The Last Church - Archive

[Music] Hmm. [Music] It is a cold night. I'm an old man. Please welcome to the Church of the Folger. Do you wish to join us tonight?

I don't recognize you.

No, I don't expect you would, nor would I expect us to be anyone besides you and I. Well, this is a surprise. My midnight sermons are considered quite popular in these parts.

You're sure? Quite a shame. I had not thought I'd age so poorly as to scare so many away. It is rare to find a man like you with a sense of humor. I have found that most of your kind are dour, leaden-hearted men.

My kind? Priests, then? I fear you have only met the wrong kind. Besides, given the times we live in, any servants of the divine would find it extremely difficult to be of good cheer.

Very true. Last priest of the Church of the Folger, lobbies. Might I have your name?

My name is unimportant. However, you may call me Apocalypse.

An unusual name for one who professes a dislike of priests. You are aware of the significance of such a word?

I am. It is suiting for tonight, however.

And why exactly would that be? What revelations do you search for in my humble church?

I seek no revelation. I simply wish to talk to you. I wish to learn what keeps you here when the world is abandoning your beliefs in gods and divinity. I wish to understand why you have yet to turn to the faith of science and reason.

I, the great fresco of Issandullah, a divine work, wouldn't you agree? It is quite magnificent.

But divine? I don't think so.

Then you have not looked closely enough. Open your heart to its beauty, and you will feel the spirit of God move within you.

And the whole world came running when the fresco was revealed, and the sight of it was enough to reduce all who saw it to stunned silence.

Ah, so you have read your story. So I have. You are a student of art?

I have studied much. Art is indeed one of my interests. Then you cannot argue that this work was not inspired by a higher power.

Of course I can. I do not seek to diminish the artist's sublime work through allocating praise upon a greater being. Her artistry does not prove the existence of anything.

No god has ever created art. In an earlier age, some might have considered such a sentiment blasphemy.

I have only ever seen mortal men accuse anyone of blasphemy, Uriah.

I have only ever seen mortal men act upon it. Were reactions to the accusations any less violent, I would label it a victimless crime.

Touche. But I have yet to see any scientists discover the root of inspiration. The human mind is a wondrous thing. Do not be so quick to underestimate it.

Tell me, Uriah, have you ever seen the great cliff sculptures of the Mariana Canyon?

No, though I have heard they are incredibly beautiful.

They are indeed. Meter-high representations of their kings carved in stone that no weapon or drill can cut. They are at least as incredible as this fresco. Worked into a cliff that had not seen sunlight in ten thousand years, yet carved by a godless people in a forgotten age. True art requires no divine rationale. It is just art.

You have your opinion; I have mine. Issandula was a genius and a magnificent artist; that much is beyond question. But she still had to make a living, and even magnificent artists must take commissions where they are to be found. I am sure this work paid well, for the churches of her time were obscenely wealthy. Do you believe that she would be incapable of such a wondrous feat if she had been employed by a secular government?

She very well may have, but unfortunately, we shall never know.

No, we won't. We are fickle creatures, Uriah. All too often, I am tempted to believe that the invocation of the divine is a ploy by the jealous to dismiss one's accomplishments.

Jealousy? Absolutely. To see another succeed where you may have failed is a sobering thing. Some would rather choose to remain ignorant of their limitations.

That is a very cynical view of humanity.

Forgive me, but I have seen too much darkness to be so innocent as to always assume good intentions. Do not mistake my intentions, however. Only in understanding our weakness may we find strength.

Well, this has been an interesting discussion, but you must excuse me, friend Apocalypse. I have to prepare for my congregation.

No one is coming. It is just you and I. Why are you really here?

This is the last church on Terror. History will soon be done with places like this, and I want a memory of it before it is gone.

If this is so, then come, friend. Let us sit. I would rather not stand for whatever time remains.

Oh, your good health, and yours. This is very good wine. It's old. You have a fine appreciation of wine, friend Apocalypse.

My father gave this to me on my 15th birthday and said I should drink it on my wedding night.

And you never married?

Never found anyone willing to put up with me. I was a devilish rogue back then.

No longer, it would seem. A devilish rogue turned priest sounds like quite the tale.

It is, but some wounds run deep, and it does no good to reopen them.

Fair enough, friend Apocalypse. Tell me, what did you mean when you said this place was soon to be gone?

Exactly what I said. Even in your isolated state, you must have heard of the Emperor and his crusade to stamp out religion and belief in the supernatural. Soon he and his forces will arrive to tear this place down.

I know, but it makes no difference to me. I believe what I believe. No amount of hectoring from some warmongering despot will sway me.

That is an obstinate point of view.

It is faith, it would seem. I'm not as fickle as you would posit, eh?

Faith? A willing belief in the unbelievable without proof. Faith. Strength is just that and requires no proof. Belief is enough. That is why the Emperor wants rid of it, then.

You call faith powerful. I call it dangerous. Think of what people in the grip of faith have done in the past. All the atrocities down the centuries that can be traced back to faith. Faith is both the causation and the justification for so much evil. Have you come here just to provoke me?

