Mass was the Papal State's great weekly occasion.
On the day of Mass, all work had to stop. Everyone had to gather in the streets, silently recite Caesar's name, and watch the Mass.
It was the Papal State's grandest event, and a time to bask in divine grace.
But the weekly Mass severely disrupted the people's work and lives. Above all, the Papal State's many rules were strict: the slightest mistake could lead to confiscation of property or even the stake. The people throughout the Papal State could be said to live in misery, and wherever one looked, there were paupers.
The Papal State's territory belonged to God, so it had to reflect his greatness and sanctity. Starting with the previous pope, beggars had not been allowed within the Papal State's borders, so as to highlight the pope's diligent governance. Thus, throughout the Papal State, beggars were called paupers.
Other countries were no better, however. Kings and nobles of all kinds cared nothing for whether the people beneath them lived or died. They only demanded more and offered no policies to benefit the people.
Compared with this world's magical species, human society at its current stage was the truly fantastical thing.
Holy Lord City, the Papal State's holy city, was the place where humanity was born and God perished. Its streets were ablaze with flowers. Flowers brought color everywhere, on the walls lining the streets, on the eaves of houses, and even in patches of unoccupied dirt.
The muddy roads were covered in feces, which mingled with the murky water and were trampled underfoot. The impoverished people's clothes barely covered their bodies, and their bare feet were caked with mud and feces.
Church knights in pure white plate armor held polished greatswords as they kept the paupers to either side of the street. Though the paupers were weak and emaciated, though their clothes could not even cover their genitals, they still clutched great bunches of flowers in both hands to adorn the foul-smelling city. (Here, knight was a station, not a reference to mounted soldiers, so they had no horses.)
The road between the lines of church knights had been completely covered in flowers.
The road, muddy and covered in feces that morning, was now a beautiful expanse of blossoms. Countless petals formed a natural carpet, concealing the filth of the muddy road.
Mass was the most important event in the Papal State. It had to be a grand spectacle to welcome the arrival of the divine!
For this, Holy Lord City had even leveled land used to grow food and forced the paupers under its rule to grow flowers, ensuring a supply for each week's Mass.
Other cities were not quite so extreme. Only the Holy See and Holy Lord City, for special reasons, had the strongest religious atmosphere, but at the same time, their oppression of the people was also the harshest.
"Dong, dong, dong..."
With the piercing toll of the church bells, the Mass celebration of divine grace descending upon the world finally began in grand fashion!
"Wooo... wooo... wooo..."
A deep, solemn horn sounded from the church, spreading across the entire city in an instant. Heavy and muffled, solemn and majestic, it was like an echo from ancient times, descending once more upon the mortal world.
Immediately afterward, ten thousand voices rose together, creating a flylike buzz throughout the city.
Paupers and knights alike now opened their mouths and began to recite passages from the Bible under their breath, praying for the divine to descend.
As the buzzing rose, the doors of Holy Lord Cathedral swung open with a boom.
A procession of missionaries in pure white followed Father Mia slowly out of the church. Treading the flower-strewn road and accompanied by the prayers of countless living beings, they made their way slowly toward the sanctuary, like true disciples of God.
The missionaries' pure white robes were immaculate in the sunlight. The white-clad procession was like lambs in the arms of God Caesar, full of holiness and mystery.
The fragrance of flowers mingled with the stench that had accumulated in the city over many years, an unbearable mixture of opposites!
The immaculate church members and the filthy paupers were sharply divided, like the opposing extremes of heaven and hell!
Norton followed at the very back of the procession, a pure white flower basket in his hands. With his hood up, he could only examine his surroundings out of the corners of his eyes.
This really was the Middle Ages! And the Middle Ages under the incredibly tight control of the Papal State!
Looking at the dilapidated wooden huts on either side, Norton felt his life was hopeless.
Just how terrible was the Papal State in the Middle Ages? To put it this way, the missionary life he now found utterly unbearable was like paradise to the paupers around him, who might never be able to afford clothes in their entire lives.
At the very least, he had enough to eat and warm clothes to wear, and he did not have to worry about his safety.
Even if he wanted to run away now, he was no longer in the mood. If he really did run and was caught, he would certainly be burned at the stake, or else subjected to some other horrific torture.
And even if he escaped, there was simply no way for him to survive outside.
But this life of complete confinement and discipline was driving him mad. All his emotions and desires had been forcibly locked away, leaving his mind a little abnormal!
If he had not been a transmigrator, if he had not lived a modern life before, he could surely have spent his entire life in this church. But he had once known freedom and all kinds of emotions and thoughts, so there was no way he could be imprisoned in a church for life like a dog.
The excitement and anticipation in Norton's heart vanished when he saw the scene outside.
The sight of the paupers around him, emaciated and barely clothed, made him face reality. The extreme disappointment left him in a daze.
Numbly, Norton followed at the very end of the procession, joining the others in tossing the dry, hard crumbs of black bread from his basket to the people around them.
As the missionaries in the Mass procession continued to throw out bread crumbs, the paupers who usually had a little food were somewhat better off: they grabbed what they could, and if they got nothing, it did not matter. But the beggar-like paupers on either side of the street were already scrambling for the crumbs like dogs.
Their bodies tangled together as they fought. When they had no strength left, they used their mouths to bite. For the sake of the tiniest bread crumbs, some even lay on the ground and licked the filthy water mixed with feces.
The broad bodies of the church knights in white armor formed the sturdiest of walls, ensuring that the paupers fighting for bread crumbs did not cross the line, even if they were trampled to death.
Norton's heart grew cold as he watched the scene around him. Only by seeing the true misery of the Middle Ages with his own eyes could he understand why this was called an age that devoured people.
The missionaries, disciples who called themselves God's messengers and held holiness as their guiding principle, felt not the slightest pity for the scene around them. Instead, they looked down from on high and watched with great relish.
The holy procession continued toward the sanctuary, treading on the soft petals.
After several hundred meters, however, it split into eight groups.
Mass was a baptism, a baptism for the entire city, and also a blessing, a blessing for everyone. So they needed to split up and make their way along every major street in the city.
Thus, the eight groups each followed their assigned routes, heading in different directions.
Norton remained at the very back of his group. With his head lowered, he followed the others forward, scattering bread crumbs as he went.
And as they advanced, the people ahead of him dispersed one after another into the side streets.
At last, only Norton remained, strolling over the petals and into the final street.