Alexander called his congregation of lords to gather in front of the dais like the sheep they were. And Alexander was so grateful to be their shepherd. Twelve years lounging in the White Palace was more than enough luxury than he had hoped to purchase with the sixty thousand ducats he spent to capture the Papacy. No comfort was spared a Pontiff, no extravagance not left indulged. And now, Alexander feared what all great and powerful men fear, losing their power and wealth. But that wasn’t going to happen, Alexander was certain and there was no limit to the things he would do to maintain his certainty.

            Joseph was crowded into the choir area. Nobles and dignitaries pressed around him on all sides. The choir room was soon stuffed too tightly to hold any more people and some of the lesser lords and their ministers and Congrae were forced to hear the Pontiff from the crossing and the transepts. Joseph was glad to have gotten so close to the Vicar of Christ himself. He looked around and saw that his brother was even farther ahead of him, closely attached to the Koch delegation. It seemed that Stewart was always more than willing to usurp his authority.

            The Pontiff stepped forward from the altar to meet the crowd that was forming. He had only been in the church a few moments and had already decided it was time to change. Mostly for church services a Pontiff would have chosen to wear the pallium, a small cloth draped from the neck where all manner of penchants and sewing artistry would be displayed. But this was no ordinary mass, and thus the Pontiff had donned a white cassock and a deep red mozzetta, the dyes for which would have bankrupted a small city. The Pontiff still chose to keep his ceremonial triple crown and it seemed to Joseph a gesture meant to keep the nobles in line.

            Although there were seats, Joseph and the entire hastily gathered congregation knew that to sit in the presence of such a powerful man could not spell good omens. The Pontiff raised his hands for quiet and not a single soul, of which they were at least two thousand now, made a single sound. They were all marionettes meeting their master puppeteer. The Pontiff crossed his arms in behind him and started walking towards the gathered lords.

            “Gentlemen,” he said, deliberately refusing to use their titles or proper addresses, “and ladies,” he turned his head towards Anneke and the other females in the room, though they were few, “for nearly an entire millennium our society, our structural order has endured and prospered. We destroyed the pagan ways of the Old Empire. We replaced its tyranny and heresy with a perfect society in which all people have equality of opportunity. The reckless leadership and gross excesses of the Old Empire have now been transformed into a utopia under the guidance of our Messiah, Adam Smith.”

            The Pontiff strolled around the altar as if in thought and then stopped suddenly. Any other priest would have preached from a pulpit, but so well spoken and awe inspiring was this Pontiff that anywhere he spoke became his podium. His voice once again filled the nave and echoes seemed to bounce off the walls for eons before finally being silenced. “But now, great men of the East, our paradise is in grave danger. My sources have informed me that an invasion of the West is not only possible, but inevitable. The enemy may be on Christian shores by the end of the month.”

            The audience chattered hysterically amongst themselves. ‘How could this be true?’ ‘Who’s the enemy?’ ‘It’s not possible’ were just some of the phrases being bandied back and forth between the lords. Finally the hum of worried men was cut by a question from the floor. Edward Weston, a northerner like Joseph, raised his hand and spoke, “who are we fighting, my Pontiff?”

            The eyes of the Pontiff deepened slightly in concentration. He looked up, a serene, but stately look upon his face. “A good question, my son. As we know the enemies of this church and of Christendom are numerous. The Arabs, Indus, Han, Cree, Inuit, Innu, Mayans, and Incas are all people that claimed the ways of blasphemy and in the afterlife will, of course, burn in the darkest depths of Hell. The problem remains with this life, and supporting Jesus and his church. Thus far only the Mayans and the Red Indian tribes have proved a threat to us. We had a few skirmishes with the Incas six hundred years ago, but nothing since. Alone, the Mayans and Red Indians are no problem and they have remained checked by our armies. The real issue has always been in the Middle East and Asia.

