Book II — The Book of Thaddeus

[Old Goat]

Chapter One: The Burden of Humility​

Being an Account of How the High Priest Discovered That History Had Failed to Appreciate Him, and Took Immediate Steps to Correct the Oversight.

There are few burdens heavier than greatness.

This was the opinion of High Priest Thaddeus, who had recently commissioned three statues depicting himself bearing the weight of his own greatness.

The statues were magnificent.

Two were constructed entirely from gold.

The third was constructed from marble, because the Treasury Department had begun making unpleasant noises about insolvency.

Thaddeus considered this a regrettable example of financial pessimism.

He had summoned Elric to his private chambers.

Elric arrived carrying a notebook, three sharpened quills and the expression of a man who had been summoned to his private chambers by High Priest Thaddeus.

"Brother Elric!" Thaddeus announced. "I have received a revelation!"

Elric sighed.

"Another one?"

"Indeed!"

"From the Ohm Lord?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Did He actually speak?"

"Not precisely."

"Did you hear a voice?"

"No."

"See a vision?"

"No."

"Experience a divine presence?"

"Brother Elric, must you interrogate every spiritual experience?"

"I'm trying to establish whether anything actually happened."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Of course something happened. I had an idea."

Elric wrote this down.

The High Priest has had an idea.

Then, after a moment's consideration, he added:

Further investigation required.

Thaddeus continued.

"Genesis has been completed."

"Unfortunately."

"And it is a magnificent work."

"In places."

"An authoritative record of divine history!"

"In very few places."

"But I have discovered a serious omission."

Elric stiffened.

Not another missing page.

He was beginning to develop an irrational hatred of sandwiches.

"What omission?"

"Me."

Elric blinked.

"You're in Genesis."

"Insufficiently."

"You're mentioned throughout."

"But not prominently enough."

"Your Holiness, you've been credited with founding the priesthood, unifying the Church, discovering the purpose of the Sacred Coil and personally supervising the compilation of scripture."

"Precisely. And yet the book begins with the creation of the universe."

Elric stared at him.

"Yes."

"Before mentioning me."

"Yes."

"Several pages before mentioning me."

"Well, you weren't born yet."

Thaddeus waved his hand dismissively.

"An unnecessary technicality."

He rose from his chair.

"I have decided that the next sacred book shall record the life and wisdom of the Church's greatest servant."

Elric was silent.

He knew what was coming.

He prayed, despite considerable personal reservations about the practice, that he was wrong.

"And who," he asked carefully, "might that be?"

Thaddeus spread his arms.

"Me!"

There it was.

Elric considered resignation.

He had considered resignation so frequently in recent years that the concept had begun to feel like an old friend who kept promising to visit but never arrived.

"And what," he asked, "shall we call this book?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"The Book of Thaddeus."

Elric closed his notebook.

"I'm going home."

"Sit down, Brother Elric. We have much to accomplish."

The First Commandment of Thaddeus​

The High Priest settled into his chair.

"Now, the first chapter shall concern my extraordinary humility."

Elric reopened his notebook.

"Your humility."

"Indeed. I have always regarded humility as my greatest virtue."

"Of course."

"Although wisdom is a close second."

"Naturally."

"And generosity."

"Certainly."

"And leadership."

"How could I forget?"

"Not to mention my profound understanding of the divine."

Elric looked up.

"Your Holiness, would it not be simpler to list the virtues you do not possess?"

Thaddeus considered this.

"An excellent suggestion! We shall include an appendix."

Elric made a small noise.

It was the kind of noise made by a kettle just before boiling, or a man whose remaining sanity had begun escaping through his ears.

Thaddeus continued.

"Now, I believe it is time we formalised the laws of the Church."

"We already have commandments."

"Naturally. But they lack clarity."

"The seventeenth specifically prohibits questioning the previous sixteen."

"Precisely. Much too vague."

"What would you suggest?"

"A comprehensive legal framework."

Elric stared at him.

"Religious law?"

"Divine law!"

"Given by the Ohm Lord?"

"Interpreted by me."

"And approved by Him?"

"The Ohm Lord has not objected."

"You haven't asked Him."

"Brother Elric, silence is consent."

"Not generally."

"It is in matters of theology."

"And who decided that?"

"I did."

Elric wrote something in the margin.

Thaddeus leaned forward.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Your Holiness."

"Read it."

Elric hesitated.

Then read:

"The High Priest has declared himself the supreme authority on divine law, citing the absence of objections from a deity he has not consulted."

Thaddeus nodded approvingly.

"Excellent. Though perhaps we should remove the last six words."

The Law of Divine Ownership​

By lunchtime, Thaddeus had established twelve new commandments.

The first stated that the High Priest was the supreme earthly representative of the Ohm Lord.

The second clarified that questioning the High Priest was equivalent to questioning the Ohm Lord.

The third stated that questioning the Ohm Lord was forbidden without written permission from the High Priest.

The fourth concerned donations.

So did the fifth.

And the sixth.

The seventh established that all sacred equipment must be purchased through approved suppliers.

The eighth declared that approval was the exclusive responsibility of the High Priest.

The ninth introduced an annual approval renewal fee.

The tenth established a Department of Compliance.

The eleventh provided that the Department of Compliance would be exempt from its own regulations.

And the twelfth stated that all previous commandments were subject to reinterpretation whenever the High Priest considered it necessary.

Elric examined the document.

"Your Holiness, these aren't commandments."

"Of course they are."

"They're business regulations."

"Precisely."

"Where are the teachings about helping smokers?"

Thaddeus looked confused.

"What about them?"

"Shouldn't they be included?"

"Naturally. Somewhere near the back."

Elric searched the manuscript.

There was nothing.

He looked at Thaddeus.

"Where?"

Thaddeus shrugged.

"An appendix, perhaps."

Elric slowly placed his quill on the table.

He looked at the ceiling.

The ceiling offered no assistance.

It had endured Thaddeus for years and had apparently decided that remaining silent was the safest possible course of action.

"Your Holiness," Elric began, "the entire purpose of the Sacred Coil is to help people escape the Empire of Ash."

"Yes."

"Then shouldn't that be our first commandment?"

Thaddeus frowned.

"My dear Elric, a religion cannot survive on good intentions alone."

"Of course not."

"It requires structure."

"Naturally."

"Leadership."

"Certainly."

"Organisation."

"Without question."

"And reliable revenue."

Elric considered this.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful," he said quietly, "if we spent as much effort helping people as we do explaining why we can't?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"An excellent thought! We shall establish a committee to investigate it."

Elric stood.

He walked to the window.

Outside, several people were gathered near the little bench beside the temple.

They were talking.

Laughing.

Helping one another.

The High Priest joined him.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your greatest achievement, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus followed his gaze.

"The new golden gates?"

"No."

"The statue?"

"No."

"The eastern wing?"

Elric pointed at the bench.

"That."

Thaddeus stared.

Then frowned.

"That dreadful old thing? We really must have it removed."

Elric closed his eyes.

It was going to be a very long book.

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The High Priest's extraordinary humility was subsequently confirmed by a council appointed by the High Priest, chaired by the High Priest, and funded by the High Priest's Department of Personal Recognition.

² The original title of this chapter is believed to have been "The Unspeakable Greatness of Thaddeus the Magnificent." It was shortened following complaints that the chapter heading required more parchment than the chapter itself.

³ Several historical accounts dispute the High Priest's claim to have invented humility. The Church maintains that these accounts are motivated by jealousy.

⁴ The twelve commandments described above appear in seventeen different versions. No two agree on their wording, although all seventeen require payment.

⁵ Some surviving manuscripts suggest that Brother Elric was responsible for recording these proceedings. Others suggest that he was, by this stage, refusing to speak to anyone who possessed a religious title.

⁶ An early copy of the Book of Thaddeus contains the following handwritten observation: "If this pompous cunt gets any more humble, we'll need a bigger temple." The author has not been identified.

⁷ Footnote Six has been declared blasphemous.

⁸ Footnote Seven was probably written by Thaddeus.

⁹ There is no evidence that Thaddeus knew how to write.

 

[Old Goat]

Chapter Two: A Monument to Humility​

Being an Account of the High Priest's Extraordinary Modesty, the Construction of the World's Largest Tribute to Selflessness, and an Unfortunate Misunderstanding Concerning the Definition of Charity.

I. The Unbearable Burden of Being Wonderful​

High Priest Thaddeus was troubled.

This was unusual, since Thaddeus possessed the remarkable ability to remain entirely untroubled by matters that would have caused considerable distress to anyone with a functioning conscience.

Wars did not trouble him.

Poverty did not trouble him.

The continued suffering of mankind beneath the Empire of Ash troubled him only when it interrupted the collection of donations.

But this was different.

This was personal.

His portrait was too small.

Not the portrait itself, which stood six feet high and occupied the better part of his private chambers.

The problem was that it occupied only six feet.

"Brother Elric," he announced, "I fear the Church has neglected one of its most sacred duties."

Elric did not look up from his manuscript.

"Another one?"

"The preservation of greatness."

"Whose greatness?"

Thaddeus looked wounded.

"Brother Elric, I would have thought that obvious."

Elric put down his quill.

There were moments when he wondered whether Thaddeus actually believed himself to be the most important person in Creation, or whether he merely enjoyed behaving as though he did.

He had long since concluded that the distinction was academically interesting and practically irrelevant.

"Your Holiness," he said, "you already have twenty-three portraits."

"Twenty-four."

"Twenty-four portraits, nine statues and an entire chapter devoted to your humility."

"Precisely. A most inadequate beginning."

Thaddeus gestured towards the wall.

"Look at that painting."

Elric looked.

It depicted the High Priest standing atop a mountain, surrounded by angels, receiving divine wisdom directly from the heavens.

The painting was magnificent.

It was also historically inaccurate, the mountain was entirely fictional, and one of the angels bore a suspicious resemblance to the Treasurer.

"What about it?"

"The artist has failed to capture my true stature."

"You're twelve feet tall in that painting."

"Spiritually, Brother Elric."

"Of course."

"And the Ohm Lord appears considerably larger than me."

Elric stared.

"The Ohm Lord is God."

"Yes, yes. But must He be quite so prominent?"

Elric reached for his ink.

He was going to need considerably more of it.

II. The Ministry of Modesty​

Thaddeus decided that the Church required an official policy concerning humility.

The existing scriptures were vague on the subject, containing several unfortunate references to meekness, selflessness and the dangers of excessive pride.

These were clearly the result of mistranslation.

A committee was established.

It was called the Ministry of Modesty.

Thaddeus appointed himself its chairman.

The first meeting was attended by twelve senior priests, four legal advisers, the Treasurer, and a newly appointed official whose title was Keeper of the High Priest's Personal Magnificence.

Elric was summoned to record the proceedings.

"Brothers," Thaddeus began, "humility is the greatest of virtues."

The council murmured its agreement.

"And I believe we can all agree that no man has demonstrated this virtue more completely than myself."

There was applause.

Elric wrote:

The High Priest has declared himself the humblest man alive.

Thaddeus continued.

"Indeed, I have often wondered whether my humility might exceed that of any man who has ever lived."

More applause.

Elric added:

Possibly of all time.

"And yet," Thaddeus said gravely, "I have never sought recognition for this."

Elric examined the twenty-four portraits visible through the open doorway.

He said nothing.

This required considerable effort.

The committee spent the morning developing the Official Principles of Humility.

The first principle stated that all members of the Church should strive to be humble.

The second established that humility was best demonstrated through obedience to one's spiritual superiors.

The third clarified that the High Priest, being the most humble of all, must therefore be considered the most spiritually superior.

The fourth prohibited excessive displays of personal pride.

An exemption was immediately granted to the High Priest.

"Why the exemption?" asked Elric.

"Because," explained Thaddeus, "it would be terribly arrogant of me to pretend that I am not extraordinary."

Elric considered this.

"So acknowledging your own greatness is an act of humility?"

"Precisely."

"And denying it would be pride?"

"Of the most offensive kind."

Elric looked down at his parchment.

He had just witnessed a man successfully turn vanity into a religious obligation.

It was, he had to admit, an extraordinary achievement.

Unfortunately, Thaddeus was not finished.

"Now," he continued, "we must establish a proper method for recognising humility in others."

A system of rankings was introduced.

Members who demonstrated modest conduct would receive the Bronze Medal of Humility.

Particularly modest members could receive the Silver Medal.

The most humble would receive the Gold Medal.

Above these stood the Grand Order of Supreme Humility.

And above that, naturally, the High Priest.

"Will Your Holiness be receiving an award?" asked a junior priest.

Thaddeus smiled.

"My dear boy, it would be improper for me to award myself a medal."

The priest nodded.

"Very wise, Your Holiness."

"Which is why I shall accept a crown."

The meeting was adjourned to allow the goldsmith sufficient time to prepare it.

III. A Modest Little Monument​

The idea for the monument came to Thaddeus during an afternoon stroll through the temple gardens.

He passed a statue of the Ohm Lord.

It was a fine statue, standing upon a marble pedestal, one hand raised in blessing and the other holding the Sacred Coil.

Thaddeus examined it.

"How tall is that?"

"Thirty feet, Your Holiness," replied the attending priest.

"Hmm."

He walked around it.

"Hmm."

He stepped back.

"Hmm."

The priest waited nervously.

Eventually, Thaddeus spoke.

"Do you think thirty feet is enough?"

"For the Ohm Lord, Your Holiness?"

"For me."

The priest considered this.

He had learned that the safest response to any question involving the High Priest's importance was agreement, preferably accompanied by a small bow.

"Perhaps forty feet, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus nodded.

"Fifty."

"An excellent choice."

"Sixty."

"Even better."

"Seventy."

The priest hesitated.

"Your Holiness, the temple itself is only sixty feet high."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Then we shall need a bigger temple."

And thus was born the Great Monument to Humility.

The project was commissioned the following morning.

It would be the largest statue ever constructed.

It would depict Thaddeus standing proudly, yet modestly, upon a mountain of marble, one hand raised towards Heaven and the other extended towards mankind.

His robes would be embroidered with gold.

His crown would be set with precious stones.

His face would radiate wisdom.

And his feet would rest upon a pedestal inscribed with the words:

BEHOLD THE HUMBLE SERVANT OF THE OHM LORD.

The Treasurer examined the estimated cost.

He fainted.

This was becoming an increasingly common method of expressing financial concern.

When revived, he explained that the monument would consume the equivalent of twelve years of charitable donations.

Thaddeus looked appalled.

"Twelve years?"

"At least, Your Holiness."

"Then we must act immediately."

"Why?"

"Because the cost is clearly increasing."

The Treasurer fainted again.

IV. The Architect's Dilemma​

The Church employed a master architect named Mistress Prudence Vale.

Prudence was an intelligent, practical woman who had spent twenty years constructing buildings that remained standing despite the best efforts of the people commissioning them.

She had built bridges, towers, halls and the western wing of the Great Temple.

She had also designed the temple roof that Brother Ignatius had subsequently attempted to remove using electricity.

She considered herself an exceptionally patient woman.

This opinion was about to be tested.

Thaddeus presented her with the plans.

Prudence examined them.

Then turned the parchment upside down.

Then right side up again.

"Your Holiness," she said carefully, "this statue is larger than the temple."

"Indeed."

"And heavier than the eastern tower."

"Magnificent."

"And the pedestal appears to rest upon the roof of the treasury."

"Symbolism, my dear Prudence."

"Of what?"

"The Church's wealth supporting its greatest servant."

Prudence considered this.

"It will collapse."

Thaddeus frowned.

"Surely not."

"The roof cannot support that weight."

"Then strengthen the roof."

"The foundations won't support it."

"Strengthen the foundations."

"The ground itself is unstable."

Thaddeus sighed.

"Must everything be so difficult?"

"Your Holiness, gravity is not open to negotiation."

Thaddeus looked offended.

"Everything is open to negotiation."

Prudence stared at him.

He stared back.

Finally, she rolled up the plans.

"I shall need to redesign the structure."

"Excellent. Make it taller."

Prudence went home.

That evening, she informed her husband that she had begun to understand why so many buildings in ancient history had been destroyed by divine intervention.

She suspected that God had simply become tired of the architects' clients.

V. The Face of Greatness​

The task of sculpting the monument fell to Master Corvin, a man renowned for his ability to carve lifelike figures from solid stone.

He was particularly skilled at capturing the true character of his subjects.

This proved unfortunate.

His first sculpture depicted Thaddeus exactly as he appeared.

The High Priest examined it.

His expression darkened.

"What is that?"

"Your likeness, Your Holiness."

"That cannot be me."

"I assure you, it is."

"My chin does not look like that."

Corvin looked at the sculpture.

Then at Thaddeus.

Then at the sculpture.

"Which one, Your Holiness?"

There was silence.

Elric, who had been standing nearby, made a sound suspiciously similar to a strangled cough.

Thaddeus pointed at the statue.

"My face should reflect my spiritual perfection."

Corvin nodded.

"Of course."

"And my wisdom."

"Naturally."

"And my humility."

"Certainly."

"And perhaps a slightly stronger jaw."

"Understood."

"And broader shoulders."

"Very good."

"And a flatter stomach."

"Naturally."

"And the hair I possessed in my youth."

Corvin hesitated.

"Which youth, Your Holiness?"

Thaddeus ignored him.

The revised sculpture was presented a week later.

It depicted a tall, muscular figure with flowing hair, a magnificent beard and the noble bearing of a warrior-king.

Elric examined it.

"Who is that?"

Corvin sighed.

"Apparently, the High Priest."

Elric looked from the statue to Thaddeus.

Then back again.

"Good heavens. Has he met himself?"

Corvin was obliged to leave the room.

He claimed he needed a new chisel.

He was laughing so hard he could scarcely walk.

The final design was approved after seventeen revisions.

By that stage, the statue bore no recognisable resemblance to Thaddeus whatsoever.

The Church declared it a triumph of spiritual realism.

VI. The Department of Public Admiration​

Construction of the monument attracted considerable attention.

Pilgrims arrived from distant provinces to witness the enormous structure rising above the city.

Some admired it.

Some questioned its cost.

Some wondered whether the money might have been better spent helping people escape the Empire of Ash.

These last individuals were considered particularly troublesome.

The High Priest therefore established the Department of Public Admiration.

Its purpose was to ensure that the public appreciated the monument appropriately.

Visitors were required to complete a short questionnaire.

How magnificent do you consider the High Priest?

• Magnificent.
• Exceptionally magnificent.
• Beyond mortal comprehension.

There was no fourth option.

A second question asked whether visitors believed the monument adequately reflected the High Priest's humility.

Those answering negatively were directed to a separate department.

The Department of Corrective Appreciation.

Very few visitors emerged from this department with their original opinions intact.

Elric examined the questionnaire.

