General Ekkerson pointed the flare gun up, pulled the trigger, and the light of day was pushed away from him by the artificial green of the flare. A cheer rose amongst the men in the trenches ahead of him when they saw the light. It was green for success after-all. He looked through his binoculars and saw a pair of crabs drag one of their damaged comrades back into the surface. They had won, but Uriamel’s assaults were becoming more and more vicious.

At first, he had thought that as the undersea kingdom expended its resources, they would get weaker and more timid. In fact, the opposite happened. And it didn’t help that White Pantheon mages were seen making excursions into Kirinyaa from the north. Small bands of a dozen men each, and several thousand from the coastal garrison had to be repositioned.

Ekkerson knew about the changes in Epa, he had heard of Elassa’s broadcast, he had contact with Generals Sokolowski and Zalewski in the west. Somehow, it seemed like everyone was having a grand old time apart from him.

Saksma looked around to the depressed state of Hallin around her. The city was grand and densely populated, all the buildings tall but not too tall, with dense blocks that housed thousands of souls as if they were barracks. They may very well be barracks at this point, with the current state of the Doschian economy and the crisis the population was facing.

Saksma remembered the streets that were filled with moving cars which flowed like great colourful veins carrying blood, each moving vehicle and pedestrian a different cell in the stream. She remembered the constant airplanes that populated the skies of Hallin. Now, it was only jets being sortied for the Lubskan frontline. It wasn’t a city depopulated, far from it in fact. Every window still had lights and Doschian flags hung from the parapets of building. People were slowly leaving their homes as police came to block off the main highway from the public, so that Saksma would have a clear road to march down on her way past the Hallin Grand Arch and into the Royal Palace.

Saksma didn’t know what she had expected. Certainly if Wissel was here there would be resistance, but Wissel was not here. Doschia had lost the great king who had led the country out of the Epan Community and into the Epan Coalition. And if Wissel was here, Saksma would have most likely had to fight. Even though they never had a great relationship, to call it “warm” would be an overstatement, yet it wasn’t cold. Wissel had never been particularly rude towards her, not like in the way Olonia talked about herself being treated. But likewise, Saksma didn’t have as much of an effect in Doschia as Paida or Aliana had in their nations. She imagined that he treated her much as she deserved.

But then, Saksma had spent time with Iliyal. That relationship was far more than just employee-employer. The elf trained her, the elf gave her advice. The elf even commented on tiny little things, like the fact that Saksma should tie her hair back in battle so that it would be harder to grab. And it definitely wasn’t the relationship she had with Kavaa or Fer either. Those two Goddesses…

Well, they did deserve that title, didn’t they? Saksma, as much as she proclaimed to be the Goddess of Doschia, knew she played a character. She needed the greatsword on her back. She needed to be able to summon her great eagle. She needed her height and she needed her ability to regenerate. Because without all of those, what was she?

Certainly no Kavaa. Certainly no Fer. Certainly not even Iliyal. She would not cry over Wissel’s death, but likewise she wasn’t happy about it. She had wanted to beat the man. To somehow get acknowledgement from the crown of Doschia that she deserved her position. That had not come about, she didn’t know if it would ever come about now. So Saksma marched, her face sober, her back straight. The greatsword clinked against her armour with every step. She knew all of Hallin was staring at her. From the corners of her eyes, she could see windows open and people leaning out. The police in the cordon turned out to look themselves, and the quickly swelling crowds did not abate even for a moment. Saksma sighed. These were her people.

Saksma walked into the shadow of the Hallin Royal Palace of the Konigsreich. A marvellous structure of all straight sides and square columns and tall windows and flat roofs. It had been remodelled by Wissel’s father to be more in line with the general architecture of Hallin, so while it stood out simply by sheer scale and decoration, it supported the city rather than trying to outshine it. Saksma put her boot on the first step leading up to the grand doors. On the second. The third. She marched silently all way to the top.