            “For centuries the Arabs, Indus, and Han have been in a constant state of warfare. Because they are all equally powerful, they have maintained the balance of world power by always fighting against the one race that becomes mightier than the others. Since they are separated by culture, language, and geographic area alliances never last. Therefore we have never had to worry about them conquering us with their superior technology because they have been unable to leave Afro-Eurasia. This is no longer the case. Through some state of witchcraft, the Han and the Indus discovered a way to soar above clouds and float on the air simultaneously. They’ve been travelling through the Himalayas at will. This brought horrendous military potential. Each nation could send armies to the other in a matter of minutes. So, instead of risking mutual destruction, they formed a permanent alliance. Arabia is no longer their concern and the Arabs can do nothing to stop this new friendship.

            “The Indus and the Han remember the former wealth of the Old Empire and they still envy us for it and now, so I’ve been told, they are coming to destroy us and take our lands. Their numbers are limitless. Their ships are innumerable. Their weapons are almost magical and we are certainly outmatched even if the entirety of Christendom stands against them.”

            “But the Messiah will defend us!” yelled a Congrae far in the back. The crowd cheered.

            Alexander shook his head again in knowing melancholy. “No, my faithful Christian men, the Messiah shall not help us. Our saviour and Christ are still battling for control of the heavens. Ever since God and the Devil made a pact to destroy our saviours and take the hearts of men, heavenly reward and our Church has been in jeopardy. No, the armies of China and India are products of man and so we as men must defeat them.”

            “But the Han and the Indus are too powerful,” a lord cried from the crossing.

            “The Earth shakes when the Han Emperor moves his armies.”

            “India uses elephants to crush the bones of men before they can raise a sword!”

            Alexander waved his hands again and the panic of the crowd settled, but it remained strong. “Do not fear, my children. Your faith in the Messiah should be undying, but your faith in his church, more so. Thankfully for us, we are not as backwards and primitive as our enemies believe us to be.”

            The Pontiff walked up to one of the seven pillars of the sanctuary and placed his hand on it. He smoothed his fingers over it going back and forth in a lulling motion. “Together the men of Christ are as solid as this pillar. They hold the world on their back, a weight even Atlas could not bear forever. And if we fall, then the roof of the world will cave in and the victory of the Han and Indus will be for naught. But, my good noble gentlemen, this shall not come to pass. For although we may be heaven bound, we can still unleash the power of Hell on our enemies.”

            Alexander walked to the forefront again and this time decided to grip the pulpit though he looked like more of a warrior than a priest. “Our Christian brothers in Europe are dead. We do not know why. Somehow they incurred God’s wrath and He brought ice and snow that covered the entire continent shortly before the Messiah ascended. Only Iberia and Russia remained uncovered. The Arabs took Iberia and named it Al-Andalus, a caliphate from ancient times. But what of Russia? My researchers have combed the Papal Library many times. Always it is mentioned that these Slavs were the most powerful in the world. That they controlled more land than can even be imagined. And now they are but a nomadic tribe wandering central Asia? How could this be?

            “Because, my children, my gracious flock, they once had the same weapons that we had. They were the most powerful people in the world after the Old Empire fell. They had Europe in their grasp before the ice came and killed their people. They controlled the greatest swath of land in the world with the threatened use of one weapon. One destructive, all powerful, earth shattering weapon. The only problem they had was that it was stored in the same lands they wanted to keep. And so a simple mistake, perhaps the result of decades, centuries of neglect and corruption. All it took was one thing to go wrong, and now this great empire is a wasteland, and the Slavs are worth less than any of the people they once dominated. It only took one weapon to destroy their glorious capital and rip their lands from the love of Mother Earth.

            “It is called, I believe, a ‘Hydrogen Bomb’ and after more than one thousand years of searching, we have found that we also have them in our stores. What doomed Russia was their lack of control, but my papacy’s officers and engineers found keys and codes and panels of all varieties down below the White Palace, my home. It took them more than a century of tinkering and experimenting and problem solving, but,” Alexander lifted his head to the sky and seemed to look into the face of his saviour, “we have prevailed in our most desperate moment of need.”

            “So we will send these devices to destroy our enemies? They will fly over the great ocean to dispatch those that march against us?” a youthful minister asked from the back of the choir.

