When Haboba arrived at the temple, the afternoon sun cast long shadows from its simple yet solemn steps.
Seeing their lord arrive, two priests stood upon the steps and saluted, exuding an air of solemn dignity.
In the blink of an eye, faith in the Romon God had already spread for five years.
What had once been simple and crude had gradually become formal and solemn with the passage of time.
The traces of the temple's recent construction had gradually faded as well. Though it was kept very clean, the mottled marks left by time still showed with the years.
Inside the temple sat Bishop Kanrongpa, seated in one of the front pews.
Believers did not need to kneel at all times within the temple.
When listening to hymns, so long as it was not during grand prayer, they could sit. The pews were arranged very neatly.
In the distance, holy light burned like flame upon the altar.
"Count!" Hearing footsteps, Bishop Kanrongpa rose from his seat and gave a slight bow.
"Bishop!" Haboba also gave a slight bow.
The two sat down in the front row. Neither spoke at first, merely watching the flames upon the Holy Altar.
"My lord, our faith and our territory have reached their most critical moment." After a moment, Bishop Kanrongpa spoke slowly.
"Yes. If we can take another step forward, gain the faith of another territory's population, and secure greater strategic depth, then even if the surrounding territories join forces to attack us, we can still hold out."
The greatest difference between the Romon God and the gods here lay in territory.
To prevent their territories from shrinking, the gods here had no choice but to scatter their people across vast lands.
But the Romon God did not care about territory. Great numbers