Frostpunk Divine Throne-Chapter 13: Saint Lawrence

"Is anyone skilled at herding, able to expertly distinguish livestock characteristics? Come to me!" Cyren called out loudly.
The people stirred, but there was no movement.
Cyren called out again, and the crowd produced faint murmurs of conversation.
Cyren emphasized once more, "I need some herders to help me. Is anyone willing?"
Finally, a woman stood up, "I... may I try?"
Cyren was somewhat surprised.
She appeared uneasy, rubbing her hands on her dirty skirt, "I... I herded sheep for a while and plowed fields with oxen."
"Of course you can, brave lady." Cyren readily agreed, "Come to my side. I need two more."
Suddenly, someone in the crowd shouted, "She's a witch!"
The people became agitated, and others shouted, "She's a widow! She killed her husband!"
"She won't remarry, she hides at home all day studying witchcraft!"
"The cattle and sheep her husband left behind were all used by her as materials for witchcraft!"
Cyren frowned. The farm woman's face instantly turned pale as she kept apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'll leave right now..."
"God said, let there be light." Cyren held his pastoral staff, and a dazzling orb of holy light fell upon the farm woman, making her feel warm.
The people quieted down.
"In God's church, there are no witches." Cyren said coldly.
The agitated people fell silent. The several people who had spoken tried to hide toward the back of the crowd, but Cyren had already remembered their faces and made a mental note. These people weren't first-time offenders.
He asked several more times, and a married couple came forward, both shepherds.
So the three of them were respectively assigned to help Matilda and the others. Four quill pens rapidly recorded and wrote beneath the dome murals of the church.
Those who finished being recorded quickly walked to the lit bonfires, enjoying the hard-won warmth. They took off their boots, revealing toes frozen purple-blue. The stench and smell of blood spread through the church, painful groans and crying pervaded the air.
The burning bonfires seemed to symbolize an end to their wandering hardships, but their homes were gone, their family members were gone, their property was nearly depleted, many of the livestock and poultry they brought had died, and some people's feet had frozen into rotting flesh that could only be sawed off.
Before this they hadn't dared cry. The enormous pressure had made these numb people obey orders, but when the flames rose, their released defenses burst forth with tears like a broken dam.
Cyren worked tirelessly walking among the various bonfires, continuously casting Holy Healing until his divine will was exhausted.
Matilda stood nearby, her eyes full of hesitation and conflict.
The exhausted Cyren slumped down beside a bonfire and said, "There are still a few with frostbite. I really have no strength left. Can you help?"
Matilda walked to the side of those injured people who were wailing and rubbing their feet that had lost sensation.
Seeing the nun approach, they seemed to find hope and hurried over to kneel, "Please save us, for God's sake, save us..."
Matilda lowered her head and sighed.
She raised her cross and recited as if resigned to fate, "Jehovah... Rapha."
In an instant, brilliant gold erupted within the church. Light spread behind her, revealing some unclear images that seemed to show countless people crowding together, or perhaps cheering and brawling, but it wasn't very clear.
The foot of an injured person before her rapidly recovered. He began rolling on the ground in pain, but for someone with necrotic frostbite, feeling pain meant there was still hope.
Matilda stared blankly at the person, but only for a moment, then turned her head and gave Cyren a thumbs up.
Cyren smiled slightly and put away the cross he had been holding, "Worthy of being an abbess, your first sacred miracle is about to condense."
Matilda quickly healed the remaining few people. A wave of exhausted drowsiness from depleted divine will struck her. She sat dazedly next to Cyren and saw him organizing the villager information that had just been recorded.
"Aren't you tired?" she asked.
"I'll look a bit longer." Cyren said softly, his tone carrying deep fatigue.
"Is this... very important?" Matilda looked at those sheets of paper, her eyes gradually closing with drowsiness, "Isn't it just to prevent them from mistaking their property..."
Cyren smiled and raised his head.
The smoke from the six bonfires had blackened the exquisite murals and snow-white walls of the cathedral. It was an incredibly sacrilegious thing. The "Assumption of Mary" and "Last Judgment" on the dome were all so smoke-stained they could no longer be seen clearly. Those works of artistic masters would never again have the chance to be admired by future generations.
However, compared to the loss to the art world, Cyren still felt the human lives before him were more important. If these masters knew their paintings needed to give way for over a hundred human lives, they would surely agree.
"One hundred and seventy-six people." Cyren said softly, "Coming from various places, entrusting their faith to me, committing their lives to me."
Matilda had already fallen into deep sleep, leaning on his shoulder. Cyren was also drowsy. Above his head, "Saint Lawrence on Wealth" flickered in the smoke.
"Have you heard that story?" Cyren recounted gently, "Legend has it that Lawrence was responsible for relieving the poor and managing church property, I think this is the role of wealth redistribution, but the emperor at the time ordered Lawrence to hand over all the treasures."
"Lawrence said to give him three days to prepare. Three days later, he brought the poor, sick, disabled, and orphans that the church supported, and told the emperor, this is the church's greatest wealth."
At this point Matilda had already fallen asleep, only making faint humming sounds, as if responding to him.
"Human thought creates knowledge and scholarship, human labor creates cities and machines, human conception creates churches and nations. Where there are people there is still hope. Without people there is nothing left."
"What is the Church? Is it the Steel Angel Knights, or Florence and the College of Cardinals? But if there isn't a single person who believes in the Church, what use is guarding a pile of steel shells?"
"My guard force only has two people left. The militia is controlled by Rain. The intellectuals, the people, and the supplies are all in his hands." Cyren murmured, "But as long as I have these one hundred and seventy-six people, I can establish a foothold here. The Church still has a pillar."
"What supports the Church are the believers, just as what built the church are the people."
He drowsily closed his eyes, suddenly seeing a letter fall from Matilda's bosom, bearing the wax seal of the College of Cardinals.
"After careful examination and witnessing her piety, virtue, and ability, the College of Cardinals confirms that Lady Matilda de Clermont is of noble birth, firm in faith, has upheld the Rule of Saint Benedict in monastic life, and possesses outstanding administrative wisdom. Therefore in this sacred year (Year of Our Lord 1901), according to Church canon law and tradition, she is specially appointed to the position of Abbess of Spessay Convent, to manage its spiritual and secular affairs..."
Cyren was stunned for a moment, then tucked it back into Matilda's bosom.