What was the thing that changed within the God of Pride recently? Honestly, no one truly knows. Could it have been the death of Paramethus? Maybe. The two called each other brothers at one point, yet Arascus quickly went into crisis management when Worldbreaking began. His time of mourning after Worldbreaking was cut short by the formations of kingdoms, by the advent of Anassa who needed to be taught her place immediately after her incarnation, and by the request of help with the management of magicians by Elassa.

Wherever I look, I see some trace of Arascus. I do not believe in some never-ending rabbit hole, nor do I consider the man to be genius on such a level that he is incomprehensible. He is intelligent, of that there is no doubt, yet it is the sort of intelligence that makes one question why they themselves did not do something sooner rather than being a mind for endless knowledge and theory such as the likes of Saranael, of Knowledge. Besides, Maisara and I myself have our hands in just as many slices of cake as Arascus does.

Nevertheless, I do feel there is something different about him recently. Every time his eyes stray over me, I can feel myself being weighed and silently judged. For what, I do not know. It is almost odd, this feeling I have is not something unique. I swear I have felt it before, yet likewise I have nowhere to place this feeling. It is something difficult to describe. A mixture of doom and dread and yet a calm certainty. I know something is going to happen. I know Arascus is planning something. I do not know what. I have even asked him about it to see how he would react. The man is as unflappable as ever, if it were not for this unexplainable warning my stomach sends me, I would not think there is anything wrong with him.

If I had to describe what I see when I look at the man. I see myself at the foot of a mountain, I see the mountain above me, I hear the avalanche rumbling as it comes down upon me and I feel the biting winds, and yet I cannot see the snow.

– Excerpt from the Private Diary of Goddess Allasaria, of Light. Dated to the Golden Age, although before Arascus took on Goddess Irinika, of Darkness, as his first Daughter-Goddess.

Arascus sat in his office. Well, in actuality it was actually Agrita’s Office, but the Goddess of Rilia had given it up for the God of Pride to use in the immediate time whilst he helped out with the latest issue this country was having. It was the same as what was happening in Lubska, it was happening in Doschia, it was happening in Allia, the only place it wasn’t happening in was Rancais and that was because Rancais may have been cleansed of Anarchia, it was only now returning to becoming a functional country. The schools were schedule to re-open in Paida’s land only next week and people were already talking about what speed and efficiency the Empire had that it could so quickly lift Rancais back onto its feet.

Yet for the other nations, the tremendous speed of the Empire was beginning to finally catch up. Or rather, the tremendous speed was finally showing its fangs. The alcohol market in Lubska, as funny and meagre as it was, should have been the warning sign for when the nation had seemingly doubled its price of vodka over the span of a month. Then came the same with Doschian tools. Basic Allian electronics followed, now the same was happening in Rilia, save for the fact that here the country had been hit the worst. It was pasta, it was tins and it was common decorations.

Common decorations and not the most expensive, high end items. The prices may have been out of reach for the average person, but they seemed immune to whatever was going on. Yet it was simple, Imperial economists had worked it out and besides, Arascus did not need to see charts and graphs to know he had accidentally caused this crisis. There was one common factor that stalked these seemingly unrelated markets and sent them spiralling out of control: The Dwarves. Or rather, these were goods Arascus was sending off to the Dwarves.

And whereas finally fresh ores from Dwarven mines were beginning to be brought back to the surface, Lubskans could not drink iron and Rilians could not eat nickel. In Doschia, the answer had been to simply take the hit and wait for the materials that were so cheap they were almost free from the Dwarves to expand the economy. More refineries, more steel mills, more factories were already being constructed with help from the Doschian Imperial College of Magic. The same could be done in Rilia. In Lubska, alcohol could be brought in from Kirinyaa to temporarily subsidize the market with foreign goods until the refineries that had been recently built could finish their first batch of drink.

Yet in Rilia, this was unsustainable. Arascus had undershot how much food it would take to feed the Second Expedition and the Dwarves. One of them had to be cut. He would not let a country starve, the Dwarves had lasted for a thousand years, they would have to do without Rilian pasta and spaghetti. He was working on the sixth letter for Agrita and King Aimone now, a plan of action which they could follow. The Imperial Bureau of Agriculture would step in to provide interest-free loans to farmers, new machines would come in and be filmed to show that the Empire was making an effort and cool the immediate tensions. Lubskan grain was not suited for Rilian pasta but unfortunately, Arascus could not pull pasta out of thin air. Besides, hunger may have been a killer but the first thing hunger killed was pickiness. The Rilians would see an effort being made and that they had not been forgotten.

