Chapter 6 - Presence

“That is the gimmick,” I pointed at Ern. “It is not about the honesty or dishonesty of the gimmick. It is about being transparent and explaining the consequences of the actions, as well as offering alternatives to their actions and the results they will incur.”

“But you can never perfectly inform,” Ern pulled one corner of his mouth into his cheek and furrowed his forehead. “There will always be an imbalance.”

“You inform them of that, too,” I shrugged. “It is not your place to attempt to control their actions, nor is it your place to think ill of their needs and desires. We are servants of the Great Truth. That means we are shepherd only to the emergent intelligence, not the individual drones it is spread across.”

“But it just feels so, complicit,” he looked away and averted his eyes.

“It is the nature of free will,” I stopped my pacing and put my hands on his shoulders. “We cannot stop them from their own self-destruction. We can only hope to avert the collapse of society long enough that they may find enough motivation not to. Compulsion drives desire. It is those who can resist the allure of the Realm that find purpose in reality.”

“I know,” he slumped his shoulders and hung his head, the stained glass above my office window painting him in a multitude of colors. “I just don't want to lose them.”

“It cannot be helped,” I patted his shoulders and then walked back around to my chair. “The Realm is open to all, including its ability to make you resign from the real world. However, it is but a small subset who truly vanish. Most, if not all, maintain a healthy and productive relationship with the real world while still enjoying the fantasy of the Realm.”

“I grew up with them,” he looked up and me and pulled an unenthusiastic grin, “the ones who want to leave. I am just afraid that if they move to the Habitat without, you know, really understanding what it is like in there, that they will fall victim to its allures and become lost to us.”

“And you must have faith that once they have completed the proper initiation procedures administered by You, Grace, and I, that they will be able to handle themselves properly in the Habitat,” I rested my hands on my desk. “I followed the same curriculum and I was more than prepared to survive in the Habitat by myself, and I daresay I was far more farmboy than either of those two are.”

“But sir,” he winced, “with all due respect, you are far from an average person, both in childhood and success. Frod and Wilsout are townies. They do not have the, how do I put this, imagination, to truly grasp what all may lie beyond their provincial upbringing.”

“I warn you to not be so provincial, yourself,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What they may lack in what you call 'imagination,' they more than make up for in wonder. They wish to see the world. I see not why we should do anything but encourage them. If they are fools, let them be foolish, and let them discover wisdom firsthand.”

“But it is so much easier said than done, Prelate,” he closed his eyes and shook his head

“Mind will watch over them, as it does everyone in the Habitat,” I folded my hands. “You must let them experience all that life has to offer and not try to keep them shackled to their innocence. Did you not move away yourself? Did you not survive?”

“I moved to the Habitat with my Seed Family half-way through the Pedagogy. They had lived there before, so it was not hard for me to get into the swing of things,” he held his hand up. “They are grown. They do not have the plasticity to adapt. I worry they will fall prey to the indulgences of unlimited freedom if left unshepherded.”

“Then worry not for they will have a shepherd,” I smiled. “They are moving through the Rite. We will be there to help see them through the whole way.”

“But what if they fall out with the church upon arrival?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Advocacy is not particularly enforced in the Habitat and there is nothing to stop them from going Apostate. And there are no safeguards against getting lost in the Realm!”

“Ern,” I furrowed my brow, “this is not the hill to fall on your sword for. Neither of us have jurisdiction to forcibly prevent their migration, and there exists no logical reason to prohibit them from doing so. You must overcome your own selfishness and allow them to live the life they desire.”

“It is not selfishness, it is concern!” Ern stood up and pointed his finger at the ground.

“Ern!” I stood up and fixed my gaze on him, furrowing my brow. My left eye twitched from flexing my scowl. “You will be seated,” I said very calmly and precisely.

“I am sorry,” Ern's face was undeniably startled.

“You do not wish them to be lost,” I sat back down. “But why?” I eased my body, “Selfishness. You are worried about how sad you will be if they are lost, not how bad it would be for them. Your motivations do not come from altruism, they come from a desire to not have your life disrupted. You fail to account for the factors to motivate them against such a life and focus only on what would happen if they fell victim to addiction. Why? Because you'd feel 'complicit.' If you truly love them as much you hope your protestations show, then you must respect their freedom to make potentially bad decisions, as well as potentially good ones.”

“I cannot argue with you,” he slumped his head. “Their loss would be an immense pain. I do not know how I would handle it and it makes me fearful because I do not know how I could cope with the guilt.”

