Athens, Greece. The Religious Administration Association.
The High Priests of the various Shrines set aside their work and gathered to discuss a matter of life and death.
"What are your plans from here on?"
Julius spoke with perfect composure.
Of the Olympian Gods, all had fallen except Zeus, Pallas, and Metis.
For a Shrine, the death of the god it served was nothing short of the sky falling. Everyone present looked grim.
Everyone except Julius.
His Shrine worshipped Zeus.
Anyone else would probably have burst out laughing by now. With fewer gods, more people would turn to Zeus. More believers meant more money.
You came to my shrine to pray? You ought to make a donation. The shrine needed repairs? Another donation. You wanted a blessing for your wedding or your newborn child? That deserved a fee. You recovered from an illness? You should thank the god for leading you to a good doctor and a good hospital, and that meant paying up too. The Religious Administration Association had such a large annual budget, and now only his shrine was left. Even if they did not give him all of it, surely they could give him the lion's share.
A little here, a little there—it added up to a staggering sum.
But Julius did not laugh aloud or mock the people who had always made snide remarks about him. Instead, he had summoned the High Priests in the name of the Religious Administration Association, intending to bring them into the Zeus Temple.
As a High Priest who had entered the calling late, Julius held one saying as gospel: "Believers are the god's lambs, and the god's servants tend the flock."
To him, a divine servant's greatest achievement was to bring as many lambs as possible into the fold. He therefore