Frostpunk Divine Throne-Chapter 11: The Cathedral

"Yes, he just arrived at Spessay. Our man was beaten by him at the gate."
Rain sneered, "Beaten by a priest and still has the nerve to come crying? Make him hand over all the money he's embezzled, then have him take twenty strokes of the military rod. Go."
The messenger was drenched in cold sweat.
"I know everything." Rain rubbed his right hand, which had been amputated at the elbow, leaving only a mechanical prosthetic hand with rotating gears and flashes of lightning, "I simply haven't bothered to deal with it."
"...Yes."
"But that bishop just arrived and stirred up such trouble, it doesn't match the information." Rain held a stack of documents and frowned. The information described him as an incompetent fool, a parasite of Londinium, whose greatest talent was using his seemingly learned mind and handsome face to bed noblewomen.
The messenger kept his head down, not saying a word.
"Did he really hit someone? Where was the injury?" Rain asked.
"...He stuffed a red-hot gold pound into Oliver's hand and burned him." The messenger was sweating profusely.
Rain laughed, "Rather creative, isn't it?"
The messenger didn't dare answer.
"Are those refugees with livestock still at the church?"
"They...they are."
"Have someone keep an eye on them."
"Yes."
"Also, that fellow called whatever it is, Olifen or Olledo, send him to work in the coal mines."
"Yes...yes!"
"Go."
"Yes!"
Rain opened his lighter's metal casing, struck the wheel, and the flame illuminated a patch of shadow, lighting his newly drawn cigar.
Soon, the office was filled with smoke.
…
Cyren led the refugees into the city but suddenly realized a problem, he was completely unfamiliar with this place and didn't know where he should take them.
He walked on black steel plates and wooden boards beneath his feet. The heat from the steam prevented snow from accumulating on the ground. Before him stood iron-gray barracks and watchtowers. Brilliant gas lamps shone atop the buildings like lighthouses, yet flickered dimly in the wind and snow.
There wasn't even a single road sign here.
Just as Cyren was awkwardly pondering this, an elderly voice called out, "Ah! Lord Bishop, the Lord bless us, you've finally arrived!"
It was an old priest in black robes, with short silver hair combed to both sides, wearing a black wool flat cap with a pair of small round glasses perched on his nose.
He trotted over to Cyren, then took his hand and kissed his ring of authority.
Cyren was still somewhat unaccustomed to this and shivered.
"Ah, I am Father Joseph, the parish priest of Cylin Church." He said, "I've been waiting here for you for two months. The Northern Holy Seat train never arrived, so I could only keep praying for you... Merciful Lord! Thank the Almighty Lord for delivering you back to me. The journey must have been difficult, yes? I've made beef stewed in red wine at home, using wine from the Fibor region. If you don't mind..."
"Wait, wait, wait," Cyren cut him off, "First take me to my cathedral."
Joseph smiled awkwardly and stood up, "Ah, that's my oversight. I'll lead the way right now."
Along the way, Joseph occasionally turned his head to look at him with resentful little glances, giving Cyren goosebumps all over.
He had an impression of Cylin Church. It actually wasn't very close to Spessay, which meant that two months ago Father Joseph had abandoned his own parish to come to Spessay and wait for him.
But he had only received the bishop's appointment the day before yesterday, though Joseph didn't know this. He could only be certain that since Spessay had built a cathedral, there must be a bishop.
After seeing through these fawning tricks, Cyren didn't expose them. After all, Joseph was currently the only member of the Church forces in the city, so he still needed to be considerate of his feelings.
Along the way, Cyren admired this magnificent city while casually asking, "How have things been these past few days?"
At this question, Joseph began sighing with a worried face, "How could they be? Spessay wasn't even finished being built. Last week the engineer said according to plan they could finish before winter came, but yesterday morning he was found frozen to death outside... The city has been in chaos these past two days. Governor Hoffman is capable, he quickly suppressed it then ordered the gathering of nearby civilians to provide shelter, but he took the opportunity to control all the militia and engineers and mechanics in the city..."
Cyren didn't interrupt, quietly listening to his complaints, gradually sketching out the picture of Spessay.
According to the Church and Empire's estimates, the "disaster" should have begun this winter at the earliest, so the major shelters had to be completed before winter arrived.
But the cold disaster suddenly erupted in late summer, the world's temperature instantly dropped below negative ten degrees Celsius, and Spessay's construction also ground to a halt. Countless people died, and the city was in complete chaos.
Governor Rain Hoffman, with iron-fisted methods, mobilized his guard force, suppressed the riots in the city, and at the same time, using "emergency situation" as justification, conscripted all the militia. On one hand, he controlled engineers, mechanics, clerks, and other highly educated intellectuals, and on the other hand, gathered nearby civilians to stabilize people's hearts.
This was undoubtedly a good thing, otherwise if chaos continued to spread, people would have to face even greater dangers.
But during the execution, it caused quite a few casualties, and it was an indisputable fact that Rain took advantage of the opportunity to monopolize power in Spessay.
"He not only ignores the Church's rights, but also made all those villagers with livestock temporarily stay inside the cathedral, saying something like 'they may carry diseases and must be observed and monitored in one place,' not allocating houses to them..." Joseph said with a mournful face, "You must stand up for us!"
"Is there no other space to place those livestock and villagers?" Cyren asked.
"Of course there is!" Joseph raised his voice, "Spessay extends seventy meters underground, a full eighteen levels, eleven districts. Where couldn't they place people? Why must they put them in the cathedral? This is clearly an insult to you!"
Cyren nodded, noncommittal.
Soon they passed through the surface houses and fortresses and arrived before the cathedral.
It was a gray-white Romanesque church. No wonder Cyren hadn't seen the church's spire, because it was low yet magnificent, like a crouching stone beast, its entire body supported by thick rounded arches and pillar stumps. It lacked the complexity of Gothic style, possessing only archaic solemnity. Though clearly a newly built cathedral, it seemed to have walked out of the Middle Ages, a majestic fortress that had withstood the years and fires of war without falling.
The most popular church style currently was actually Gothic, with its common soaring spires supported by flying buttresses and slender columns. But the designers considered that Spessay might have to face unknown enemies and cold storms, so they adopted a more ancient design.
Romanesque churches were the predecessors of Gothic ones. The first impression they gave was massiveness. The walls were built from granite a full two meters thick and could even be used as city walls.
Pushing open the thick oak doors of the church, Cyren entered his own cathedral.
But he didn't see magnificent murals and ceiling decorations, nor did he see his bishop's throne, much less the choir, clergy, or people there to welcome him.
There was only manure from cows, horses, and pigs all over the floor. Chickens, ducks, and geese were running around everywhere. People fearfully led their livestock, sitting in the empty and cold church.