            The Pontiff grew sad, his nonchalance falling off him like the dry skin of a snake. “No,” he said, slowly and pitifully, his great auditory voice lost. “No, we cannot, I’m afraid. It is not possible. The sea is too great and our enemy is too close to our shores. No, our Lord sent us this great challenge to test our faith. For us to ultimately prevail, we must make a decision. We must make a sacrifice to protect our saviours and their Church. Let us say there is a reason that only the great lords of the East have come to this meeting.”

            The ensemble began murmuring again, harsh whispers that spoke of their hopes and fears in a few breaths. Alexander spoke again and silenced the dissenters and proponents alike. “My astrologers have told me that the enemy will arrive on the shore of our fair continent by the end of the week. My clerics, Congri, and Senati have all left the West and are en route to our side of the Known World. In order to save the Faith and the Church we must decide to cut the enemy off before he can have a chance to destroy us. We must crush him before he lands. We must surrender the West to God or lose what is left of our dream, our paradise to be.”

            An uproar started passing throughout the cathedral. How could the Pontiff ask this of them? How could they kill innocent Christians to protect themselves? It was insane. It flew against everything the Church had ever taught. Well, perhaps not everything. Alexander brought his fist down upon the pulpit and bellowed so that his voice filled the entire basilica and roared to the clouds. “Enough!” The lords were unsettled, but turned their attention to the Pontiff. He smiled and his visage was covered by a façade of love and serenity. “My children, do not doubt the word of the Pontificate, for thus is the spoken word of Christ and of our Messiah. Perhaps, maybe there was a time when we could have used these devices and sent them hundreds, thousands of miles to reach our enemies, but alas, these are not the days of such glory. The Messiah’s ascension and Christ’s coup d'état of the heavens have forced us to recognize several realities and make many sacrifices. The people of the West already know this well,” the papal audience nodded their heads, remembering the great suffering of the Westerners. “God first made thunder come from beneath the Earth and destroy good Christian homes and take many lives. He breathed one of His fiery breaths and made the trees and the fields burn, starving children and singing the flesh of their parents. Then, in an epic, but tragic finale He broke the Ceodom of California off from the main land and it drifted forever on the ocean, its own island. And in its departure He brought forth the seas to rip the land from the few who still had it and now the once great valleys, hills, and beaches west of the Great Mountains are nothing but ocean. But life went on in the West. People rebuilt and under the leadership of this Church and the few Ceos brave enough to go there.

            “Life remains, but it is not a good life. Wind blows from the mountains and freezes the bones of the men and women without discrimination. Snow comes early and murders the crops they need so desperately to survive. Life for lord and labourer alike is a long, painful road to happiness and bliss at the end. Is it a sin to help those on their way to heaven, especially in light of such a cause as to protect Christendom itself? I say not. I am the Vicar of Christ, there will be no debate. Complain as you may, but you shan’t sway me. You are a mind bound to Earth, but mine is heavenly transcendent. Your goals, like yourselves are practical in this world, mine are to protect your and my entrance into the next. I have consulted the doctrine, I have spoken with the clergy, and I have made the decision. You are here to heed me. Do not travel to the West. Do not make contact. I am the Pontiff and thus I command.”

            The room was dead silent. Not a single soul would question the papacy. No matter what the Pontiff had said, nothing was worth risking eternity in bliss. Even the lives of millions of fellows. Finally the silence was broken by a lord who raised his hand. “Can we not try to evacuate the Westerners and have them come to our lands?” asked Weston, Ceo of Ontaria. 

            The Pontiff didn’t even have to answer that one. The room erupted in outrage. “How dare you!” they shouted. “Have the dirty Westerners steal our lands!”, “sleep in our homes!”, “take our women!” Alexander leant on his pulpit and smiled, a wide, toothy grin that betrayed every ounce of evil that stuck to his black soul. “I hear they speak Cantonese now” and then in reply “and Nipponese too” and from another corner “how disgusting!”

