Blackstone Code
Chapter 315:

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By evening, after a restful afternoon, everyone seemed refreshed and invigorated. The representatives of noble families, wealthy merchants, and political elites expressed their reverence for the divine with remarkable generosity. Gilded offerings were carried into the temple under the watchful eyes of devoted believers who held sacred talismans and participated closely in the festivities. Others opted to donate money directly—after all, if the gods loved gold, surely they would appreciate currency as well?

The high priest's barely concealed smile confirmed that the gods indeed favored monetary gifts, especially checks. "Convey my respect to the divine," Lynch said, handing over a check tucked inside a wooden box engraved with intricate designs. Like others, he used this method to ensure privacy; no one but the chief officiant would know the exact amount donated. This clever system eliminated awkward comparisons and judgments, preserving the dignity of donors.

Donating posed its own dilemmas. Too much might invite scrutiny about the source of wealth, complicating what should have been a simple act of piety. Too little, particularly for those of high status, risked accusations of stinginess. Thus, the wooden boxes served not only as vessels for donations but also as shields against social embarrassment.

A clergy member brought Lynch's box to the high priest, whispering something in his ear before opening it briefly. Upon seeing the zeroes on Lynch's signed check, the high priest's lips curled upward. Foreign currencies were far more valuable than Nagalier's local galiar, and the Baylor Federation's thor coins could fund his youngest son's education abroad. As for whether such donations truly pleased the gods—well, the divine cared less about material wealth and more about devotion and respect.

After closing the box, the high priest locked gazes with Lynch from across the room, nodding slightly to acknowledge both Lynch's faith and the mutual benefit of their arrangement. With the donations concluded, the high priest delivered closing remarks and retreated into the temple.

Meanwhile, priests and clerics began dancing around a fire pit within the temple grounds. Their bizarre attire and painted skin evoked mixed reactions—some found them repulsive, others unsettling. Their movements were stiff, almost mechanical, like marionettes controlled by unseen strings. Indeed, they believed themselves to be puppets of the divine, performing according to heavenly will.

Lower-ranking servants circulated among the attendees, serving roasted meats, fruits, and mildly sour fruit wines. Guests ate, watched the dances, and sang hymns praising the deities in their native tongue.

"Lynch, the high priest wishes to speak with you." A priest approached Lynch, interrupting his meal. After a brief glance at the man, Lynch adjusted his clothing and followed him to the rear of the temple. By now, the high priest had retired early, having completed the day's ceremonies.

In a spacious rectangular chamber spanning several hundred square feet, Lynch met the high priest. At the center of the room stood a raised platform with a stone seat where the high priest sat. The air was stifling, likely due to the lack of ventilation designed for winter warmth. Numerous braziers illuminated the space, casting flickering light while raising the temperature above that of the outdoors.

"Mr. Lynch…" The high priest greeted him warmly. "I've heard others speak highly of you and your perspective on our faith."

"You are an unusual foreigner, particularly regarding matters of belief," he continued. In an era marked by rapid technological advancement, science clashed fiercely with superstition, creating clear divisions between believers and non-believers. Believers grew ever more fervent, rejecting alternative doctrines outright. Non-believers dismissed mysterious phenomena as explainable through scientific means.

Yet Lynch stood apart. His ambiguous statements pleased neither camp entirely yet offended no one. To believers, he affirmed their convictions, attributing miracles to their gods. To skeptics, he appeared rational, merely lacking insight to fully reject superstition—a stance they respected enough to engage in deeper discussions.

Unlike other foreigners, such as Simon, whom Lynch knew, who either dismissed local religions as ignorant or condemned them as heretical, Lynch's approach was refreshingly neutral. This uniqueness intrigued the high priest.

Lynch inclined his head slightly. "I hail from the Baylor Federation, a nation that values freedom. Our laws advocate for religious liberty, protecting and promoting tolerance."

"We view every aspect of life—religion, governance, culture—with openness and acceptance. We embrace diversity without judgment."

The high priest's eyes flickered with interest. "That sounds… fascinating."

"In the Federation," Lynch elaborated, "anyone can preach once registered with the Religious Affairs Office, provided their teachings aren't illegal or harmful. For instance, does the agent of the divine know of the Church of the Earth Mother's Seat?"

"The… agent of the divine?" The high priest looked puzzled. "Are you referring to me?"

Lynch nodded confidently. "Of course. As high priest, you embody the god's earthly presence. You wield divine authority and guide humanity toward goodness. Am I wrong?"

The high priest chuckled, revealing yellowed teeth, then quickly composed himself. Nodding, he mused, "You're correct. ‘Agent of the divine' suits me well."

After savoring the phrase, he prompted Lynch to continue. "What were you saying earlier? About eating horse dung?"

Perhaps buoyed by Lynch's generous donation or simply enjoying the conversation, the high priest laughed heartily. "Eating fresh horse droppings cures illness?"

"Yes," Lynch replied earnestly. "Preferably still warm, straight from the horse."

The high priest roared with laughter again, shaking his head in disbelief. "Do people actually believe this nonsense?"

"Why not?" Lynch countered. "It doesn't harm society or encourage wrongdoing. It's merely unconventional medicine. And yes, tens of thousands once followed this faith."

The high priest fell silent, pondering the implications. If such absurd beliefs thrived in the Baylor Federation, could his religion find similar success there? Could foreigners embrace his god?

His pulse quickened at the thought. The Baylor Federation—a land of unparalleled prosperity, where even ordinary citizens lived lavishly, like the gentleman before him, Mr. Lynch.

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