Compared with cultural circles, Bagnia's religious community was far less peaceful, and far less welcoming of Chris's accession to the throne.
Doran, living in Hegrande City, had experienced this firsthand.
Near his home stood a sizable church of the Goddess of Agriculture Church, one of the centers of the state religion under both the former kingdom and the former Republic.
In days past, incense had always curled through this stone church, adorned with ripe ears of wheat and statues of a kindly goddess, while worshippers streamed in without end. During spring planting and autumn harvest in particular, crowds packed its grounds to pray for favorable weather and abundant crops.
The senior priests and ordinary priests in their exquisite robes had always worn an air of solemn detachment from worldly concerns, enjoying offerings from the faithful and courteous treatment from nobles and even officials.
Yet ever since His Majesty Chris had swept across Bagnia with his armies, and especially after the crushing iron fist of his "religious reform" had fallen, the church's fortunes had worsened by the day.
Doran passed it on his way to and from work every day, and he had seen the changes clearly.
The once-bustling church square was now often deserted.
The Goddess of Agriculture Church's congregation had dwindled sharply. Only a few white-haired old farm women, deeply set in their beliefs, still persisted in attending morning prayers every day.
The solemn hymns and prayers had grown sparse. On some days, the silence was almost frightening.
Without the smoke of incense and the sustaining presence of worshippers, even the towering stone statue of the goddess seemed colder and lonelier than before.
The clergy, once so haughty, now often wore expressions of anxiety and loss they could not conceal.
Their splendid silk robes remained, but the once-rosy senior