Mist Plane. April.
Another peal of bells rang out. In the city, several pairs of eyes watched a certain spot from behind a floor-to-ceiling window in the Grand Temple's tower.
The faint sound of prayers recited in unison drifted over. When the ceremony ended, a Small Temple suddenly flashed with light.
To the priests and those watching from the tower, a hazy layer of holy light enveloped the Small Temple.
The Romon God had answered the prayers and the ceremony, accepting the faith of these several hundred people. Another temple had entered service.
"Twenty-three now. More than halfway there. What a delight, wouldn't you agree, Bishop Kanrongpa?" said a lavishly dressed mage. This was, of course, Haboba, the local viscount.
"Viscount Salante, yes. Our population has now reached exactly ten thousand. Over these four months, we've not only finished reclaiming the land, but also largely completed the conversion of their faith," Bishop Kanrongpa said. "Still, without the many ritual priests in the newly conquered villages, we would have had great difficulty finding enough priests."
"Bishop Kanrongpa, do you think these converted ritual priests can be trusted?"
"Ritual priests are already familiar with the channels of divine power. Once they change their faith, it's easy for them to become priests. The evil gods are all dead, so they have no other choice. Besides, our Lord is a strict god. He would never accept pretenders. Although they've now attained the rank of first- or second-level priest, they can easily lose those ranks if they fail to remain firm in their faith and tend our Lord's flock," Bishop Kanrongpa replied calmly. Over the past year or so, he had developed a subtle air of authority.
"Yes, that's true. Bishop Kanrongpa, I've already carried out your latest instructions."
"Biogas was our Lord's instruction and