In a dimly lit room, the High Priest sat cross-legged on the bed. The fragrant smoke from the incense burner beside him filled the air, adding a mysterious atmosphere. The incense had a calming, almost intoxicating effect, making people feel as if their souls were about to drift away, especially when the priests chanted softly nearby.
On religious days, this incense played a vital role—devotees who experienced visions of
reincarnation,
the afterlife,
or
disillusionment
grew even more fervent, intensifying the religious fervor.
Each High Priest had his own secret incense formula, passed down only to his successor. Ordinary incense couldn’t evoke such mystical experiences, and without it, the priests’ authority would weaken.
This monopoly on sacred knowledge was why theocracy, like secular power, was hard to challenge and passed down through generations. Ordinary people had no access or even a chance to learn about these secrets.
Besides the High Priest, his children were present, kneeling with deep respect and fear—not only toward their father but toward the divine power he represented. Their reverence was a mix of pride and terror; people both yearn for and fear the gods’ gaze.
The High Priest exhaled deeply, and the children seemed to relax slightly. The incense smoke curled upward, momentarily rippling before settling again.
“The gods have sent a new decree: great destruction is coming, but they have mercifully given me a way to avoid the disaster,” he said quietly, looking at the children with their foreheads touching the ground. “The Federation—go to the Baylor Federation.”
“Only by going to the Baylor Federation, where the gods’ gaze cannot reach, can we escape the doom.”
His children listened solemnly without joy or distress.
“I am the gods’ executor, born at creation and destined to perish in destruction. I will not go; only you will.”
He turned to his youngest and most beloved child.
Bororeika—now known as
Rika
, a more neutral name after fully integrating into Federation society—turned her hands over in the ritual gesture of acceptance, palms up, signaling her readiness to receive the gods’ will.
“You have been to that godless land. You see more than they do. You must care for them.”
“When I am gone, you will guide them, with the duty to advise and the power to punish.”
The two eldest children stirred, wanting to oppose, but said nothing. The High Priest’s authority came from the gods, unlike the governor’s power, which was rooted in life and death control.
Governors may err, but the gods never do.
Rika turned her hands back to the original position, acknowledging his words. The High Priest then sighed, saying, “Go. Bororeika, stay. Prepare yourselves; we will leave soon.”
The others bowed deeply and retreated with reverence.
Only Rika and her tattooed father remained.
“Won’t you leave with me?” Rika asked, though she thought she wouldn’t.
Blood ties surpass all ranks and roles. She hoped he would come, but she expected no satisfying answer.
The High Priest relaxed somewhat, patting his leg. “Where could I go?”
“I’ve devoted my life to the gods. Some say it’s superstition—that gods don’t exist…”
He paused, then spoke with conviction, “But as long as I believe, it is true.”
“I can’t go to the Federation or anywhere else. My faith holds me here. Without it, I am not myself. Not for power or status, but because of belief. I hope you understand.”
Rika couldn’t fully grasp his words, but he didn’t expect her to.
“Tell me about the Federation. How is life there? I’ve had no time to ask.”
“The young there cause trouble, wasting our time,” Rika said, referring to the Nagaryll Youth Party—rebels opposing foreigners and even theocracy, smashing temples and calling faith superstition, blaming religion for societal stagnation.
“They believe in reincarnation instead of striving for progress, thinking they’re doomed to remain lowly no matter what. So they just wait to be reborn into better lives.”
To make them realize the gods’ power and stir anger, the High Priest sent agents to punish them.
Now, he finally had time to talk with his youngest and most like him child.
Rika shared what she’d seen and learned in the Federation.
“It’s a society obsessed with money. In our land, power is absolute; in the Federation, money can buy everything—even power.”
She had begun to develop in the right direction after Lynch’s warning and had become a priestess herself.
“Anyone who pays can run for city office—even president—through elections. Everything revolves around money.”
“I’m planning to buy airtime on some cheap local channels to spread our faith, attracting more attention unseen here.”
The High Priest listened carefully, occasionally commenting, “I hear the Federation people are gullible. They believe anything, right?”
Rika nodded. “I have over a dozen followers. They believe in our gods and the world’s destruction more than I do.”
“That’s divine guidance!” he corrected. “Your ideas are dangerous. Be careful.”
“But it sounds like a good place. You’ll live comfortably.”
“Not entirely. The Federation has better laws than ours. Even theocracy cannot override the law there. Many things normal here are crimes there.”
“I’m worried my older brothers won’t adapt to the rule-of-law society there. They might cause trouble for themselves, and even for me and all of us.”
The High Priest nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why I sent you to supervise them and, if necessary, to discipline them.”
Rika hesitated but spoke his mind. “That’s not enough, Father. They’re all my older brothers. I can’t control them—not even if you say so.”
“I need something that gives me authority to restrain their actions. Otherwise, they could just leave…”
The High Priest furrowed his brow. “What do you want?”
After nearly half a minute, Rika said one word: “Money.”
“I want to manage our shared account. Only then can I control their behavior…” He lowered his head, knowing it sounded immature but trusting his father could read his true intention.
Since the High Priest refused to go to the Federation, this might be their last meeting. No matter what Rika asked, it wouldn’t seem excessive.
The High Priest was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I’ll seriously consider this—perhaps through another method, like… a fund.”
Though the High Priest wasn’t certain all the children were truly his—due to the saintess tradition, where genetic fragments could be given before pregnancy, and priests in the temple claim the boys born—those he claimed might not be his blood, but they might be. Even if the youngest son resembled him most, he wouldn’t favor Rika completely.
When the High Priest mentioned a
fund,
Rika was shocked but hid it well. He controlled his emotions and accepted his father’s decision—his only choice now.
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