I am no longer a violent man. Such a goal would be boring and fruitless for both of us. If this is all you are here for, I suggest you leave.

You are right, of course. I'm being discourteous, and I apologize. I came to learn of this place, not antagonize its guardian.

Accept your apology, Apocalypse. Do you wish to see the church?

I do. Then come with me. [Music] [Music]

So this is a holy stone?

It is. Yes. Why? Why is it the Folger Lapis? I mean, why is it holy? Was it deposited on the ground by your god? Was a man martyred here, or did some young girl receive some sort of revelation while praying at its base?

Nothing so bland. Rest assured, friend Apocalypse. Thousands of years ago, a local holy man who was blind was walking in the hills hereabouts when a sudden storm came in over the western ocean. He hurried back down to the village below, but it was a long way, and the storm broke before he could reach safety. The holy man took shelter from the storm in the lee of this stone. At the height of the storm, in the lee of the heavens, when he thought all was lost, he was lifted up and heard the voice of our creator. And so he saw the stone wreathed in a blue fire, in which he saw the face of our creator.

Did you not say he was blind?

Ah, he was blind no longer. The power of our creator cured him of his affliction. He immediately ran back to the village and told the people there of the miracle. And then the holy man returned to the Fall Galapas and instructed the townspeople to build a church around it. The story of his healing soon spread. Within but a few years, thousands were crossing the Silver Bridge to visit the shrine, for a spring had begun to flow from the base of the stone, and its waters were said to be imbued with healing properties.

And I wonder how much the priests benefited from it all. And what it could cure: diseases, mend broken limbs. So the church records say. This bathing chamber was constructed around the stone, and people across the land came to bathe in the sacred waters while they still flowed.

I have heard tales of a similar nature in the Far East. A young girl claimed to have seen a holy vision of a woman while bathing near the springs closest to her home. She described a woman conspicuously similar to the holy woman of a religious order of which her family was a member. Bathing houses were established there too, but for a fear of diminishing the rate at which the owners of the bathhouses could admit pilgrims, the waters were only changed once a day. The dying and diseased came in droves, passing through that water in the hundreds every day. So I'm sure you can imagine what a horrible slop it was at the end. They were but pools of blood, sloughed-off skin, scabs, bits of cloth and bandage; an abominable soup of malady. The only miracle was that anyone emerged alive. Such a miracle was infrequent at best.

I cannot justify the actions of the greedy or the impure. I can assure you that did not happen here, if that is your concern. Hematite from abandoned ironstone formation exposed by landslip during the storm, most likely. That would explain the strike. It seems to me that your holy man was not blinded by any physical defect but was a result of hysteria or earlier mental trauma. It is not unheard of to be cured in such a manner.

Are you attempting to debunk the miracle this church was founded upon?

It was our creator's will. And if your explanation were to substitute mine, the nature of the event is still what I would call a miracle. The creator's face was seen; his voice was heard. It is a malicious thing to seek to destroy another's faith, Apocalypse.

I do not aim to be malicious. I am trying to explain how such a thing could have happened without the intervention of a godly power. You think that the way we perceive the world is the way it actually is, but you cannot perceive the external world directly. Indeed, none of us can. Instead, we know only our ideas or interpretations of objects in the world. The human brain is a marvelous organ, priest, and it is especially adept at constructing images of faces and voices from limited information. Imagine your holy man sheltering from the storm in the cover of this great stone when the lightning bolt hit. The fire and the noise, the pounding surge of elemental energy. Isn't it possible that an already religious man might, in such circumstances, perceive sights and sounds of a divine nature? We do it all the time. When you wake with dread in the dead of night, is that darkness in the corner not an intruder, instead of just a shadow? The creak of a floorboard, the tread of a murderer? Hmm.

I agree, the human mind is a powerful thing. What I value most, however, is the ability to reflect upon the past and reach the conclusion that that tap against my window was a natural occurrence and not a murderer come to kill a lonely priest. Given the origins and evolution of religions in the human species, it seems a far more convincing and likely explanation that it was a figment of happenstance and a creative mind. A holy man might make a miracle of simple good fortune because of a predisposition to believe in the supernatural, don't you agree?

No, I do not. Really, you strike me as an intelligent man. Why can you not concede at least to the possibility of such an explanation?

Because I, too, have seen my God and heard His voice. Nothing can compare with knowing personally and completely that the divine exists.

Ah, personal experience, the most valued kind. Tell me, where did you receive this vision?

On a battlefield, in the lands of the Frank. Many, many years ago. The Frank were brought into unity long ago. The last battle was fought nearly half a century ago. You must have been a young man back then.

I… I was young and foolish.

Young and foolish? Hardly a prime candidate for divine intervention. But then, I've found that the least likely to receive it are often the most in need of it. I have read your holy book before. To me, most of the men who appear on the pages are far from ideal role models. Perhaps I should not be so surprised the devilish rogue sits with me today. Your turn may be pleasant, but your spirit is nothing but adversarial. You say you wish to learn of me in this church. Well, come. Let us just, with words thrusting and parrying uncertainties with argument and counter-argument, say what you will, but come sunrise you will leave and not return. This is my intention. I have other matters to attend to, but tonight I have to talk with you. My adversarial spirit is not born from any malware towards you, Uriah. My malcontent is born from my love for humanity. I would see our species in an age of wonder without these constant wars and the ignorance that blankets our kind like a plague. I would see us ascend. I would see all of our kind raised to the status of godhood that is worshiped throughout the galaxy. But we are enslaved to the fantastical notions that reside within that book of yours and all the others like it. That damnable book in your hands is a curse, and I would see you rid of it.

