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Merchants from other cities were wont to jest that it was well that the people of Mytil had their faith, for they had naught else. How hollow their laughter would become.
Younger only to Roma, ancient records suggest that the city’s early years were ones of prosperity. But within a few generations, Mytil was widely perceived as a poor cousin amongst the cities, geography & fortune conspiring to leave them bereft of the trade routes and raw materials of their rivals.
These circumstances provided fertile ground for the development of a new cult calling itself the Celestial Church. Giving voice to their feelings of injustice, belief in this eternal saviour spread rapidly amongst the citizens of Mytil. Intolerance of more traditional gods became common, and demonstration of faith amongst the ruling classes soon became a key factor in business.
Then She came, walking the Path of Dust to witness the artistry of His hand. And she showed the faithful what riches lay amongst the ridge that looked down upon their fair city in mimicry of His gaze.
For as their faith in Him was strong, so had He provided them the means with which to forge a match their will - Mytil iron, from which the strongest steel could be made. Soon, even the unbelievers were anxious to grasp that which He had given, and the faithful knew providence.
Now, faith in the Celestial spreads throughout the other cities, and all feel His presence.
Not all welcome it, however. The intolerance of other beliefs is viewed as narrow by many, and whilst Mytil has prospered the industrious city of Fytraval has suffered in the shadow of their good fortune, their craftsmanship no match for His bounty. Moreover, the Celestial Church has become circumspect in its dealings with the other cities, with profit no longer the main focus.
And so, whilst Mytil is now far from poor, still it remains as an outsider to the other cities.
The laughter has been replaced by unease.
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