The territory had gained a mysterious new guest, but for most people this was merely a bit of idle gossip to chew over after a meal; in truth it swayed the common folk far less than the news that a new house had gone up in some district or other—especially now, when so many had their eyes fixed on a new building on the east side of Knight Street.

The first church in the Cecil Territory was finally about to be built.

The priest Wright had spent over two months before he finally passed the lord's assessment, obtained permission to preach on Cecil soil, and was granted a plot of land along with the materials and manpower needed to build a church. The reverend gentleman was plainly overjoyed at this; he immediately threw himself into the work with tremendous zeal and efficiency, raising the little church from the ground at an astonishing speed—though this had something to do with his two months of hauling bricks about the territory, which had left him rather deft at the trade.

The newly completed little church looked plain from the outside. It had all the spires, turrets, and prayer halls that a Church of the Shining Stars required, but everything was built for practicality and sufficiency, with none of that lavish air of gold-leaf and silver inlay plastered over the walls that the churches of the central regions displayed. Even so, it was still a fine new house by any measure: with the small square before it and the neat rows of brick-and-tile houses of Knight Street behind it, the territory's first block worthy of the name "modern town" was at last beginning to take shape.

And before the church formally opened its doors, the lord arranged a small "inauguration ceremony" especially for it.

To the territory's inhabitants this was a rather curious formality—the great man of the territory appearing in person to organize an event for the opening of a building was a rare thing in the past.

Elsewhere, the appearance of a new facility never came with any specific, solemn rite. Usually there were only crude customs folk had agreed upon over the years: before a craftsman's shop opened, a clay jar full of ale would be smashed at the door—partly to celebrate, but really to use the aroma of the ale as advertisement, so people would know a new shop had opened here; when a new church of some faith was completed, the priests and clerics within would organize religious activities of their own, with the priest preaching at the door and handing out wheat cakes and the like; and when princes and nobles opened a horse yard or a theater, there might indeed be some celebration—but those were dances and wine parties for the upper crust, having nothing at all to do with the common folk.

The ceremony Gao Yang had arranged, called "cutting the ribbon," struck people as novel and utterly baffling.

But the common folk of this age did not ponder deeply on matters that seemed to have nothing to do with their own lives. The lord's arrangements were right, whatever they were; and besides, for them, any fresh happening in the territory was reason enough for joy—especially when it was a church that would make life more convenient.

A great crowd had gathered in the small square before the church, gazing curiously at the still-closed doors and at the lord and his party standing before them: Gao Yang, Heidi, and Rebecca were there, with the unmistakably conspicuous Mr. Wright the priest beside them, and beyond them a few soldiers charged with keeping order.

To suit the popular taste and customs of this world—and, more importantly, to produce a stronger "symbolic meaning"—Gao Yang had redesigned the whole so-called "ribbon-cutting" procedure. He had ordered colorful knotted cords tied across the church doors, and a rope barrier set up on the steps leading to the entrance, to signify that the building was still sealed off. Only when the sun reached its highest point did he appear, to open the church in his capacity as lord.

Under countless curious and reverent gazes, Heidi stepped forward. With the aid of magic, her voice—soft yet loud enough to carry across the whole square—reached every ear: "Today is a day worthy of celebration. Mr. Wright, preacher of the God of Holy Light, has brought us the doctrine of the Holy Light. Our lord, Duke Gao Yang Cecil, deems the way of the Holy Light beneficial to the territory, and has therefore approved the construction of this church, and personally offers his congratulations on the practice of the Holy Light's doctrine. The lord's decree is hereby read:

"Upon the application of Wright, missionary of the Holy Light, Gao Yang Cecil, Lord of Cecil, rules that the spreading of the way of the Holy Light upon this land is lawful and beneficial. Missionary Wright's preaching activities are hereby permitted, and the establishment of one church is hereby approved."

Then, amid the townsfolk's applause—first bewildered, then merely joining in the fun—Gao Yang cut the rope barrier, and Heidi and Rebecca untied the colored cords upon the church doors.

Priest Wright watched the whole ceremony with curiosity, as though he sensed some deeper meaning in it. But in the end he was not a "true cleric" skilled in scheming; as a missionary who had practically been kicked out of the central Church, he had always spread the doctrine according to his own understanding and in his own way. So he soon stopped thinking about it—so long as he could preach smoothly, that was a good thing; and the lord had come in person to offer congratulations, which was even better. As for the matter of "the God of Holy Light needing Gao Yang Cecil's approval before a church could be established on a piece of land"... it did not matter. The church had been built, after all.

To be honest, Wright even felt the Cecil Territory suited him better. On other noble lands, he had also needed to seek a permit from the local lord to preach. Nearly every lord would agree, but never had any place been as formal and serious about it as the Cecil Territory. The lords of other noble lands, rather than permitting the Church to develop on their lands, might as well have ignored it entirely with an attitude of indifference; the so-called "lord's permit" was nothing but a formality to be gone through, a mutual compromise between Church and nobility and a courtesy paid to face. But here in the Cecil Territory, this "permit" seemed far more proper.

Wright liked places with clear rules, for he had seen too much of the hardship ordinary people suffered when rules were a muddle. Many would complain that it was the lord making too many rules that made life hard, but few realized that what made life hard was not rules, but rules drafted at random, drafted constantly, and which even the lord himself had no intention of obeying.

Here, that situation plainly did not exist.

"Anyone interested in the way of the Holy Light is welcome to come in and sit a while—the preaching hall is plenty big! And those who don't believe in the Holy Light but have some small ailment or injury may come too; healing holy water is provided here every day!" Wright stood cheerfully on the church steps, his big voice loud enough to be heard across the whole square. "But those with serious illnesses or grave wounds must say so in advance—the holy water is made from river water, so its effects are limited. For serious illness you'll still need healing arts..."

Gao Yang stood to one side, watching the unending stream of townsfolk—believers in the Holy Light, or those merely come to collect holy water—file into the church, and listening to Wright's booming greetings. Suddenly he could not help but laugh: this was the first time he had ever heard a priest openly admit that the raw material of holy water was river water, and warn that its healing effects were poor...

Heidi stood beside Gao Yang. She had long since perceived some deeper significance in today's ceremony.