Arascus finished the sixth letter and got onto the seventh. He was only here to make the final touches, half the ideas had been propositions that came from the Imperial Bureaucracy. This one was a more personal one that Agrita had written. She was just asking for advice on what to say for the upcoming speech. Arascus put that one of, he would have to speak for her to show her the tone and actions to make, those were usually just as important as the words themselves. Arascus got to the eight letter when there was a knock on the door.

“Open!” Arascus shouted and it immediately opened to reveal General Iliyal Tremali with a folder tucked under one arm. The elf stood about a full head’s length taller than a human, but it still meant he was half the height of Arascus. The General had come in full uniform that looked as if it had not been changed in a while. There were singe marks from flames on his sleeves and black coat. He looked as he always did though, those green eyes looked without a moments pause at Arascus and he confidently strode in before Agrita’s desk. As always, the elf had to pull salute. Sometimes, when something was beaten into a man, it was impossible to pull it out. Arascus stood up and returned the salute. “What is it Iliyal?”

“I wish it could have been on better terms but we have a problem over in the UNN.” The elf put his folder on the table and pulled out a full report. “I have written it as quickly as I can, on the way here, but information is still coming through. This got to my desk just three hours ago.” Arascus quickly read the first few lines of Iliyal’s report and wished he did not. This sort of news was not needed right now. Not whatsoever.

What the fuck was Etala doing? What was Ciria doing? What were those fools in the UNN thinking? It was one thing to reject help from the Empire, Arascus could understand that perfectly. What was the logic in these arrests? What was the idea? For what fucking purpose? Why would someone… Arascus released a single deep sigh and tapped the piece of paper. “Sum it up Iliyal. What is the issue?” He asked. It was mainly to say anything at all, just so that he could release some of the rage that had erupted within him like a volcano. Iliyal spoke in that definite, clear and pleasant voice of his.

“Two Clerics were arrested. Names are Rudolf Asenhill and Otto Mirressen.” Iliyal straightened his back, stood at attention and continued to speak. “They went over due to a call for aid, someone on shore got injured and needed medical assistance. The ship we have assigned to oceanic cleanup in the area is called the Butterflies’ Wing. It’s reported that only the helicopter pilot and two auxiliaries for the Clerics returned. The Clerics were not allowed to return, nevertheless we know they are still alive, presumably they are still alive now although we don’t know of course. According to the pilot himself, they did not look like they were in immediate physical danger.”

No, they wouldn’t be. That much was obvious. No matter whether the plot was one thought up by the local humans, by the President of the UNN, Rudyard Kochinski or any of his cabinet, by Ciria, by Halkus, by Etala or by any of the minor invention Divines that made the UNN their home, if they were out to hurt people, they would have not let the pilot return. Arascus quickly scanned the piece of paper and leaned back in the throne of an office chair that Agrita had. “Did we have communication from the UNN? Any explanation for this?” If it was only two Clerics, then what did they need them for? Maybe someone in the Presidential family was ill? They could have just asked.

Yet of course they wouldn’t. It was because of the Empire that Arika had been cracked, it was because of the Empire that the eastern seaboard had been washed away. How could anyone from the UNN ever hope to begin any sort of negotiations that weren’t just flat out demands of endless compensation for the tens of millions that had been lost. “No.” Iliyal answered.

“Any opinions?” Arascus asked. It was just to see what the elf could think up of and because Arascus wanted time to think about his next move. He could not let this pass. It was not so much a fundamental principle of the Empire but rather a principle of every state, every government and every ruler or clique in charge of populations, that they had to at least try and recover their own. Defeat would be looked upon badly of course, but even worse than defeat was the thought that the populace had been abandoned and left to fend for themselves. Arascus was not going to panic and pretend these two Clerics could form the foundation of a revolution, but likewise, a war was coming soon. Soldiers needed to know that the collective Empire had their individual backs.