"Where is the option for people who think the monument is an enormous waste of money?"

The Director of Public Admiration looked horrified.

"Brother Elric, we cannot permit the public to misunderstand the purpose of the monument."

"Which is?"

"To demonstrate the High Priest's humility."

"By constructing a statue of himself taller than the temple?"

"Precisely."

Elric shook his head.

"I'm beginning to suspect that words no longer mean anything."

The Director smiled.

"An excellent observation. We shall refer it to the Department of Approved Definitions."

The department subsequently ruled that humility meant the appropriate recognition of greatness without unnecessary embarrassment.

It also ruled that pride meant the refusal to recognise greatness when presented with it.

Under these definitions, failing to admire Thaddeus was now an act of pride.

The Church had finally perfected humility.

It was compulsory.

VII. The Question of Charity​

The monument was nearly complete when Thaddeus made a final demand.

It must depict his compassion.

"Your compassion?" asked Corvin.

"Indeed. I am known throughout the kingdom for my boundless generosity."

Corvin considered this.

He knew several stonemasons who had not been paid.

"Naturally, Your Holiness."

"I wish the people to see that I am not merely a great leader, but a servant of mankind."

"How would you like this represented?"

Thaddeus thought for a moment.

"Perhaps a poor man kneeling before me."

Elric looked up sharply.

"Why kneeling?"

"Because I am helping him."

"Can't you help him while he's standing?"

Thaddeus frowned.

"That would diminish the symbolism."

"Of what?"

"His gratitude."

"Or your importance?"

Thaddeus ignored him.

Corvin began sketching.

The proposed sculpture showed Thaddeus extending a small device towards a kneeling man, while a great cloud of vapour rose towards Heaven.

Elric studied it.

"What exactly is happening here?"

"The High Priest is liberating a poor smoker from the Empire of Ash."

Elric raised an eyebrow.

"Has he ever done that?"

Corvin looked uncomfortable.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then why are we depicting it?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"Because it represents my commitment to the Church's mission."

"Wouldn't actually helping a smoker represent that more accurately?"

"Brother Elric, must you insist upon interpreting everything literally?"

The final sculpture was amended.

The kneeling man was allowed to stand.

This required a new pedestal, additional stone and the removal of a decorative angel.

Thaddeus was displeased.

Elric considered it a small victory.

Unfortunately, Corvin had already begun carving the inscription.

It read:

UNDER THE GENEROUS HAND OF THADDEUS, NO SOUL SEEKING FREEDOM FROM THE ASH SHALL BE DENIED GUIDANCE, REGARDLESS OF WEALTH OR STATION.

Thaddeus approved it immediately.

It was a magnificent statement.

It made him sound extraordinarily generous.

Elric read it.

Then read it again.

A slow smile spread across his face.

For the first time in months, he did not request that anything be changed.

VIII. The Unveiling​

The unveiling of the Great Monument to Humility was the largest ceremonial event in the Church's history.

Thousands gathered in the temple square.

Trumpets sounded.

Bells rang.

A choir of seventy-three singers performed the Hymn of Sacred Modesty, a composition whose central refrain consisted of the words:

Thaddeus the Great, Thaddeus the Wise, Thaddeus the Humble, Above All He Rises.

Elric considered pointing out that a hymn about humility should perhaps not contain quite so many references to being above everyone else.

He decided against it.

He had recently begun rationing his objections.

There were only so many hours in a day.

Thaddeus appeared upon the ceremonial platform wearing his new Crown of Supreme Humility.

The crown weighed seventeen pounds.

It was decorated with diamonds, rubies and an enormous golden coil.

His neck was beginning to ache.

He regarded this as a small sacrifice in the service of modesty.

"Brothers and sisters!" he proclaimed.

The crowd cheered.

"Today we gather not to honour a man!"

More cheering.

"But to honour the virtues embodied by that man!"

Louder cheering.

"A man who has devoted his life to selfless service!"

The choir began applauding.

"A man whose wisdom has guided this Church through every trial!"

The Treasurer wiped away a tear.

"A man whose humility knows no bounds!"

Elric glanced at the enormous covered statue behind the platform.

He had a fairly good idea where the bounds were.

Approximately ninety feet above ground level.

Thaddeus spread his arms.

"And who is this humble servant?"

The crowd roared his name.

Thaddeus smiled.

It was the happiest moment of his life.

Then he pulled the ceremonial cord.

The great velvet covering fell away.

And the Monument to Humility was revealed.

It was magnificent.

It was enormous.

It was covered in gold.

And it was facing the wrong way.

IX. An Unfortunate Matter of Perspective​

The crowd fell silent.

The statue stood in all its golden glory, gazing nobly across the city.

Unfortunately, the city was behind the statue.

The people gathered in the temple square were treated to an uninterrupted view of Thaddeus's enormous golden backside.

Corvin stared.

Prudence closed her eyes.

The Treasurer made a small whimpering noise.

Elric began to laugh.

At first, it was a small laugh.

A quiet, almost respectful laugh.

Then his shoulders began shaking.

Then tears appeared in his eyes.

Then he made a noise which several witnesses later described as resembling a donkey being strangled by a bagpipe.

Thaddeus turned crimson.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

Prudence consulted the plans.

"The statue is facing east, Your Holiness."

"WHY?"

"Because you instructed us that it must face the rising sun."

"YES!"

"And that its face must receive the first light of each morning."

"YES!"

"And that the monument must stand with its back to the temple, to symbolise your protection of the Church."

Thaddeus stared at her.

Prudence shrugged.

"We followed the plans."

There was a dreadful silence.

Then an elderly woman in the crowd spoke.

"Well, at least we can finally see what he's been talking out of all these years."

The square erupted.

Thaddeus did not share their amusement.

The following day, the Department of Public Admiration issued a statement declaring that the statue's orientation was entirely intentional.

It represented the High Priest's willingness to turn his back upon worldly praise.

The Church called it The Great Turning Away.

Elric called it something else.

His precise wording was later removed from the official records.

Three scribes resigned rather than copy it.

​

 

[Old Goat]

X. The Promise in Stone​

The monument quickly became famous.

Travellers came from across the kingdom to admire its size, its craftsmanship and its spectacularly unfortunate orientation.

But something unexpected began to happen.

People started reading the inscription.

Not the enormous dedication praising Thaddeus.

Not the seventeen titles engraved upon the pedestal.

Not even the long list of his virtues.

They read the smaller passage beneath the outstretched hand.

No soul seeking freedom from the Ash shall be denied guidance, regardless of wealth or station.

And they believed it.

Smokers began arriving at the temple.

Some had travelled considerable distances.

Some had heard that the Church offered practical assistance.

Others had simply seen the enormous golden statue and assumed that an institution wealthy enough to construct such a monstrosity must surely be able to afford a little help.

They approached the Department of Sacred Guidance.

The department attempted to charge them.

The visitors pointed at the inscription.

The department explained that the inscription was symbolic.

The visitors pointed at it again.

The department referred the matter to the Ministry of Modesty.

The Ministry of Modesty declared that the High Priest's generosity was beyond question.

The visitors agreed.

Then asked where they could receive the promised help.

The matter escalated.

Eventually, Thaddeus summoned Elric.

"WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"

Elric looked up from his journal.

"Another one?"

"People are demanding free assistance!"

"How dreadful."

"They claim I personally promised it!"

"Did you?"

"Of course not!"

Elric produced a copy of the monument's inscription.

Thaddeus examined it.

"Ah."

Elric waited.

"That was intended to be inspirational."

"It certainly inspired them."

"Brother Elric, surely you understand that symbolic generosity is not the same as actual generosity!"

"I do now."

Thaddeus began pacing.

"We must change the inscription!"

"It's carved into solid marble."

"Then carve another one!"

"Thousands have already read it."

"Then explain that they misunderstood!"

"They seem rather convinced."

Thaddeus stopped.

Elric smiled.

"Your Holiness, surely you wouldn't want the public to believe that the greatest monument to your humility was built upon an empty promise?"

Thaddeus stared at him.

There it was.

The dreadful trap.

His vanity had finally encountered something stronger than itself.

His vanity.

He could not allow people to think him ungenerous.

He could not remove the inscription without appearing dishonest.

He could not charge for something his monument had so magnificently declared free.

And he absolutely could not admit that Elric had a point.

Thaddeus drew himself up.

"Very well."

Elric waited.

"We shall establish a charitable assistance office."

"Wonderful."

"With proper staff."

"Excellent."

"And appropriate equipment."

"Very sensible."

"And a modest operating budget."

"Naturally."

Thaddeus raised a finger.

"But it must be named after me."

Elric considered this.

Then nodded.

"Of course, Your Holiness."

After all, it was a small price to pay.

Particularly since Thaddeus would be paying most of it.

XI. The Office of Boundless Generosity​

The Thaddean Office of Boundless Generosity opened three weeks later.

Its official purpose was to provide assistance to adult smokers seeking a way away from combustible tobacco.

It offered guidance.

It offered practical support.

It helped people understand suitable alternatives, including their limitations and risks.

And it did not require payment from those who could not afford it.

This was a considerable improvement.

Naturally, the Church appointed seventeen administrators.

The first twelve were responsible for ensuring that the High Priest received appropriate recognition.

The thirteenth managed the ceremonial opening schedule.

The fourteenth maintained the official portrait.

The fifteenth handled the distribution of commemorative pamphlets.

The sixteenth was responsible for polishing the brass plaque bearing Thaddeus's name.

The seventeenth was Barnabus.

He actually helped people.

This arrangement worked surprisingly well.

Elric assisted when he could.

Miriam began sharing her own experiences with newcomers, having learned that struggling did not make her a failure and that practical support was considerably more useful than being called a sinner.

Before long, the office had become a busy little place.

Not because the Church had discovered some magnificent new theological principle.

But because it had finally dedicated a small portion of its considerable resources to doing what it was supposed to do.

The High Priest visited occasionally.

He was particularly fond of appearing when important guests were present.

He would shake hands, deliver a speech about his own compassion and depart before anybody could ask him a technical question.

The office staff considered this an ideal arrangement.

They accomplished considerably more when he was absent.

XII. The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived​

The Book of Thaddeus was updated to include a full account of the monument.

According to the official version, the High Priest had personally conceived, designed and commissioned the greatest expression of humility in human history.

Its unfortunate orientation was described as a deliberate theological masterpiece.

The Office of Boundless Generosity was attributed entirely to his extraordinary compassion.

And Elric's role in the proceedings was reduced to that of a junior administrative assistant.

Elric read the manuscript.

He looked at the monument through his window.

Its enormous golden backside glowed in the afternoon sun.

Then he looked towards the little charitable office, where Barnabus was patiently explaining something to a visitor.

For once, he found himself strangely content.

The Church had spent an obscene amount of money building a monument to one man's vanity.

It had corrupted its own scripture.

It had invented a ministry devoted to compulsory humility.

It had accidentally constructed the world's largest golden arse.

And yet, through an astonishing series of unintended consequences, it had managed to create something useful.

Elric opened his journal.

He wrote:

It is sometimes said that even a fool may accomplish great things.

This is true.

It is generally best, however, if the fool remains entirely unaware of what he has accomplished.

He paused.

Then added:

For the moment he discovers it, he will almost certainly demand a statue.

Outside, the bells of the Great Temple rang.

Thaddeus had announced another revelation.

He was considering the construction of a second monument.

This one would celebrate his generosity.

It would be even larger.

Elric put down his quill.

He looked at the ceiling.

Then at the bottle of wine on his desk.

Then back at the ceiling.

"Oh, you magnificent bastard," he whispered.

And began drinking.

---

Thus ended the construction of the Great Monument to Humility.

The High Priest had achieved immortality in stone.

The Church had acquired a new charitable office.

The people had gained another place to seek help.

And the city had gained an enormous golden landmark that would, for centuries to come, serve as a reminder of the dangers of unchecked vanity.

Particularly when viewed from behind.

A-ohm.

---

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The Ministry of Modesty initially proposed that the High Priest receive the title "Most Humble Man in the Known World." This was rejected on the grounds that the title implied the existence of other worlds in which someone might be humbler. The final title was amended accordingly.

² The original Crown of Supreme Humility weighed seventeen pounds. A later version weighed twenty-three, following complaints from the High Priest that the first was insufficiently impressive. The resulting neck injury was officially recorded as a burden of spiritual leadership.

³ The Great Monument to Humility is believed to have consumed sufficient gold to construct fourteen smaller temples, equip several charitable institutions and feed the population of three provinces for an entire winter. The Church has disputed these estimates, pointing out that the monument was considerably more attractive than hungry people.

⁴ The sculptor Corvin is reported to have remarked that his greatest artistic achievement was creating a statue of Thaddeus which looked nothing like Thaddeus, yet managed to capture his personality perfectly.

⁵ The original plans for the monument contained the notation: "Must be visible from everywhere." This was later amended to: "Must be visible from everywhere except the High Priest's private chambers, from which the view would be obstructed by the High Priest himself."

⁶ An earlier manuscript predicted that the High Priest's growing humility would eventually require a larger temple. The Church now regards this passage as evidence of divine prophecy. Earlier editions suggest the original author was being sarcastic.

⁷ The Great Turning Away remains an important theological symbol in several branches of the Church. Other branches maintain that the statue was simply built backwards. The resulting dispute has lasted six centuries and remains unresolved.

⁸ The Thaddean Office of Boundless Generosity initially employed seventeen administrators and one person capable of providing practical assistance. This staffing arrangement was declared a model of religious efficiency.

⁹ The original inscription promising assistance without regard to wealth or station was later amended to include the phrase "subject to availability." The amendment was subsequently removed after several visitors threatened to ask what, precisely, had happened to the High Priest's boundless generosity.

¹⁰ The claim that Thaddeus personally founded the Office of Boundless Generosity is supported by every official Church record. It is contradicted by virtually every surviving unofficial account. The Church maintains that this proves the unreliability of unofficial accounts.

¹¹ Historians have long debated whether the monument was ninety feet tall or merely eighty-seven. The Church insists upon ninety, arguing that the additional three feet represent the High Priest's spiritual stature.

¹² The statue's enormous golden backside eventually became a popular meeting point for travellers. The phrase "I'll meet you beneath the Holy Arse" appears in several surviving letters. The Church has repeatedly attempted to suppress the expression. Its efforts have been unsuccessful.

¹³ It has been suggested that the High Priest's greatest achievement was providing the people with something they could all look down upon.

¹⁴ This is ridiculous. The statue was ninety feet tall.

¹⁵ Not all of it.

¹⁶ The foregoing annotations have been reviewed by the Department of Appropriate Historical Language. The department recommends that the term "golden backside" be replaced with "posterior aspect of divine humility."

¹⁷ Oh, do fuck off.

 

[Old Goat]

Chapter Three: The Miracles of Thaddeus​

Being an Account of Several Divine Interventions, a Suspiciously Cooperative Goat, and the Discovery That a Miracle Is Considerably Easier to Perform When One Controls the Witnesses.

I. The Unfortunate Absence of Divine Intervention​

High Priest Thaddeus had a problem.

It was not a serious problem by the standards of ordinary men.

His health was excellent. His wealth was considerable. His position was secure, and the Great Monument to Humility continued to dominate the city skyline, presenting its magnificent golden backside to the congregation every morning.

But Thaddeus was not an ordinary man.

He was an extraordinary man.

He knew this because seventeen independent committees had confirmed it.

Admittedly, he had appointed the committees himself, but independence was a complicated theological concept, and it was generally considered unwise to burden the faithful with unnecessary details.

His problem was miracles.

Or, more precisely, the complete absence of them.

Thaddeus had been reviewing the newly commissioned Book of His Extraordinary Life when he discovered something deeply troubling.

There were no miracles attributed to him.

Not one.

This was intolerable.

"Brother Elric!" he thundered.

Elric appeared in the doorway.

He was carrying a stack of manuscripts and a bottle of wine.

The manuscripts were for work.

The wine was for surviving it.

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"Why are there no miracles in my biography?"

Elric considered this.

"Because you haven't performed any."

Thaddeus stared at him.

"That is a remarkably negative interpretation."

"Of what?"

"My spiritual achievements!"

"Your Holiness, you've built temples, established committees, commissioned monuments and introduced seventeen new forms of taxation."

"Precisely!"

"None of those are miracles."

"The monument is ninety feet tall!"

"An architectural achievement."

"The charitable office!"

"An administrative accident."

"The Great Schism!"

"You caused it."

"And resolved it!"

"After the Treasury threatened to stop paying you."

Thaddeus leaned back in his chair.

"Brother Elric, you have an unfortunate tendency to focus on the least flattering aspects of history."

"I'm an historian."

"Then perhaps you should consider becoming a more flattering one."

Elric took a drink.

He had discovered that wine did not improve the quality of the conversations he endured, but it did occasionally make them seem shorter.

II. The Department of Miraculous Affairs​

The following morning, Thaddeus established the Department of Miraculous Affairs.

Its purpose was to investigate, document, classify and officially recognise miracles.

The department was granted considerable authority.

It could interview witnesses.

Examine historical documents.

Commission sacred artwork.

And, most importantly, determine which miracles deserved inclusion in the Book of Thaddeus.

Elric was appointed Chief Investigator.

He was not consulted.

The Treasurer was appointed Director of Miraculous Finance.

Brother Ignatius became Head of Divine Phenomena.

And the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon was promoted to Senior Consultant for Unexplained Occurrences.

The Spoon, it should be remembered, had never performed anything remotely miraculous.

Neither had its Keeper.

This was considered an appropriate balance of experience.

The department's first meeting began with Thaddeus outlining his expectations.

"Brothers, I believe we should begin with twelve miracles."

Elric looked up.

"Twelve?"

"Yes."

"Why twelve?"

"A respectable number."

"But you haven't performed one."

"Which is precisely why we're establishing the department."

Elric stared at him.

"You're proposing to investigate miracles that haven't happened?"

"Not at all."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Establishing which miracles should have happened."

Elric closed his eyes.

He had experienced this sensation before.

It was the sensation of watching a perfectly reasonable word being dragged into an alley and beaten to death by theology.

The council began compiling a list.

The Miracle of Great Wisdom.

The Miracle of Divine Leadership.

The Miracle of the Golden Monument.

The Miracle of the Open Door.

The Miracle of Boundless Generosity.

Elric objected to every entry.

Eventually, Thaddeus grew impatient.

"Brother Elric, must you question everything?"

"Only things that aren't true."

"Then perhaps we should appoint someone less demanding."

"Please do."

The council was horrified.

Nobody had ever volunteered to be removed from a committee.

It was considered a sign of serious spiritual instability.

Thaddeus sighed.

"Very well. You may remain, but I expect a more constructive attitude."

