In an age when man-made structures were generally low, a city's first impression often began with its tallest landmark. That privilege was usually monopolized by the spiritual rulers.
When entering the city by the old waterway, one could not miss the embankments, which predated the founding of the kingdom. Repaired over the course of several eras with different techniques, the old and new bricks and stones formed layers like a cross-section of sedimentary rock.
A colossal building sprawled along the distant riverbank, its towering, weather-blackened spires jutting skyward. The aged, booming clang of metal descended from above.
The vibration was so deep it seemed like rusty iron thunderclouds rumbling in the far distance, giving voice to the long-repressed anguish trapped in layers of oxidation. A few white specks, no bigger than grains of rice, trudged between the narrow windows of the gray-black building. The dense, droning sound made them stop for a moment and look up at the sky, divided by the arches and projecting eaves.
"Every time I come here, my heart feels uncomfortable. These buildings, and that sound—they're so old, they look like they were just dug out of some ancient tomb from the time of the former kings. And they're still talking about strange things like 'the Lord saves mankind.'" Professor Linden grumbled. "They're a perfect match for certain people with one foot in the grave."
Lecturer Maynard, who had come up behind them, gave a few awkward laughs. He didn't know whether to agree or not. Unlike an old hand like Linden, he couldn't afford to offend everyone. With students present, he also had to consider his relationships in academic circles.
"So what is that place?"
"Cathedral of Our Lady. It might not be the biggest or oldest church, but it's definitely the oldest cathedral. That's