And he remembered why he had wanted to
be a priest. The Inquisition had killed his parents and raised him to
become a priest and he had accepted, not for the love of god but to
make sure that innocent people wouldn’t have to suffer again. He
wanted to be the priest fighting against the priests, from inside. He
could hear people crying and yelling out of pain as he was walking in
the corridor. He knew that some of his colleagues loved it. There was
not only the sense of duty burning in these priests veins, they were
not righteously trying to protect people against Satan and to save
them, in a lot of them, the self flagellation and hideous self
discipline imposed from a young age had been more like torture than
an illuminating way of life and now they were taking in back, as a
revenge, on people who didn’t have to suffer like they did. There
were really few of them ready to really give up the pleasure of the
terrestrial life for the love of god, most of them had been forced
enrolled as priest by their family. It was good and prestigious to
have a son belonging to the church, it was giving the family great
advantages, priests received a high education, they could read and
they could advice other people. They had the supremacy of thoughts.
They were above the masse of mortals and connected to god. But the
sweet idea was only dust threw to your eyes to blind you from the
true, all that mattered was money and the church had plenty, and
plenty more when given everything belonging to the people they
arrested after their death, pretesting that it had been touched by
Satan and needed purification. It was one of the reasons most people
never made it back home after arriving in this place and it was
driving Sahel crazy.
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