Koran's son was called Manias. He was what many would consider a textbook priest. The air of purity and cruelty clung to him tightly. In his early twenties, he was tall and calm. With average talent, he stood at Mark Seven of the Vessel Rank.
Amid the countless pilgrims across the South, he could even be said to have gathered a respectable following among the people. He had supported villages, healed grievous wounds, and mourned the dead.
He was loved.
The people watched him step forward with bright eyes. Zephyrion watched him with cold ones.
"People of the South."
Manias remained calm despite the thousands watching him.
"As the High Priest has said, we are gathered here today to witness true justice. We Ferrans are what we are because of the divine Iron Father. Without him, where would we be? What would we be? He is our god. Our divine one. The founder of the Ferran Empire. The one who gave us a land to call home. A land where our children can live in peace and harmony.
