The Finale: Anno Domini

“To answer thine earliest inquiry, Prince Mica, Jesus Christ is our God, though not akin to the pantheon of gods thine own people worship.

“Surely thou dost remember thy country is godless.  What then, couldst I mean by saying thy country worships many gods?  Ye worship the coin, Prince Mica.  Thy people praise the lusty pleasures of the flesh.  Thou and thy people art slaves to idolatry, that wretched fester!  That is why the Umbræ Priests have come.”

Something clicked in Mica’s brain.  “You don’t mean to destroy us, but to save us?”

“Verily!  Well done!” remarked the priest jubilantly.  “Surely thou recollecteth we met thee not with weapons, but banners.  We saved thee from the flaming arrows that would harm thee.  We brought the thence to our stronghold, that thou might receive refuge.

“Yet, it was not we who delivered thee, but Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the World.”
Mica rubbed his forehead, trying to remember something from the sea of his past.  “I...I remember...we...you’ve told this to me before.”

“Yes,” confirmed the priest.  “Thou art a prince of two kingdoms, Mica.  Regent of thine own and one of the elect of the Kingdom of Heaven, where my brethren and I are from.  The King of Kings hath made thee royalty.  Thy memory shalt certainly answer further questions thou might have.”

The priest placed a glowing hand onto Mica’s forehead.  It apparently accelerated the process of mending Mica’s mind, because the prince suddenly remembered everything.  He had visited the priests before, but not as a prisoner—as a guest!  He had come to discuss peace, not declare war!  He also remembered that the priests had spoken with—

“Wait,” said Mica.  “You spoke to Jesus Christ on my behalf, didn’t you?”

“Nay,” said the priest.  “Thou spaketh unto the King on thy own volition.  He always heareth the pleas of His regents.  Thou art no exception, Mica.”

Mica nodded, remembering more and more every second.  “So,” he finally asked, “what is to become of Osman?  My soldiers?  My people?  I know you came to save them, but they think I’ve been kidnapped twice by the Umbræ!  They aren’t going to stop attacking, no matter what I tell them.”

Through his mask, the priest let out a sign.  “Alas, the only way to save thy subjects is to destroy them.  They know not what they do; there is still a chance that they might live on after they die, however.  We shalt have to wait and watch.”

Mica was only slightly alarmed.  “I thought you were going to destroy them!”

“Nay,” said the priest.  “We need not interfere.  Thy subjects shalt destroy themselves.  It is in their nature, I am afraid.”

Mica was not happy.  “Can’t we save them?  You saved me!  You found me when I was lost; you restored my sight when I was blind; you—”

“That was the doing of our Lord, Jesus Christ,” interrupted the priest, “Not the work of the Umbræ.  We have tried already to reach out to thy subjects.  They have rejected our attempts.”

Mica stared at the torches illuminating the stone.  Suddenly, and epiphany:

“Send me out there,” he said.

“What?  Saith unto me again,” demanded the priest.

“Send me out there to reach out to them,” said Mica.  “They love me.  They respect me.  Maybe I can get through to them.  Maybe I can show them the love of Jesus Christ.”

“They hath rejected both the Lord and His priests.  They ignore our miracles.  What maketh thee think thou hast the power to reach out to them?”

“I’ll make it my mission,” said Mica.  “If  I can save even one of them, it will be enough.  Please.  They are still my people.  I want to help them.”

The priest stared at Mica from behind the decorated mask.  “May the blessings and power of the King of Kings dwell within thee, Prince Mica.  May thou be a light in the darkness.”  At this, Mica was suddenly on the battlefield.  He began to preach.