You go so far as to mock my holy book, too? This damn book provides a code by which I have lived a peaceful life, in which I have built more than I have destroyed, helped more than hurt. My time before this book was nothing but destroying and hurting. Untold thousands more live similar lives thanks to the guidance provided by our willingness to believe in something greater than ourselves. Tell me, Apocalypse, when we as a species find your vision to be a reality, what will become of us? What will unite us?

Peace can only be attained through an aspiration or a common enemy. And when that aspiration disappears, and we as a species are gods without rivals, who will we turn on? We will turn on each other, friend Apocalypse. Your vision will bring only an eternity of war. When god's clash, galaxies burn.

So what would you have me say? There are more faiths than yours, Uriah, and each faith has equally zealous defenders. How many generations of conflict until your message of peace turns to a crusade against those who do not share your beliefs? Where there are differences, humanity will find them, and these differences are so fundamentally rooted in you as others' beliefs are in others. There can be no resolution without conflict. You find nothing but exceptions to my arguments, never any rules by which to measure them. How can I find rules in an inherently hypocritical system? Your book has been rewritten, translated, and twisted to fit the needs of hundreds of anonymous authors for hundreds of years. The faith is eternal, but the story and morals are not. One man hears his dead grandfather, and he is locked away in an asylum. But if he heard the voice of God, he would be venerated and might well become a saint. How is this a logical and rational system?

It is my faith. Respect my beliefs as I respect yours, despite your constant slights against my life's dedication. Did you not say we should joust? Why does your faith require such protection? Is it not robust enough to withstand my questioning? No one else on this world enjoys such protection from scrutiny, so why should you and your faith be singled out for special treatment? Why is it that faith is being targeted for destruction? Perhaps there is enough truth behind my words that the Emperor, in all his wisdom, fears their holy power. Or is it because there are people too obstinate to accept that there may be something that science cannot quite explain?

I have seen my God. I saw His face and heard His words in my soul. Do not expect me or anyone else to give your experience credence, Uriah. Despite what you think you saw, you may believe it to be real, but just because you believe something to be true does not make it so.

I saw what I saw. I heard what I heard. That day on the fields of Frank has never lost its clarity. I relive it with every waking moment in which I am not occupied.

Where in Frank did this miraculous vision take place, priest?

On the killing field of Godwary. I… I was…

Will you tell me what happened?

I'll tell you what happened, but first I need another drink.

No, friend Apocalypse, this is the good stuff. I wouldn't deign to drink this from a tumbler. Now we will drink from a glass. The water of life. Finally, spirits both you and I can believe in. Give it a minute. Let the vapors build. It intensifies the flavor. Swirl it a little. See the slicks on the side of the glass? They are called tears, and since they are long and descending slowly, we know the drink is strong and full-bodied.

And how long must we wait?

Patience, friend Apocalypse. This wine has sat for many decades. You can sit for a few more minutes. Knows the drink. Feel the aromas and how they stimulate your senses. Allow yourself a moment. Let the senses awaken the memories of their origin. May I ask a personal question while we wait?

Well, it depends on the question, doesn't it?

Why is it you carry a timepiece that doesn't function?

It is a family relic, you see. It has been with us since before even Old Night. No one knows when it broke, but as legend goes, it ticks before disaster strikes. I never believed it, nor did my father. When I found it, however, it was a minute later than I always remembered it. Now it sits a minute from midnight. My father always suggested that the day it struck midnight would be the beginning of the end. I've kept it for decades, never once seen a bunch. I check as often as if it could warn me of danger. Maybe there is hope.

Okay. A grim portent. You seem to surround yourself with grim beliefs, Uriah.

Perhaps. But let's not ruin this good wine with such dower thoughts. My story has not yet even begun. We've waited long enough. Drink, friend Apocalypse, generously. Hang on to the taste before it is gone.

Ah, that's a flavor I have not had in a long time. I didn't think any remained.

It is an old bottle, one I rescued from the ruins of my parents' home.

You make a habit of keeping old alcohol around?

Hi. A throwback to my wild youth. I was fond of the drink, a little too much, even if you take my meaning.

I do. Many a great man has been brought low by such an addiction. You said you wanted to know of Godwary. If you are ready and willing to tell me of it…

Yes, willing. Yes, ready. Well, I suppose we will find out. Godwary was a bloody day. It was hard on all who were there.

I understand. I may be old, and my eyes may not be what they once were, but I can still tell that you are far too young to know of Godwary. You would not have even been born when that battle was fought. Trust me, I know of Godwary. I should tell you a little of myself first, who I was back then and how I came to find God on the battlefield of Godwary. If you have half a mind to hear it, anyway.

