Religious matters(1)

A lone old man ambled along the dusty road of Yarzat, accompanied by five scruffy boys who trailed obediently behind him. Their clothes were simple—worn tunics and patched trousers that bore the marks of hard work—but there was a dignity in the way they carried themselves. In his gnarled hand, the old man held a sturdy pole, at the top of which sat a finely carved effigy of the star of the gods, its surface catching the sunlight and glinting like a sacred token.

He walked slowly, each step measured and deliberate, as if guided by some divine purpose. The boys frequently offered to help—one would try to steady his load, another would rush forward to clear a path—but the old man merely smiled and shook his head, continuing on his steady course without a hint of hesitation.

Along the road, the people of the city instinctively made way. Shopkeepers paused their trade, travelers stepped aside, and even children playing in the streets fell silent