Gun of Ashes

”Destroy the Evangelical Church? Kill all beliefs?”

Lawrence looked at Corey and couldn’t help but laugh.

”What’s funny?” Corey asked.

”Just find it interesting. I heard them say that before I came, the development of Orthodoxy was actually all in your hands. Miguel talks about faith and doctrine, but he’s not good at it; he’s just a poor soul confused by power, and you don’t mention these things, giving all the credit to him...

Are you diminishing your own presence?”

Lawrence fiddled with his mask, finding Corey somewhat incurable for a moment.

”It’s truly funny, Corey Ferre; you are probably the most contradictory person I’ve ever met. You talk about patriotism and love for Gaulunaro but think anyone can be king, even someone like me, a monster, and you don’t mind.

Everything you do seems to destroy faith, yet you yourself are a creator of faith.”

Lawrence stood up and in the darkness looked down at the long table.

People were eating, cheering, and praying. He saw Hu ao, gobbling his food and drawing a cross while eating, probably taught by the girl beside him.

His gaze shifted, and others reacted similarly. They were grateful for God’s food, though they didn’t know each other, they greeted each other and unknowingly prayed together.

”You do better than Miguel. That guy does nothing aside from repetitively chanting doctrine... But what use is the faith of these people?”

Lawrence asked, somewhat puzzled why Corey went through so much effort to win these people’s faith.

”What’s wrong?” Corey asked.

”I find their faith worthless,” Lawrence said, ”They’re all poor, at the bottom of society, rats in the sewers...

I’m curious what you want their faith for? They can’t bring in money, votes, or even influence...”

”Have you heard the story of the Mad King?”

Corey remained calm; this guy seemed to have only two expressions: smiling and calm, as if wearing a mask.

”I’ve heard it, the Mad King forsook faith and was killed by the people on the throne.”

Lawrence seemed to realize what Corey wanted to illustrate and continued speaking.

”You want to use these people to make them ’the people.’ That’s impossible, Corey. These people don’t have that kind of courage; they’re a bunch of wild dogs with broken backs by reality; even a cheap sacrament fills them with gratitude.”

”No, you don’t understand these people, Dean Lawrence, but I do.”

Corey, too, watched these people with Lawrence, showing a reminiscent expression in his eyes.

”You’re right; I am a somewhat contradictory person, wanting to destroy faith but having to use it to achieve my goals. Actually, I’m not against this; it’s merely a tool to manipulate one’s mind.”

”Just like Secret Blood, we seize power from the demon’s blood yet fight against the demons themselves,” Lawrence smiled at Corey, ”Another tale of a dragon slayer turned Evil Dragon; interested in talking about it?”

”Actually, you can see it too, right?”

Instead of answering quickly, Corey posed a question to Lawrence.

Lawrence nodded. He said,

”Yes, you’re a believer, a true fanatic. You deeply understand religion, and only someone like you could develop Orthodoxy in Gaulunaro to what it is now.”

”But what exactly happened to turn a fanatic into someone who so despises religion and faith?”

Corey fell silent, trying to recall those memories he had abandoned, leafing through those yellowed pages, searching for traces.

”That was long ago; I was born into a family that believed in the Evangelical Church, economically poor, often unable to eat, going hungry for days on end was common.”

Corey took a deep breath, letting out the stale air from his mouth.

”Back then, I was like those you described, a wild dog with a broken back by reality. I often lingered near the church, praying for the sacrament, though what they called the sacrament was merely leftovers.

Life was tough, but my parents taught me faith from a young age; even when there was sometimes no food, they spent money to make offerings to the deity. That was the most valuable thing at home, a large gilded statue, polished until it gleamed.”

Corey gestured with his hand, indicating a size about a finger long.

”Faith infused me; my parents said believers must do good deeds, God would eventually notice us, and when that happened, the bad days would end.

I always looked forward to that day, doing good deeds for it. I hoped to live in a windless house, eat clean food...”

Below, some commotion arose; for some reason, Hu ao began to cry, having eaten his plate clean, leaving it as if new. He cried while praying.

Corey looked at Hu ao, a smile rising on his calm face.

”To avoid starving, I became a soldier; though tough, at least they provided meals. I paid with sweat and blood, slowly climbing upwards, thinking my good deeds finally paid off; I would let my parents live well. But upon joining the Iron Law Bureau, they asked me to forsake faith.