Bishop Augustus's gaze landed on Raylo, so intense it felt tangible, as if it could see right through him.
He set down his cup, and the soft clink of it touching the table was exceptionally clear in the silent hall.
"What you say, Lord Baron, seems quite reasonable."
Augustus's voice remained even, but it carried a hint of imperceptible chill.
"But faith is the very foundation of a territory, the anchor of the soul. How can it be delayed for a mere lack of funds? A poverty of the soul is far more terrifying than material scarcity. Without the restraint of faith, the people's hearts will stray, and wicked thoughts will fester. A young and promising man like yourself, Lord Baron, should understand this."
The old man leaned forward slightly, his oppressive presence intensifying. "Does the Lord Baron believe that as long as the people are fed and clothed, they have no need for the guidance and comfort of divine grace?"