What is the story without its context, of course. Say what you feel needs to be said.

I was born in the town below this church, nearly 80 years ago. The youngest son of the local lord. My clan had come through the final years of Old Night with much of their wealth intact. They owned all the lands around these parts, from this very mountain all the way to the mainland bridge. I wish I could say I was treated badly as a child, you know, to give reason for why I turned out the way I did. I cannot. I was indulged and became something of a spoiled brat, given to drinking, carousing. Looking back, I realized what little shit I was. But of course, it's a lot of old men to look at themselves in their youth and realize too late all the mistakes they made and regrets they carry. Anyway, I decided, in the adolescent fires of rebellion, that I was going to travel the world and see whatever free corners of it remained in the wake of the Emperor's conquest. So much of the world had been brought under his sway, but I was determined to find one last patch of land that wasn't yet under the heel of his thunderbolt and lightning armies.

You make it sound like the Emperor was a tyrant.

He ended the wars that were destroying the planet and defeated dozens of tyrants and despots. Without his armies, mankind would have descended into anarchy and destroyed itself within generations.

He still is a tyrant. Perhaps humanity would have been better off that way, rather than under the shadow of his accursed eagle. Maybe the universe decided we'd had our chance, that our time was up.

Nonsense. The universe cares not a wit for our actions or us. Our fate is rocked by our hands and no others.

A philosophical point we will no doubt return to, but I was telling you of my youth.

But of course, please continue.

Thank you. Well, after I announced my intention to travel the world, my father was good enough to grab me a generous stipend and a retinue of soldiers to protect me on my journeys. I left that very day and crossed the Silver Bridge four days later, traveling across the land recovering from war, which was growing fat on the labors decreed by the Emperor. Hamlets beat our plates of armor, blackened factories turned on weapons, and entire towns of seamstresses created new uniforms for his armies. I crossed Europa and cruised my way across the continent, seeing the eagle-standard banner everywhere I went. In every town and city, I saw people giving thanks to the Emperor and his mighty Thunder Giants. But I'll be damned if any of them was genuine. It was like they were going through the motions because they knew it was dangerous not to. I'd seen the Thunder Giants as a child, but never in the wake of a conquest, never quite seen the reality of them before that point. I was drunk and whoring my way down the Tully Peninsula when I came across a garrison of the Emperor's super-soldiers at a ruined cliff-top fortress. My damned romantic, rebellious soul couldn't help but try and bait the giants. I called them many names: freak, slave, the minor demons of a greater devil. I even told them the Emperor's only goal was to enslave all of the human race to his own towering ego. After having seen them battle in the fields of Frank, I shudder to think of the fear I was in then. I thought I was being clever in my own stupor. I convinced myself I was a hero. Looking back, I would never even have passed as a martyr. Eventually, one of the giants broke rank and approached me. I was monumentally drunk. I felt invincible, as only a drunk and a fool could. This warrior was huge, far larger than any human I had ever seen. His entire body was encased in heavy powered armor that enclosed his chest and arms. The sheer power of each soldier was never made clearer to me than when that giant came over to me and lifted me up, tearing my shirt and upsetting me greatly. I kicked at his armor and beat my fists into bloody pumps against his chest, but he just laughed at me. I screamed at him to let me go, and he did just that, telling me to shut my mouth before tossing me off the cliff. [Music] By the time I'd climbed the great steps back up into the village, they were gone, and I was left with just myself and a hatred greater than I had ever known. Stupid, really. I was asking for it, and it was only a matter of time until someone put me in my place. And after that, here and there, I've gotten a lot of those years. Truth be told, I was drunk most of my working hours. I know. I took a sand skiff across the Mediterranean wastes and traversed the wastelands of the North Africa conflict that changed Karl, reduced to an ashen desert. All I found was settlements that were busy paying homage to the Emperor. So I carried onwards, far into the East, to see the ruins of Ursh and the fallen bastions of Doom. Even there, however, in places so far away as to be the most desolate and remote corners of the world, I still found those who gave thanks to the Emperor and his gene-engineered warriors. I couldn't understand it. Didn't these people know they'd just exchanged one tyrant…

For another, then again, it wasn't their choice. Humanity was on the brink of extinction. I cannot convey this point any more clearly. Without unity, and without the Emperor, there would be no human race. I cannot believe that you do not see that.

Oh, I see it alright. I see that very clearly. The devilish rogue did not, however. I was young and full of the fires of youth that see any form of control as oppression. Though they don't appreciate it, it is the function of the youth to push at the boundaries of the previous generation, to poke and prod and establish their own rules. I was no different from any other youth. Well, perhaps a little.