“Fear and pain are strong motivators, but poor justification,” I stood and paced behind my desk. “They lead to anxiety. How do we relieve anxiety?”

“Faith, Trust, and Hope,” Ern folded his hands, “Praise be.”

“Praise be,” I stopped and bowed my head, folding my hands behind my back. “You must have faith that they will have a good experience. Trust that not only them, but the support network around them, will keep them safe. Hope that they find only success and joy in their endeavor.”

“I just wish I could stop them from going,” he frowned.

“Well, instead of trying to stop them, why not try to ensure that they stay safe?” I pointed my finger in the air. “Why not mentor them? You can gain piece of mind and help ensure that they have the best experience they can, as well. Invest that time and energy into productive things instead of worry and doubt. ”

“But I don't have time or energy to invest. I am their Priest, would it not be forward of me to impose?” Ern squirmed.

“Is it not imposing to try and prevent them from leaving?” I furrowed my brow and pulled my chin into my neck. “You could have been out there helping them the entire time we have been having this conversation about holding them back. Does your selfishness know no bound? You wish only to prevent them to leave because you wish to preserve your own way of life so entirely? You would gladly take me away from my ministrations and spend time trying to convince me to make them stay so as not to cause you potential umbrage, but you would not achieve the same security through engagement with these people you pretend to care so deeply for? For shame, Ern.”

“I am sorry, Pastor Ross,” Ern sobbed.

“You are forgiven,” I walked around the desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You must own the person you are. Either you care for these people, in which case you will take them under your wing and be a guiding force to protect them, or you must accept that your feelings for them are selfishly motivated and that you are only avoiding guilt, in which case, it is incumbent on you to learn how to cope with guilt, and not on them to prevent you from feeling said guilt.”

“You are right,” he sniffled.

“You still have much to learn before I can leave you alone with this Mission. Go meditate on what I have said,” I walked over to the door of my office. “I hope the next time we discuss such matters, your rationalizations and arguments can withstand scrutiny, and that you instead have questions to further mature your thinking. Not protestations of doubt, but justifications of logic.”

“Thank you, Prelate,” Ern rose and left, eyes averted.

***

It'd been a while since I got out. “I feel like my life is just lectures, video games, and prayer,” I swirled the liquor in my glass a few times and sipped the dark brown ichor. “Now that you want for nothing, what do you do with your time?”

“Wait,” she was reclining on her side, head propped on her hand. She bolted upright and shifted into a cross-legged seat, her neck jutted forward, eyes squinting at me in disbelief, “Do I actually get to have a not-one-sided conversation with you?”
I cringed because I knew she was right. “Yes,” I said deadpan, swirled my glass, and looked at her square, eyebrows raised. “I'm actually interested in being talked at. Don't squander the intimacy,” I smiled and took a sip.

“Wow,” she pulled her chin back into her neck and held a sarcastic hand to her heart. “I'm so honored that you have deigned me with such an uncommon gift.”
“Don't be snarky, either,” I laughed. “Really. Now that you've been freed from the shackles of burden, what do you spend your time pursuing?”

“Well,” she turned her head and transfixed her eyes on the fire. “Aren't campfires intoxicating?” Her gaze widened as orange fire licked at her glassy blue eyes. “I get lost in the dancing of the flame.” She sat silent for a while. “It gets to you, you know? The first couple of weeks,” she snorted. “I drank myself stupid. Free, unlimited, top-shelf booze, the best, at my fingertips.” She made a bursting motion with her hand as she kissed the tips of her fingers. “Drugs of all sort, on order from the Depot. The really good stuff needed credentials of some sort to get, but there's an unlimited retinue of completely unique recreationals to fill a lifetime of fun. I partied. A lot. You clothy types probably have no idea about the punk scene, but the clubs out here in the boonies are top-notch.” She smirked. “I got a bit loaded one night and decided I should just shoot the whole syringe. What was the point, ya know?” Her face froze, expressionless. “I realized I fucked up and called Grace. She helped me to the medical facility. I never told you because she didn't want to bother you with such trivialities. That it's a common reaction to the freedom and I shouldn't feel guilty.”

I closed my eyes and a flash of my hands covered in blood, holding a shard of mirror, jet black hair spilled across my lap, screaming at the top of my lungs, flooded every corner of my perception. “A Plague,” my neck stiffened and tilted my head to the side with a jittery twitch. I opened my eyes slowly. “It spreads like a virus, polluting the consciousness with its allures. The infection burrows deep into your memes and disrupts any drive for survival with the sweet release of the unknown.” My eyes too had become transfixed, my countenance also motionless. “Its cancer took someone very important from me. I am glad it did not take you as well.”