A pair of guards pushed open the doors for Saksma to enter. The armoured column of soldiers stopped behind her, from within, cameras immediately turned as the Goddess strolled in. She towered over everyone in the room, her golden hair was akin to a cape over the battered chest-plate she was wearing. Iliyal had suggested for her to change out of the plate at first, but she had denied him. Every dent in the metal that protected her was another reason as to why she should be stepping up.

The audience turned as the entrance hall of the royal palace fell into silence. One man was stood at a lectern, he had been saying something, but his mouth fell open when Saksma revealed herself. The Goddess recognized him, Duke Enning Eichberg. A tall man, aged, uncle to the late Wissel Ellenheim. He had a black suit on and he raised his arms to indicate to Saksma. “Goddess Saksma!” He shouted. “As always, we come to turn to you for advice!”

The crowd parted down the middle so that Saksma could walk by them. She wondered what sort of advice they wanted as her eyes passed over the various aristocrats down on the ground floor of the throne-hall. Every baron and every duke had come here, although Doschia would have to be in open civil war for the aristocracy not to attend the discussions on who should be the new monarch. Saksma knew all of them, from Bolz to Spaemann to Schmitt, Hildbrand & Ritter, Kommerell & Mannfried & Kapp. Baron and Duke and Prince and everything in-between. And above, on the viewing decks were the public and the cameras broadcasting this for the whole world. Saksma wondered if they had started negotiations already, or if the formalities of scheduling a funeral for Wissel were still ongoing.

From the stand, Duke Eichberg shouted for Saksma once again. “Goddess! None have stayed with this nation for longer than you! What should be done about the late King Ellenheim’s death?!” Her opinion had always mattered in these matters even though she always passed it off to the mortals themselves. It had never sat right with her to simply pick the next ruler. One of the tenets of the Pantheon Doctrines that guided the world was that Divinity should stay away from mortal affairs.

So Saksma kept on walking through the silent crowd until she got to the lectern from which the aged Eichberg stood. She looked at the man, and then she turned around. And in those eyes, for maybe the first in her life, Saksma could feel all of Doschia waiting on her.

This wasn’t mere mascot duty, this wasn’t going to be a speech about unity and optimism towards the future. She wasn’t here to unite Doschia through word and example. She was here to grab the crumbling country all at once and mold it back into shape. And Saksma took a deep breath. “Ladies!” She took a pause. “Gentlemen!” She thought of what Wissel would have. He would have a speech rehearsed.

Then what would Kavaa say? It shamed Saksma that she did not know. And Fer? Fer would roar. Fer could say anything and have it be done. The Goddess of Beasthood had such an aura about her that Saksma could see herself believing the woman even if she said that the sky was red. Iliyal? Iliyal was an elf. A mortal. And Iliyal spoke to soldiers. Saksma could give speeches to crowds like that too, because crowds like that appreciated action and Saksma’s damaged armour proved her worth.

Saksma blinked as she realised what happened. She was stalling because she had nothing to say. Helenna and Malam then. What would they say? Saksma took a deep breath and realised that it was a fruitless endeavour. Those women were naturals in crowd-work. Did they ever think of what others would say? Or did they simply say what needed to be said?

What needed to be said. That was it. “Men and women of Doschia!” Saksma shouted again. And the words started to flow. Saksma didn’t know from where she pulled them, but the moment she found the flow, it was as if she could spill an entire ocean of words onto the crowd watching her. “I did not weep when we left the Epan Community! I did not weep when we declared independence from the Pantheon! I did not weep when Lubska and Rilia were attacked! I did not weep when Doschian boots were sent to support our sister nation! I did not weep when I returned from the front to a Hallin devoid of life! Why do you weep for the death of a single man!?”

Saksma took a breath and then continued. “I have not come to weep at all!” She could see the eyes turn. Men stood up straighter, eyes grew wide. Cheeks went pale. Saksma bathed in the awe she was inspiring. It was the first time in her life that she felt this avalanche of emotion, and it was a feeling she enjoyed indeed. It was…

She could see why Malam and Helenna had such complexes about themselves, if this is awe was the baseline for them. How could a mind not grow fond of itself under praise so thick and obvious that it choked and deafened without needing to make a sound? “My people, we have plenty to weep for here. And I do not talk of the death of Ellenheim!”