So you traveled the world and hadn't found any corner of it that hadn't sworn allegiance to the Emperor? Where did you go next? I returned home for a spell, bearing gifts I'd mostly stolen, and then set off again. But this time, I went out as a soldier of fortune instead of a tourist. I'd heard rumors of unrest in the land of the Frank and fancied myself a renowned war hero. The Frank were fractitious people even before the days of unity; they were never ones to bow to invaders, even the ones who posed as benign. Once I reached the continent, I had heard of Havelek de Grace in the Battle of Iowa and rode straight for the town, Aval Roy, a town poisoned by the bitterness of a madman whose meager skill fell far short of his ambition. Now that much is obvious; back then, the story was that Havelek was found wrongly accused of the brutal murder of the woman the Emperor appointed as governor. [Applause] He was said to be shot by a firing squad when his brothers and friends attacked the local army units running the execution. The soldiers were torn to shreds. The death of a few locals in the fighting turned a small-scale riot into open rebellion. It got ugly faster than the town had time to think what they were doing, but by then it was too late, unfortunately for everyone. Havelek was a gifted orator and found the flames of the townsfolk's ire against the Emperor's rule within the hour. A hastily formed militia had stormed the local army headquarters and seized the weapons within; none of the soldiers survived.

You are aware that Avulic did assault and murder the woman? I learned that later. Yes, by then it was far too late to do anything about it. By the time I reached Aval, full of piss and vinegar for the coming fight, Havelek had rallied a number of the local townships to his cause and amassed quite an army. It was magnificent, friend Apocalypses, for it had been everything I had so desperately craved in this search for icons of the Emperor being torn down. Colorful buntings hung from every window; bands played in the streets constantly while Havelek and all of us, his soldiers, marched up and down the town. I swear it felt like you were an army of devilish daring hues. We should have been training; we should have prepared, but our courage was buoyed up by the festivities, and more and more towns rose up against the Emperor's rule by the day. Within the week, we had amassed an army of nearly forty thousand strong, and truly it seemed I had found my glorious rebellion I had so desperately craved. It was heroic and courageous and dangerous, and it spoke to my romanticism for the heroic freedom fighters of old. We were absolutely sure that we would be the spark that would light the fires of rebellion all across the world and see the autocrat tumbled from his self-imposed rule.

Then we heard that the Thunderbolt and Lightning armies were marching from the east, and we set off in grand procession, making all due haste, Havelek leading us from Avaloi. It was a joyous day I'll never forget; the laughter, the kisses from the girls, and the spirit of our shared brotherhood carried us off as we marched to battle. In but a week of marching, we reached Getaway and set up our defenses atop a line of hills directly in the path of our enemies. We had all fancied ourselves tactical geniuses; holding this strategically advantageous position, had we had any training and discipline, it might have made a difference. We held the high ground, and both of our flanks were anchored on strong positions: on the left were the ruins of the Gandurai Bastion; on the right, the desolate marshes to which nothing could pass.

You must have known it was madness to engage the Emperor's armies. I mean, you had no hope of defeating them; his warriors were bred for battle and spent every waking moment in combat training. Perhaps we knew; maybe we didn't want to think about it. We were so full of hope, of optimism, we wouldn't allow ourselves to even consider defeat. When the Emperor's armies came into sight, we were nearly 50,000 strong, and we faced an army estimated at a mere five thousand. It was hard not to feel that we could win the day, especially with Havelek riding up and down and firing our blood. His brother tried to calm him, but it was far too late. Eventually, maybe a kilometer from our position, the giants halted their advance. We should have waited, too, instead of letting the spirit of the moment drive us. We charged on the hillside like mad, glorious fools, screaming war cries and waving swords, pistols, and rifles over our heads. It was maybe six or seven ranks deep, and we only covered half the distance before the giants shouldered their weapons and opened fire. [Applause] By God, the noise! I'll never forget it. The first volley was thunder that ripped down the line, and our first five ranks were cut down to a man with a beautiful screen. Each of their bullets was a small bomb that ripped limbs from bodies and burst men open from the inside like wet sacks. Turns to shouts struck in the back of the head and fell forward into the ruptured body of another man, rolling over. I felt the back of my head and realized I had been hit—shrapnel or some fragment, I figured. I could feel myself losing blood, weakening by the moment. Now the initial shock of the first few seconds had passed; the screaming began. The charge had ground to a halt, and now the men and women were murdered around me in confusion and fear as the reality finally dawned on them and they understood the magnitude of what Havelek had done. Now the Thunder Warriors took their time to charge; they broke into a run, and terror trembled beneath their feet. Most of those who had fallen but survived the volley were crushed beneath the giants; they were all wielding their swords with serrated edges and motorized blades. Never forget the sound, the raw, output nightmare it was.

We had been defeated in the opening volley, but these warriors were without mercy. Havelek could somehow survive the initial barrage with only superficial wounds, and as I lay on my back, dying, I watched him stare dumbfounded as the leading Thunderbird cleaved him in two with a single swing of his chain blade. Looking back at Havelek's army, I saw my terror mirrored on the face of every man and woman left, who were all begging for mercy, throwing down their weapons, trying to surrender, but the slaughter continued, heedless of their pleas. They marched right up to them and hacked into them without mercy. All those people were cut apart so quickly and brutalized with such economy of force; I couldn't believe so many people could die in so short a time. It was not the glorious map I dreamed of; it was mechanized and virtually instantaneous. If I could have run, I would have, but I'm not ashamed to say I lay there weeping, listening to the awful sound of people dying and the wet sound of flesh being shorn from bodies and the stench of avoided bowels and open bellies until the mercy of darkness overcame me.