“It's all for the better,” she shrugged. “Made me realize a lot. I'm building a little workshop in my dorm now,” a genuine smile creased her cheeks. “I always wanted my own place to make things when I was with Levi. I remember dreaming of all the things I'd make if I ever had the time and tools, just because I could. Now I can.”

“I have a workshop too, you know,” I leaned back into the cloth of the camp chair and took a long belt from my whiskey. “I built it all from dirt.”

“Oh? Where?” she dragged herself to sit next to me and wrested her elbow on the arm of my chair.

“In the woods behind the vicarage,” I smiled. “I built it myself. I found some flint and granite and flaked an adze. There's a little stream nearby that I get my clay from and I built a hut and smelting furnace. I have a few blooms of pig iron I plan on working into some real tools once I get some free time to get back out there.”

“Oh wow,” her eyes grew wide. “You're hardcore. I'm a bit less old-school,” she chuckled. “I have a 3D printer, a shop wizard, and some hand tools. You, you're really going for it.”

“It's about the journey,” I smiled. “We used knapped stones and river mud for hundreds of thousands of years. It only took us twenty or so thousand to go from that to Mind. I want to work though that timeline for myself and experience what my ancestors did.”

“You were made for the Rite,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I just dream of so much. I like making it a reality. What's you're end goal?”

“I got lucky and found a cache of hematite in a nearby rock formation,” I was getting excited. “it took me ages to work it into ore. I want to eventually master metal, glass, and silicon, and maybe even start in on plastics before I die. It takes so much time and research, though, and I am just one man.”

The fire popped loudly. Red wandered over to her tent and grabbed a few logs from the firewood pile we had prepared before setting in for the night. “You know, I always fancied myself pretty rustic, but you're downright primal.”

“I spent a lot of time with the Ascetics,” I took the last sip from my glass and put the tumbler down next to my chair. “After I matriculated through the Pedagogy, I fell into the Realm pretty hard. You partied and drank, I got lost in virtual worlds of my imagination,” I stared into the dull fire and watched the new log catch flame and burst into yellow-white tendrils clawing at the dark expanse above. “We all have our vices,” I smirked. “I couldn't take it for too long, though. Blame my mother, I guess. I met a former Ascetic in a game and fell in love. I spent years with them, learning the ancient arts. I would have been just another Mine if not for my time in the monastery.”

“I don't think I want to go through Pedagogy,” she stopped poking with the fire and sat down next to me. “I don't want to be on the fringes of society anymore, but I kind of like life out here with the Hardfolk.”

“There was a saying they said in the seminary, 'Live with the Ascetics, but leave before it makes you a Cynic, and live in the Habitat, but leave before it makes you a Mine,'” I snorted. “I might have overstayed my welcome in both. I think that's why I've always done so well on Mission. This,” I held my hands up and shrugged, “is where I've always belonged. Roughing it in nature. Tech just has its own agenda, and I'm far less concerned with its interests. I like it out here.”

“If you have such a disinterest in all that Science seems to be about, then why are you such an ardent salesman of its message?” She widened her eyes.

“Tech and Science are mutually exclusive,” I wagged a finger. “Tech is the process by which we apply the preachings of Science to further the Great Truth. Science is a system of understanding and logic that produces compelling explanations for the phenomena of nature.” I pulled my mouth into a line with my cheeks. “People involved with Technology leverage those understandings into contraptions designed to meet an end. Industry, commercialism, even Scientific endeavor itself. Tech produces things, Science produces ideas. Things are fine, but ideas are what capture me.”

“That's fair,” she closed her eyes and nodded, “but things have tangible value. A thing demonstrates that the idea is more than just a thought experiment, it is a true expression of nature itself.”

“A fact with which I cannot hope to argue,” I smiled and shrugged again. “I just have a taste for the less concrete. I enjoy the vagary of the unknown.”

“Fair,” she pulled a frown and nodded. “I just want to make things. If Tech enables me to do it faster and easier, then I want all of it.”

“I call it the new versus better paradox,” I smirked. “Some want to make something new, some want to make something better. You can only optimize for one, but we crave both. So, the way you balance between the two creates interest. I don't know if I can say where my own interests lie. I quite enjoy being better at something, but also, taking my skills to new and inventive levels is equally enticing.”