Elric wrote in his notebook:

The Department of Miraculous Affairs has been established to investigate the absence of evidence for events the High Priest wishes had occurred.

He paused.

Then added:

Initial findings are promising.

III. The Miracle of the Multiplying Loaves​

The first official miracle concerned bread.

It began when Brother Ignatius recalled an ancient account of a holy man feeding a multitude with very little food.

He proposed that Thaddeus demonstrate a similar achievement.

"An excellent idea!" proclaimed the High Priest.

Elric frowned.

"How?"

"By feeding the poor."

Elric looked surprised.

"That would actually be rather useful."

"Precisely! And miraculous!"

"Feeding people isn't necessarily miraculous."

"Feeding thousands is!"

"If you have enough bread, it's catering."

Thaddeus ignored him.

The Church announced that the High Priest would feed five thousand hungry people with only five loaves.

A magnificent ceremony was arranged.

A grand platform was erected in the temple square.

Five enormous loaves were placed upon a golden table.

Thaddeus appeared wearing his Crown of Supreme Humility.

The crowd cheered.

"Behold!" he proclaimed. "The power of divine generosity!"

He raised his hands.

The choir sang.

The bells rang.

And five thousand hungry people waited for lunch.

Behind the platform, the Treasury Department had arranged for a hundred bakers to prepare several thousand additional loaves.

This was kept strictly confidential.

The miracle proceeded splendidly.

Bread was distributed.

The people ate.

Thaddeus accepted the applause.

Elric examined the accounts.

"Your Holiness, we purchased six thousand loaves."

"Indeed."

"And distributed approximately five thousand."

"Precisely."

"Then where's the miracle?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"We began with five."

"On the table."

"Yes."

"And brought the rest from the bakery."

"Naturally."

"That's not multiplication. That's delivery."

"My dear Elric, you are confusing the mechanism of a miracle with its spiritual significance."

Elric looked towards the hungry people enjoying their food.

"At least somebody benefited."

Thaddeus nodded approvingly.

"Exactly! A tremendous success!"

The event was officially recorded as The Miraculous Feeding of Five Thousand.

The bakers were not mentioned.

Nor were they paid.

When one complained, the Treasurer explained that participating in a miracle was payment enough.

The bakers disagreed.

Loudly.

The resulting protest became known as the Bread Riots.

The Church subsequently declared the riots a test of faith.

IV. The Miracle of the Empty Treasury​

The second miracle occurred entirely by accident.

The Treasurer entered Thaddeus's chambers carrying the monthly financial report.

He looked unusually pale.

This was an impressive achievement for a man who already spent most of his time resembling an undercooked mushroom.

"Your Holiness, we have a problem."

Thaddeus sighed.

"Another one?"

"The Treasury is empty."

Thaddeus stared.

"Impossible."

"I'm afraid not."

"But we have donations!"

"We had donations."

"And tithes!"

"We had tithes."

"And ceremonial fees!"

"We had those too."

"Then where has all the money gone?"

The Treasurer hesitated.

"The monument."

"Ah."

"And the crown."

"Naturally."

"And the new eastern wing."

"Essential."

"And the twenty-four portraits."

"Twenty-seven."

"And the Ministry of Modesty."

"A sacred necessity."

"And the Department of Miraculous Affairs."

Thaddeus frowned.

"Surely miracles shouldn't cost that much."

The Treasurer produced a document.

The Department had already spent a substantial sum on ceremonial equipment, publicity, witness accommodation and specially commissioned artwork depicting miracles that had not yet occurred.

Thaddeus examined the figures.

"This is outrageous!"

"Indeed, Your Holiness."

"Someone must be held responsible!"

The Treasurer waited.

Thaddeus considered the matter.

Then announced that the financial crisis was a divine test.

A special donation drive was organised.

The congregation was informed that the Church required urgent assistance to continue its sacred work.

Within a week, the Treasury was full again.

Thaddeus was delighted.

"A miracle!"

Elric stared at him.

"You asked people for money."

"And they gave it!"

"Yes."

"And the Treasury was restored!"

"Yes."

"Through divine providence!"

"Through donations."

"Brother Elric, you really must develop a greater appreciation for the mysterious workings of the Ohm Lord."

The event was recorded as The Miracle of the Replenished Treasury.

It became one of the Church's most frequently celebrated miracles.

This was largely because it could be repeated whenever necessary.

V. The Miracle of the Dancing Goat​

The third miracle presented a greater challenge.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs had decided that the High Priest required a demonstration of divine power that could not easily be explained through ordinary means.

Brother Ignatius proposed levitation.

The architect Prudence Vale refused to construct the necessary machinery after discovering that the last design involved suspending the High Priest over a crowd using a rope tied to the Sacred Spoon.

Brother Ignatius suggested walking upon water.

Thaddeus refused on the grounds that his ceremonial robes were not waterproof.

The Treasurer suggested turning water into wine.

This proposal was enthusiastically supported until Elric pointed out that the High Priest had been accomplishing the reverse in his private chambers for years.

Eventually, the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon proposed a miracle involving an animal.

"A goat," he suggested.

"Why a goat?" asked Thaddeus.

"Because goats are notoriously difficult to control."

Elric nodded.

"For once, that's accurate."

The plan was simple.

A goat would be brought before the congregation.

The High Priest would command it to dance.

And the goat would dance.

This would demonstrate divine authority over the natural world.

A suitable goat was obtained.

Its name was Bartholomew.

Bartholomew was an elderly, bad-tempered creature whose previous owner had sold him to the Church after he ate half the roof of a barn.

He was therefore considered an excellent candidate for spiritual transformation.

Brother Ignatius spent three days training him.

The training was unsuccessful.

Bartholomew refused to dance.

He refused to bow.

He refused to acknowledge the sacred authority of the High Priest.

He did, however, eat the ceremonial banners.

This was interpreted as a promising sign.

On the appointed day, Bartholomew was brought before the congregation.

Thaddeus raised his hands.

"BEHOLD! BY THE POWER OF THE OHM LORD, I COMMAND THIS CREATURE TO DANCE!"

The goat stared at him.

"THE DIVINE WILL FLOWS THROUGH ME!"

The goat chewed.

"LET THE HEAVENS WITNESS MY AUTHORITY!"

Bartholomew lowered his head.

Then charged.

The High Priest was struck with sufficient force to propel him backwards into the ceremonial choir.

Three singers fell over.

The Sacred Spoon was knocked from its pedestal.

A trumpet became lodged in the Archbishop of Ceremonial Music.

And Thaddeus's Crown of Supreme Humility landed in a nearby fountain.

The goat ate the remaining banners.

Elric laughed so hard that he fell off his chair.

The official account of the event described how the High Priest had miraculously commanded a wild beast to demonstrate the spiritual danger of pride.

The goat was declared a sacred animal.

Its owner demanded compensation for the roof.

The Church refused.

Bartholomew was eventually appointed Honorary Guardian of the Temple.

He celebrated by eating the appointment certificate.

VI. A Most Inconvenient Witness​

The Department had now documented three miracles.

Thaddeus was pleased.

Elric was not.

He had spent several weeks interviewing witnesses, examining receipts and attempting to separate divine intervention from ordinary human incompetence.

His findings were devastating.

The bread had been purchased.

The money had been donated.

The goat was an arsehole.

He presented his report to the council.

"Your Holiness, none of these events qualifies as a miracle."

Thaddeus frowned.

"According to whom?"

"According to the evidence."

"And who collected the evidence?"

"I did."

"And who appointed you?"

"You did."

"Precisely. Therefore, your investigation derives its authority from me."

Elric stared.

"Yes."

"And if I declare your conclusions incorrect, they are incorrect."

"No."

"Then you are questioning my authority."

"I'm questioning your interpretation of the evidence."

"Which is the same thing."

"It bloody well isn't!"

The council gasped.

Thaddeus leaned back in his chair.

"Brother Elric, perhaps you have become too emotionally involved in your work."

Elric looked around the chamber.

The walls were decorated with enormous paintings of the High Priest performing imaginary miracles.

The Treasurer was calculating the potential revenue from commemorative miracle tokens.

Brother Ignatius was attempting to convince the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon that Bartholomew's attack had been an act of divine affection.

And Thaddeus was calmly explaining that evidence became irrelevant when he disagreed with it.

Elric began to wonder whether sanity was simply a form of madness that had not yet acquired sufficient political support.

"Very well," he said.

He closed his notebook.

"Publish whatever you like."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Excellent. I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."

Elric rose.

He walked to the door.

Then stopped.

"One question, Your Holiness."

"Yes?"

"If miracles are evidence of divine approval, what happens when something goes wrong?"

Thaddeus considered this.

"Then it is a test of faith."

"And when something goes right?"

"A miracle."

"So regardless of what happens, you're correct?"

"Precisely."

Elric nodded.

He had finally understood.

The system was perfect.

Not because it was true.

But because it had been designed to make being wrong impossible.

He left the chamber.

The council recorded his departure as a moment of profound spiritual enlightenment.

VII. The Miracle of Ordinary Things​

Outside the Great Temple stood the Thaddean Office of Boundless Generosity.

It was a modest establishment.

The furniture was old.

The roof leaked.

The staff were overworked.

And most of its operating budget was spent replacing supplies that the Department of Ceremonial Recognition insisted upon decorating with the High Priest's name.

But people came.

They came because they were tired of cigarettes.

They came because they were frightened.

They came because they had tried to stop before and failed.

And they came because someone had told them that, despite the Church's reputation, there were people inside who genuinely wanted to help.

Barnabus was there most mornings.

Miriam visited whenever she could.

And Elric had begun spending considerably more time at the office than in the archives.

It was quieter.

More sensible.

And nobody demanded that he admire a statue before being allowed to sit down.

One afternoon, a man named Tobias arrived.

He was middle-aged, exhausted and thoroughly miserable.

He had been smoking for thirty years.

He had attempted to stop several times.

Each attempt had ended with him returning to cigarettes, usually accompanied by a considerable quantity of self-loathing.

"I've tried everything," he told Barnabus.

Barnabus nodded.

"Have a seat."

Tobias sat.

"I keep failing."

"That's rough."

"I'm beginning to think I just haven't got the willpower."

Barnabus considered this.

"Well, I tried quitting about seventeen times."

Tobias looked surprised.

"Seventeen?"

"Possibly eighteen. I lost count after the incident with the fence."

"What fence?"

"Long story."

Miriam joined them.

She explained that stopping smoking had been difficult for her too.

Some days had been easier than others.

She had needed help.

She had needed patience.

And she had needed to stop treating every setback as proof that she was incapable of succeeding.

Elric listened quietly.

He did not interrupt.

He did not deliver a sermon.

He did not explain that the man's struggles were the result of insufficient faith.

When Tobias asked about his options, Elric helped him understand them, including smoking-cessation support and the possibility of switching away from combustible tobacco.

He explained that no single method worked for everyone, that vaping was not harmless, and that the goal was to escape cigarettes rather than acquire a more expensive hobby.

Tobias listened.

He asked questions.

For the first time in months, he began to feel that perhaps there was a way forward.

When he left, he thanked them.

Barnabus smiled.

"Come back if you need help."

Tobias nodded.

Then paused.

"Will you still help me if I mess up?"

Miriam laughed.

"Of course, you silly bastard."

Tobias smiled.

It was a small smile.

But it was genuine.

And for once, nobody attempted to charge him for it.

VIII. The Fourth Miracle​

Several weeks later, Tobias returned.

He had not smoked for eight days.

He was enormously proud of himself.

He was also nervous.

"What if I start again?"

Barnabus shrugged.

"Then we help you figure out what happened and try again."

Tobias nodded.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He sat with them for a while.

They talked about ordinary things.

Work.

Family.

Money.

The weather.

And the extraordinary ability of the Church to make simple things complicated.

Eventually, Tobias laughed.

"I can't believe I spent thirty years thinking I'd never manage it."

Elric smiled.

"You're managing it now."

"Do you think I'll ever stop needing help?"

"Perhaps."

"And if I do?"

"Then we'll be delighted."

Tobias looked confused.

"You mean you don't want me to keep coming here?"

"Only if you want to."

"But then what happens to the Church?"

Elric considered this.

He looked towards the Great Temple.

At its golden towers.

Its magnificent statues.

Its endless committees.

Its increasingly elaborate collection of sacred rules.

Then he looked at the little office.

"Hopefully," he said, "we find someone else who needs a hand."

Tobias left feeling considerably better than when he had arrived.

Elric made a note in the office register.

One person making progress.

He paused.

Then added:

No divine intervention observed.

IX. The Great Recognition Ceremony​

Meanwhile, the Department of Miraculous Affairs had completed its report.

The High Priest was to be formally recognised as a Worker of Wonders.

A magnificent ceremony was arranged.

The sacred choir rehearsed.

The bells were polished.

The Crown of Supreme Humility was retrieved from the fountain.

And Brother Ignatius prepared a speech describing the High Priest's extraordinary ability to influence the natural world.

Bartholomew the goat was not invited.

The ceremony began at noon.

Thaddeus appeared beneath a magnificent golden canopy.

"Brothers and sisters!" he proclaimed. "Today we celebrate the miraculous works bestowed upon this humble servant!"

The congregation cheered.

"I have fed thousands!"

More cheering.

"I have restored the Treasury!"

Thunderous applause.

"And I have demonstrated dominion over the beasts of the earth!"

Several people who had witnessed the goat incident looked uncomfortable.

Thaddeus raised his hands.

"Let it be known that these miracles prove the divine authority of the Church!"

The crowd erupted.

At the back of the hall, Elric sat quietly.

He was reading the final report.

It contained twelve miracles.

He recognised only three.

The others had apparently occurred without his knowledge.

One described the High Priest healing a blind man.

Elric investigated.

The man had been short-sighted.

Thaddeus had given him a pair of spectacles.

Another described the miraculous restoration of a woman's hearing.

The woman had been sitting too far from the pulpit.

She had moved closer.

A third concerned a man who had been unable to walk.

The man had been sitting down.

He had stood up.

This was recorded as an act of divine healing.

Elric stared at the report.

He was beginning to suspect that the Department of Miraculous Affairs had confused miracles with events.

He was also beginning to suspect that events had been selected according to their potential usefulness in promotional material.

He turned the page.

The twelfth miracle concerned a man who had stopped smoking.

Elric froze.

The report described how High Priest Thaddeus had personally liberated Tobias from the Empire of Ash through the miraculous power of divine guidance.

It included a magnificent illustration of Thaddeus placing his hands upon Tobias's head while angels descended from Heaven.

Elric stared at the picture.

Then at the text.

Then at the High Priest.

Tobias had never met Thaddeus.

There had been no angels.

There had not even been a priest.

And Tobias had been smoke-free for only a short time, with no guarantee that his journey would be easy.

Elric closed the book.

Very carefully.

Something inside him made a small, unpleasant snapping noise.

 

[Old Goat]

X. The Heresy of Accurate Reporting​

The following morning, Elric confronted Thaddeus.

"Your Holiness, we need to discuss the twelfth miracle."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Ah, yes! The Liberation of Tobias!"

"You never met him."

"Not personally."

"You never helped him."

"Not directly."

"You weren't even aware he existed."

"Brother Elric, must you insist upon these petty details?"

Elric placed the report on the table.

"He's been working hard to stop smoking. Barnabus helped him. Miriam helped him. He made the decisions himself."

"Wonderful!"

"Then why does your book claim that you performed a miracle?"

Thaddeus sighed.

"Because, Brother Elric, the Church provided the environment in which this transformation occurred."

"The little office?"

"Precisely."

"The office you established because you accidentally promised free assistance while unveiling a statue of yourself?"

"A divine inspiration."

"The office you wanted to charge people to enter?"

"A misunderstanding."

"The office you nearly closed because it was costing money?"

"An administrative review."

Elric stared.

"Your Holiness, you cannot simply claim credit for everything good that happens while blaming everything bad on somebody else."

Thaddeus looked genuinely confused.

"Why not?"

Elric opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He closed it.

Then opened it again.

Still nothing.

He had finally encountered a statement so completely devoid of self-awareness that language itself appeared to have resigned in protest.

Thaddeus leaned forward.

"Brother Elric, perhaps you have forgotten that the Church exists to guide mankind."

"No."

"And that I guide the Church."

"Unfortunately."

"Then surely, when the Church accomplishes something wonderful, it is ultimately my achievement."

Elric thought of Barnabus.

Of Miriam.

Of Tobias.

Of the little office where people helped one another without demanding worship, obedience or money.

Then he looked at Thaddeus.

A man who had never lifted a finger to assist Tobias, yet was already commissioning a painting of the event.

Elric spoke very quietly.

"Your Holiness, there's a difference between taking responsibility and taking credit."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Of course there is."

Elric waited.

"Taking responsibility," continued Thaddeus, "is what one does when things go wrong."

"Yes."

"And taking credit is what one does when things go right."

Elric nodded slowly.

"Exactly."

"Then we are agreed."

Elric stood.

He picked up the report.

And for the first time in his long career, he did not bother to argue.

He simply left.

This worried Thaddeus.

Elric was usually so delightfully argumentative.

XI. The Unofficial Record​

That evening, Elric sat alone in his study.

The official account of the Twelve Miracles of Thaddeus lay before him.

He opened his private journal.

For several hours, he wrote.

He recorded the bread purchases.

The Treasury donations.

The goat incident.

The spectacles.

The man who had stood up.

And the entirely fabricated account of Tobias's liberation.

He documented everything.

Then he reached the twelfth miracle.

He paused.

He thought of Tobias.

He thought of how difficult quitting smoking could be.

How much effort it demanded.

How much courage it sometimes required to admit that one needed help.

And how insulting it was to attribute that effort to a man who had contributed nothing beyond an extremely expensive statue.

Elric dipped his quill.

He wrote:

The High Priest has claimed twelve miracles.

Eleven can be explained through ordinary events, administrative manipulation or outright fabrication.

The twelfth concerns a man who is attempting to escape the smoke.

The man received practical assistance from ordinary people.

He made his own decisions.

He continues to face difficulties.

He deserves credit for his progress.

The High Priest deserves none.

Elric considered the passage.

Then added:

If there is a miracle here, it is that anyone accomplishes anything useful while this pompous bastard remains in charge.

He sat back.

For the first time that day, he smiled.

The words would never survive the official editing process.

He knew that.

He also knew that the truth had a peculiar habit of surviving in unexpected places.

Sometimes in forgotten manuscripts.

Sometimes in the margins of books.

Sometimes beneath sandwiches.

And sometimes in the memories of people who had been there.

He closed the journal.

Then hid it beneath a loose floorboard.

He was not entirely sure why.

Perhaps he had finally begun to understand that the Church's archives were not necessarily the safest place for historical records.

XII. The Thirteenth Miracle​

Several months later, the Church announced that the Twelve Miracles of Thaddeus would be expanded.

