World of Man
He entered the church without even knowing why. He couldn't remember if any of the Riders had ever been particularly religious. He didn't think so. And neither was he.
Perhaps he was searching for something. He knew that some people said that they found peace behind these walls. He couldn't see his uncle or Yassen finding peace here.
He took in the architecture of the church, absently noting any and all exits as well as the position of the windows. The stained glass was beautiful, he supposed. As were the tree carvings. All of this; the work of the men who built the church.
He couldn't find any difference in being here compared to the bank or his school. It was just a part of the world, just like anywhere else.
It just felt a bit unfamiliar. He was bit tenser and warier here than he would be at school or in the bank, but that had its own reasons. The church or the religion had nothing to do with that.
He simply didn't believe. He would have to see it to believe it, and even then he would be skeptical. Man were capable of a lot.
A man set off the bomb that killed his parents, a man took a deadly bullet for him and a man sent him into these risky situations, despite his age or his complaints.
Man were behind the situations he had been in, both good and bad. Any so-called miracles were also the work of man. No deity had a hand in this. He could only rely on himself.
He couldn't believe in something that tried to find excuses and lies to make things better. Being aware of the harsh reality was as important as knowing how to act, speak several languages and escape death repeatedly, at least for people in his position.
If he wanted something he would have to get it himself. He had only one life and wasting it was not something he wished to do.
There was no peace here.
He turned on his heel and made his way back to the large oak doors. This place was unimportant. He had things to do and places to be. He had to deal with the reason for his visit to France.
"Hey, you need to make an entry in the guestbook," a man called after him.
He turned slightly, pondering for a moment if he should. Maybe it didn't matter.
"Write me down as Alex. Alex Beckett."