When I woke, surprised I'd still lived, it was dark. In the distance, I heard the victory chants of the Thunder Warriors drifting across the fields along with the smoke of victory pyres. Havelek's army had been destroyed—not routed, not put to flight—destroyed in less than an hour. 50,000 men and women had been killed. I never learned of any other survivors. Weak and laying in a field of human parts, I began to weep once more. I was in agony, bleeding to death, and thinking how absolutely pointless my life had been, the heartache and ruin I'd visited upon others in my reckless pursuit of hedonism and self-interest. I wept for my family and myself, and that was when I realized I wasn't alone.

Who was with you? The power of the divine. I opened my eyes and saw a golden face above me, a face of such radiance and perfection that my tears were no longer shed for my self-pity but for its beauty. The light radiated from the figure, and I averted my eyes for fear I'd be blinded. I had been in pain, yes, but now that pain was gone, and I knew I'd see the face of the divine. I could not describe that face to you, not with all the poetic imagery in the world at my disposal, but it was the most exquisite thing I had ever seen. I felt myself lifted up and thought this was the end, and then the face spoke, and I knew I was destined to live.

What did this face say to you? Why do you deny me? Accept me, and you will know that I am the only truth and the only way. Did you reply? I couldn't. To utter any words would have been base; in any case, my tongue was quite stilled by the awesome vision of God. What made you think it was God? You were a dying man on a battlefield surrounded by your dead comrades, and you were having an epiphany about the futility of the life you had led. Think back, priest; surely there is another explanation. I need no other explanation. You may be wise in many things, Apocalypses, but you cannot know what goes on in my own mind. I heard the voice of God and saw His face. Does the perception of events truly matter if the results are singular? I was born up and set into a deep slumber, and when I awoke, my wounds were healed. A piece of bone had been embedded in my skull, nearly a centimeter away from severing my spinal cord. When I rose, I searched for fellow survivors; I was alone. I decided to return to the land of my birth, but when I returned, I found my family home in ruins. The townsfolk told me Scandian raiders from the north had come to plunder my family's wealth, so they killed my brother and tortured my parents and sisters in an attempt to make my father give up the family treasures. My father had a weak heart and died before they could learn his secrets. I found my home in ruins and my family as bleached cadavers. There were no amends to be made at home; all I had to remember them by was their wealth, good wine, and this damned watch.

I am sorrowed by your loss, Uriah. If it is any consolation, the Scandians would not accept unity and were wiped out near three decades ago. I know, but I do not revel in death anymore. The men who killed my family will have been judged by God, and that is justice enough for me. That is noble of you. I took those few keepsakes from the ruins and made my way to the nearest settlement, thinking I'd get blind drunk and try to figure out what to do with my life. Halfway there, I met an old priest in need of help, in desperate search of the next caretaker of the Folger lobbyists. I knew I had found my purpose. I had spent my entire life until then living for myself, but when I saw the spire of that church, I knew that God had a purpose for me. I should have died at Gadoire, but I was saved for a reason, and what was the reason? To serve God, to bring His words to the people, to do good where others would not, to be a beacon in the coming dark. And that's what you've been doing here? That is what I've been trying to do. But the Emperor's promulgators traversed the globe with his message of denouncing the supernatural and criminalizing the devout. I assume that is why you are here and why none of my congregation have come here tonight.

You would be correct, in a manner of speaking. I have come to try and convince you of the error of your ways, to learn of you, and to show you that there is no need for any divine powers to guide humanity. This is the last church on Terror, and it falls to me to offer you this chance to embrace the new way willingly. There is no more, my dear priest. Come, let us go back out into the church as we talk. I want to teach you of all that belief in Gods has done for humanity down the ages—the bloodshed, the horror, and the persecution. I will tell you of this, and you will see how damaging such belief is, and then you will go on your way, friend Apocalypses. It is my sincerest hope that we will go together. [Music]

You know of gene breeding? Very little is not gene bred these days, and you have heard of the once great city of Zozer in the North Africa Conclaves? Yes, I've been to Zozer—at least I saw what my guide told me were its ruins. True, not much is left anyway. The scientists of Zozer sought to end a great famine that was sweeping the North Africa Conclaves through gene-breeding animals that would grow more quickly and more easily in their harsh climate. When one of the local cults caught wind of the gene breeding, they saw it as an affront to their God. They were very much against the modification of genetics because they thought that their God had designed them as they were, and it was a sin to meddle in such things. This cult, the Zozorites, saw the lead scientist and a Pashta as the next embodiment of evil, seeking to defile all the people by feeding them the embodiment of sin. They went on a rampage, stabbing and clubbing any Pashta they could find. Of course, the Pashta retaliated, and rioting spread throughout the city and left close to a thousand people dead. They did not again try to gene breed new farm stock, and untold thousands more died to the famine.