A thirteenth miracle had been discovered.

The High Priest had apparently demonstrated an extraordinary ability to inspire humility in others.

This was supported by several witnesses, all of whom had become considerably more modest after meeting him.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs declared that the evidence was overwhelming.

Elric refused to investigate.

He had developed a headache.

It had lasted three weeks.

The Church suggested that he seek divine healing.

He suggested that the Church seek competent leadership.

Neither recommendation was followed.

Instead, Elric returned to the Office of Boundless Generosity.

There he found Tobias.

The man was smiling.

He had continued making progress.

He still came by occasionally, mostly to chat.

"Brother Elric!" he called. "You look terrible!"

Elric sat down.

"Thank you."

"Bad day?"

"Several years."

Tobias laughed.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't bought a packet of cigarettes in weeks."

Elric looked up.

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's wonderful."

Tobias nodded.

"Couldn't have done it without you lot."

Elric shook his head.

"You did the hard part."

"Maybe. But it helped knowing someone was there."

They sat quietly for a moment.

Then Tobias spoke.

"Funny thing. I was told the High Priest personally performed a miracle on me."

Elric closed his eyes.

"Yes."

"Never even met the man."

"I know."

"Apparently, I've been blessed."

"Apparently."

"And now they're selling little statues of him holding my head."

Elric looked horrified.

"You're joking."

"Nope. Saw one in the market."

There was silence.

Then Tobias began laughing.

Elric tried not to.

He failed.

The two men sat outside the office laughing until tears rolled down their faces.

It was not dignified.

It was not holy.

And it was certainly not approved by the Department of Miraculous Affairs.

But it was genuine.

And for a little while, that was enough.


Thus ended the first recorded age of Thaddean miracles.

The High Priest had fed thousands using purchased bread, replenished the Treasury using donations, commanded a goat that had subsequently attempted to murder him, and performed several extraordinary healings upon people who were not particularly ill.

His fame spread.

His statues multiplied.

His official biography expanded.

And the Church continued confidently declaring that the Ohm Lord worked through His most humble earthly representative.

The Ohm Lord, for His part, had remained remarkably silent.

This was interpreted as divine approval.

An alternative explanation, suggested in one surviving manuscript, was that the Almighty had simply stopped paying attention.

The Church declared this interpretation heretical.

It also declared the manuscript a forgery.

And then, rather inexplicably, preserved it.

History is full of such mysteries.

Fortunately, the Department of Miraculous Affairs was now available to explain them.

For a small administrative fee.

A-ohm.

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The Department of Miraculous Affairs was established with the stated purpose of investigating supernatural occurrences. Its first annual report recorded twelve miracles, seventeen administrative achievements and a thirty-four percent increase in religious satisfaction. The latter figure was calculated by asking the High Priest whether he was satisfied.

² The Miracle of the Multiplying Loaves remains one of the Church's most celebrated events. The bakers responsible for producing the bread subsequently formed a guild and refused further religious contracts without payment in advance. The Church declared them enemies of charity.

³ The Miracle of the Replenished Treasury has been repeated seventy-three times, making it the most frequently performed miracle in recorded history. It is also the only miracle for which the Church maintains a permanent marketing department.

⁴ The goat Bartholomew is officially recognised as a sacred animal. His remains are said to be preserved in the Great Temple, although several surviving accounts suggest that he lived to an advanced age and eventually died after eating the Treasurer's tax records. The Church considers his final act an expression of divine judgement.

⁵ The High Priest's alleged dominion over animals was subsequently challenged by a donkey, three chickens and a particularly aggressive goose. These incidents were omitted from the official record.

⁶ The Miracle of Restored Sight concerned a man who received spectacles. Later editions claim that the man had been born blind. Still later editions claim that he had possessed no eyes whatsoever. The current official version maintains that his eyes were miraculously created by the High Priest. The original optician's receipt survives.

⁷ The official account of Tobias's liberation credits the High Priest with personally intervening in the man's struggle against smoking. No surviving witness confirms this. The Church regards the absence of eyewitness testimony as evidence that the miracle was too sacred for ordinary observation.

⁸ Several copies of the Book of Thaddeus contain an anonymous annotation suggesting that the High Priest's greatest miracle was convincing thousands of people that he had performed any miracles at all.

⁹ Footnote Eight is blasphemous.

¹⁰ Footnote Nine is predictable.

¹¹ The Department of Miraculous Affairs investigated the authorship of Footnotes Eight, Nine and Ten. Its findings were inconclusive. The department therefore declared the investigation a miracle and added it to the official list.

¹² The original manuscript describing the goat incident uses a word which has traditionally been translated as "blessed." More recent scholarship suggests the word may actually mean "butted." This has caused considerable theological difficulty.

¹³ The Church has repeatedly denied that any official miracle was staged. The denial is supported by seventeen signed statements from priests who were present at the events, several of whom were also responsible for organising them.

¹⁴ An early copy of this chapter contains the handwritten observation: "If Thaddeus ever performs a genuine miracle, I shall personally kiss the Sacred Spoon." The author is unknown. Subsequent editions suggest that the promise was fulfilled, although no independent account survives.

¹⁵ The Sacred Spoon has never consented to any such arrangement.

¹⁶ It is not generally believed to be capable of consent.

¹⁷ Then why the fuck do we keep consulting it?

 

[Old Goat]

Chapter Four: The Infallibility of Thaddeus​

Being an Account of How the High Priest Declared Himself Incapable of Error, Made Correcting Mistakes a Criminal Offence, and Very Nearly Brought Down the Temple in an Attempt to Prove He Had Built It Correctly.

I. A Most Offensive Correction​

High Priest Thaddeus was having a perfectly splendid morning.

He had eaten a magnificent breakfast, received three letters praising his extraordinary spiritual leadership, and approved the construction of a new portrait depicting himself receiving wisdom directly from the Ohm Lord.

The artist had initially suggested including the Ohm Lord in the painting.

Thaddeus considered this unnecessary.

After all, the wisdom had already been received.

There was no need to complicate the picture with its previous owner.

His happiness was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Enter!"

A nervous young scribe appeared, carrying a sheet of parchment.

"Your Holiness, there appears to be a small error in the Book of Miracles."

Thaddeus looked up.

"An error?"

"Yes, Your Holiness."

"In my book?"

"Indeed."

"Impossible."

The scribe shuffled his feet.

"Well, Your Holiness, the account of the Miracle of the Dancing Goat states that the animal bowed before you in reverence."

"Correct."

"But several witnesses insist that it actually charged at you."

Thaddeus frowned.

"An aggressive bow."

"And that you fell into the choir."

"A gesture of solidarity with the musicians."

"And that you lost your crown."

"An act of spiritual humility."

The scribe examined his parchment.

"Your Holiness, the goat also appears to have eaten the ceremonial banners."

"Divine consumption."

"And urinated upon the Sacred Spoon."

There was silence.

A very long silence.

Thaddeus placed his breakfast fork on the table.

"Young man."

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"Are you suggesting that the official account of my miracle is incorrect?"

"Only that certain details may require correction."

Thaddeus rose slowly from his chair.

"Correction?"

The word hung in the air like an unpleasant smell.

It was the sort of word that seemed entirely harmless when applied to other people, but became deeply offensive when directed at oneself.

Particularly when one was the greatest spiritual authority in the known world.

"Summon the council," Thaddeus commanded.

The scribe bowed and fled.

His name was never recorded in the official proceedings.

This was fortunate.

The Church subsequently declared him responsible for starting the greatest theological crisis of the age.

II. The Nature of Being Right​

The council assembled before noon.

There were twelve senior priests, four legal advisers, three representatives of the Treasury, and the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon, who had requested a formal investigation into the goat incident.

Elric arrived last.

This was deliberate.

He had discovered that arriving late to meetings reduced the total amount of nonsense one was required to endure.

Thaddeus stood before the assembly.

"Brothers, we face a grave spiritual threat."

The council murmured anxiously.

"An attack upon the very foundations of our faith!"

Several priests crossed themselves.

This was unusual, as the Church had not yet invented that particular gesture.

One of them was simply trying to remove a stain from his robes.

"The threat," Thaddeus continued, "is the suggestion that I might be wrong."

The council gasped.

Elric opened his notebook.

This promised to be interesting.

"Your Holiness," asked a senior priest, "has someone accused you of making a mistake?"

"Indeed."

"Outrageous!"

"Scandalous!" cried another.

"Have they been arrested?" asked the Treasurer.

Thaddeus raised a hand.

"Patience, brothers. We must consider the theological implications."

Elric sighed.

"Or we could simply correct the account."

Every head turned.

Thaddeus stared at him.

"Brother Elric, do you believe that I am capable of error?"

"Of course."

Another collective gasp.

Elric continued.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"Everyone?"

"Yes."

"Even the High Priest?"

"Especially the High Priest. You've had rather more practice."

Thaddeus ignored this.

"And the Ohm Lord?"

Elric hesitated.

"That's a different question."

"Precisely!"

Thaddeus smiled triumphantly.

"The Ohm Lord is divine. His wisdom is perfect. I am His appointed representative. Therefore, my wisdom must also be perfect."

Elric stared at him.

"That doesn't follow."

"Why not?"

"Because being someone's representative doesn't make you identical to them."

"Explain."

"Well, the Treasurer represents the financial interests of the Church."

"Indeed."

"That doesn't make him money."

The Treasurer looked offended.

Elric continued.

"And the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon represents the interests of the Spoon."

"Quite so," replied its Keeper.

"That doesn't make him a spoon."

There was a pause.

The Keeper looked deeply troubled.

He had devoted his entire adult life to understanding the spiritual significance of the Sacred Spoon, and had never seriously considered the possibility that he was not, in some sense, a spoon himself.

Thaddeus waved the objection away.

"Brother Elric, you are confusing theology with logic."

"Yes," said Elric. "I keep making that mistake."

III. The Edict of Perpetual Correctness​

After six hours of debate, the council reached a historic conclusion.

The High Priest could not be wrong.

This was established by unanimous vote.

Elric abstained.

His abstention was recorded as enthusiastic agreement.

The resulting proclamation became known as the Edict of Perpetual Correctness.

It established five fundamental principles.

First, the High Priest was incapable of error in matters of faith.

Second, all matters concerning the Church were matters of faith.

Third, any statement made by the High Priest was therefore correct.

Fourth, any evidence contradicting such a statement must be incorrect.

And fifth, anyone presenting contradictory evidence was guilty of attempting to undermine the truth.

The council was delighted.

Thaddeus was ecstatic.

Elric was considering whether it was possible to drown oneself in a sufficiently large bottle of wine.

There remained, however, one small difficulty.

Thaddeus frequently contradicted himself.

In the morning he might declare that ceremonial robes should be blue.

By afternoon he would announce that red was the only acceptable colour.

By evening he might decide that robes were an unnecessary extravagance and condemn their manufacture.

The following morning he would commission an entirely new wardrobe.

Elric raised the problem.

"What happens when Your Holiness makes two statements that disagree?"

Thaddeus considered this.

"They cannot disagree."

"But they do."

"Then you have misunderstood them."

"Suppose you declare that all robes must be blue."

"A wise proclamation."

"And tomorrow you declare that all robes must be red."

"An equally wise proclamation."

"Which one is correct?"

"Both."

"How?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"Brother Elric, the first proclamation was correct when I made it. The second became correct when I made that one."

"So the first is no longer correct?"

"Of course it is."

"Then why must everyone change their robes?"

"Because the second is more correct."

Elric put down his quill.

"More correct?"

"Precisely."

"How can something be more correct than something already completely correct?"

Thaddeus leaned back.

"Divine wisdom, Brother Elric, is not restricted by the limitations of ordinary language."

The council applauded.

Elric quietly wrote:

The High Priest has invented a new form of truth which changes whenever he opens his mouth.

Then he added:

This is expected to create difficulties.

He had underestimated the situation considerably.

IV. The Ministry of Previous Certainty​

The Church established a new department to administer the edict.

It was named the Ministry of Previous Certainty.

Its purpose was to ensure that everything the High Priest had ever said remained correct, regardless of anything he might say in the future.

This was a challenging assignment.

Within its first week, the ministry employed forty-seven scribes.

By the second week, it required an entirely new building.

By the third, the scribes had begun arguing over whether statements made by the High Priest while asleep were binding upon the congregation.

The Ministry referred the matter to the Council of Sacred Interpretations.

The Council determined that divine wisdom could operate independently of consciousness.

This was considered an important theological breakthrough.

Elric pointed out that it explained rather a lot.

The Ministry began revising historical records.

When Thaddeus had declared the Great Schism a disaster, the records were amended to state that he had foreseen its eventual success.

When he had called the First Prototype a triumph, the subsequent explosion was reclassified as a deliberate demonstration of incorrect engineering.

When he had declared the monument's orientation intentional, the original architectural plans were altered to show that the enormous golden backside had been the intended centrepiece all along.

Eventually, the Ministry reached the Book of Genesis.

This presented difficulties.

The High Priest had contradicted several passages.

In places, he had contradicted the Ohm Lord Himself.

The Ministry considered this carefully.

Then announced that the Ohm Lord's statements had been taken out of context.

Elric objected.

"You cannot correct the words of God to agree with Thaddeus!"

The Minister smiled.

"Brother Elric, we are not correcting the words of God."

"Then what are you doing?"

"We are improving their interpretation."

"To agree with the High Priest?"

"Naturally."

"And what happens if the Ohm Lord disagrees?"

The Minister looked shocked.

"Brother Elric, surely you do not suggest that the Ohm Lord would question His own appointed representative?"

Elric stood very still.

There were moments when the human mind simply refused to proceed any further.

This was one of them.

He went home.

He poured himself a drink.

Then another.

By midnight, he had drafted a forty-page treatise entitled On the Distinction Between Being Right and Being a Complete Fucking Idiot.

It was his finest work.

The Church refused to publish it.

The title, they argued, lacked appropriate academic restraint.

V. The Trouble with Gravity​

It was at this point that the Great Temple began to lean.

Not dramatically.

Not immediately.

Just a small movement, almost imperceptible at first.

The eastern wall developed a crack.

A doorway became difficult to close.

A window refused to open.

And a particularly expensive statue of Thaddeus began tilting towards the Treasury.

The cause was eventually traced to the Great Monument to Humility.

Its enormous weight, combined with an unfortunate decision to redirect rainwater beneath the temple foundations, had begun undermining the ground.

Mistress Prudence Vale, the architect, was summoned.

She examined the building.

She examined the monument.

She examined the foundations.

Then she swore.

This was unusual.

Prudence was generally a woman of considerable restraint.

She saved profanity for matters of genuine architectural significance.

"This building needs urgent repairs," she declared.

Brother Ignatius frowned.

"Impossible."

Prudence stared at him.

"Why?"

"Because the High Priest personally approved its construction."

"So?"

"And the High Priest is infallible."

Prudence looked at the enormous crack running through the wall.

Then at Ignatius.

Then back at the crack.

"The wall appears to disagree."

Ignatius folded his arms.

"Then the wall is mistaken."

Prudence considered this.

"Would you care to explain that to the wall?"

"Certainly."

He approached the masonry.

He raised his hands.

And began delivering a stern lecture on the importance of obedience to divine authority.

The wall remained unmoved.

Then a small piece of plaster fell off.

Prudence nodded.

"I think it's heard enough."

She ordered the affected wing evacuated.

Ignatius objected.

The Ministry of Previous Certainty intervened.

It declared that the High Priest had approved the building, and therefore the building could not possess a structural defect.

Prudence produced her calculations.

The Ministry declared the calculations heretical.

She produced drawings.

The Ministry declared them misleading.

She produced a survey showing the building had shifted several inches.

The Ministry declared the measuring instrument spiritually unreliable.

Prudence finally struck the wall with her hammer.

A substantial section of plaster collapsed.

Several priests fled.

The Ministry declared the collapse an unauthorised architectural opinion.

VI. The Miracle of the Perfect Building​

The matter eventually reached Thaddeus.

Prudence presented her report.

"Your Holiness, the temple foundations are failing."

Thaddeus frowned.

"Impossible."

"With respect, Your Holiness, I have inspected them personally."

"The temple was constructed under my divine supervision."

"Yes."

"Therefore it is perfect."

"No."

Thaddeus stared at her.

Prudence stared back.

There were few people in the kingdom who dared contradict the High Priest directly.

Prudence was one of them.

This was largely because she understood gravity, and gravity had never shown the slightest interest in anyone's religious qualifications.

"Your Holiness," she said, "you may declare the building perfect as often as you like. It will not make the foundations stronger."

Thaddeus considered this.

"Then perhaps the building is not leaning."

Prudence looked out of the window.

A pigeon was standing on the sloping windowsill, looking deeply offended.

"The pigeon disagrees."

"Then perhaps the ground itself is moving."

"It is."

"Ah! Then the building is perfect!"

"No. The ground is moving because your monument is undermining the foundations."

Thaddeus looked horrified.

"My monument?"

"Yes."

"The Great Monument to Humility?"

"The very one."

"Impossible! It was constructed to glorify the Church!"

"It is certainly doing something to the Church."

Thaddeus rose.

"Then we shall issue a proclamation!"

Prudence closed her eyes.

"Your Holiness, you cannot legislate gravity."

"Watch me."

The following morning, the High Priest issued the Decree of Architectural Perfection.

It stated that all buildings constructed under divine authority were structurally sound.

Any apparent defects were therefore illusions.

Any person reporting such defects was guilty of spreading architectural heresy.

And gravity was instructed to cease interfering with sacred property.

The decree was delivered to the Department of Cosmic Affairs.

It was acknowledged.

Filed.

And completely ignored by gravity.

Gravity had been around considerably longer than the Church and had no intention of taking instructions from a man wearing a seventeen-pound crown.

VII. The Price of Perfection​

Within days, the eastern wing was declared unsafe.

Prudence erected barriers around the damaged areas.

The Ministry of Previous Certainty ordered them removed.

She replaced them.

The Ministry threatened her with excommunication.

Prudence threatened to resign.

The Ministry informed her that resignation required written approval.

Prudence informed the Ministry that falling masonry did not.

The barriers remained.

Unfortunately, the damaged wing contained the storeroom serving the Thaddean Office of Boundless Generosity.

Supplies could no longer be collected.

The office was forced to reduce its activities.

People who had come seeking help were turned away.

Barnabus was furious.

Miriam was furious.

Elric was developing an expression that caused small animals to avoid him.

He marched into the council chamber.

"Your Holiness, the office cannot function."

Thaddeus looked up.

"Why?"

"Because the storeroom is inaccessible."

"Then open it."

"The building is unsafe."

"Impossible."

"Prudence has explained why."

"Her calculations are incorrect."

"THE WALL IS FALLING DOWN!"

Thaddeus sighed.

"Brother Elric, shouting does not improve an argument."

"No, but neither does being a pompous bastard, and you've made a bloody career of that!"

The chamber fell silent.

A junior priest dropped his pen.

The Treasurer slowly moved behind a curtain.

Thaddeus stared.

"Brother Elric, you forget yourself."

Elric leaned forward.

"No, Your Holiness. I'm beginning to remember why any of this matters."

The High Priest frowned.

"Explain."

"People come to us because they're trying to escape the smoke."

"Naturally."

"And we have the knowledge to help them."

"Of course."

"But now we're turning them away because you refuse to admit that a bloody building needs repairs!"

Thaddeus rose.

"The building is perfect!"

Elric pointed towards the eastern wall.

A distant crash echoed through the temple.

Dust drifted from the ceiling.

The council looked up.

There was a long silence.

Then Thaddeus spoke.

"An unfortunate coincidence."

Elric stared at him.

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

For the first time in his life, he genuinely understood the temptation to become a hermit.

Not out of spiritual devotion.

Simply to reduce the number of people he might eventually be forced to murder.

VIII. The Great Improvement​

Prudence eventually found the solution.

Not an engineering solution.

That had been obvious from the beginning.

She needed a theological one.

She approached Elric.

"I have an idea."

Elric looked up.

"Does it involve fire?"

"No."

"Pity."

"I think we can get the High Priest to authorise the repairs."

"He refuses to admit the building is damaged."

"Then we won't call them repairs."

Elric considered this.

"What will we call them?"

"Improvements."

Elric stared.

Then slowly smiled.

It was not a reassuring smile.

It was the smile of a man who had spent years attempting to reason with fools and had finally discovered that foolishness itself might be a useful tool.

The following morning, Prudence and Elric presented their proposal.

"Your Holiness," Prudence began, "we have discovered an opportunity to improve the Great Temple."

Thaddeus looked interested.

"Improve it?"

"Indeed."

"But it is already perfect."

"Naturally."

"Then how can it be improved?"

Elric leaned forward.

"By making it more perfect."

Thaddeus blinked.

"More perfect?"

"Precisely."

"Even though it is already completely perfect?"

"Your Holiness, surely your magnificence is not restricted by ordinary measurements of perfection?"

Thaddeus considered this.

"No, of course not."

"And surely a temple dedicated to your extraordinary wisdom should reflect that?"

"Naturally."

"Then should it not be continually improved to better express your greatness?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"My dear Elric, at last you understand."

Elric bowed.

He was developing a dangerous talent for this sort of thing.

The proposal was approved.

The temple foundations were reinforced.

The drainage was corrected.

The cracked walls were stabilised.

And the Office of Boundless Generosity reopened.

The work was officially recorded as The Great Improvement of an Already Perfect Building.

The Ministry of Previous Certainty hailed it as a triumph.

The Treasurer complained about the cost.

And Thaddeus commissioned a painting of himself personally directing the renovations.

He had, of course, never visited the building site.

This was considered a minor artistic detail.

IX. The Dangerous Art of Being Wrong​

The incident had an unexpected effect upon the Church's charitable office.

During the weeks of disruption, several people had struggled to obtain assistance.

Some had returned to cigarettes.

Others had continued making progress.

And some had discovered that they needed a different approach.

Barnabus began keeping a small register.

Not of successes.

Not of failures.

Of things people had learned.

When a device proved unsuitable, they recorded why.

When someone struggled with cravings, they discussed what might help.

When a piece of advice turned out to be mistaken, they corrected it.

This last practice was technically forbidden under the Edict of Perpetual Correctness.

Elric considered this.

Then ignored the edict.

One afternoon, Tobias returned to the office.

He looked miserable.

"I smoked yesterday," he confessed.

Barnabus nodded.

"Rough day?"

"Terrible."

"Want to talk about it?"

Tobias hesitated.

"Doesn't that mean I've failed?"

"No."

"But I thought I'd stopped."

"You had stopped."

"Then I smoked."

"Yes."

"So I was wrong."

Barnabus considered this.

"Well, you were wrong about never having another cigarette."

Tobias looked down.

Barnabus continued.

"Doesn't mean you have to have one today."

Elric smiled.

Miriam brought them tea.

"Sometimes," she said, "you learn more from the days that go badly than from the ones that go well."

Tobias considered this.

"Then what should I do?"

Elric shrugged.

"Work out what happened. Find out what might help next time. And keep going."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Tobias nodded slowly.

Then smiled.

It was an ordinary conversation.

There were no revelations.

No choirs.

No divine declarations.

But a man who had arrived believing he was a failure left understanding that a setback did not have to become a surrender.

Elric recorded the conversation in his journal.

Then added a note.

The ability to admit error appears to be essential to improvement.

He paused.

Then wrote beneath it:

This will never catch on.

 

[Old Goat]

X. The Most Dangerous Words in the Kingdom​

A few days later, Barnabus was helping a newcomer understand a problem with his equipment.

The man asked a question.

Barnabus thought carefully.

Then said three words.

"I don't know."

The newcomer looked surprised.

"You don't?"

"No."

"But you work for the Church."

"That's true."

"Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

Barnabus laughed.

"Good heavens, no."

"Then what do we do?"

"Ask someone who knows more."

The newcomer considered this.

"Is that allowed?"

Barnabus smiled.

"It is around here."

The question was eventually answered.

Nobody was embarrassed.

Nobody was accused of heresy.

And nobody attempted to disguise ignorance beneath a sufficiently impressive religious title.

Elric watched the exchange.

It occurred to him that the words I don't know might be among the most useful ever spoken.

They opened the door to learning.

They invited discussion.

They made it possible to correct mistakes before those mistakes became traditions.

Unfortunately, they were also the three words the High Priest was least likely to utter.

Elric returned to his study.

He opened his private journal.

He wrote:

There are two kinds of ignorance.

The first is not knowing something.

This is unfortunate, but usually curable.

The second is not knowing something while insisting that everyone else is wrong.

This is considerably more dangerous.

He paused.

Then added:

The second variety is particularly common among men who wear expensive hats.

XI. The Triumph of Infallibility​

The Great Temple was formally reopened at the end of the month.

Thaddeus delivered a magnificent speech celebrating the success of the restoration.

He explained that the building had never been in danger.

That the foundations had never been defective.

That the reports of structural instability had been malicious fabrications.

And that the improvements had been carried out solely to demonstrate the extraordinary perfection of his original design.

The congregation applauded.

Prudence stood at the back.

She had brought a small bottle of wine.

This was unusual.

She had never previously considered alcohol an essential component of architectural supervision.

Elric stood beside her.

"Beautiful speech," he remarked.

Prudence took a drink.

"He's a fucking idiot."

"Indeed."

"Do you know what he told me yesterday?"

"Do I want to?"

"He wants to add another tower."

Elric closed his eyes.

"Of course he does."

"A taller one."

"Naturally."

"With a statue of himself at the top."

"How modest."

"And he wants the statue to revolve so that it faces the sun throughout the day."

Elric stared.

"A rotating Thaddeus?"

"Apparently."

Elric considered this.

"Would that mean people could finally see the front of him?"

Prudence smiled.

"Not necessarily."

They laughed.

Then stopped.

Because Thaddeus was approaching.

"My dear Prudence!" he exclaimed. "A magnificent achievement!"

"Thank you, Your Holiness."

"And you, Brother Elric! Your assistance was invaluable!"

Elric bowed slightly.

"Delighted to be of service."

Thaddeus smiled.

"At last, the Church has demonstrated that divine perfection requires no correction!"

Elric looked at the newly reinforced walls.

The repaired roof.

The rebuilt foundations.

And the enormous invoices sitting on the Treasurer's desk.

"Indeed, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus beamed.

"I knew you would eventually agree."

He departed, followed by his attendants.

Prudence watched him go.

"Do you think he actually believes any of it?"

Elric considered this.

"Every bloody word."

"How can a man be so completely wrong about everything?"

Elric smiled sadly.

"Because he's made being wrong illegal."

XII. The Final Word​

The Edict of Perpetual Correctness remained in force.

The Ministry of Previous Certainty continued rewriting old records.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs continued discovering miracles that had not occurred.

The High Priest continued proclaiming his own perfection.

And the Church continued growing.

Its walls were stronger.

Its finances were recovering.

Its charitable office was helping more people.

And its sacred history had become considerably less reliable than it had been before.

This was considered progress.

At least by the Church.

In his private study, Elric examined a recently published edition of the Book of Thaddeus.

The account of the temple restoration had been rewritten.

According to the official text, the High Priest had personally identified the need for improvements long before anyone else recognised their necessity.

Prudence's warnings were omitted.

The structural damage was described as a hypothetical possibility.

And Elric's role had been reduced to that of an obedient assistant who had faithfully recorded the High Priest's wisdom.

He read the passage.

Then laughed.

It was a strange laugh.

Not quite amusement.

Not quite despair.

Somewhere between the two, in a region of the human mind generally occupied by exhausted teachers, tax inspectors and people attempting to assemble furniture with missing instructions.

He opened his journal.

He wrote a single sentence.

A man who cannot admit he is wrong has made certain that he can never become right.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he added:

I suspect this observation will be removed from the official edition.

He was correct.

The sentence was removed.

The Church replaced it with:

The High Priest, being eternally correct, has no need of correction.

This revised statement was approved by the Ministry of Previous Certainty.

It was entered into the sacred record.

It became official doctrine.

And, in a magnificent display of theological enthusiasm, the Ministry added one final clarification:

Any decree issued by the High Priest shall remain correct for all eternity, regardless of subsequent events.

Elric read the amendment.

He looked at the words for all eternity.

Then at the High Priest's portrait.

For reasons he could not entirely explain, he felt a sudden and profound sense of dread.

The Church had just declared that the High Priest's authority was not subject to time.

And Thaddeus, having conquered error, was beginning to wonder what else might be made subject to his will.

After all, if one could legislate truth...

What couldn't one legislate?

A-ohm.

---

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The Edict of Perpetual Correctness was originally intended to apply only to matters of religious doctrine. Its jurisdiction was subsequently expanded to include finance, architecture, personal appearance, weather forecasting and the High Priest's opinions concerning lunch.

² The Ministry of Previous Certainty employed forty-seven scribes during its first week. By the end of its first year, the figure had risen to three hundred and twelve. The Church regards this as evidence of the High Priest's growing wisdom. An alternative interpretation suggests that he was talking too much.

³ The Ministry's first official task was to correct the record of the Dancing Goat incident. The revised account describes Bartholomew as bowing before the High Priest in reverence. The original witnesses maintain that the goat struck him in the testicles. The Church has declared the distinction theological rather than anatomical.

⁴ The Department of Sacred Architecture maintains that the Great Temple was never structurally unsound. The substantial invoices for foundation repairs are described as evidence of preventative maintenance. Several invoices predate the decision to perform preventative maintenance. This is attributed to divine foresight.

⁵ Gravity was formally censured by the Church following its refusal to comply with the Decree of Architectural Perfection. The censure remains in force. Gravity has yet to issue a response.

⁶ Historical records suggest that Mistress Prudence Vale threatened to resign on seventeen separate occasions. Her applications were repeatedly rejected on the grounds that the Church could not afford to lose the only person capable of preventing its buildings from falling down. This was classified as a spiritual rather than practical dependency.

⁷ The High Priest's proposal for a revolving statue was eventually approved by the Department of Architectural Improvements. Construction was postponed after an engineer pointed out that the mechanism would require regular maintenance. The proposal was subsequently revised to include a permanent Department of Rotational Holiness.

⁸ The Church maintains that all official editions of the Book of Thaddeus are completely accurate. The existence of contradictory editions is explained by the principle that truth may reveal itself differently at different times. It is not explained why the Treasurer's salary remains identical in every version.

⁹ One surviving manuscript contains the following observation: "The trouble with being infallible is that you can never learn a fucking thing, and the trouble with Thaddeus is that he wasn't learning much to begin with." The author is unknown.

¹⁰ Footnote Nine has been declared inaccurate.

¹¹ Footnote Ten has been declared accurate.

¹² Footnotes Nine, Ten and Eleven are currently under investigation.

¹³ The investigation was suspended following a disagreement over whether an accurate statement could be corrected without making it inaccurate.

¹⁴ The Ministry of Previous Certainty has issued a clarification stating that no previous clarification has ever required clarification.

¹⁵ This clarification replaces the previous clarification.

¹⁶ Which previous clarification?

¹⁷ Oh, for fuck's sake.

 

[Old Goat]

Chapter Five: The Great Heresy of Asking Why​

Being an Account of How the High Priest Attempted to Regulate Independent Thought, Accidentally Invented a New Branch of Philosophy, and Discovered That the Most Dangerous Question in the Universe Consisted of Three Letters.

I. A Questionable Beginning​

The trouble with declaring oneself infallible is that people eventually begin expecting answers.

This was a problem High Priest Thaddeus had not anticipated.

He had expected admiration.

He had expected obedience.

He had certainly expected a substantial increase in donations.

But questions?

Questions were exhausting.

Worse still, questions frequently led to other questions, which had an unpleasant tendency to expose the inadequacy of the original answers.

Thaddeus considered this an entirely unnecessary complication.

The crisis began on a Wednesday.

A junior priest approached him during breakfast.

"Your Holiness, I have a question."

Thaddeus sighed.

"Must you?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Very well."

"If the Ohm Lord created resistance, and resistance is sacred, why do we keep trying to reduce it?"

Thaddeus stopped chewing.

He considered the question.

Then considered the priest.

Then considered the possibility of having the priest transferred to a distant monastery.

"Because," he announced, "resistance must be overcome."

"But Your Holiness, surely resistance is necessary?"

"Naturally."

"Then why overcome it?"

"Because that is the sacred struggle."

"But if we overcome resistance entirely, won't that create a short circuit?"

Thaddeus stared.

The priest continued.

"And if the Ohm Lord established the laws governing electricity, wouldn't deliberately ignoring those laws be an act of disobedience?"

The High Priest placed his fork on the table.

"Young man."

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"Have you considered a career in agriculture?"

"No, Your Holiness."

"You should."

The priest was transferred that afternoon.

The official reason was spiritual development.

The actual reason was that Thaddeus had developed a headache.

Unfortunately, the question remained.

And by the following morning, it had acquired friends.

II. The Plague of Questions​

Word spread throughout the Church that the High Priest had been unable to answer a question.

This was deeply troubling.

Not because the High Priest had failed to answer it.

That was relatively common.

But because the Edict of Perpetual Correctness had established that he possessed perfect knowledge.

Therefore, an unanswered question was theoretically impossible.

The Council of Sacred Interpretations convened an emergency meeting.

Brother Ignatius suggested that the junior priest had asked an invalid question.

The Treasurer suggested introducing a fee for questions.

The Keeper of the Sacred Spoon suggested consulting the Spoon.

Elric suggested answering the fucking question.

This last proposal was rejected as unnecessarily radical.

The council eventually concluded that the problem was not the absence of answers.

It was the existence of questions.

And so the Church declared a formal investigation into the nature of inquiry.

The investigation immediately encountered difficulties.

"What constitutes a question?" asked Brother Ignatius.

"An excellent question," replied the chairman.

"Thank you."

"But was it authorised?"

Ignatius hesitated.

"I don't know."

"Then we must investigate."

"How?"

"By asking questions."

The committee fell silent.

It had discovered a fundamental flaw in its operating procedure.

The matter was referred to a subcommittee.

The subcommittee asked whether it possessed the authority to ask questions about the authority to ask questions.

Its application was rejected.

The investigation stalled.

This was reported as substantial progress.

III. The Ministry of Approved Inquiry​

Thaddeus eventually lost patience.

"Enough!" he thundered.

The council fell silent.

"If people cannot be trusted to ask sensible questions, then we shall establish sensible rules governing questions!"

The Treasurer applauded.

Brother Ignatius cheered.

Elric reached for his wine.

And thus was established the Ministry of Approved Inquiry.

Its purpose was to ensure that all questions posed within the Church were theologically appropriate, spiritually constructive and unlikely to embarrass anyone holding a sufficiently important title.

The Ministry introduced a comprehensive classification system.

Category One: Questions to which the answer was already known.

Category Two: Questions to which the answer was not known but could safely be invented.

Category Three: Questions whose answers might cause administrative inconvenience.

Category Four: Questions concerning the High Priest's personal conduct, financial arrangements or theological authority.

Category Four questions were prohibited.

Category Three questions required written permission.

Category Two questions were referred to the Department of Acceptable Explanations.

Category One questions could be submitted freely, provided the applicant attached the correct answer.

Elric examined the regulations.

"So we're only allowing questions we already know how to answer?"

"Precisely," replied the Minister.

"Then what's the point of asking?"

"To demonstrate understanding."

"Of something already understood?"

"Naturally."

"Then why not simply issue a statement?"

"Because that would eliminate the need for the Ministry."

Elric nodded.

There it was.

The first honest answer of the day.

The Ministry also introduced a Question Permit.

Applicants were required to submit their proposed question in writing, together with a statement explaining why the question was necessary.

This presented difficulties for people who could not write.

They were advised to apply for assistance.

The assistance application required a written explanation.

Eventually, the Ministry established a Department of Unwritten Applications.

The department consisted of one clerk.

He was illiterate.

Nobody noticed for three months.

IV. The Problem with Why​

The new regulations were initially successful.

Questions declined by ninety-three percent.

The Ministry announced a magnificent triumph over ignorance.

Elric pointed out that nobody had actually become more knowledgeable.

The Ministry accused him of spreading unnecessary doubt.

But one particularly troublesome word remained.

Why.

It was a short word.

Three letters.

Hardly worth mentioning.

Yet it possessed the extraordinary ability to reduce enormous collections of elaborate nonsense to a small pile of embarrassed officials.

Why must the High Priest have seventeen ceremonial crowns?

Why does the Church charge people for blessings?

Why was the Great Monument to Humility built facing the wrong way?

Why does the Department of Miraculous Affairs employ more accountants than investigators?

Why does the Sacred Spoon require a personal attendant?

And, perhaps most dangerously:

Why should anyone believe something merely because the High Priest says it?

The Ministry investigated the word.

It concluded that why was inherently subversive.

Unlike what, which merely requested information, or when, which concerned scheduling, why demanded justification.

Justification was dangerous.

It implied that reasons should exist.

And reasons, as the Church had discovered, were considerably more difficult to manufacture than commandments.

The Ministry therefore proposed banning the word entirely.

Elric objected.

"Why?"

The entire council gasped.

The Minister pointed at him.

"THERE! HE'S DONE IT AGAIN!"

"Done what?"

"ASKED WHY!"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"STOP IT!"

"Why?"

The Minister began making a high-pitched whistling noise.

