Brother Tepin was in heaven.
He was sitting on a simple wooden stool in the corner of the hallowed "Tome and Trinket," wrapped in a warm, woolen blanket. He had a mug of water in his trembling hands. He was, as decreed, being "helped."
Mostly, he was trying very hard not to stare at the Master, who was sitting in his sacred armchair, trying to read a book while very obviously pretending Tepin wasn't there. The sheer, concentrated glory of the Master's presence was almost too much for Tepin's simple, faith-addled brain. He was so happy he felt like he might actually combust.
The three original followers, however, were having a quiet, intense meeting by the main counter, trying to determine the precise function of their new, divinely appointed idiot.
"He is clearly not a warrior, nor a scholar, nor a chef," Princess Aurelia whispered, looking at the scrawny, slack-jawed man in the corner. "He exhibits no discernible skills of any kind."
"That is his strength," Valerius Zathra countered, his eyes gleaming with a fresh revelation. "You are all still thinking in terms of practical application. The Master operates on a higher plane. He has his Mind (myself), his Hand (Seraphina), his Voice (Aurelia), and his Spirit (Ren, the Chef). What role is left to be filled?"
He paused for dramatic effect.
"Worship," he declared. "He has acquired a professional. A specialist. A being whose entire purpose, whose only discernible skill, is the act of pure, undiluted, unthinking adoration."
Seraphina's brow furrowed. "So his function is... to sit there and beam at the Master like a halfwit?"
"Precisely!" Valerius confirmed. "Do not underestimate the power of such an act! The Master has, until now, been surrounded by us—beings of purpose and skill. We analyze, we protect, we govern, we create. Our service is transactional, conditional upon our utility. But this one... this 'Tepin'... his devotion is utterly without purpose. It is unconditional. It is, for lack of a better word, useless."
He looked at his two companions, letting the magnificent, flawed logic sink in.
"This is the Master's newest and most profound lesson," Valerius continued. "He has brought this man here to teach us about the nature of true faith. A faith that does not seek to understand or to serve any practical function, but simply... to be. Tepin is not a servant. He is a living artifact. A human-shaped conduit for pure, uncritical praise. He is the first official state-sanctioned... Worshipper."
Aurelia's mind latched onto the political implications. "So... he is to be the foundation of the Master's new state religion? The first priest of a church with a congregation of one?"
"The very first!" Valerius affirmed. "We will establish for him a new sacred role: The Minister of Praise. His holy duty will be to observe the Master, feel feelings of profound awe, and occasionally express them verbally. A vital, if spiritually demanding, position."
From his corner, Brother Tepin overheard the words "first priest" and "holy duty." His eyes, already wide with adoration, somehow widened even further. He had been given a purpose. A divine calling. His life had meaning.
Lyno, meanwhile, just wanted the strange man in the blanket to stop staring at him. It was making it very hard to concentrate on his novel. Every time he turned a page, Tepin would let out a small, reverent gasp. It was incredibly distracting.
He tried to ignore him. He focused on a particularly thrilling passage about a dragon. He got so engrossed that he forgot himself and let out a small, satisfied sigh as he finished the chapter.
"Haaaaaah," it was the sound of a relaxed reader.
To Brother Tepin, it was a divine exhalation. A holy event.
"Did you hear?!" he whisper-shouted to the other followers, his voice filled with rapturous joy. "The Master's sigh! It has blessed the very air in this chamber! It resonated with the pitch of G-sharp! A note of divine harmony! Oh, praise be! Praise be!"
He began rocking back and forth on his stool, humming happily in what he believed to be the sacred key of G-sharp.
Seraphina looked at Valerius with an expression that clearly said, "Are you sure about this?"
Valerius just gave her a serene, knowing smile. See? his look said. He is already performing his function perfectly. A vital addition to our spiritual ecosystem.
Lyno put his book down. Reading was impossible now. He needed a distraction. Maybe Ren had made a snack.
He stood up from his chair. The simple movement caught everyone's attention.
"Master?" Aurelia asked, her tone attentive.
"Just... getting a snack," Lyno mumbled, shuffling towards the kitchen.
But Brother Tepin saw something more. He saw the Master rising from his throne, a divine being in motion. He saw him walking towards the sanctum of the holy Chef. This was an event of monumental significance. He, as the Minister of Praise, had a sacred duty to perform.
As Lyno passed him, Tepin suddenly slid off his stool and prostrated himself face-down on the floor, his arms outstretched.
THUMP.
"ALL HAIL THE MASTER'S SACRED SOJOURN TO THE PANTRY!" Tepin's voice, muffled by the floorboards, bellowed through the bookstore. "MAY HIS STEPS BE TRUE AND HIS SNACKS BE CRUNCHY! GLORY TO HIS MUNDANE ERRAND!"
Lyno froze mid-stride. He looked down at the man lying prone on his floor, shouting about the holiness of his desire for a cookie.
He looked at Valerius, who was nodding sagely. He looked at Aurelia, who was dutifully taking notes. He looked at Seraphina, who was guarding the door as if expecting an army of anti-snack assassins.
This was his life now. He couldn't even walk to the kitchen without it becoming a religious procession.
He slowly, carefully, stepped over the prostrate body of his first official priest and continued towards the kitchen, a single, desperate thought echoing in his mind.
[I am living in a madhouse. A well-defended, magically-warded, royally-funded madhouse. With a really good cook.]
The arrival of the useless follower had succeeded where demons and armies had failed. It had finally, definitively, broken Lyno's spirit. He no longer hoped for escape. He just hoped for a biscuit.