How Faith Crumbles

Three days later, at dawn. The city hadn't yet been touched by the morning light, but crowds were already pouring into the square. Footsteps echoed from every direction, rousing the citizens early; they cracked open their wooden shutters to peer outside.

—As always, nothing beats watching a fire or a brawl.

—Peleus, you bastard. It's all your fault if knives start flying here today.

—Hey, when did I ever tell them to fight each other? These geezers from the temples are acting like teenagers on a rampage. Don't they know they're headed to the underworld soon anyway?

I was one of the crowd who'd come to spectate the holy war. I'd claimed a spot in a building with a prime view of the square and was gazing out. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I clicked my tongue at the old men checking their tools in the distance.

"Tsk tsk. You get mellow with age—that's the point. Why are they thrashing around like kids?"

"If they heard you right now, both sides' priests would lose it."

"These fossils who can't even remember their own sixtieth birthday parties. Even if they get mad, it won't last long."

The personnel from the Artemis temple and the Apollo temple faced off in the square. Each side had about a hundred men, all gripping brutal weapons, on the verge of bloodshed. Then the priestess from Artemis's side stepped forward—the strict, dorm matron type I'd seen at the palace a few times.

"Go on, try it. You're all going down today anyway. Since you've come out like this, maybe I'll turn this square into a graveyard for Apollo's devotees."

Damn, that priestess has a sharper tongue than I thought.

"What?!"

This time, an old priest from Apollo's temple advanced. I'd met him at the palace too.

"Who does that bitch think she is, flapping her trap? Get ready. One of us is folding shop today!"

Was it the turf war? No quarter given, pure ferocity. Their menace made street thugs look like amateurs. Sure enough, some gang types were mixed in on both sides—hired meat shields for the temples.

"Arrogant fools bloated with delusions! Show Apollo's dogs what for!"

"That hag's cawing louder than a flock of crows! Hack off limbs from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anyone you catch!"

With the leaders' savage orders, roars erupted.

"Waaah! Kill them all!"

"No mercy! Strike!"

Battle cries rang out across the square. Still, these were holy men—talking about slaughtering everyone... These guys were no joke.

I gazed down at the barbarity unfolding below and spoke.

"Peneleus."

"Yes, Basileus."

"Spread some rumors around the city. Quietly."

"What kind, sir?"

"Anything. Whatever scandals would tarnish both cults."

"I don't have any solid info..."

Peneleus's honest reply drew a chuckle from me.

"I like that you're an upright soldier. But truth isn't always key. Like deceiving the enemy in war, politics is the same."

"I see."

I nodded as if it were obvious.

"Say that Artemis priestess has embezzled a fortune. And spread that the old Apollo guy's got multiple mistresses."

"Is that true?"

I shrugged at his question.

"Does it matter? Maybe it is. Only the gods know the truth."

"...Understood."

"This square brawl won't settle things between the cults. They're stubborn as leeches in mud. They'll clash everywhere daily, losing public favor."

"So baseless rumors will gain traction."

"Right. Losing the people is like your armor falling apart piece by piece. Blades slip right in where they shouldn't."

Screams and blood flowed like streams in the square. Hell on earth. Money, influence—what was the point?

"Too many gods, that's the problem."

"Pardon?"

"Too many gods means faith supply is saturated. Religion's a business at heart. Fixed market, too many temples—fierce bowl-guarding. Even beggars crack skulls over turf; temples are worse."

"I-is that so?"

Sharing a modern view of this mythic world left Peneleus stunned. He pondered it like the thought had never crossed his mind before. But he nodded soon enough.

"Indeed... It makes sense, Your Excellency."

"Heh. You're easy to talk to."

A week later, both cults were thoroughly shunned in the city. Their endless brawls were a massive nuisance to citizens. Long suppressed by the cults' power, the people began voicing outrage—especially after Peneleus spread the scandals.

"Sparta doesn't need greedy cults like that!"

"We put up with the fights for a day or two—no more!"

With public opinion turning, I acted as if I'd been waiting. I sent word reconsidering their state religion status. Predictably, both sides stormed in furious.

"Basileus! Unbelievable!"

"Brothers in arms! How can you go back on your word?!"

Seeing them united after treating each other like blood enemies for a week made me burst out laughing.

"Haha."

The Artemis priestess and Apollo's old priest bristled.

"You find this funny?"

"Sorry. Seeing you harmonious makes me wonder if drawing swords was necessary."

"Urk!"

They fell silent, stumped. I had them sit.

"Your cults' reputations were legendary. But recent events have muddied them. Shameful rumors reach other lands."

They bristled again.

"I never embezzled! Apollo's cult spread lies!"

"What?! You rotten bitch! So the mistress rumor was your doing!"

Just when I thought they'd bond over drinks—it fizzled fast.