“I think there's a good middle-ground. A place where the two feed into each other. Making new things requires you to be better at old things,” she blinked. “Also, you're starting to lecture. Don't rope me into this again. You always do this!” She huffed.

“Sorry, sorry,” I chuckled, “I told you, ideas. Hey, could you hand me the bottle?” I pointed at the chill-bag hanging from the line while I picked up my rocks glass and shook it at her.

“You and that old world hooch,” she snickered and pulled down the yellow padded sack from the bear line and removed the grey glass bottle from the ice. “You know, there are several hundred years of booze-making you seem to have forgotten about.”

“I learned flintknapping and made an adze head out of stones I found in my back yard,” I gave her the side-eye. “Do you really think I'm going to be interested in anything other than ancient liquor handmade in the old-world style by uniquely talented artisans carrying on ancestral traditions?”

“That was by far the most pretentious thing I've ever heard in my life,” she pulled the cork and shook the tip of the bottle, imploring me for my glass. “I want to puke. Do you have some acid to clean my ears out?” I offered my glass and she poured an exceptionally healthy belt.

“Damn, trying to get me drunk?” I took a long sniff and then a metered sip, swishing the fluid across my tongue and soft palate to eke out every bit of the sweet, burning, smoky flavor from the noxious syrup. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, forcing a compulsive shiver. “Damn that's good shit,” I coughed, squinting and flexing my throat. “This is nice,” I smiled and swirled my glass, prepping for another sip. “You don't want any, do you?”

Red took a belt from the top of the bottle, puffed her cheeks out and swallowed all at once. She groaned and stuck her tongue out, a patina of saliva on her lips, “Plaaah,” she exclaimed. “That shit is vile,” she wiped her chin.

“It's an acquired taste,” I furrowed my brow. “It's like coffee. You have to want to like it and muscle through before you ever actually like it,” I swirled and sipped, letting the cleansing peat flavor chase the toffee undertones. “You have to overcome the acridness to discover the depth and interplay of individual notes,” I held the glass up to the fire and rolled it around, inspecting the thick, crystal-brown legs as they slowly dripped down the sides and glinted in the dark light of the campfire. “I started on sweeter mixed drinks, then I drank it over ice. Eventually I ditched the ice and switched to a splash of water. Being able to enjoy it straight has been a long time in the making,” I held it up to her and took another sip, searching for the hints of caramel the distillers claimed was buried deep within.

She took one more quick belt, stifled a shiver, and then stuffed it back in the chill-bag, rehanging it on the bear line, “Still tastes like petrol to me,” she scrunched her nose.

“This would be a poor candidate to begin your whiskey-drinking career on,” I shrugged. “It is very aggressively targeted at advanced drinkers.” I took another thin sip. Not enough, however, as only the bright medicinal buzz of peat and the burn of alcohol were all that came through. “You'd be best served by a less subtle batch, preferably aged in several different types of casks. And no peat. You really have to get used to the peat.” I swirled again.

“I've never drank without intending to get fucked up,” she flopped down next to me. “I'm not sure I'm capable of drinking just to enjoy it,” she produced a metal can with a pull-tab. “Except maybe beer,” she pulled the top and it made a satisfying kutsch sound. “I don't consider beer to be alcoholic,” she took a long belt, followed by a satifying “ah.”

“A precision-brewed craft beer can be a masterpiece,” I half-smiled and flared my eyebrows. “When I was living with the Ascetics, a monk from the Van der Waals abbey in the Nordhague Fabrican came to visit us. One of their sects is recreating a quad in the same style as the Old World Trappists from thousands of years ago. It's a true work of art.”

“I'll stick to my generic lager, thank you,” she swiveled the bottom of the can and took a long belt. “It served billions of my ancestors well, it'll continue to serve me well,” she smiled.

“To each,” I held my glass up to her in faux-toast and took a sip, my portion now at half.

“Her name was Joy, ironically,” I let my glass fall between my legs, supported only by my thumb and middle finger. “She was a Deacon with me at the St. Kaku Cathedral. She convinced me to transfer to her old abbey to join up with the Ascetics and followed me back. After a turn, I insisted we transfer back to Kaku because I wanted my full Priesthood. She was unethused, but committed because she loved me.”

“She sounds like she was pretty great,” Red reached up and squeezed my arm.

