…You isolated yourself from all the other temples…?
More like the other temples isolated you, didn’t they?
This broken-down church isn’t just at the edge of the Temple District, it’s practically at the edge of Macragge itself.
For a dozen meters in every direction, there isn’t a single other temple to be found outside this church.
Just by looking at Klein’s expression, Agrippa knew exactly what was going through his mind.
“Well, you see, we’re just short on funds.
Land prices in the core Temple District are horrifying, selling off our entire church would barely be enough to build a toilet.
Our Lord isn’t the Toilet God, after all.”
Could be, could be…
Hearing this, the corner of Klein’s mouth couldn’t help but curl into a faint smile, then the smile quickly froze.
Because it suddenly occurred to him that he was the one sitting on that broken toilet now.
Agrippa didn’t notice Klein’s expression.
He simply rapped his iron prosthetic leg as he spoke:
“But I’ll tell you this, we’re the ones with seniority here.
What credentials do those temples outside have?
“Our church was founded before humanity ever left Terra.
We had over a billion believers back then.
Do you have any idea who was in our church in those days?
I’ll tell you.
Jesus.
Ever heard of the Son of God?
“It’s just that later on, our church realized people were starting to lose faith, so we didn’t put much effort into missionary work anymore.
Then all these junior outfits went off and started preaching on their own.”
“So how did you end up…
reduced to this state?” Klein glanced at the mosaic on the wall.
The Golden Knight’s eyes were empty, originally inlaid with some kind of gemstone, now in all likelihood pried out and sold for money.
Agrippa waved his hand with a touch of resignation.
“That’s just how Macraggians are.
They like believing in multiple sects at once, offering their faith to many divinities at the same time, as if that way they can receive the blessings of many gods all at once.
“But our church doesn’t believe there are other gods in this world.
We worship only the one Lord and reject all polytheistic sects, naturally, Macraggians don’t much care for us.”
“Honestly, brother, my opinion is: either don’t believe at all, or if you must believe, then believe in just one…
Believe in just one, and the odds of running into a Chaos God are relatively low.
Believe in too many and it gets dangerous.
What if one of them turns out to be a Chaos God in disguise?”
Klein nodded in profound agreement.
In a purely material world, or one where most gods are benevolent, the whole “it’s free anyway, might as well believe in a few more” line of thinking wouldn’t pose much of a problem.
Believe for fun, right?
What if one of them actually delivers?
Macragge just happens to have a thicker veil.
In other places where the Warp is more active, believing in this many at once would have long since landed you on the daemons’ menu as today’s special.
“Are you…
not entirely devout in your faith?” Klein had long since sensed that this bishop wasn’t the fanatically pious type.
His belief in his Lord was more a matter of pure choice than fervent faith.
“No.” Agrippa’s expression grew more solemn.
“I still hold devout faith in my Lord, just not because of some empty myth.”
As he spoke, Agrippa looked toward the mosaic of the Silver Dragon and the Golden Knight, recalling the teachings of the previous bishop.
The words once spoken by that bishop, who seemed to possess considerable knowledge of history, now passed from his own lips:
“Religion is born from myth, myth arises from legend, legend comes from stories, stories are drawn from history, and history is but a retelling of reality.”
“Reality itself is often unremarkable.
It is simply that the unremarkable reality has been exaggerated in such a way.”
Having finished quoting the former bishop, Agrippa paused, then pointed at the mosaic.
“Just like this mosaic, perhaps this Golden Knight was merely an ordinary soldier who stabbed to death a vicious crocodile or lizard.”
“But is killing a crocodile not great in itself?”
“To a god, the Silver Dragon is dangerous, yet to an ordinary soldier, the crocodile was equally dangerous.”
“He must have mustered great courage to challenge that beast.
And after his success, people could freely draw water, children could play and frolic among the reeds, and parents no longer needed to fear that a crocodile would devour lives.”
“Such virtue rooted in reality is also worthy of admiration and reverence.”
Klein could not help but scratch his head.
Well said.
The only problem was, this mural had not exaggerated reality at all.
The Golden Knight on this mural was the God-Emperor of Mankind.