            “No!” someone bellowed from the choir room. The entire crowd turned to face him and Joseph started to feel very uncomfortable as he realized they were staring at him. Did I speak? Oh please God, no. But it was too late, they were expecting something. He decided to swallow the butterflies in his stomach and ignore the warning klaxons echoing in his head. He stared the Pontiff straight in the eye. He didn’t waver, his feet stayed flush to the ground, as solid as the pillars ahead of him. His legs felt like they were made of the same material. His eyes narrowed and his neck tightened. Breathing was almost impossible; his chest felt like it had a load of bricks placed on it. He raised his back and standing straight he proudly lifted his chin. “You sir,” he shouted, pointing straight at Alexander IX, “you are the disgusting one.” The lords and ladies gasped, but Joseph kept speaking. “You would have us throw away the lives of millions over a lie. The Han and Indus are not coming for us.”

            Alexander’s face crinkled in abject hatred. “You dare distrust the words of the Pontiff!”

            “No!” Joseph replied, realizing that his tongue now had a mind of its own and he could no longer stop himself, “I trust the words of reason.” Joseph gyrated and faced his audience, no longer bothering with the Pontiff. “How many of us trade with the Muslims every month? How often do the Arab ships come to our harbours? My good lords, almost all of us depend on the Arab Dhows for our livelihood and luxury. And do we ignore our brothers in Islam? Do we simply pay our gold grudgingly and see them on their way? No, of course not. We are in the Duchy of Manhattan, ask yourself how many merchant homes and lord’s palaces have been opened in welcome of the men from the Great East. We speak, we eat, we drink, we laugh. Why, I believe that your family, my fair Bloomberg, held audience to the Prince of Moor not more than half a year ago, is that not so?” Bloomberg felt the crowd peel their eyes off of Joseph and turn to him. Suddenly in the spotlight he shrivelled into his robes and nodded his head desperately trying to escape the attention of his peers.

            Joseph stole the show again. “And in all this time, with all the meetings we have had with the Arabs, have they ever mentioned this great threat. Have the caliphs ever told us to take heed of the power of India and China? Have the merchants ever complained of the great beasts from the Indus valley or the armies of Beijing. Have the Imams, fighting a losing war to convert good Christians to Islam ever explained in awe the beauty of these mystical ‘flying machines’?”

            The Pontiff glared at Joseph and yelled back at him with all his regal authority. “The Muslims are not saved by Christ. They would never tell us their woes or warn us from their enemies.”

            Joseph turned to face Alexander again. “That is where you are wrong, Holy Father. You see, the Arabs remember what we forgot so long ago. They know that we are not Christians nor they Muslims, but simply we are both pieces of the endlessly diverse puzzle of humanity trying to eke out a poor excuse for a life on this Earth.” He spun back to his spectators. “They remember the values and attitudes that the country that once existed was founded upon. They recall the ideals that we still teach but no longer uphold. The freedom of speech, of religion, of mobility all granted. The right of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness never hindered. In many ways these … Arabs, the people whom the Pontiff would hope to believe would sell us out understand the values of this Church more than the Vicar of Christ could ever hope to imagine.

            “How is it that one thousand years, such a short time in the history of our world, is enough for us to forget those very philosophies that once guided our lives and the working of the mighty nations our ancestors built from the bottom up. When the people rebelled and overthrew the Old Empire it was not so different than it is now. The state had withered to a point of non-existence. The constitution was a book filled with useless words that spoke of times long since passed. Mighty Ceos like you and I controlled the clockwork of America. And although we like to think we were the ones to finally take the last breath of the greedy, lifeless husk that was the Old Empire, it was the people. The same people that we whip and beat. That we tax to starvation and whose bodies line our countryside. The ones who make our armies only to be slaughtered by our callousness. And they didn’t overthrow the Old Empire. They didn’t conquer a legacy of paganism and usurp the corrupt ways of Old. They took power from us. The rich, the wealthy, the plutocracy that controlled anything and everything.