Avoiding Wissel’s royal title was a move she did on purpose. Iliyal had taught her the lesson and Saksma doubted whether the man even meant to. It was through the fact that he had never called her a Goddess, that only Kassandora got that sacred title, that she knew how demeaning it was to take such a thing away from a man.

“I talk of the endless crisis that we face! The stagnation and malaise of this land! It is a rot that spreads into every fabric of our society. We face Divine invasion as our home-front goes up in flames! Where are the crowds of Hallin? When I returned from the front-lines, I expected to see a city in mourning! Instead I return to a city in malaise!”

Saksma could feel a heat within her as she saw the anticipation build on the faces of the audience. This feeling of Divinity, she never wanted to leave behind. It was addictive from the first taste. Something within her turned. The White Pantheon had been much like the Doschian monarchy. Both were grand institutions that Saksma had tacitly respected because that was what she made to do. But now?

“If you think that I will select a leader for you, if you think that I will go ahead and elect yet another king, then you are wrong! I look at this land, I look at my nation and I see nothing but failure! There is not a facet of our society that is stable! This task, I wish I could hand off to mortals!”

But now? But now that Saksma had tasted this glorious feeling, she knew why when she formed, Allasaria had come to instruct on how Divines should act. She remembered that decade spent under the tutelage of the Goddess of Light. She remembered how the woman had called her pure and noble and of a different breed. That was true. She had been of a different breed, in the same way that children and adults may as well be of different species. To think that Allasaria would have had her die without experiencing this glamour!

“I stand before you as the Goddess of Doschia! I do not stand for some conceited greed, I do not stand for personal pride, I do not stand because of some delusion of power! I have nothing to gain from this! I am the Goddess of this land already! Every monarch in the past would step down and weep with happiness if he could take my position and I his! For more than six-hundred years, I have watched my proud Doschia grow and change and become the powerhouse of Epan industry! And now, just as a mother steps in to not let her beloved children hurt themselves, I will step in!”

And Saksma looked at the men before her, she saw some of them kneel. She saw others smile. She saw a duke begin to weep. A man collapsed. The guards at the doors were saluting. Several members of the public from above began to clap. That clapping spread out. And Saksma continued her speech.

“I ask for your confidence and I ask for your faith! Because if there is anyone else who feels that they love Doschia more than me, that they know Doschia more than me or that they have given to Doschia more than me, they can step up now! If not, then I ask for your trust! Your trust to lead you to victory in the Pantheon Invasion of Epa and in the economic meltdown we are experiencing, because for every day that we spend debating on who should lead now, we will pay back ten times as much in suffering! Doschia, I beg for you to believe in your Goddess!”

Saksma finished with a shout. One man cheered. Another shouted some great affirmation. A chant began. The closest duke fell to one knee. A baron did. A prince. Another baron. The aristocracy knelt in their entirety. From above, the commoners were cheering. A hat landed by her feet.

And Doschia answered her cries. It answered with such thunder and hope that Saksma did not know how she had never even dreamed of this moment, but now that she tasted it, she knew it would be a difficulty to give up. “Goddess-Queen!”

It was done.

She didn’t know why, but there was some grand spark of joy within her. The Goddess of Doschia looked around at the kneeling Konigsreichbund ministers in the throne room, at the aristocrats and nobility, and at the various men and women that had come and filled the upper galleries to watch the election of a new King of Doschia. And as Saksma stood there, she hoped that Olonia and Paida had their coups go as smoothly as hers.

Olonia drew her sword into the air and waved it theatrically for the policemen blocking her way and the soldiers behind her. “I have come to save Lubska! March with me or be marched on!”

Paida pressed the button on the radio as she stopped and stared in horror at the state of Aris. “Set up a cordon, order civilians out of the city. We are going to exterminate this den of rats.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep