Father Mikhail was using a damp towel to wipe the wooden icon before him, carefully cleaning the thousand-year-old artifact. Thanks to the old priest's meticulous maintenance, this wooden statue, which had stood at the heart of the church since the monastery was founded a millennium ago, remained well-preserved.
As Perturabo's foster father and mentor, Mikhail had risen alongside him. He was now one of the central figures of authority in Perturabograd, utilizing his administrative skills and knowledge as a monk to assist his genius son.
Perturabo did not manage every detail of administration; training the army and inventing new technologies consumed most of his energy. He had neither the interest nor the time to handle the increasingly heavy paperwork, so Mikhail naturally took on this role.
In many ways, Mikhail was the actual administrator of Perturabograd. The theaters, factories, and other facilities designed by Perturabo were built under Mikhail's direct supervision of the laborers. Without Mikhail, Perturabo could not have devoted himself entirely to the grand task of unifying and transforming Kislev.
Because of this, Mikhail had become an incredibly busy man. The once-quiet monastery was now the seat of government for Perturabograd. Numerous scribes and newly appointed bureaucrats bustled through the halls daily, transmitting laws and orders that pushed the young city toward further growth.
Despite his duties, Mikhail stubbornly insisted on performing the religious services himself. He refused to let others take over his spiritual tasks and carved out a fixed time each day to come to the chapel and continue the work he had done for decades.
Today, he arrived at the small chapel as usual to perform the daily rituals. Although wiping the wooden icons was becoming physically taxing for a priest of his age, he firmly rejected the servants' offers of help, insisting on cleaning the images with his own hands.
"O omniscient and omnipotent Lord, Perturabo—the messenger you sent down—is fulfilling his duties exceptionally well. He is about to begin the great work of unifying Kislev, and I have no doubt of his success."
"After all, Abo is a genius who brings forth strange machines as if by magic. I do not understand the science, but I know in my heart that those machines are beyond the capability of any Kislevite craftsman."
"There is no explanation other than him being your messenger. Lord, you are all-knowing. Amen."
Looking at the wooden icon, Mikhail slowly knelt. He devoutly made the sign of the cross and began to murmur to himself. To him, the dozen years since Perturabo's arrival felt like a dream.
The changes Perturabo brought were unprecedented. With the rise of Perturabograd, massive factories belching black smoke rose from the earth. Countless peasants either entered the city to work among the giant machines or joined the Streltsi to become disciplined soldiers.
Mikhail did not consider himself a clever man, but even he could sense that a new era for Kislev was approaching. He felt a surge of excitement, anticipating the future his foster son would bring.
[Priest Mikhail, Prior of Kislev.]
"Ah?"
Hearing a voice from nowhere, the old priest froze. He looked around hurriedly before realizing the sound seemed to come from the wooden icon in front of him. He looked at the freshly cleaned statue with suspicion.
"Lord... have you finally answered me?"
After ruling out the possibility of a prank, Mikhail realized there was only one explanation: the god he worshipped was delivering an oracle. He knelt again in the most devout posture possible to face the presence speaking to him.
[No, I am not a god. I am the Emperor of all Mankind, the father of Perturabo.]
Hearing Mikhail's address, the voice denied the title of divinity and stated its relationship to Perturabo.
"So, Perturabo truly is your messenger! You sent him to Kislev to achieve great things!"
Mikhail replied with even greater fervor, seeking to confirm what he was hearing.
[No, this was an accident. By the original plan, Perturabo should not have come to your world. However, his current situation is acceptable. Soon, I will arrive to reunite with my scion.]
After a pause, the Emperor answered.
"I understand. Abo has always believed his creator, his biological father, would one day come for him. Finally, you are coming to take him home."
Mikhail answered in a heavy tone. After so many years, he viewed Perturabo as his own flesh and blood. Knowing that the biological father was coming to take him away caused him pain.
Yet, a sense of pride also rose within the old priest. He had raised a child of the heavens, fulfilling a role like that of Saint Joseph in the scriptures. Saint Joseph had raised Jesus Christ, and Mikhail had raised a son of a god. He did not doubt that his name would be told for ten thousand years.
[I will arrive soon, Priest Mikhail. Today, I hope you will continue to guide Perturabo and keep him on the path he should follow.]
The Emperor continued his oracle.
"I understand, my Lord. I will continue to guide Perturabo without hesitation. He is not only your son; he is also mine."
"No father would give up on his son, my Lord."
Mikhail hesitated for a moment before answering. His voice was no longer filled with confusion or weakness, but with a sense of mission.