Chapter 106: Different Churches
A great deal had been accomplished today. I had summoned a demon god and obtained a casting implement, though I still didn’t know how to use it. The ruby, cold and heavy on my arm, felt like a brand. I regretted not asking Gremory about how to apply mana, that crucial, life-giving essence, but it was too late. At least I knew now what we were. I was, for all intents and purposes, a witch, and Jared was a Paladin.
In my mind, a witch was a creature of shadow and malice, a crone cackling over a great cauldron in a sunless cavern, brewing inexplicable potions with strange and sinister ingredients. A Paladin was a paragon of virtue, a knight in gleaming armor wielding a massive sword, walking down sunlit streets to protect the innocent. But the reality was we were a long way from those archetypes. I knew no sorcery, nor did I possess a great cauldron for brewing potions. Jared had no shining armor, and his faith was so thin he couldn't even grasp the Bible without my help. The two of us were still slum children, and we had to find a way to move out of this filthy, rat-infested waterway.
By the time the summoning ritual was over, the night was long gone. The first thing we did was scour the site, sweeping away all the sand and stone, carving over the remaining scratches until no one would mistake the place for a summoning circle. Then, we went to bed. I had Jared gather a row of glass bottles to serve as an early warning system at the entrance to our alcove. But tonight, I slept soundly, without nightmares.
The next morning, I took Jared to the public bathhouse so he would look presentable. We needed to get him into the Church—with his newfound power, we could finally escape the filth of this life. I even wanted him to buy a new suit of clothes, but he was still unwilling. Jared then led me to the so-called church. It was a building painted a brilliant turquoise, with a great dome and four tall towers. At the entrance stood two towering, strong men. They wore clean white robes and headdresses, with curved sabers at their waists, their watchful eyes scanning the crowd.
“This is the church you were talking about?” I asked in surprise. It was clearly a mosque.
“That’s right. This should be one of the larger churches in Candon. They all like to wear white, it seems. The others don’t dress like this,” Jared said, his face blank with a complete lack of recognition.
It was an honest mistake. Jared had no formal education; all his knowledge came from hearsay. The difference between the Cross and the Crescent was simply not in his limited repertoire of knowledge. But his ignorance was not what astonished me. It was the very presence of the mosque.
When one thinks of the founding of Spain, the first thing that comes to mind is the Reconquista. On the Iberian Peninsula, the two religions had waged a long war, fighting for territory, which ultimately ended in Castile’s victory. The expulsion of the followers of the Crescent from the Iberian Peninsula was the Reconquista. The Kingdom of Spain, established thereafter, was nicknamed the Sword of God and was always one of the most radical of the Christian nations. So when I had heard that Granada still existed, and even existed as a kingdom within the Iberian Empire, I was even more surprised than when I heard that the entire Iberian Peninsula had been unified into an empire. In theory, the two religions should be irreconcilable. Perhaps there could be occasional cooperation, even alliances, but to merge into a single empire was simply impossible. The cultures, political systems, ethnicities, and religions were all different. How could they form a single country? But now, with a mosque situated in the city of Candon, I understood. What Jared had said was probably true. The religious conflicts were likely far less severe than I had imagined. At the very least, the Crescent faith could openly establish mosques and proselytize here.
A great many citizens came to the mosque to pray. Most of them wore white headdresses, their heads bowed. Some didn't even go inside, but spread a blanket outside the door and knelt, not towards the mosque, but towards the distant east, perhaps in the direction of the holy city of Mecca? From within the mosque came the sound of a sermon I couldn’t understand, distant and sacred. I guessed it might be some form of Arabic. In my sight, above the mosque, was a beautiful starry sky, even though it was the middle of the day. This meant they were not just a secular church, but truly possessed supernatural power. The mosque was shrouded in a conspicuous magical aura, and true masters of the arcane were likely within.
After I explained the religious differences, Jared realized his mistake. So we set out again, and he took me to another church he knew of.
But I didn't expect that this time, he would be wrong again. This new church was a fortress, its massive, dark stone slabs radiating an atmosphere of tyranny and carnage. Warriors in dusty half-plate armor, longswords at their backs, walked respectfully through a heavy stone archway. Above the archway, a relief carving of a hand grasping six arrows stood as a stark emblem.
I instantly realized my previous estimation was wrong. It wasn’t that Jared didn’t know the churches were different; it was that he didn’t know which church I was referring to. This city didn’t just have one church, or even two. I didn’t recognize this church at all. I had never seen its emblem, let alone knew what god they believed in.
“Brother Jared, how many churches are there in Candon?” I had to figure this out first.
He thought for a long time before answering, “As far as I know, there are nine.”
“Are all nine from different religions? Are their clothes, symbols, or languages different?” I asked again.
“They should be, most of them are different,” Jared said, being more precise.
Nine. I remembered the execution, the knights, priests, and guards who seemed to be at odds. They must have belonged to three of the nine different faiths.
“Is there a church with a cross on it?” I asked.
“There is one,” Jared nodded, and led me towards another district.
This time, we finally came to the right place. A modest, white church with a triangular roof. A cross and a crucifix stood above the entrance, and a statue of a holy angel stood guard outside. It was a sight I recognized, but the mystery of the other faiths and my strange perception of the world lingered.
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