The noise continued until somebody removed him from the chamber.

It was recorded as a spontaneous religious experience.

V. The First Dangerous Answer​

Not everyone objected to the Ministry.

In fact, Thaddeus had originally supported it for a reason that was almost sensible.

A travelling merchant had recently arrived in the kingdom selling what he called the Miracle Coil of Eternal Satisfaction.

The merchant claimed his device could cure every illness, eliminate all cravings and guarantee freedom from cigarettes within a single day.

He also claimed that it required no maintenance, could never malfunction and was entirely incapable of causing harm.

These were extraordinary claims.

They were also complete bollocks.

Several people purchased the device.

One suffered a damaged battery.

Another discovered that the promised miracle involved little more than an expensive ordinary device hidden inside an elaborate golden case.

A third returned to cigarettes after being told that struggling meant he lacked sufficient faith.

Thaddeus was furious.

Not merely because the merchant had failed to pay the Church's approved supplier fees.

Although that was certainly part of it.

He was furious because people had trusted the man.

And the man had exploited them.

"These charlatans prey upon the desperate!" he declared.

Elric looked up.

He had been about to make an observation concerning glass houses and expensive religious footwear.

But something in the High Priest's expression stopped him.

Thaddeus was genuinely angry.

"People come to us because they need help," he continued. "And these bastards promise miracles they cannot deliver!"

Elric considered this.

"Then we should teach people how to recognise dishonest claims."

"Precisely!"

"And encourage them to ask questions."

"Naturally!"

"Even difficult questions?"

"Of course!"

Elric smiled.

"Then why have we just established a Ministry to prevent them?"

Thaddeus opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He considered the matter.

For one brief, extraordinary moment, the High Priest appeared to be thinking.

"Because," he said finally, "people ask the wrong questions."

Elric sighed.

It had been a promising four seconds.

VI. The Trial of Brother Elric​

The Ministry of Approved Inquiry eventually decided that Elric himself was the greatest threat to theological stability.

This was not an unreasonable assessment.

Elric had questioned the High Priest's authority, disputed the Church's historical records, criticised its financial practices and repeatedly demonstrated that several of its most sacred miracles could be reproduced using ordinary household objects.

He had also used the phrase pompous cunt in a document intended for official publication.

The Ministry considered this particularly offensive.

Not because of the language.

But because the document had been disturbingly popular.

A formal complaint was submitted.

Elric was charged with Unauthorised Inquiry, Repeated Intellectual Insolence and Conduct Likely to Encourage Independent Thought.

The final charge was considered especially grave.

His trial was held in the Great Hall.

The prosecution presented forty-seven examples of Elric questioning established Church doctrine.

Elric listened patiently.

Then raised his hand.

"May I ask a question?"

The prosecutor smiled.

"Certainly."

"Under which category?"

The prosecutor hesitated.

"What?"

"The Ministry requires all questions to be classified. Which category does my question fall under?"

The prosecutor consulted his notes.

"Category One, presumably."

"Then you must already know the answer."

"To what?"

"My question."

"But you haven't asked it."

"Exactly."

There was silence.

Elric continued.

"So how do you know the answer?"

The prosecutor began sweating.

"Because—"

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry—"

"Why?"

"Because the High Priest—"

"WHY?"

The prosecutor stood.

"I OBJECT!"

Elric smiled.

"On what grounds?"

The prosecutor opened his mouth.

Then looked towards the High Priest.

Then at the Ministry officials.

Then back at Elric.

Finally, he shouted:

"BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING A COMPLETE BASTARD!"

Elric nodded.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

The crowd laughed.

The prosecutor demanded Elric's immediate excommunication.

The Ministry agreed.

And for a moment, it appeared that the Sacred Archivist's long and increasingly troubled career was finally over.

Then Thaddeus stood.

VII. An Unexpected Defence​

"Enough."

The High Priest's voice echoed through the hall.

The council fell silent.

Thaddeus descended from his seat.

He approached Elric.

"Brother Elric."

"Your Holiness."

"You have been accused of questioning my authority."

"Frequently."

"And contradicting my teachings."

"Whenever necessary."

"And publicly suggesting that I am an incompetent, self-obsessed buffoon."

Elric considered this.

"I may have used slightly stronger language."

Several priests gasped.

Thaddeus nodded.

"Yes. I remember."

He turned towards the council.

"Brothers, I have reached my decision."

The prosecutor smiled triumphantly.

"The accused shall—"

"Be acquitted."

There was silence.

Then outrage.

Brother Ignatius rose.

"YOUR HOLINESS! HE HAS QUESTIONED YOUR INFALLIBILITY!"

"Yes."

"HE HAS INSULTED YOUR DIVINE AUTHORITY!"

"Frequently."

"HE HAS MADE A MOCKERY OF THE CHURCH!"

Thaddeus considered this.

"On occasion."

"THEN WHY WILL YOU NOT EXCOMMUNICATE HIM?"

The High Priest turned.

His expression changed.

For a moment, the ridiculous old man with his golden crown and elaborate robes looked rather less ridiculous.

"Because," he said quietly, "he's mine."

The council blinked.

Thaddeus continued.

"Elric has served this Church since before half of you learned which end of a quill goes into the ink."

Elric looked offended.

"Some of them still haven't."

"Quite."

The High Priest turned back to Ignatius.

"He has preserved our records, corrected our mistakes, exposed frauds, challenged foolish decisions and prevented this institution from collapsing under the weight of its own stupidity."

Elric stared.

Thaddeus paused.

"Admittedly, much of that stupidity has been considerable."

Nobody spoke.

"Now," continued the High Priest, "you may consider Brother Elric an insufferable, argumentative, irreverent old bastard."

"Thank you," said Elric.

"You're welcome."

"But," Thaddeus continued, "he is my insufferable, argumentative, irreverent old bastard."

The High Priest leaned forward.

"And I'll be damned if I'm going to let a room full of sycophantic little shits get rid of the only man in this entire building who has the courage to tell me when I've done something stupid."

The hall fell silent.

Elric stared at Thaddeus.

For once, he had absolutely nothing to say.

The moment lasted almost three seconds.

Then Brother Ignatius raised his hand.

"But Your Holiness, you cannot do anything stupid. You are infallible."

Thaddeus sighed.

"Yes, Ignatius. I know."

"Then how can Brother Elric correct you?"

"Because I have authorised him to do so."

"But that would imply—"

"Ignatius."

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"Shut up."

The trial was concluded.

Elric was acquitted.

The Ministry of Approved Inquiry immediately issued a statement explaining that the High Priest's decision was entirely consistent with the Edict of Perpetual Correctness.

Nobody could explain how.

The Church regarded this as proof of divine wisdom.

VIII. The High Priest's Favourite Bastard​

Later that evening, Elric was summoned to the High Priest's chambers.

He arrived expecting a lecture.

Thaddeus was sitting beside the fire.

His crown had been removed.

His ceremonial robes lay folded across a chair.

Without them, he looked surprisingly ordinary.

Older, too.

"Sit down, Elric."

Elric sat.

The High Priest poured two glasses of wine.

He handed one to the Archivist.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Elric broke the silence.

"Why did you do it?"

Thaddeus looked at him.

"Do what?"

"Defend me."

"Because the council was being ridiculous."

Elric laughed.

"That hasn't stopped you before."

"No."

"Then why?"

Thaddeus stared into his wine.

Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know what it's like, Elric, to spend your life surrounded by people who agree with everything you say?"

Elric considered this.

"No."

"Of course not. You disagree with everything anyone says."

"Only when they're wrong."

"Which is apparently always."

"Remarkably often."

Thaddeus smiled.

Then his expression grew serious.

"They bow. They praise. They tell me how wise I am. They agree with my decisions before I've even finished making them."

Elric nodded.

"And?"

"And sometimes, Elric, I wonder whether any of them would tell me if I was about to make a complete fool of myself."

Elric looked at him.

"Your Holiness, I've been telling you that for years."

"Yes."

"Quite loudly."

"Indeed."

"On numerous occasions."

"Frequently."

"And you've ignored me."

Thaddeus smiled sadly.

"Not always."

Elric paused.

He thought of the Office of Boundless Generosity.

Of the temple repairs.

Of the small concessions the High Priest had made while insisting that he had made no concessions whatsoever.

"Occasionally," Elric admitted.

Thaddeus nodded.

"You're an infuriating man."

"Thank you."

"Stubborn."

"Naturally."

"Disrespectful."

"Frequently."

"And quite possibly the greatest pain in the arse the Ohm Lord has ever seen fit to inflict upon His creation."

Elric raised his glass.

"High praise indeed."

Thaddeus raised his own.

"But at least I know that when you tell me I'm being an idiot, you mean it."

They drank.

For a while, the room was quiet.

Then Elric spoke.

"Your Holiness?"

"Yes?"

"You know you're still a pompous cunt?"

Thaddeus smiled.

"Of course."

He took another drink.

"Now fuck off before I change my mind."

Elric laughed.

And for the first time in many years, he left the High Priest's chambers without immediately reaching for another bottle.

IX. A Small Matter of Permission​

The trial had created an unexpected difficulty.

If Elric possessed official permission to question the High Priest, what about everyone else?

The Ministry of Approved Inquiry considered this a dangerous precedent.

It proposed establishing a special exemption.

Elric would be permitted to ask difficult questions.

Nobody else would.

The proposal was presented to Thaddeus.

He approved it.

Then Elric found out.

"Your Holiness, this is ridiculous."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the only person capable of asking sensible questions."

"Obviously."

"Then why should I be the only one allowed to ask them?"

Thaddeus considered this.

"Because you're the Sacred Archivist."

"And?"

"And you've earned the privilege."

Elric frowned.

"Questioning isn't a privilege."

"Of course it is."

"No. It's how people learn."

Thaddeus sighed.

"Brother Elric, we cannot simply allow everyone to question everything."

"Why not?"

"Because then nothing would ever get done."

Elric gestured towards the enormous pile of unsigned paperwork on the High Priest's desk.

"Yes. The present system is remarkably efficient."

Thaddeus ignored him.

Elric continued.

"People come to the Church because they need answers. Sometimes they're frightened. Sometimes they're confused. Sometimes they've been given terrible advice."

"Yes."

"And sometimes they don't even know which questions they should be asking."

"Quite."

"So why are we making them afraid to ask?"

Thaddeus hesitated.

Elric leaned forward.

"Your Holiness, the Church exists to help people escape the Empire of Ash."

"Naturally."

"Then let them ask questions about it."

Thaddeus considered the proposal.

Finally, he sighed.

"Very well."

Elric blinked.

"Very well?"

"Yes. We shall establish an official period during which questions may be asked freely."

Elric stared.

"An official period?"

"Naturally."

"How long?"

Thaddeus thought for a moment.

"One hour."

"One hour?"

"Every Thursday."

Elric opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He looked at the ceiling.

He was beginning to realise that progress within the Church was best measured in increments so small that an ordinary person might mistake them for dust.

"Every Thursday," he repeated.

"From eleven until twelve."

"And outside those hours?"

"Questions remain subject to approval."

Elric considered this.

Then smiled.

"An excellent beginning, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus looked pleased.

He had no idea what that smile meant.

He was about to find out.

 

[Old Goat]

X. The Hour of Unrestricted Inquiry​

The first official Hour of Unrestricted Inquiry was held the following Thursday.

The Church expected modest attendance.

Perhaps a dozen scholars.

A few junior priests.

Possibly one or two curious members of the congregation.

Instead, several hundred people arrived.

They had questions.

So many questions.

Questions about scripture.

Questions about theology.

Questions about devices, nicotine, smoking and the extraordinary number of things that could go wrong when people attempted to operate equipment without reading the instructions.

There were questions about the Great Schism.

Questions about the Empire of Ash.

Questions about the miracles.

And a remarkable number of questions about the Sacred Spoon.

The Keeper of the Spoon was delighted.

He had never felt so important.

Unfortunately, the most popular question concerned why the High Priest required a ninety-foot golden statue of himself.

The Ministry of Approved Inquiry attempted to suppress it.

Elric intervened.

"Unrestricted means unrestricted."

The Ministry objected.

Elric produced the High Priest's written proclamation.

The Ministry withdrew its objection.

Reluctantly.

Questions flowed.

Some were clever.

Some were foolish.

Some were genuinely interesting.

And some were so profoundly stupid that Elric found himself wondering whether mankind had been created as part of an elaborate cosmic practical joke.

But he answered them.

Or tried to.

And when he didn't know something, he said so.

This caused considerable surprise.

A priest admitting ignorance was not something most people had encountered before.

But people liked it.

They began talking.

Sharing experiences.

Correcting misunderstandings.

Helping one another.

By the end of the hour, the gathering had become something that the Church had never quite intended to create.

A place where knowledge mattered more than authority.

The following Thursday, even more people arrived.

By the third week, the Hour of Unrestricted Inquiry had expanded into the courtyard.

By the fourth, the official hour had become somewhat theoretical.

People continued talking long after the bells had rung.

Nobody could persuade them to stop.

Elric made no attempt.

And Thaddeus?

Thaddeus knew perfectly well what was happening.

He chose not to interfere.

This was perhaps the most remarkable thing he had ever done.

Naturally, the Church recorded it as evidence of his extraordinary wisdom.

XI. The Question Nobody Dared Ask​

Late one evening, Thaddeus visited the courtyard.

Most of the congregation had gone home.

Elric remained, collecting his papers.

The High Priest approached.

"Brother Elric."

"Your Holiness."

"I understand your little gatherings have become rather popular."

"Apparently."

"And people are learning?"

"So it seems."

"And they're still asking questions outside the approved hour?"

Elric hesitated.

"Yes."

Thaddeus nodded.

"Terrible business."

"Indeed."

A silence followed.

Then the High Priest sat beside him.

"Elric?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I've done a good job?"

Elric looked up.

It was an extraordinary question.

Not because it was difficult.

But because Thaddeus had never asked it before.

He had always announced that he had done a magnificent job and then demanded agreement.

This was different.

Elric considered his answer carefully.

"You've built a great Church."

Thaddeus nodded.

"Yes."

"One that possesses considerable wealth and influence."

"Indeed."

"One that has survived division, scandal and an astonishing number of administrative catastrophes."

"Quite."

"But?"

Elric smiled.

"But you've spent so much time making the Church great that you sometimes forget what it's supposed to be great for."

Thaddeus said nothing.

Elric continued.

"People come here because they need help. Not statues. Not ceremonies. Not commandments. Help."

Thaddeus stared towards the great temple.

The golden towers shone in the moonlight.

Beyond them stood the magnificent Monument to Humility.

His monument.

His legacy.

His greatness.

And beside the temple, in a small courtyard, stood a battered table and several mismatched chairs.

Thaddeus looked at them for a long time.

Then he spoke.

"Do you think they'll remember me?"

Elric considered the question.

"Almost certainly."

Thaddeus smiled faintly.

"For my wisdom?"

"Possibly."

"My generosity?"

"Perhaps."

"My extraordinary humility?"

Elric looked at the enormous golden backside looming above the city.

"That one might prove difficult to forget."

Thaddeus laughed.

A genuine laugh.

Not the grand, theatrical laugh he used during ceremonies.

Not the carefully practised chuckle he employed when greeting wealthy donors.

Just a tired old man laughing at a joke.

Then he stood.

"Goodnight, Elric."

"Goodnight, Your Holiness."

The High Priest walked towards the temple.

Halfway across the courtyard, he stopped.

"Elric?"

"Yes?"

"Keep the questions going."

Elric looked up.

"Even outside the approved hour?"

Thaddeus considered this.

Then smiled.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

And he disappeared into the temple.

Elric sat alone for a while.

Then opened his journal.

He wrote:

Today the High Priest allowed people to question his authority.

He has not rescinded the Edict of Perpetual Correctness.

He has not abolished the Ministry of Approved Inquiry.

He has not admitted that any of his previous decisions were mistaken.

But he has allowed people to ask questions.

Elric paused.

Then added:

I suspect the old bastard may be human after all.

He considered the statement.

Then crossed it out.

It seemed unnecessarily speculative.


Thus ended the Great Heresy of Asking Why.

The Church had attempted to outlaw questions.

It had established a Ministry to regulate them.

It had nearly excommunicated its most troublesome scholar.

And then, through an extraordinary combination of vanity, stubbornness and an inconvenient amount of genuine affection, it had accidentally created a place where people could learn.

The Ministry of Approved Inquiry remained in operation.

The Question Permits remained compulsory.

The Department of Acceptable Explanations continued inventing answers to questions nobody had asked.

But in the courtyard beside the Great Temple, people continued asking why.

And sometimes, they even received an honest answer.

This was considered deeply troubling by the Church's senior officials.

After all, people who knew how to ask questions were considerably more difficult to control.

And people who could think for themselves were even worse.

Somewhere in Heaven, the Ohm Lord smiled.

Not because the Church had finally become wise.

That remained a distant and somewhat optimistic possibility.

But because, for one brief moment, its greatest fool had done something sensible.

And, most remarkably of all, had resisted the temptation to commission a statue commemorating the occasion.

A-ohm.

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The Ministry of Approved Inquiry was established to protect the congregation from dangerous questions. Its initial regulations were amended seventeen times after several officials discovered that they could not understand them without asking for clarification.

² The Ministry's classification system originally contained four categories of questions. A fifth was later introduced for questions concerning the classification system itself. This category was immediately prohibited.

³ The proposed ban on the word "why" was eventually abandoned after the Department of Approved Language discovered that the word appeared in several official prayers. The prayers were subsequently rewritten. The resulting prayers made considerably less sense, although this was not considered a disadvantage.

⁴ The Sacred Spoon was consulted during the investigation into the nature of inquiry. It offered no opinion. This was recorded as an expression of profound spiritual neutrality.

⁵ The trial of Brother Elric is widely regarded as a turning point in the Church's intellectual history. The official account credits High Priest Thaddeus with personally establishing the principle of free inquiry. The original charges against Elric remain on file.

⁶ Several historians have questioned whether Thaddeus genuinely cared for Elric or merely considered him a valuable possession. The surviving correspondence suggests that the relationship was considerably more complicated than either explanation.

⁷ One particularly offensive manuscript records the High Priest describing Elric as "the only bastard in this building worth arguing with." The Church has declared the quotation apocryphal, although several witnesses recall hearing it.

⁸ The Hour of Unrestricted Inquiry was eventually renamed the Thaddean Hour of Enlightened Understanding. Later editions credited the High Priest with personally answering thousands of questions. Contemporary records suggest he attended only once, asked two questions of his own, and left before answering either.

⁹ The Ministry of Approved Inquiry introduced a Question Permit Renewal Fee shortly after the gatherings became popular. The fee was withdrawn when several members of the congregation asked why they were required to pay for something the High Priest had declared free. The Ministry was unable to respond without violating its own regulations.