            “But the people made one mistake. They revolted against the dictators but they still obeyed their ways. They hated their leaders and but they loved the system that made them. You see, no matter how much we rewrite history or forget about the past, it doesn’t change what actually happened. The people that invaded Manhattan, that sent this Church to the bottom of the ocean weren’t heretical Communists looking to institute an evil, equalizing regime. They were hardworking, brainwashed Americans. They were factory workers and home owners. They rented land and drove cars. Now, these are all concepts that don’t mean anything to us now so let me put in a way that you do understand. They were normal people and they still believed everything they had been taught in school and heard from their leaders. They believed in ‘Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness’. They had unwavering faith in the Constitution, enough faith that it became their religion, a replacement for the corruption and hatred they saw in other churches.” Joseph shook his head. “They believed in the system. They remembered the ideals, but forgot what they stood for and so all we had to do was wait. All we had to do was hold tight and come back, and then our victory was total. Our power was unbreakable. Then, America had truly fallen once and for all.

            “But America wasn’t enough for you. You may try to forget. You all want to erase the memory of it. You may want to pretend it never happened, but we Lords of the North remember. Your influence wasn’t everywhere. You hadn’t yet corrupted everything your blight could touch. You may have destroyed every monument, scratched every marking, and crushed every sign, but we people of the North remember. We weren’t always a swath of duchies and principalities. We weren’t Ceodoms and earldoms. We were a proud nation and we had our own way of life. We believed in Peace, Order, and Good Governance, three things that you hated, not because they went against your beliefs, but because you couldn’t have them. We didn’t just preach free speech, we allowed it. We didn’t pretend to have equal opportunity, we provided it. And we didn’t just speak out freedom of religion, we welcomed it.

            “And that was our one sin. Our one ticket straight to Hell. You cried ‘Havoc’ and called crusade. You took your armies and galloped your horses. You marched your men and moved your catapults. You tore apart our lands and murdered our people. And then finally, when there was nothing left to challenge your utopia, you left and made us into what you had become. But we remembered. And now you wish to do the same thing to West, only a million times worse.”

            Joseph’s words were flowing out of him. It was as if all the injustices and the poverty, all the inequality and corruption, all the suspicion and hatred had been slowly absorbed into his being for his entire life and now they had reached critical mass. His soul had collected the weight of society’s hypocrisy and now that great burden had been lifted. The levees of his conscience had been filled to the brink and now the sluicegates of censorship had finally been opened. Truth continued to spew from him in a flood that would have drowned Noah. “And why, why would he wish to do this to the West? Why would anyone want to have the suffering of so many souls weighed against them on Justice’s scales? Oh, come my lords, must we pretend that we don’t understand what our Pontiff actually wants? The founders of our two, once mighty nations took great pains to connect the East to the West. The roads made of iron rails make a bridge across vast distances that even after so many hundreds of years survive and prosper. When I was younger it was no trouble to go to the West. Although those days are long behind me, I still remember what the West was like. It was a haven for new thought. A place where those who were hunted and prejudiced could take shelter. Life was hard, but from great adverstiy there comes great accomplishment. The West is too far from the Pontiff’s seat of power. It takes too long for him to move his armies and send his letters of excommunication. He cannot punish those that speak against him there, nor establish new Congri to dispel those that think for themselves. The Pontiff is steadily losing his grip on the West.

            “I understand that for us, we whose lives and ambitions are so driven by his Church, that we might disbelieve this. But you must ask yourself, whom do you believe? Do you put your faith in a man who is losing his power and has before lied to keep it, or in reason, unshakeable logic that never fails? Alexander IX asks your obedience, but it is your choice to give it to him. Ask yourselves, is he our Pontiff or our King? Doth he head our Church or our state? Is he the Vicar of Christ, or Christ himself?”

            Silence suddenly filled the room. The tension in the great cathedral was more than palpable, it restricted the breathing of the cowardly it was so thick. The Pontiff quickly flashed orders to his crossbowmen that lined the balconies and the foot soldiers standing in the entrance, but they remained still lest they end up on the losing side. The entire crowd had a decision to make, and like all men in power, they were completely indecisive. But finally the decision was made for them by none other than the offender’s brother.