in coin, the Senate traffics in conscience, curation and people. Her priests are trained in dialectics of devotion. Her emissaries smile with gentle wisdom trusting in backchannel resupplies and the greased palms of dictator. This is not the power of the throne but of the co-option of thrones.

In the real world, these are the Cardinals, the “Curia,” and the papal aristocracy of the Jesuit "Catholic" Church.

This Red Senate is the lymphatic system of the Imperium. Its job is to sanctify Rothschild credit, to bless Masonic democracy, to kiss the Qur’an and call it bridge-building, to embrace Marxist theology and call it love for the poor.

Wherever the weapon of cultural credibility holds the spice of the *pax Romana,* the pledge of allegiance is still to Caesar as Lord.

Feudal Godfathers

Senates are built to play the long game. They work through bloodlines, family arrangements, and quiet oaths. Senators care less about who wears the crown as who kneels at the right altar.

In our modern parable, the American Senate is but a theatre for the USAID world. The Supreme Pontiff is showing himself the "true" emperor of the West, no matter what King Chuck likes to think to himself on those rainy London days.

The cardinalate is the noble court. The Jesuit order, like the Bene Gesserit witches, play the breeders of ideology and intelligence. All of it? A cloak in the veneer of ancient legitimacy—even while proudly wearing the emperor's new Gospel of indulgence to sin underneath.

“Come, I will show you the judgment of the great harlot who sits on many waters…The woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and precious stones and pearls, having in her hand a golden cup full of abominations…” St. John

She is drunk on the blood of the martyrs. She reigns not from love of Christ, but from lust for command. She is the keeper of the Babylonian continuity, the mystery cults rebaptized, the pagan orders in Christian vestments. And she has not reigned alone— She has always ridden the beast.

The beast of finance,
The beast of nation-states,
The beast of false prophets,
The beast of algorithmic kings to come.

The Battle for Arrakis

What the Dune frame can help us see is how the Scarlet Court is at war with itself. Traditionalist Romanists seek a return to Caesar with a crucifix rather than a Jesuit smile. Progressive Curia seeks a merger with the Great Reset as a furtherance of the Imperial control of global finance. Alliances with Mecca and Beijing make concessions for land, trusting in the power of immigration over time, while others demand a return to the Latin Mass in all jurisdictions, and yet more call out the Beast for what it is.

This mortal wound is showing. This chair is built on empty promises. This golden goblet leaks, and it is the blood of the poor and the fatherless that cry out for vengeance.

The Red Men will find their due. But not before they fill up their cup to the full. The Lansraad's greatest error was failing to believe in its own myth.

“The ten horns… will hate the harlot, make her desolate and naked, eat her flesh and burn her with fire.” the Apostle John