"Whoa!" Rodion was awed by the grand green tree. It was a magnificent larch tree, tall and mighty, planted in the circle made of wood that contained dirt.
Adults and children gathered around the tree. Those who composed the crowd were mainly of the lower class, as very few nobles decided to participate in such festivities.
In the Praussurian Empire, the lower the social and economic class, the more believers of the Church there were. Either because nobles quickly understood that religion and charity did not bring them any profits, or because the poor understood that their only way of surviving the harsh winter was to pray to the possible Lord of Heaven.
Though the number of believers was dropping each year, it almost seemed the numbers did not include the commoners, as many of them still attended the church. Perhaps the Emperor's lack of emphasis on the religion really caused an impact.
Up in the sky, snow was falling calmly; it was much unlike a blizzard. It was, in fact, much more pleasant.
Anastasia's hair almost perfectly blended in with the scenery. A couple of bystanders even stopped to comment on her hair color, which was of the most beautiful color.
If there was one thing the lady learned in her time spent with the ordinary folks, it was that they were able to appreciate the uniqueness of life.
As a child, Anastasia was often ostracized for her hair color, which was considered impure and weird. All the while, the common folks gladly welcomed this wintry color, which seemed to be that of an angel directly from Heaven.
People kneeled before the grand tree and began praying in an unextravagant manner. Families formed a straight line and recited their prayers and wishes.
I never thought about it, but is anyone actually receiving those prayers? Is the Sun God, right now, constantly receiving prayers from these common folks?
I haven't seen Him in a while. That will definitely be my first question!
She smirked.
Her golden eyes glowed through the snowfall, making her face stand out even more than usual.
Rodion looked at Anastasia and pondered for a moment, looking at Anastasia and back at something else a couple of times.
"Now that I think about it, you have a pretty bizarre appearance. White hair, golden eyes, a soft face, but a body taller than most people I've met. You must be pretty popular then!" Rodion grinned and laughed at his own comment, probably.
Anastasia looked at the boy for a while as he laughed wholeheartedly. She wondered whether she should tell him the truth, but ultimately decided there was no need to ruin this feeling.
She only responded with a warm and calm smile to the blonde-haired boy. Kiril looked back at her and made a 'tsk' sound.
"What did we come over here for?" He asked the boy very bluntly.
Rodion turned back towards Kiril, his green eyes sparkled with joy at every movement for some reason.
"Hmm. Does everything need a reason? Or can I just like doing something because I like doing it?" His gaze was like a sharp dagger towards Kiril, who drifted his eyes to another direction, almost in a cowardly way.
Eh.
Are you really scared of a 13-year-old?
Tsk.
Foolish Kiril. I thought better of you.
"N-No. I just wondered if there was a reason, that's all..." The man with the blue coat seemed quite anxious when asked the question. He gave his answer rapidly and left a lengthy, silent pause after him.
"I see. Well, there's no reason why, my mom just happened to come from the same hometown as the Saint." Rodion easily shrugged it off.
"Are you not a native? You looked very Praussurian to me." Kiril seemed interested in the way he asked the question.
"My mother was originally from Polsia, and my father was a military officer. They met each other when the Empire had to intervene in the Polsian territory."
"Ah, so that's why you didn't look like a foreigner." Everything clicked in his head.
Anastasia suddenly noticed the tall wooden structure on the left. There were stairs on the side, almost like a stage of some kind.
She also noticed a group of people talking a bit further. There was a man of the Lord, holding what seemed to be a holy manuscript, but not the one the Church usually presented.
The man was talking to three other people.
One of them had a particularly striking appearance. He had jet-black hair that split evenly on his forehead, along with deep blue eyes. The man was wearing a breastplate, and the rest of his clothing was rather classic. He wore a blue cloak, the opposite of the Empire's color, and had a full scabbard on his hip.
The other two people were a younger man with long blonde hair tied in a ponytail. He also wore a similar outfit, composed of a breastplate and a blue cloak. This time, though, he did not possess a scabbard, but instead had something attached to his lower back.
A back scabbard?
Much less confidence than that other guy. Or maybe it's voluntary?
The third person was a woman who seemed to be between the two other men in terms of age, somewhere around her mid-twenties.
Her amber eyes were gorgeous. She also had darker hair in a ponytail, this one placed slightly higher than the man's, undoubtedly because of their different hair lengths. She also wore her scabbard on her hip, hidden by the blue cloak she wore like the two others.
Soon, their conversation finished, and the priestly-looking person approached the weird stage and climbed the stairs.
He prepared his voice to address the many people in the deformed crowd, then began a speech.
It was a speech of the most classic kind for the Church, focusing on prayers and teachings of God. Spreading the words of the 'prophet' and other things that priests usually talked about.
After a long time, the man finished talking and invited another man onto the stage. The man with the long dark hair approached the stage, bowed slightly to the priest, and began speaking to everyone.
"Good morning to everyone, my name is Slava Federov, and I am one of the seven commanders of the revolutionary army."