Is there a point to that story? Absolutely. It typifies religion and tells a universal tale of religious behavior that has been reoccurring since the beginning of human history. Religion actively impedes forward progress by producing stubborn people who fear advancement. A far-fetched example, friend Apocalypses. One freakish story cannot serve as proof of a theory that all belief in the divine is a bad thing. Why don't you tell the story of the time a church organized a program to help the poor and the sick and the dying? Why do you not tell a story of when faith and religion gave a community the strength to stick together and help each other through hard times? Through faith comes character, and through our character there is moral strength. Without such guidance, the world would descend into anarchy. A secular government with strict laws and programs could accomplish all that you have listed without creating stubbornness or creating a dependability on a church that would impose further taxes upon the poor and make waste of otherwise productive time. The idea that the church is a moral compass just isn't true. Where the church is strong, it causes cruelty; intense belief produces intense hostility. Only when faith loses its force can a society hope to become humane and progress. I don't believe that. My holy book gives instructions on how to live a good life; it has lessons humanity needs. I have benefited greatly, as have the people in the town below.

Are you sure? I have read your holy book, and much of it is bloody and vengeful. I suspect an outside spectator would view the people on those pages not as exemplars of proper behavior but terrifying examples of corrupt morals. You are missing the point, Apocalypses. Much of the text is not meant to be taken literally; it is symbolic or allegorical. That is exactly my point. You priests pick and choose which bits of your book to take literally and which to read as symbolic, and that is a personal matter, not a divine one. You may be pure and noble, Uriah, but all too often a priest is a man who is cruel and purely seeking personal gain. Religion has no place in a fair and just society. In ages past, a frightening number of people took these holy books absolutely literally, sowing untold misery and death because they truly believed the words they read. The history of religion is a horror story, Uriah, and if you doubt it, look to the past and see what humanity has done in the name of their gods over the millennia. In ancient times, ritual sacrifices were commonplace to appease their vile gods; priests drowned women and children in sacred wells and cut the hearts out of their slaves and prisoners; they would drive a pile through a maiden's body to pacify a non-existent creature.

You cannot seriously compare my religion to such barbarism you describe. Ignorant savagery, not religion, as I would name it. Can't I? It was never uncommon for religions founded in this region of the world to use their faith to justify conquest without mercy. The rich desired more power, but the peasantry would not fight for their kings and their lords just to further the interest of those who ruled them so cruelly. The lords knew this; they disguised their political objectives with religious significance: by the just and marvelous judgment of God, and the people fought fervently for a cause with no merit. Extremism bred extremism, and the retaliation was swift. Now that war had been initiated on religious pretexts, the conflicts escalated, and the battling continued until little was left but fields littered with the bones of the foolish and the deceived. But sorrow or remorse was never tolerated, for such a thing as the Crusade was God's will, after all.

This is ancient history, as you say. The nobles were bent on furthering their own interests; they used religion as an excuse, but in their greed, they would have committed these atrocities one way or another. You cannot vouchsafe the truth of events so lost in the mists of time. I would agree with you had they not repeated the act nearly a century later. Warriors laid siege to the sex stronghold in ancient Franc, and when the city fell, the generals asked their leader how they might tell the faithful from the traitors among the captives. The leader, who followed his God, ordered the warriors to kill them all: God will know His own. Twenty thousand men, women, and children were lost to faith that day. Of course, for fear that any may escape, an organization was given absolute power over the people, with its sole purpose to hunt down those who ran. They brought about hysteria and tortured any they so pleased. They did not stop once all their enemies were hunted down and killed, either; they, too, had convinced themselves of their holiness. They exterminated whole towns on the mere suspicion of witchcraft or treachery. When it was all said and done, near 100,000 were dead; most of them were innocent.

If you'll allow me, I shall turn your logic back upon you, Apocalypses. Had it been a secular government that decided they required more land and riches, do you truly believe they would have decided against it for no reason other than that there was no divine justification? Look back upon your great knowledge of history; do you truly not recall any secular government that drove itself mad with suspicion of treachery and created a state ruled by surveillance and torture? You chop apart history, take what you so desire, and insist I behold the bloody remains. Humans are flawed, and religion is more often a convenient scapegoat than a corrupting force. If you believe that, then you have been shut away in this church for far too long, priest. All the dictators to pose through unification were mass-murdering ethnoxes who killed millions in their constant warring, burning away all hope, progress. Cardinal Tang's programs and death camps saw millions dead in the Indonesia Block. He died but 30 years ago and claimed his entire life had been served in the name of a greater power. [Music]

You fixate on the blood and death and forget all the good that can be achieved through faith, Uriah. You only see religion for what it can be; I am seeing it for what it most always is. Savagery pervades our world, and it is sustained by ignorance and crude belief. It is true that before the descent of Old Night, religion had lost its power over the people, but like the worst kind of poison, it lingered and fostered division amongst those who endured without belief. Divisions blur over generations; new generations mingle and marry and forget ancient wounds. There's only belief in Gods and divine entities that keep them alien to one another, and anything that divides people breeds inhumanity and cruelty. Religion is the canker in mankind's heart that serves such an ugly purpose.