“The city was a bit too much for her,” I blinked. “She wasn't very...uh...durable,” I smirked. “All the scores and social jockeying were hard on her. She refused to wear the Second Skin or the Masks, and dressed in traditional cassock. She never let on that it got to her, but it really got to her,” I hoisted my glass and took a long sip, letting the liquid spill over my tongue. “I never even guessed. She seemed so happy. I was studying under a very prestigious Bishop and she was an ancient instrument musician. She was a hot, in-demand commodity. Everyone in the Habitat wanted her to be their concertist for evening service. She was on track to be one of the foremost experts in the Habitat, or the entire Fabrican, even.”

“Did she leave a note?” Red sympathized.

“Yeah,” the bone parchment, with it's meticulously hand-written message was burned forever in my mind. Each painstakingly-crafted character inked with quill and well in ancient calligraphy she studied at the abbey. “'This is not your fault. It was just too much. I always knew this is how it would end for me. I am sorry it was you who will forever suffer at my hand. I love you. Remember me fondly, but remember to let me go. I was so very happy with you, but it just wasn't enough. Nothing ever could be. The darkness had burrowed too deep.'” A tear beaded up in the corner of my eye and fell into my glass. I downed the remainder of my portion with a guttural exhale, leaving only the medicinal, alcoholic burn behind.

“Do you believe her?” Red's face was unreadable.

“I do, most of the time,” I stared at the fire and watched the yellow tendrils lick at the dark night sky. “It's harder some nights than others. I get lost in my work easily. This is one of the few moments where I feel like a person. My life is usually just a blur of work, lectures, and sermon. It's easy to feel like I've moved on.”

“I am sorry,” she pulled her mouth back at her cheek, not quite smirking. “But hey,” she stood und whacked me across my back, snapping me out of my reverie. “I actually have a smarty-pants question that I think now is the right time to ask,” she grabbed the other chair across from me and pulled it close. “How much of this shit do you actually believe, and how much do you just preach because you have to?”

“None of it? All of it?” I chuckled and shrugged. “It doesn't really matter what I, or anyone really, believe. All that matters is that the collective intelligence controlling the organism that is Humanity continues to be of use to the Fabricans, if only for their amusement. I fell in love with Science because it works, not because I care if it's actually right or wrong. We could be in the wrong ballpark entirely and Mind just laughs at the crude model representing the best our puny brains could concoct,” I shrugged again, transfixed by the dancing fire. “At the end of the day, I'm just trying to make sense of it all. And Science gives me a solution that holds up under scrutiny time and again. Every time I have a question, it has an answer, and every answer has a body of evidence to support it. And if it doesn't, it gives me a methodical way to generate evidence and come up with an answer everyone else can trust. I don't really know what I believe, but Science just works, and that's good enough for me.”

“You don't sound like any preacher of Science I've ever met,” Red leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “You sound more like my old Theist friends.”

“I came to Science from Theism, unlike most preachers out of Habitat who get railroaded into it,” I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows. “It gives me a unique perspective on all of it. I grew up believing in the Lord, who would return to purge my sins at the time of Judgement if only I remained virtuous and supplicant to the wills of my God and his chosen messengers, one of who Levi claimed to be. His message was held on high as Divine and his will was carried out as if he were a Deity walking amongst us. When my birth mother died and I was dumped off that hospital, it was shocking. I began questioning everything I knew, and Science kept answering, and I continued to heed its call.”

“We used to sneak pictures,” Red smirked. “My friend Kaylee had a digital device. Levi would convince us that the outside world was trying to kill us. That they were Evil, trying to destroy us and our way of life. That we had to stay hidden in the shadows, to maintain the Old Ways, or we would be snuffed out. Not just that we'd lose our culture, but that we would be actively terminated. That they thought we were cockroaches needing extermination.” She sneered. “But Kaylee would show me pictures of Habitat. We'd get video clips of all the imaginative stories being told. When Levi died and the Cult fell apart, I was lost. I wandered through the Underground for a while, but then some guy gave me a pamphlet. 'Come to the Church of Science. We will shelter you. Feed you. Teach you. Come find a new life.' I was fucked up, desperate, and hungry, so, I went. And then you were there. So, I stayed. And I like it here.” She finally took a glug of the what now must be the very warm beer she had been holding. “I’ve always wanted to visit the city.”

“I’ll get you there,” I smiled, “I promise.”

***

I hugged Marion, “It has been so long since I have seen you in the flesh,” I smiled broadly as I held her shoulders at arm’s length. “The Realm does you no justice,” I flashed a smile. Blaize proffered an arm. I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in for a tight-held slap on the back. “It is so wonderful to see you all.”