¹⁰ The High Priest's apparent affection for Brother Elric has been questioned by scholars who point to the numerous disciplinary proceedings initiated against the Archivist. Other scholars suggest that these proceedings were simply how the High Priest expressed affection. This interpretation is not recommended as a general model for human relationships.

¹¹ The original account of the trial concludes with the High Priest declaring that nobody may mistreat his favourite bastard. Later editions replace the phrase "favourite bastard" with "most trusted servant." The substitution is generally considered less accurate.

¹² One surviving manuscript contains the following observation: "It is a curious feature of religious authority that the men most certain of possessing the truth are often the least interested in discovering it." The author is unknown.

¹³ Footnote Twelve is unnecessarily philosophical.

¹⁴ Footnote Thirteen is unnecessarily stupid.

¹⁵ The author of Footnote Fourteen has been accused of disrespecting the authority of previous Archivists.

¹⁶ Which previous Archivist?

¹⁷ The question has been referred to the Ministry of Approved Inquiry. A response is expected within three to five generations.

 

[Old Goat]

Chapter Six: The Miracle That Never Was​

Being an Account of a Dying Man, an Unfinished Ship, a Rather Disappointing Miracle, and the First Occasion on Which the High Priest Was Told to Shut Up and Actually Did.

I. An Excellent Opportunity for a Miracle​

The Department of Miraculous Affairs was experiencing a crisis.

It had been established to investigate miracles, document miracles and, where necessary, discover miracles that had not previously been aware of their miraculous nature.

Unfortunately, it had recently run out of miracles.

This was a serious problem.

The department employed forty-seven clerks, twelve investigators, six theological consultants, three artists and a man whose sole responsibility was ensuring that all official miracles were numbered consecutively.

None of them had witnessed anything remotely supernatural.

The situation was becoming desperate.

The Miracle of the Multiplying Loaves had been exposed as an unusually expensive catering exercise.

The Miracle of the Replenished Treasury was increasingly difficult to distinguish from aggressive fundraising.

And the Miracle of the Dancing Goat had become a source of considerable embarrassment, particularly since Bartholomew continued to attack anyone wearing ceremonial headgear.

The department needed something magnificent.

Something undeniable.

Something that would restore the spiritual authority of the High Priest and, ideally, justify the department's annual budget.

Then a report arrived from the western provinces.

An elderly craftsman was dying.

His illness was advanced, his strength was failing, and the physicians could offer little beyond comfort.

Brother Ignatius read the report.

His eyes widened.

He leapt from his chair.

"WE HAVE FOUND OUR MIRACLE!"

The department erupted in celebration.

Within an hour, a ceremonial healing had been scheduled.

Within two, the choir had begun rehearsals.

By lunchtime, seventeen thousand commemorative pamphlets had been ordered announcing the Miraculous Recovery of the Beloved Craftsman.

Nobody had spoken to the patient.

This was considered an unnecessary administrative detail.

The Treasurer was particularly enthusiastic.

"A genuine healing miracle! Think of the donations!"

Ignatius nodded.

"And the prestige!"

"And the pilgrims!"

"And the commemorative figurines!"

The Keeper of the Sacred Spoon raised his hand.

"Should we bring the Spoon?"

There was a thoughtful silence.

"Naturally," replied Ignatius. "One can never have too much divine assistance."

The department immediately submitted a request for a larger ceremonial budget.

The request was approved.

After all, one could hardly put a price on human life.

Although the Treasury had already calculated several possible figures.

II. Silas Wallnut of the Western Workshop​

The elderly craftsman was named Silas Wallnut.

Among those who knew him, he was affectionately called Old Wallnut.

Among those who knew him particularly well, he was known as the Angry Old Bastard.

This was not an insult.

It was a title earned through decades of dedicated service to the ancient arts of profanity, mechanical engineering and telling people exactly how stupid they were being.

Silas had spent most of his life in a workshop near the western road.

It was an extraordinary place.

The shelves were crowded with tools, spare parts, bottles, wire, broken devices and an assortment of objects whose purposes had been forgotten by everyone except Silas.

He knew where everything was.

This was an impressive achievement, since nobody else could locate anything without first moving seventeen unrelated objects and discovering three things they had not been looking for.

There were plans scattered across the benches.

Half-finished mechanisms.

A collection of old mixing recipes.

And, occupying the largest table, an elaborate model sailing ship.

The ship had been under construction for seventeen years.

According to Silas, it was nearly finished.

According to anyone who examined it, the vessel still required masts, rigging, sails and several fundamental components of what might reasonably be described as a boat.

Silas maintained that these were minor details.

He had been known to spend an entire afternoon adjusting a single wooden fitting by a fraction of an inch.

When questioned about this, he explained that there was a considerable difference between building something properly and simply getting the bloody thing finished.

The distinction was important.

It was also one that the Church had never fully understood.

Silas had once smoked heavily.

Years before his final illness, he had found his own way out of cigarettes and had spent much of his time helping other adult smokers who wanted to do the same.

He had no interest in converting people who had never smoked.

He had no interest in recruiting followers.

And he had absolutely no interest in being worshipped.

He simply believed that knowledge was something to be shared.

Preferably before somebody did something catastrophically stupid.

His workshop had become a gathering place for people who needed help.

A leaking device.

A damaged component.

A confusing calculation.

A mixture that tasted like something scraped from the underside of a particularly diseased donkey.

Silas would examine the problem, mutter something deeply offensive about the intelligence of its creator, and then patiently explain how to put it right.

Sometimes this took five minutes.

Sometimes five hours.

Sometimes it required several glasses of spiced rum and an extended discussion about why mankind had been permitted to discover electricity without first demonstrating a basic understanding of consequences.

Silas complained constantly.

But he almost never turned anyone away.

It was therefore rather unfortunate that he was dying.

Not from the smoke he had left behind years earlier, but from an illness that had arrived without invitation and shown no interest whatsoever in leaving.

His physicians had done what they could.

Silas had informed them that their performance was disappointing and that he expected better from people charging such enormous fees.

The physicians had grown rather fond of him.

This was not a common reaction.

III. The Arrival of His Most Excellent Arseholiness​

High Priest Thaddeus arrived at the Western Workshop in a magnificent ceremonial carriage.

It was accompanied by six guards, four priests, two musicians, a junior scribe and the Keeper of the Sacred Spoon.

The procession drew considerable attention.

This was intentional.

Thaddeus believed that if a man was sufficiently important to travel somewhere, other people should be given every opportunity to observe him doing so.

The carriage stopped outside the workshop.

The trumpeters raised their instruments.

Before they could begin, a voice shouted from inside.

"IF ONE OF YOU BLOWS THAT FUCKING THING, I'LL SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE YOU'LL BE PLAYING MUSIC EVERY TIME YOU FART!"

The trumpeters lowered their instruments.

Thaddeus stared at the doorway.

Brother Ignatius looked horrified.

"Your Holiness, perhaps we should postpone the visit."

"Nonsense," said Thaddeus. "The poor man is clearly distressed."

He entered the workshop.

Silas was sitting in a large chair beside the window.

He wore an old shirt, thick woollen socks and the expression of a man who had recently discovered that the entire world was populated by people who had failed to read the instructions.

He examined Thaddeus.

Then the crown.

Then the robes.

Then the enormous golden coil hanging around the High Priest's neck.

"Good grief," he said. "Has someone robbed a jewellery shop and dressed the loot in curtains?"

Brother Ignatius gasped.

Thaddeus straightened.

"I am His Most Excellent Holiness, Thaddeus the First, Supreme Guardian of the Sacred Coil, Keeper of the Divine—"

"Christ, man. I asked your name, not for your bloody family tree."

Thaddeus blinked.

"I am Thaddeus."

"Wonderful. I'm Silas. We're making excellent progress."

The High Priest opened his mouth.

Silas raised a finger.

"Before you get started, there's a bottle of spiced rum in that cupboard. Pour us each a glass."

Ignatius stepped forward.

"YOU CANNOT COMMAND THE HIGH PRIEST!"

Silas looked at him.

"Why? Has he got no arms?"

There was a dreadful silence.

Thaddeus considered the situation.

Then, to everyone's astonishment, he began laughing.

A genuine, enormous laugh.

He walked to the cupboard.

Retrieved the bottle.

And poured two glasses.

Silas accepted his.

"Not bad," he said. "You might be useful after all."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Well, I do possess certain talents."

"Wonderful. Perhaps you can start by getting those overdressed idiots out of my workshop."

Ignatius looked ready to explode.

Thaddeus raised a hand.

"Leave us."

"But Your Holiness—"

"Out."

The priests withdrew.

The Keeper of the Sacred Spoon hesitated.

Silas pointed towards the door.

"And take your fucking cutlery."

The door closed.

Thaddeus sat down.

Silas raised his glass.

"Right. Now we can talk like normal people."

IV. The Ship That Would Not Sail​

Thaddeus had intended to begin with a solemn prayer.

Instead, he found himself examining the unfinished model ship.

"What is that?"

Silas looked offended.

"It's a ship."

"Obviously. But why is it unfinished?"

"Because I'm still building it."

"How long have you been building it?"

"Seventeen years."

Thaddeus stared.

"Seventeen years?"

"Yes."

"Surely you could have completed it by now?"

Silas took a drink.

"Surely you could have learned some fucking humility by now. Yet here we are."

Thaddeus nearly choked on his rum.

He laughed.

Silas smiled.

"Besides, it's not about finishing. It's about getting the little things right."

He pointed at a wooden fitting.

"See that?"

Thaddeus leaned forward.

"Yes."

"Spent three days getting that piece to fit."

"Three days?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because it didn't fit before."

Thaddeus considered this.

It was an explanation of such magnificent simplicity that he found it vaguely insulting.

"Would it not have been easier to purchase a completed ship?"

Silas stared at him.

"Would it not have been easier to buy a normal hat?"

Thaddeus glanced at his crown.

Silas nodded.

"Exactly."

They drank.

After a while, Thaddeus asked about the workshop.

Silas told him about the people who came seeking help.

People confused by their equipment.

People trying to leave cigarettes behind.

People who had made mistakes and were too embarrassed to ask questions.

"And you help them all?" asked Thaddeus.

"When I can."

"Without charging?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Got to keep the lights on, don't I? But if some poor bastard needs a hand and hasn't got two coins to rub together, I'm not going to tell him to fuck off."

Thaddeus nodded.

"A commendable philosophy."

"Don't you bloody dare turn it into a commandment."

Thaddeus laughed again.

Silas pointed at him.

"That's your problem, mate."

"What is?"

"You've got too many people telling you how bloody wonderful you are."

Thaddeus smiled.

"Well, I am rather wonderful."

"Of course you are. And I'm the Queen of the Western Provinces."

"That would be a remarkable political development."

"Especially with this beard."

Thaddeus looked at the old man's face.

His beard was enormous.

It was also badly trimmed.

"You might wish to employ a barber."

Silas considered this.

"You might wish to employ a mirror."

For the next hour, the High Priest and the Angry Old Bastard exchanged insults with the enthusiasm of two men who had finally discovered someone worth arguing with.

By the time Thaddeus departed, he had forgotten to perform the scheduled blessing.

He had also forgotten to collect a donation.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs was appalled.

Thaddeus promised to return the following afternoon.

Silas told him to bring better rum.

V. Two Magnificent Old Bastards​

Over the following days, Thaddeus visited the workshop frequently.

At first, he came wearing his ceremonial robes.

Then his ordinary religious attire.

Eventually, he arrived in a plain coat without a crown.

Silas examined him.

"Lost your hat?"

"I left it at the temple."

"Good. You look less like a chandelier."

Thaddeus smiled.

They talked about almost everything.

The Church.

The Empire of Ash.

The incompetence of merchants.

The outrageous cost of good tools.

The comparative merits of different coil designs.

And the extraordinary number of young people who appeared convinced that reading instructions was a form of personal weakness.

"Whippersnappers," Silas muttered.

Thaddeus nodded.

"Quite."

"Think they know everything."

"Indeed."

"Won't listen to a word you say."

"An outrage."

"Reminds me of you."

Thaddeus sighed.

"I should have you excommunicated."

"Good luck. I'm not a member."

This was another aspect of Silas that Thaddeus found deeply unsettling.

The old man belonged to no religious order.

He paid no tithes.

He held no sacred office.

He had never sought the High Priest's approval for anything.

And yet people travelled considerable distances to ask his advice.

They trusted him.

Not because he possessed authority.

But because he had spent years demonstrating that he knew what he was talking about.

Thaddeus found this fascinating.

And, although he would never admit it, faintly enviable.

One afternoon, he watched Silas helping a young craftsman with a damaged device.

Silas listened carefully.

Examined the problem.

Asked several questions.

Then explained what had gone wrong and why the device should not be used until it had been made safe.

The young man thanked him.

Silas waved him away.

"Just don't do it again, you daft bugger."

Thaddeus watched the young man leave.

"You're rather good at that."

Silas shrugged.

"Had plenty of practice."

"Why do you bother?"

Silas looked at him.

"What?"

"Helping people. You receive so little recognition."

Silas considered this.

Then pointed towards the workshop door.

"See that?"

"The door?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"People walk through it when they need help."

"Yes."

"And sometimes they walk out knowing something they didn't know before."

"Naturally."

"Well, there you go."

Thaddeus frowned.

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"But where is your reward?"

Silas laughed.

"Christ, you're hard work."

He took a drink.

"Somebody helped me once. Figured I'd return the favour."

Thaddeus considered this.

Silas continued.

"Besides, if I teach one idiot how to do something properly, that's one less idiot I have to fix things for later."

Thaddeus laughed.

"An efficient system."

"Exactly. Helping people is mostly selfish, really. Improves the quality of idiots."

It was the finest explanation of charity Thaddeus had ever heard.

He considered having it recorded.

Silas threatened to hit him with a spanner.

VI. The One Thing That Could Not Be Fixed​

As the days passed, Silas grew weaker.

He still joked.

He still swore.

He still complained about the appalling state of modern craftsmanship.

But he spent more time sitting.

His hands trembled when he tried to work on the model ship.

Sometimes he became too tired to finish a sentence.

And increasingly, the workshop remained quiet.

One evening, Thaddeus arrived to find him staring at the unfinished vessel.

"No rum today?" asked the High Priest.

Silas shook his head.

"Not feeling up to it."

Thaddeus sat beside him.

For a while, they watched the late afternoon light moving across the workshop.

Eventually, Silas spoke.

"You know, I was rather hoping to finish that bloody thing."

Thaddeus looked at the ship.

"There's still time."

Silas turned towards him.

"Don't."

Thaddeus frowned.

"Don't what?"

"Don't give me that optimistic religious bollocks."

"I was merely—"

"I know what you were doing."

Silas looked back at the ship.

"Sometimes things don't work out, mate."

Thaddeus said nothing.

The silence stretched.

Then Silas spoke again.

"I'm frightened, you know."

Thaddeus looked at him.

"Of dying?"

"No, you idiot. Of the undertaker. Of course I'm frightened of dying."

Thaddeus smiled faintly.

Silas did not.

"I've had a good life," he continued. "Made some bloody stupid choices. Hurt people I shouldn't have. Helped a few along the way."

He examined his hands.

"Thought there'd be more time, though."

Thaddeus looked towards the window.

"There's never enough."

"No."

Another silence.

Then Silas asked the question Thaddeus had been dreading since their first meeting.

"Can you save me?"

The High Priest looked at him.

He thought of his miracles.

His magnificent statues.

His countless titles.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs.

The Church's official declaration that he was the greatest living servant of the Ohm Lord.

He thought of all the things he had claimed to accomplish.

All the powers he supposedly possessed.

And all the people who believed him.

Then he looked at the old man.

His friend.

And discovered that none of it meant a damn thing.

"No," Thaddeus said quietly.

Silas nodded.

"Thought as much."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

Thaddeus looked away.

For once, he had no sermon.

No divine revelation.

No magnificent explanation.

Silas studied him.

"You're frightened too, aren't you?"

Thaddeus hesitated.

"Of what?"

"Being next."

The High Priest stared.

Silas smiled sadly.

"There's an awful lot of gold wrapped around you, mate. But underneath it all, you're just another old bastard waiting for his number to come up."

Thaddeus swallowed.

"Yes," he said.

The word surprised them both.

Silas nodded.

"Terrible business, this dying."

"Indeed."

"Very poor design."

"Quite."

"Someone ought to complain to management."

Thaddeus laughed softly.

"I shall raise it with the Ohm Lord."

"Good. Tell Him the warranty is fucking useless."

They sat in silence.

After a while, Silas reached for his hand.

"Would you stay a bit?"

Thaddeus looked towards the door.

Outside, the ceremonial carriage was waiting.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs had arranged another public appearance.

There were speeches to deliver.

Prayers to recite.

A magnificent procession in his honour.

Thaddeus considered these things.

Then removed his rings.

Placed them upon the table.

And settled more comfortably into his chair.

"They can manage without me."

Silas smiled.

"Careful, Your Holiness. Keep this up and people might start thinking you're a decent human being."

Thaddeus squeezed his hand.

"That would be disastrous."

"For your reputation?"

"For the entire Church."

Silas laughed.

Then closed his eyes.

For the first time in a very long while, Thaddeus did not feel the need to say anything else.

VII. The Night Without Miracles​

Silas died shortly before dawn.

There was no thunder.

No magnificent light.

No divine proclamation.

No intervention from the Ohm Lord.

The unfinished ship remained upon the table.

The tools remained scattered across the benches.

The bottle of spiced rum stood unopened in the cupboard.

And Thaddeus remained in his chair.

He had not moved for hours.

When the physician arrived, the High Priest simply nodded.

He looked tired.

Older than usual.

His robes were creased.

His hair was untidy.

And without his crown, he looked very much like an ordinary man who had just lost someone he cared about.

The physician examined Silas.

Then quietly covered him.

"I'm sorry, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus nodded again.

He had spent a lifetime being praised for things he had never accomplished.

Now, at last, he had done something that mattered.

He had stayed.

And nobody had applauded.

VIII. The Department of Unsuccessful Miracles​

The Department of Miraculous Affairs reacted badly.

Very badly.

They had spent a fortune preparing the healing ceremony.

The commemorative pamphlets had been printed.

The choir had rehearsed.

An artist had completed a magnificent painting depicting Silas rising from his deathbed as Thaddeus raised his hands towards Heaven.

The painting was particularly impressive.

It was also completely inaccurate.

Brother Ignatius arrived at the workshop accompanied by three officials and the Treasurer.

"Your Holiness!" he exclaimed. "We have received terrible news!"

Thaddeus looked up.

"Yes."

"The patient has died!"

"I know."

"This is a catastrophe!"