I have heard all that you have had to say, friend Apocalypses, and I have finally heard enough. Yes, people have done terrible things to one another in the name of their gods, but they have done terrible things regardless of the recourse of their beliefs. An acceptance of Gods and an afterlife is a vital part of what makes us who we are. If you take that away from humanity, what do you suggest takes its place? In my many years as a priest, I have ministered to many dying people, and the emotional benefit of religion's power to console the wounded and the dying, as well as those left behind, cannot be underestimated.

There is a flaw in your logic, priest. Religion's power to console gives it no credence or validity. It might be a comfort to a dying man to believe that he will go to some bountiful paradise of endless joy, but even if he dies with a wonderful smile on his face, it means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Better that less would die due to the removal of religion than each zealot die with a smile on their face. Maybe, but when my time comes, I will die with God's name on my lips. Are you afraid to die, Uriah? No, truly. Truly, I have my share of sins, but I've spent the greater part of my life in the service of my God, and I believe I have served Him faithfully.

So why is it that when you go to these people who are dying and clinging to their beliefs that they don't welcome the end of their life? Surely the gathered family and friends should be of good cheer and celebrate their relatives' passing; after all, if eternal paradise awaits us, why are they not filled with gleeful anticipation? Could it be that in their heart of hearts they don't really believe it? Are you ever excited to have a loved one move on or leave in search of something greater? Are you ever excited to leave your family and friends in search of a better life, even if it is for the best? Are you delighted to leave all that you know to be thrust into the unknown? No one is. Life is a gift and our chance to make ourselves into someone before our time in the afterlife. Who would give that up willingly? If you cannot see that plainly, then you are a fool. The Lord of Mankind is the light in the way, and all His actions are for the benefit of Mankind, which is His people, so it is taught in the holy words of our order, and above all, there is no one to hear you. I don't care what you say anymore. You have come here to do what you feel you need to do, and I'll not buttress your ego with self-righteousness by playing along any longer. You listen to my words but hear nothing. End the charade, as you wish. No more games. [Music]

You now—do you understand the futility of what you do here? You—you are the Emperor. I am. It is time to go. Go where? There is nowhere else for me in this godless world of yours. Of course there is. Embrace the new way and be part of something incredible—a world and a time where we stand on the brink of achieving everything we ever dreamed. [Music] Verona's work was never meant for darkness; only in the light can it achieve its full potential. Humanity is the same, and only when the suffocating shadows of a religion that teaches us not to question is gone from this world will we see its true, radiating brilliance. I will miss this place in time. I will build an Imperium of such grandeur and magnificence that this will seem like a pauper's hovel. Now let us be on our way. [Music] [Music]

How can you do this? You say you stand for reason and the advancement of understanding, but here you are destroying a repository of knowledge. Things are best forgotten. I hope you have foreseen the consequences of a world bereft of religion. I have. It is my dream—an Imperium of Man that exists without recourse to Gods and the supernatural—a united galaxy with Terror at its heart. The united galaxy indeed. [Music] Soon enough, unity will be achieved.

Terror. It is time to reclaim humanity's lost empire among the stars, with you at its head. I presume, of course, nothing of such grand scale can be achieved without a singular vision at its heart; least of all the re-conquest of the galaxy.

There is a place for you at my side, Uriah. You are noble, and your heart is true. We have need of iterators who would spread my imperial truth across the stars, to all those planets without guidance.

I can submit to no imperial truth. My entire life has been altered by, at best, a misunderstanding; at worst, my life has been spent following a lie.

[Music]

But you know what? It doesn't matter that my life has been one massive falsehood. I came here with my heart open and emptied by grief. The spirit of my god had entered my soul and filled me with love. My devotion was my salvation, and I have spread a doctrine of love and forgiveness. No amount of words and tricks may change that, even now, despite this revelation. My heart is filled with love. There is no resentment in my heart.

What makes faith so powerful, Emperor, is that it requires no proof. Belief is enough.

I feared such a thing. I wish you would join my great crusade, Uriah. Soon I shall expand my Imperium to the furthest corners of the galaxy, with all my sons beside me. I need men like you. You make a virtue of commitment and purity.

Did you not just speak to me of the horror of the crusades and what evil men do in the name of purity? You are no better than the holy man you were telling me about.

The difference is that I know I am right, Uriah.

Spoken like a true autocrat.

You misunderstand, Uriah. I have seen the narrow path that humanity must walk to survive. This is how we must begin. It is a dangerous road you travel. To deny humanity a thing will only make them crave it more. I see no reality in which your goals do not lead us to disaster. Beware; your subjects do begin to see you as a god.

I truly hope, in the name of all this, is divine. You are right, but I dread the future you forge. I wish only the best for my people. I believe you, Apocalypses, but I cannot be a part of it.

[Music]

[Music]

[Music]

[Music]

Do you, Captain, accept your holiness? Do you promise to lead your men into battle and conduct them to glory, no matter the ferocity or ingenuity of the foe? Do you swear to crush the insurgents of 63-19, despite all they might throw at you? Do you pledge to do honor to the 16th Legion, to our Father, and to the Emperor on this matter? And by this weapon, I, Captain Gabriel Loken of the Lunar Wars, swear it will be so.

Then rise, brother. There is work.