It was Thursday morn when High Priest Marcel's workers arrived at the campsite, towing wood and stone in ox-pulled wagons. By noon the next day, the church's frame was erect, and its gaps were half-filled with stone. And by the evening after, the building was whitewashed, and its interior was decorated with pews and brass candelabras.
"It's too small," Tommy murmured. "With Barley as its mascot, our denomination will quickly gain followers. We'll need a bigger church to—"
Barley gave a hard tug on his ear. "I want to play tag."
Tommy pointed to Star out in the meadow. "Look—go play with Star and the other girls. They miss you."
"Okay, Big Bones!"
"I'm Gabriel right now, remember?" he reminded her, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Mister Bones is the persona I use for business."
She stamped a foot in the air. "Too confusing! Why do you need to be two people in the first place?"
"Because it's best not to mix business with religion. Just do your best to remember."
"Okay"—her face scrunched up—"Gabriel."
Tommy loosed a sigh as she flew away. Things were beginning to pick up, so the last thing he needed was an unpredictable pixie hovering around.
"As I was saying—we'll need to expand the church before we overflow with followers. I was thinking about using tithes, but I'd like to hear your ideas."
Isaac stroked his shaven face in thought. "A benefactor, perhaps," he suggested. "One of noble background, flush with talons. I'm sure there are plenty willing to improve their image by supporting an infant denomination."
"Great idea," Tommy praised, shooting the old man a smile. "I'll ask Alice about it; she knows quite a bit about Alyria's noble houses."
"Might I make another suggestion?" Isaac asked. At Tommy's nod, he continued: "If we wish to adopt a charitable façade, perhaps we should make use of your magic. This new persona of yours—Gabriel—could act as a powerful healer, bestowing treatment upon the feeble who attend our church. I believe it would do much to spread our name."
Tommy bore a wicked smirk on his pretty face. "I could be a worker of miracles," he whispered.
"I would suggest the opposite," Isaac said. "Using only lessor restoration would treat their afflictions rather than cure them. This would make them dependent upon you, ensuring they continue to attend church and tithe."
A devilish idea—one he would embrace wholeheartedly. But there was more yet to be said.
"In the history books you've read about me—did I ever engineer a plague?"
Isaac nodded. "You were the cause of the Great Plague of the 800s. The city of Esterdime was renamed Balmwell in 901 after becoming the first to learn how to cure it with potions. Those very same potions are used to fight plagues today."
"If I started another plague—" He stopped himself. "No, that's too rash. I pledged to take over the world peacefully, and I will abide by my word."
For now, at least. Stockpiling plague potions and selling them at high prices was mighty tempting though. It would even be a completely legal process.
"I think I'll stick to your plan. It's genius, Isaac; you've really outdone yourself this time."
"Thank you for your praise. I will do my best to ensure I maintain your faith in me."
"Tomorrow is Sun Day, is it not? To any who come to our first service, make sure you tell them that Gabriel the priest has been gifted healing powers by the God of Light and that he is willing to offer help to any who may require it."
"Understood, Gabriel."
Tommy went to Alice to find her reading a book on one of the church pews—one he'd seen her reading about a hundred times.
"We need to get you more books," he said.
She jumped, startled by his voice. "No, my lord"—she inhaled sharply—"Gabriel, I mean. No, Gabriel. I quite like this book."
Tommy smiled. "I was hoping to speak with you some more about Alyria's noble houses."
"Of course, my—" She shut her eyes, clearly annoyed with herself. "Of course, Gabriel. What did you want to know?"
"Isaac suggested we find a benefactor amongst them. Would you happen to know of any zealous houses—ones wholly committed to Luxism?"
"House Flint. Every member of that house is a religious nut. They're strictly aligned with the Ostarians, though." At Tommy's confused expression, she clarified: "Ostarians are the main denomination of Luxism—the one followed by the current Grand Scepter."
"Could I sway them to follow the Black Cloth? We have a pixie supporting us; surely that would help convince them."
Alice tilted her head and pressed her tongue against her cheek. "Barley would help, you're correct, but I don't think—" She halted her words and adopted a smile. "They have a sickly daughter. If you healed her, perhaps they'd hear you out."
"I could pretend as though the God of Light was granting me the power to use greater restoration. They would believe the Black Cloth to be the true denomination then. Good thinking, Alice."
"Thank you, Gabriel."
"Now, where might I find House Flint?" he asked.
"Eckmoor—seventy miles west of the Poised Pasture. They serve under King Afton Ironcap."
"A different king than the one whose land we occupy. Will that cause any issues for us?"
"We have been given express permission to establish a church here. If King Landel were to move against us, he would be hanged from a rampart or beheaded within a fortnight."
Tommy laughed. "That's quite the image. In that case, I believe I'll seek the favor of House Flint. Thank you for the advice, Alice."
"Of course, Gabriel."
Tommy left the church and stole a map from his belt pouch. "Over two hundred miles due south. This is going to be a painful trip." He took a few deep breaths and then glared at the meadow flowers. "Blink!"