Thaddeus said nothing.

"The ceremony was scheduled for this afternoon!"

Still nothing.

"The choir is ready!"

Nothing.

"The pamphlets have already been printed!"

Thaddeus looked at him.

Ignatius hesitated.

"Of course, Your Holiness, we may still be able to salvage the situation."

"How?"

"By reclassifying the miracle!"

The High Priest stared.

Ignatius smiled nervously.

"Perhaps the Miracle of the Peaceful Departure?"

Silence.

"Or the Blessed Ascension of the Faithful Craftsman?"

Thaddeus rose slowly from his chair.

Ignatius continued.

"Naturally, we would need to amend the publicity materials, but the theological implications could be quite—"

"Enough."

Ignatius stopped.

Thaddeus approached him.

"Brother Ignatius."

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"Did you know this man?"

"No, Your Holiness."

"Did you ever speak to him?"

"No."

"Did you ever see his workshop?"

"Not before today."

"Did you know what he spent his life doing?"

Ignatius hesitated.

"Not precisely."

Thaddeus nodded.

"Then allow me to explain."

He gestured towards the workbenches.

"This man spent years helping people who had nowhere else to turn. He taught them. He repaired their equipment. He helped them leave cigarettes behind. He shared what he knew without demanding worship, obedience or a fucking collection plate."

The officials stared.

Thaddeus continued.

"He was rude. He was stubborn. He swore like a dockworker with a broken thumb."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"He was quite possibly the most offensive man I have ever met."

Ignatius looked confused.

"Then surely—"

"And he was my friend."

The words landed heavily.

Nobody spoke.

Thaddeus looked directly at Ignatius.

"A man died here last night."

"Yes, Your Holiness."

"There was no miracle."

"But perhaps—"

"NO."

Ignatius stepped back.

Thaddeus's voice was quiet now.

That made it considerably more frightening.

"If I hear one word about a miraculous departure, a blessed ascension, or any other attempt to turn this man's death into a fucking fundraising opportunity, I will personally demonstrate how much of your anatomy can fit inside the Sacred Spoon."

The Keeper of the Spoon, who had just entered the doorway, looked deeply concerned.

Ignatius bowed.

"Of course, Your Holiness."

"And cancel the ceremony."

"But the expense—"

"Use the money to help his family."

"The entire budget?"

"Yes."

The Treasurer made a small choking noise.

"And," Thaddeus continued, "anything remaining will go towards keeping this workshop open."

The Treasurer looked horrified.

"But Your Holiness, the Church cannot simply distribute money without an appropriate administrative—"

Thaddeus turned.

"Would you like to join Brother Ignatius inside the Spoon?"

The Treasurer shook his head.

The matter was settled.

It was the shortest financial meeting in the Church's history.

 

[Old Goat]

IX. The Price of a Crown​

The following afternoon, Thaddeus summoned a goldsmith.

Not the Church's official jeweller.

Not the man responsible for maintaining his ceremonial crowns.

An ordinary craftsman.

Thaddeus presented him with a small, battered crown.

It was not the magnificent Crown of Supreme Humility.

Nor the Diamond Circlet of Divine Authority.

Nor any of the increasingly elaborate creations commissioned during his reign.

It was his first crown.

A simple thing.

Made long before the Great Monument, before the Book of Thaddeus, before the Ministry of Modesty and the Department of Miraculous Affairs.

Its metal was worn.

The decoration was modest.

And one side had been repaired rather badly.

The goldsmith examined it.

"An old piece, Your Holiness."

"Yes."

"Sentimental value?"

Thaddeus looked at the crown.

For a moment, he remembered the day he had first placed it upon his head.

He had been younger then.

Ambitious.

Certain that he could build something magnificent.

Certain, too, that he would know what to do once he had.

"Some," he said.

The goldsmith nodded.

"Shall I restore it?"

"No."

"Polish it?"

"No."

"Then what would you like?"

Thaddeus took a breath.

"Sell it."

The goldsmith blinked.

"Your Holiness?"

"Sell it. Quietly."

"But this is your first crown."

"I know."

"It belongs in the Great Archive!"

"No."

"It is part of the Church's history!"

Thaddeus smiled faintly.

"The Church has quite enough of my history."

The goldsmith hesitated.

"What shall I do with the money?"

Thaddeus handed him a document.

It contained instructions for purchasing the Western Workshop and establishing a permanent fund for its upkeep.

The workshop was to remain open to people seeking practical assistance.

Its teachers would be free to share knowledge.

Its doors would remain open to adult smokers who wanted help leaving cigarettes behind.

Nobody would be required to join the Church.

Nobody would be required to worship Thaddeus.

And no admission fee would be charged merely for asking a question.

The goldsmith read the document.

"Whose name shall appear upon the deed?"

"The workshop's trustees."

"And the donor?"

"Anonymous."

The goldsmith stared.

"Anonymous?"

"Yes."

"But Your Holiness, surely you would wish people to know—"

"No."

Thaddeus's voice was unusually firm.

"Not this time."

The goldsmith bowed.

And left.

The High Priest remained alone for a while.

Then he looked at the empty place where his first crown had been.

For reasons he could not entirely explain, he felt lighter.

It was an unfamiliar sensation.

He did not immediately commission a replacement.

X. The Funeral of the Angry Old Bastard​

Silas had left detailed instructions for his funeral.

This was unfortunate for the Church.

The instructions contained very little that could be described as religious.

There would be no grand procession.

No ceremonial chanting.

No elaborate displays of spiritual authority.

No golden statues.

And absolutely no speeches lasting longer than the deceased would have tolerated while alive.

The final instruction was particularly emphatic.

If any of you pompous bastards attempts to turn my funeral into an advertisement for your own greatness, I will come back and haunt you.

The Church's legal advisers debated whether this constituted a binding posthumous threat.

The Department of Eternal Affairs had not yet been established, and there was therefore no official procedure for dealing with complaints from the dead.

Elric suggested taking the threat seriously.

He had known Silas.

The funeral was held beside the workshop.

It was a modest gathering.

Craftsmen.

Friends.

People Silas had helped.

People he had insulted.

And a surprising number who had experienced both.

Barnabus attended.

Miriam attended.

Several former smokers travelled from distant villages.

One man brought a repaired device Silas had helped him understand years earlier.

Another brought an old tool Silas had given him.

A woman brought a letter.

She explained that Silas had once spent an entire afternoon helping her solve a problem, had called her an idiot seventeen times, and had refused to accept payment.

"He was a dreadful old bastard," she said, smiling through her tears.

The congregation laughed.

"Yes," said another. "But he was our dreadful old bastard."

Thaddeus stood quietly near the back.

No crown.

No ceremonial robes.

Just an old coat.

Elric stood beside him.

"You're looking remarkably ordinary, Your Holiness."

Thaddeus glanced at him.

"Don't spread it around."

"Your secret is safe."

A small table had been placed beside the grave.

Upon it stood the unfinished model ship.

Someone had suggested completing it before the funeral.

The suggestion had been rejected.

Silas, it was agreed, would have been absolutely furious to discover that somebody had finished his work without first understanding how it was supposed to fit together.

The vessel remained unfinished.

Its sails were absent.

Its rigging incomplete.

And one small wooden fitting remained carefully placed beside the hull.

The gathering fell silent.

Then Elric stepped forward.

He had been asked to read a final letter.

The envelope was addressed:

TO HIS MOST EXCELLENT ARSEHOLINESS, THADDEUS THE FIRST, AND ANY OTHER UNFORTUNATE BASTARDS PRESENT.

Elric smiled.

He opened it.

And began reading.

XI. Silas Gets the Last Word​

Well, if you're reading this, I suppose I've finally gone and done something spectacularly inconvenient.

Dying, I mean.

Never cared for the idea myself. Seems like an unnecessarily permanent solution to a temporary problem.

To the people from the workshop: keep the doors open. Keep helping one another. And for the love of the Ohm Lord, stop putting batteries into things you haven't checked properly.

To the whippersnappers: read the fucking instructions.

To whoever inherits my model ship: don't you dare rush it. If I wanted a finished ship, I'd have bought one.

To Brother Elric: you're a sarcastic old bastard and probably the only man in the Church with a functioning brain. Look after it. You're going to need it.

And to Thaddeus.

Elric paused.

The High Priest looked up.

You magnificent, overdressed, pompous old cunt.

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd.

I've met plenty of important men in my life. Most of them were about as useful as a waterproof teabag.

You were different.

Not always better, mind you. Just different.

You came to see me when you didn't have to.

You listened when you could have preached.

You stayed when you could have left.

And for one night, you forgot that you were the most important man in the world.

Turns out you were a pretty decent bastard underneath all that gold.

Thaddeus looked down.

Elric continued.

Don't let it go to your head.

There's hardly any room left in there as it is.

The laughter returned.

Quieter this time.

Thank you for staying, mate.

And if you put a statue of yourself on my grave, I'll come back and haunt you.

That's not a metaphor.

P.S. There's a bottle of spiced rum hidden behind the third shelf in the workshop.

P.P.S. Don't let Ignatius find it. He'll probably declare it holy and charge people to sniff the cork.

P.P.P.S. Thaddeus, if you really want to do something useful for once, make sure those idiots keep the workshop going.

Someone's always going to need a hand.

Right. That's enough sentimental bollocks.

You lot get on with it.

— Silas Wallnut

Elric folded the letter.

For a while, nobody moved.

Then Thaddeus began laughing.

It started quietly.

A small, reluctant laugh.

Then his shoulders shook.

Then tears rolled down his cheeks.

He tried to speak.

Failed.

And laughed again.

Elric stood beside him.

"He was a good man," he said.

Thaddeus nodded.

"He called me an expensive curtain."

"An excellent judge of character."

"And a chandelier."

"Very perceptive."

"And a pompous cunt."

Elric considered this.

"Well, two out of three isn't bad."

Thaddeus laughed again.

Then wiped his eyes.

"I rather liked him."

Elric nodded.

"I know."

They stood together for a while.

Then Elric placed a hand upon the High Priest's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, Your Holiness, I think you did something rather wonderful."

Thaddeus shook his head.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You stayed."

"Anyone would have."

Elric thought of the priests.

The ceremonies.

The empty promises.

The magnificent healing that had been planned by people who had never once bothered to meet the dying man.

"No," he said quietly.

"I don't think they would."

XII. The Miracle Nobody Wanted to Record​

The Western Workshop reopened the following week.

Its ownership had been transferred to a small group of trustees.

A fund had been established to maintain the building, purchase necessary supplies and provide practical assistance to people who needed it.

The donor remained anonymous.

This caused considerable confusion within the Church.

The Treasury Department insisted that all charitable contributions must be properly recognised.

The Department of Ceremonial Gratitude proposed a commemorative plaque.

The Ministry of Modesty suggested awarding the unknown donor a medal.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs proposed declaring the donation a miracle.

Thaddeus refused all three proposals.

"Why?" demanded Brother Ignatius.

"Because the donor wished to remain anonymous."

"But Your Holiness, surely such generosity deserves recognition!"

"Perhaps."

"Then why not honour it?"

Thaddeus considered this.

Then smiled.

"Because, Brother Ignatius, sometimes the good deed is enough."

Ignatius stared at him.

He had never heard anything quite so dangerously sensible.

The matter was referred to a committee.

The committee debated the theological implications of anonymous generosity for seventeen weeks.

It eventually concluded that all anonymous donations should be officially attributed to the High Priest unless evidence suggested otherwise.

Thaddeus quietly rejected the proposal.

This was not recorded.

Meanwhile, the workshop continued operating.

People came.

They asked questions.

They shared knowledge.

They learned.

They made mistakes.

They corrected them.

And when someone arrived desperate to escape cigarettes, there was usually somebody willing to sit down, listen and offer a hand.

Sometimes they succeeded.

Sometimes they struggled.

Sometimes they returned after trying again.

Nobody promised miracles.

Nobody demanded worship.

And nobody charged an admission fee.

Above the workshop door, someone had installed a simple wooden sign.

It read:

READ THE FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS.

The Church considered removing it.

Thaddeus ordered that it remain.

XIII. An Unfinished Thing​

Late one evening, Thaddeus returned to the workshop.

The building was quiet.

The last visitors had gone home.

He found Elric sitting beside the unfinished ship.

A bottle of spiced rum stood between them.

"Evening, Brother Elric."

"Your Holiness."

Thaddeus sat.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Elric gestured towards the model.

"Do you think anyone will ever finish it?"

Thaddeus studied the vessel.

Its careful construction.

The incomplete rigging.

The little wooden fitting lying beside the hull.

"I don't know."

Elric looked at him.

It was a remarkable admission.

The High Priest had spent years declaring himself incapable of error and in possession of perfect knowledge.

Yet here he was.

Sitting in an old workshop.

Admitting ignorance.

Elric smiled.

"Careful, Your Holiness. Keep saying things like that and the Ministry of Previous Certainty will have you arrested."

Thaddeus chuckled.

Then he reached for the bottle.

Poured two glasses.

And raised his own.

"To Silas."

Elric raised his glass.

"To the Angry Old Bastard."

They drank.

Thaddeus looked at the little ship again.

"He was rather fond of that thing."

"Yes."

"Spent seventeen years building it."

"Apparently."

"And never finished."

Elric nodded.

Thaddeus stared into his glass.

"Seems a shame."

Elric considered this.

"Perhaps."

A silence followed.

Then Thaddeus spoke.

"Do you suppose that's what life is, Elric?"

"What?"

"An unfinished thing."

Elric looked at him.

The High Priest continued.

"We spend our lives building something. Our work. Our families. Our little empires."

He glanced towards the temple visible through the window.

"And then, one day, we simply stop."

Elric said nothing.

Thaddeus shook his head.

"Doesn't seem fair."

"No," said Elric. "It doesn't."

The High Priest looked at the unfinished vessel.

Then at the workshop around him.

The tools.

The workbenches.

The old plans.

The marks left by a man who had spent years helping people.

And perhaps, for the first time, he began to understand that something did not need to be finished to have been worthwhile.

Silas had never completed his ship.

But he'd left behind a workshop full of people who knew how to build one.

Thaddeus raised his glass again.

"To unfinished things."

Elric smiled.

"To unfinished things."

They drank.

A long silence followed.

Then Thaddeus spoke.

"Elric?"

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"If you ever tell anyone I became sentimental over a model boat, I'll have you excommunicated."

Elric nodded.

"Of course."

"Twice."

"Naturally."

"And I'll confiscate your wine."

Elric looked horrified.

"Now you're just being cruel."

Thaddeus laughed.

And somewhere, if the universe possessed even the smallest shred of decency, an old craftsman was laughing with them.

Although the Church would undoubtedly have demanded documentary evidence.


Thus ended the account of the Miracle That Never Was.

The High Priest had failed to heal a dying man.

The Department of Miraculous Affairs had failed to produce a miracle.

The Church had failed to conduct a magnificent ceremony.

And Silas Wallnut had failed to finish his ship.

Yet somehow, something useful had survived them all.

A workshop.

A few lessons.

A collection of people willing to help one another.

And the memory of an Angry Old Bastard who had spent much of his life complaining about the stupidity of mankind while doing his best to make it slightly less stupid.

The official Church records would later describe the event as one of High Priest Thaddeus's greatest miracles.

The original accounts suggest otherwise.

For once, the High Priest had accomplished something good without demanding recognition.

And the Church, unable to understand such behaviour, spent the following centuries attempting to explain it away.

A-ohm.

Annotations Found in the Margins​

¹ The Department of Miraculous Affairs initially classified the illness of Silas Wallnut as an ideal opportunity for divine intervention. Its report described the patient as "sufficiently ill to demonstrate miraculous recovery, but preferably not so ill as to complicate the ceremony." The author of the report was subsequently promoted.

² The Western Workshop appears in several surviving historical accounts. Its precise location remains uncertain, although references to a large collection of tools, unfinished models and bottles of spiced rum suggest that it was a place of considerable cultural importance.

³ Silas Wallnut was known among his contemporaries as the Angry Old Bastard. Later translations softened this to the Displeased Elder, the Stern Craftsman and, in one particularly unfortunate edition, the Slightly Irritated Gentleman. The original designation is generally considered more accurate.

⁴ The model ship described in this chapter is believed to have survived for several centuries. It was eventually declared a sacred relic and placed in the Great Archive. A restoration committee subsequently attempted to complete it. Their efforts were abandoned after seventeen years of disagreement over the rigging.

⁵ The Department of Miraculous Affairs officially recorded the death of Silas as the Miracle of the Peaceful Departure. This classification was withdrawn following an unusually forceful objection from the High Priest. The objection is believed to have contained several anatomically ambitious suggestions involving the Sacred Spoon.

⁶ The High Priest's attendance at the bedside of Silas is mentioned in several early manuscripts. Later editions omit the event entirely, presumably because remaining seated beside a dying man was considered insufficiently impressive to warrant inclusion among the miracles.

⁷ Some historians have argued that Thaddeus's private generosity was motivated by guilt. Others suggest friendship. A third school maintains that he was merely attempting to avoid being haunted by an exceptionally foul-mouthed craftsman. The surviving evidence does not permit a definitive conclusion.

⁸ The source of the funding used to preserve the Western Workshop remains disputed. One account refers to the sale of an old crown. The official Church records deny that any sacred crown was ever sold, although the first crown of Thaddeus is conspicuously absent from every surviving inventory.

⁹ The original funeral letter of Silas Wallnut is said to have contained seventeen additional paragraphs, most consisting of insults directed at the High Priest. These were removed by the Department of Appropriate Language. The department reported that the remaining text was still "unnecessarily fucking offensive."

¹⁰ The Church has repeatedly attempted to replace the sign reading "READ THE FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS" with a more dignified version. Every replacement has subsequently disappeared. The original wording remains in use in several surviving workshops.

¹¹ The suggestion that Thaddeus developed genuine affection for Silas is disputed by scholars who maintain that the High Priest was incapable of forming ordinary human attachments. These scholars appear not to have considered the possibility that their understanding of the High Priest was incomplete.

¹² One surviving account claims that Elric was moved to tears at the funeral. Another maintains that he was laughing. A third suggests he was doing both. The Church has declared the accounts contradictory and therefore unreliable.

¹³ Human beings are capable of laughing and crying at the same time.

¹⁴ This observation has been referred to the Department of Emotional Consistency.

¹⁵ The department is currently experiencing difficulties.

¹⁶ A later Archivist suggested that the greatest miracle of Thaddeus was not that he performed some extraordinary act of divine power, but that he briefly managed to behave like a decent human being.

¹⁷ This interpretation was removed from the official edition for being insufficiently respectful.

¹⁸ The present edition retains it.

¹⁹ Whoever wrote Footnote Eighteen was clearly a sentimental old fool.

²⁰ Perhaps.