NOVPUBBy the end of January, on the southern shore of the Northern Continent’s Protoss Empire.
In this region along the warmer coastline, snow is not a common weather phenomenon.
Lilom City, always warm, bustling, with the sea as its backdrop, is situated.
Because this southern city’s geographical location is in the remote southwest border of the Protoss Empire, far from the large main port of the southern shore, and the inland behind the city is a vast forest, the nearest inland city is hundreds of kilometers away, so most of the time it is just a tourist city.
Though not particularly affluent, its scenery is stunning.
The entire city spreads across a series of seafront islands and the bridges that connect them, thus the artistically inclined bridges become quite a sight to behold in Lilom City, not only facilitating transport, but also providing excellent spots for sea viewing.
However, during this rare and bitterly cold winter, the storm seems to have swept all the way from the imperial capital in the north to these border cities.
A light snow arrived in the middle of the night.
The light from the lighthouse appears vaguely visible beneath the thin curtain of snow, covering the ships docked at the port in a slight layer of white, silencing the birds, which now seek refuge in the warm cabins or lighthouse interior, rendering the ships’ masts and distant lights into a dreamlike silhouette in the snow.
The snowflakes gently land on the city’s cobblestone roads, melting into the snow already on the ground.
The long road leading from the port to the city hall is all covered in snow, the light through the lampshade’s snow layer becomes soft and hazy.
After dark, the pedestrians become sparse, the occasional passersby are all wrapped in heavy coats and hats, hurrying by.
Their footprints leave a trail of water stains on the ground, staining the fresh snow black.
It seems like these citizens are not afraid of the cold.
But rather, the oddly harmonious and ominous changes that have recently been happening in the Protoss Empire and the silver-robed priests walking openly in the streets.
In this deep night when the moonlight is almost hidden.
Not far from city hall, in a mansion which befits its family prestige and power.
Deep red tapestries hang on the walls, the intricate needlework depicting scenes of war, trade, harmony and prosperity, showcasing the history and grandeur of the Protoss Empire.
In the drawing room, two men sit comfortably on chairs crafted from Moonlight Wood and metal, drinking at a table.
It appears to be a banquet of villains that has never ceased throughout the history of the Northern Continent.
"Sir of the Resurrection Church, I raise a toast to you on behalf of the Lord."
The man in specially tailored robes for his plump figure, obviously a noble of this city-state, raises his wine glass, draining it in one gulp,
"Viscount Francis really doesn’t understand the times, he can’t see the bigger picture of the empire."
The nobleman shakes his head in a seemingly heartfelt lament, looking just like a man of high morals worried about the world. 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢
As for who he thinks is qualified to rule this city-state, the attitude he shows to the resurrected priest in front of him speaks more than any explanation.
"... actually, I quite admire that lord."
Across from the nobleman, a silver-armored priest wearing a blue alien [Certificate of Rebirth-Hegemony] seal around his neck, who worships an evil god, lightly swishes his wine glass, murmuring.
The holy seal on his chest is a precious blue-level [Certificate of Rebirth-Hegemony].
Members of the Rebirth Church who have this level of [Certificate of Rebirth] are usually high-ranking priests, and the epic-level purple rarity seals are almost exclusively for Bishops’ direct reports or trusted aides, not bigwigs one would encounter in their remote border areas.
Pink Holy is designated for the saint sons and daughters chosen by the bishops, far from reach. The epic level is the [Proof of Bishop].
Under normal circumstances,
Members of the Rebirth Church will do their utmost to hide their [Certificate of Rebirth], only showing it to their colleagues as proof of identity when needed.
Almost no lunatics would dare to transform it into a seal badge format to show off blatantly.
But now,
in the Protoss Empire, the Rebirth Church has been recognized as a legal religion.
And the Cardinal Bishops, who had long been notorious across the Northern Continent and feared and despised by various races, had become the grand bishops who the people of the Protoss Empire are now required to revere.
This radical change is not due to any pressure from the Rebirth Church - after all, the Church has no power to coerce the Protoss Empire - but rather, it is the Empire’s own choice.
A few years ago, everyone would have thought the Empire was insane.
But now, this is the reality.
"But that Viscount... Viscount Francis, he has a strong tendency towards the Church of the Goddess of Destiny and his attitude towards your Rebirth Church is crystal clear, full of trepidation, especially...he can never believe in the teachings of the Bishop of Hegemony."
The nobleman remarks, sipping his red wine with careful delicacy, observing the expression of the silver-armored priest across from him.
"Well then... it seems he has actually committed a sin."
The silver-armored priest turned his head, watching the small fountain in the courtyard, murmuring thoughtfully.
From the inside out, the entire mansion is warm and inviting, with a trickling stream, so comfortable that it is strikingly different from the city atmosphere, or perhaps they are the source that dictates the atmosphere.
"Indeed, so for the sake of your smoother preaching in this city, and to prevent any ill-willed power from maliciously smearing your image, I believe that the upper echelons of this city need a change."
The nobleman casts a satisfied smirk, downing the previous wine in one go, wiping the red liquid from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
