In the Prayer Hall of the Fool's church, devout believers sat upright on the benches, curious tourists admired the murals on either side, and several servants moved among the worshippers, busy with their own tasks.
Apart from the fact that faith in the Fool was unheard of on both the North and South Continents, practiced only in a few places in the Rorsted Archipelago, this place differed little from the churches of other Orthodox Churches.
The black-robed elder swept his gaze over the exquisite murals on either side, pausing on the largest, which depicted the Fool's blessed leading believers out of darkness. His attention settled on the blond female angel holding the Blood-stained Flag and the man in a trench coat, wearing a top hat and carrying a lantern.
The Forsaken Land of the Gods... So he really did use that Miracle Invoker characteristic...
The elder silently mouthed those words, withdrew his gaze, and strolled over to the altar, stopping before the burly bishop who resembled a half-giant.
"Praise the Fool."
The bishop, with his rugged face, broad shoulders, and thick legs, looked as though he had stepped straight out of a mural. Pressing a hand to his chest, he spoke in a booming voice.
He did not immediately preach the Fool's teachings, nor did he engage the stranger with excessive enthusiasm. He maintained considerable restraint, quite unlike the clergy of other churches.
The white-bearded elder nodded. His black eyes already reflected the Spirit Body Threads extending from within the bishop's body. Corresponding to different parts of his body, they scattered into the infinite distance, appearing perfectly natural.
But to a Mystic Seer, this was rather like protesting too much.
Not just this bishop, but everyone in the church—including many tourists who had traveled to Yanan on the steam train