And the roaring Silver Dragon was a shard of Mag’ladroth the Void Dragon: an ancient C’tan born from the vast sea of energy at the dawn of creation, master of the Materium who could warp physical laws at will, a Star Eater that fed on suns, creator of the Blackstone Pylon network, known among the Aeldari as the incarnation of destruction and ruin, and the prototype of the Omnissiah spoken of by the Cult Mechanicus of Mars.
In the third century AD, the Emperor had clashed with a shard of the Void Dragon, ultimately defeating it and sealing it upon Mars.
In the memories Klein had just witnessed, the battle between the Emperor and the Void Dragon shard had utterly exceeded the cognitive limits of the human brain.
The Void Dragon shard repeatedly unfolded dimensions compressed within the microscopic realm, and the Emperor repeatedly dragged the Void Dragon into the Warp.
Even Klein, who had beheld the memories of that battle, could not accurately describe the process, for the causal relationships between the two combatants were disordered and tangled.
To be honest, this mural was a complete understatement of what truly happened.
A knight fighting a crocodile, if you speak of mountains crumbling and the earth splitting, that is exaggerated description.
A Warp-god fighting a god of the Materium, if you still only speak of mountains crumbling and the earth splitting, that is an understatement.
“What do you think of the Temple of Simonetta?” Klein shook his head, turned toward Agrippa, and asked.
“The Goddess of Beauty, Simonetta.
I have studied their history.
In the era before Old Night had ended, there was a beautiful woman named Simonetta.
She was born into a wealthy class, but her heart was kind.
Using her influence, she established Macragge’s first shelter for the poor.”
“After her death, the impoverished people she had helped believed that Simonetta had ascended to godhood and become the Goddess of Beauty in the heavens.
Agrippa tapped his prosthetic limb as he spoke: “But I still advise you, aside from settling your debt, do not get too involved with the Temple of Simonetta.”
“Why?” Klein’s brow furrowed slightly, hoping to glean more information.
“In their own scriptures, there is a recorded moment called the ‘Time of the First Cry.’ After that, the Temple of Simonetta became…
somewhat different.” Agrippa looked at Klein and said, “You should go ask your teacher.
Lucretius has studied this period of history.
He made an interesting discovery.”
“What?”
“The Time of the First Cry and the decline of the Witch King’s rule occurred in nearly the same timeframe.
One might even say: the Time of the First Cry and the end of Old Night happened at the same time.”
“…Alright, I think I understand.” Klein let out a breath.
What was that, so it was the Time of the First Cry.
He’d thought it was the Aeldari’s depravity giving birth to the fourth Chaos God of excess, Slaanesh, whose first cry echoed through the Warp, shattering the Aeldari Empire, tearing reality open to create the Eye of Terror, sweeping away the Warp storms, breaking the balance among the gods, leaving them too preoccupied to concern themselves with the mortal plane, and thus bringing Old Night to an end.
Privately, Klein silently mourned for the beauty Simonetta for thirteen seconds.
If she truly existed and had been shaped by the faith of her worshippers into some Warp entity, she was probably already body-snatched by Slaanesh by now, a perfect shell corporation.
And the lady herself had likely already been…
enjoying herself in Slaanesh’s personal chambers.
He could only hope Miss Simonetta was fond of the human-flesh harp and similar pastimes.
At this thought, Klein found himself not feeling particularly sad for Simonetta at all.
What were Simonetta’s troubles compared to his?
He’d love nothing more than to climb down from the Golden Throne and go enjoy some light recreation in Slaanesh’s chambers himself.
After a sigh, Klein turned his head and looked at Agrippa.
“I’d like to buy something from you.”
Agrippa blinked, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth: “Our church’s bread and fish sauce are exquisite.
You can go pay Diana, the child there.
I’ll give you a special deal, fish sauce at six As a jar, bread at five As–”
“Hold on.
I’m not talking about the fish sauce and the bread.” Klein raised a hand to cut Agrippa off.
“You’re not?” Agrippa’s eyes showed confusion.
“Do you sell holy relics here?” Klein’s gaze flicked toward the candlesticks, censers, and liturgical vessels resting on the altar beneath the mosaic.
Those holy relics were made of common copper and iron.
The craftsmanship was even a little crude, and they looked as though they’d been in use for many years.
“…This is our faith.
If I sold it…
could the Lord still forgive me?
…You know what I mean, yes?”
“I’ll pay extra.”
“Given the circumstances…
the Lord will just have to bear with it for a while.”
(Translated by yourtl.app)