"Basileus, we can't back down. Retract the reconsideration. Our cult will crush Apollo's dogs soon."

"Pot calling the kettle! You hag! Spartan style—fight to the last! We won't abandon state religion. Reverse your decision, Basileus."

I stayed calm amid their shouting, even smirking. They sensed something off and shut up.

"Why the smile?"

"You don't grasp Cretan virtue," I said plainly.

In other words, no sense of place. The recent famous saying hit home; the priestess flushed.

"What did you say?!"

I barked before she could retort.

"Shut it!"

"Pardon? Shut it?"

Stunned by my shout, I pressed on.

"The palace overlooked fights up to the square. But you ignored the law afterward! Guards!"

Soldiers poured in at my call. The indulgence ended. Public opinion had turned hostile—no need to tiptoe. Lost in brawls, they'd missed their invisible shield vanishing.

"Basileus!"

Spartan warriors bellowed back. The pair paled in horror.

"Basileus, what is this?!"

I slapped the Apollo priest's cheek as he protested.

Smack!

"You too—shut it! Think the kingdom's Basileus a fool because we indulged you? You've crossed the line."

No protesting citizens remained; they'd scattered. Now they invoked gods.

"You won't get away! Apollo won't stand for this!"

"He'll be ashamed of you! Arrest them!"

Soldiers charged; the priests finally screamed in panic. Their religious authority failed them utterly.

"I was wrong! Mercy, Basileus!"

"This can't be!"

They resisted futilely—clubs trump all. Beaten senseless, they knelt before me.

"S-spare us."

"Can't be, huh?"

"...Forgive us. We misspoke."

Who knew clubs taught manners so well? Sky-high egos turned meek.

"Why provoke me?"

They bowed hastily at my frown.

"No words."

"Apologies."

Clowns.

"Watch if your mighty gods help. Face-loving types—they'll cut you loose like lizard tails."

"Ah..."

They'd botched it; gods needed plausible deniability. I ordered Peneleus.

"Seize both temples. Tear them apart. Everyone's dirty—shake till dust flies."

"Yes, sir."

Troops stormed the temples; watching citizens cheered. Proof of pent-up grudge. Soldiers wrecked the places, seizing parchments. Reviewing them shocked me.

"Wait—the Artemis priestess really embezzled?"

Falsified docs went to royal scribes. They traced her cult's corruption meticulously. Days later, results stunned.

"Heavens, all that prime land was hers?"

Valuable market buildings—all hers under proxies. Citizens raged on hearing. But it didn't end there.

"Excellency!"

"Ah, Peneleus. The women?"

While handling the priestess, he dragged in twelve young women. The old Apollo priest's lovers, they claimed.

"Orphans and poor girls—he bought them with money, they testify."

"My god..."

Reality exceeded imagination. I'd tossed the mistress rumor casually, noting his lechery. But twelve girls around twenty? Real teen-level old perv. Days from death, yet lust incarnate.

"Tell the citizens, Peneleus."

"Yes, Excellency."

With unrest brewing, confirmed scandals flipped them fully against the cults. Just as I planned.

Atalante, watching it all, voiced concern.

"Peleus, won't the goddess intervene?"

She seemed deeply disappointed, shoulders slumped, face downcast. Faith her whole life—identity crisis incoming. This would ease separating her from Artemis.

"Atalante. Even gods can't do as they please. Unless they raze the city, they must mind the optics. Citizens are hostile—good luck reversing it."

Worst case, disaster would tank their rep; people flock elsewhere. Reactions already poured in.

Such dynamics left Artemis and Apollo powerless. Acting freely risked clashes with rivals.

I watched the gods' responses and assured Atalante.

"Wait. See what they do. Bet they lift a finger—nothing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. At most, punish their loyal hounds."

"Lady Artemis would...?"

Atalante trailed off, conflicted. But days passed as predicted; she couldn't hide her shock. The city stayed quiet amid nonstop public scorn. Artemis and Apollo stayed silent.

Instead, the embezzling Artemis priestess was found withered like a mummy in prison—sudden, gruesome death. Whispers of divine curse spread in fear.

"No way..."

Atalante, viewing the corpse with me, was speechless. Soon, Apollo's old priest turned up mysteriously dead too. Gods, helpless with the city, vented on their limbs.

"See? How ruthless gods are. They discard followers without a thought."

Atalante fell silent at my mocking words. Long after, she finally spoke.

"Peleus, you're incredible."

"What is?"

"How does a human know all this?"

Her gaze held awe, like viewing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠something inhuman. Admiration and fear mingled in those beautiful eyes, fixed on me.

"Please. Teach me. Only you can save me from this confusion."

I smiled triumphantly.

"Good. You're ready for the truth now."

In my arms, no less. Once she heard it all, no turning back.