“The regiment is making its way toward the Habitat,” Tomah bowed. “Exarch Cohen insisted he see the Mission with which you are so obsessed.”

“It is not much,” Ylysse tugged on the braid laying over her left shoulder and let her eyes wander around the narthex.

“Compared to the garrison chapel, no,” I smiled, “but these stones have a lot to say.”

Grace came into the narthex from the rear entry and held frozen, eyes bulging wide. “Pastor J-James,” she stuttered. “And who are your guests?” She waxed on a plastic smile and here softened her eyes.

“Grace! These are some of my compatriots from my time in the Templari,” I clapped a hand onto Adrian’s shoulder. “Dear friends. No truer adherents to the Great Truth exist to my knowledge. The finest Dain has to offer.”

“Blaize,” he waggled his eyebrows and held out a gauntleted hand. “You never told me you kept company with Seraphim, Chaplain” he turned his head back and winked directly at me.

“Oh,” Grace went flush and presented her hand to Blaize, “oh my. Such a charming bunch,” she fluttered her hand beneath her chin in a pantomimed attempt to cool herself off.

Blaize bowed and took her hand by the fingers, then delicately kissed the back of it, “I assure you the pleasure is mine entirely.”

“Do not let the cad deceive you,” Marion strode a jackboot in between them and presented an authoritative, gauntlet-free hand. “We do not wish to disturb your service. We are merely passing through on our way toward Habitat. Exarch Cohen wished to pay respects to his former Disciple.”

Grace took the hand and shook it uncomfortably, “Smithsborough is more than happy to provide quarter to noble defenders of the Great Truth such as yourself.” She straightened her Adept’s frock and stood a bit taller, attempting to regain her composure.

“We shall garrison at the barracks outside Smith’s Glenn,” Marion saluted.

“While I have no issue with this, and I am sure Pastor James would not either,” Grace shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to respond to being saluted. “But I am afraid you will find it in a horrible state of disrepair. We have not been privilege to the presence of the Templari in decades.”

“As an egregious a dereliction of duty if there ever was one!” Blaize thundered. “Confanonier, I wish to air a formal grievance. It is incumbent upon us to rectify such a blasphemous…”

Adrian hip-checked Blaize out of the way and saluted. “We shall make due, Deacon. We merely request you inform your flock not to worry at our presence, as nothing is implied by our visit. It is simply a convenience of happenstance and the whim of the Exarch.”

“I am lecturing in Advanced Pedagogy tonight, so I will leave the matter to you and Ern to settle,” I nodded my head. “I assume it is not too much for you two?”

“Not at all, Pastor. Praise be,” Grace folded her hands and nodded as she slowly backed away.

“Praise be,” we all replied in chorus. “It is indeed serendipitous that you are in town at this moment,” I returned my attention to Marion as Grace slipped away. “I am lecturing on aggression, reform, and societal debt tonight. You are all welcome to sit in if you so desire. I will warn you, however, that this is for a Pedagogy class, so you all may find it quite lacking in nuance and…”

“Um,” Grace came rushing in, “I may need your…”

Grace was interrupted by a crush of up-in-arms citizens flooding into the narthex. “Pastor!” One at the front of the pack exclaimed as he appeared behind the breathless Grace. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Oh,” Tomah looked around sheepishly, “I think I can explain. Exarch Cohen insisted we travel with the Cores.”

“The Cores!” I yelled and rushed past the crowd through the Narthex and out the rear. “Grace, I need you to inform the Archbishop and then call together a Town Hall,” I burst through the doors. The church sat on a hill overlooking the town and on the horizon, several dense black columns of neatly-organized rectangles were skirting along the edge of the city toward a huge block of tattered walls by the dense carpet of trees composing Smith’s Glenn. Following alongside were a seemingly endless stream of Mobile Platforms and munitions convoys. And, next to them, the massive Cores lumbered along. Several shock and gunner units were interspersed among the corps, and the six Ultras towered over even them, basked in the golden light of the soon to set sun.

“Oh no,” my jaw dropped as I released the double-doors and let my arms fall limp to my side.

“Is everything alright, Chaplain?” Ylysse came rushing to my side.

“I did not realize he had brought the entire legion,” I stood unflinching. “I do not know if these people are prepared to handle this.”

“It would seem you have your work laid out neatly for you, then,” Adrian pulled his lips into a flat line and rested a palm on my shoulder.