The Third Church of Marika had never been so lively.
The once-abandoned little church had long since been restored. Its flagstone floor had been swept spotless, its weather-worn reliefs painstakingly repaired. The Eternal Queen's statue stood at its center, those stone eyes gazing down upon the worshippers-a little less haughty majesty, a little more tranquility born of weathering the ages.
People lined up and filed inside.
At the head of the line were several white-haired elders. They were ordinary farmers from Limgrave, who had spent half their lives under the Golden Dynasty, then struggled to survive the Shattering. At last, they had lived to see a day when they could farm with their heads held high. In their hands were vegetables picked that very morning-dew-speckled cabbages, dirt-clinging carrots, and plump, juicy strawberries.
"Your Majesty, please bless us with good weather for this year's crops."
The oldest woman tremulously set a basket of vegetables before the statue and pressed her palms together, tears glimmering in her clouded eyes. "This old woman doesn't ask for anything else. I just want to see the seedlings grow well and my grandchildren have enough to eat."
Behind her, hunters brought up their game-a cleaned wild boar, several plump pheasants, and a string of fresh lake fish. They laid their offerings on the altar and pressed their palms together as the old woman had, murmuring much the same wishes: peace, a good harvest, and their families' well-being.
There were no elaborate rites, no soaring hymns.
Yet this simple, unadorned worship filled the entire church with an indescribable warmth.
Standing midway through the line, Tarnished watched the scene and suddenly remembered long ago, when he had just crawled out of the Stranded Graveyard and passed this church. Back then, it had been deserted, with nothing but the