“None.” Iliyal replied. “I have checked already. Kochinski has family but none of them are ill. Even his in-laws are relatively healthy for their age.”

Arascus took a deep breath. There was only one real way to get ahead of this, wasn’t there? He didn’t want to, there was plenty to do back in Epa here. He had an entire war to supply and the combined economies of two entire continents to retool for a state of total war. And now this? “Do you think they want war?” Arascus had already decided that it was a no. The elf stood straighter, even his blonde hair seemed to somehow smooth itself out although Arascus was sure that was just some illusion, Iliyal always made sure he was groomed and ready for public speaking.

“No.” Iliyal answered and Arascus rolled his hand in a circular motion several times to indicate to the elf to continue. “If they wanted war, they would have more propaganda about us. They would have told our ships to stay away too. The Unioners don’t like us, they may hate us even, but they don’t have a will to fight.” It would be a problem for them now, the Butterflies’ Wing isn’t the first ship that has contact with Unioners. It was simply the first one that had sent men onto land. Should Arascus have made it explicit that they weren’t allowed to send men onshore?

“Not yet at least.” Arascus said, although he nodded and agreed with Iliyal. It was not even a matter of will, it was a matter of capability. The Union of New Nations had been crippled to the point that predictions said it would take half a century to recover, and even longer to repopulate the lost cities. “The UNN can’t hope to wage war against us, not openly at least, but they could come in to assist Allasaria for when she returns.” Arascus did not know what was taking Allasaria so long, but that was partly of why he worked so hard right now. Every day that the Goddess of Light gave them was another day to prepare for the inevitable repeat of the Great War.

“Worst case scenario is that they openly support Allasaria.” Iliyal said. “But even I highly doubt it.”

“Do you?” Arascus asked. He did too, it was sheer gut feeling. The one time he had seen Ciria of Civilization and Halkus of Industry, he had seen their shared, naïve optimism and their almost childish idealism at how the world should work. It was almost sweet, yet it was marred by the fact that Ciria wielded such authority in the Union.

“Gut feeling. I cannot give reasoning.” Iliyal said with a shrug and Arascus smiled at the answer. Some people did not appreciate intuition, he had spent too much time with Divines who relied entirely on instinct to pretend there was nothing to it. “Simply said, I cannot see them seriously trying to even support a war. The most realistic scenario is that they send volunteers to assist Allasaria.”

“They could stimulate the economy through war.” Arascus said. The destruction of so many UNN cities had sent shockwaves globally since it took away something so intrinsic for the circulation of money that it could be said to be as needed as blood was in the body. Or maybe more than that, maybe it could only be compared to the cells themselves: Demand. The simple fact of the matter was that now, even if all those factories lost suddenly returned, who would they sell to? What would they produce? The UNN had lost almost a fifth of its population in a single day. It was only through Ciria’s and Halkus’ miracles that they avoided a perpetual recession. The situation had worked out for Arascus, the bankruptcies following the lack of so many customers had been swallowed up by Imperial Bureaus and then retooled for the one economic sector that had insatiable demand, no advancement in technology and no amount of production could ever satisfy it: the military-industrial complex.

“Is that a realistic proposal?” Iliyal asked and Arascus smiled in reply. It was not. They both knew it was not. It was difficult enough to manage national economies, Ciria and Halkus had historically only worked on pet-projects rather than managing national economics and the UNN had no tradition of interfering with its market. It was no Epa in that regard.

“It’s not.” Arascus said. “But it could be. People change. Ciria has been pushed greatly recently. All of them have. If they see Allasaria return with an army at her back then it does not matter what they think of her. They don’t even need to take a step in the dark, they just need to follow the Imperial model. Rebrand it slightly for the Union, but just copy what we’ve done.”

Iliyal said nothing. He just stared at Arascus with those green eyes of his. The God stared back as the two men thought in silence. It was obvious, was it not? There was only one thing that could be truly done right now. “What can we achieve?” Iliyal asked. This question exactly was why this elf had been favoured by Arascus’ daughter, and it was why this elf was Arascus’ favourite mortal to ever exist. It was the sort perfect, unassuming question, that got the gears turning in one’s head. “Best case scenario obviously is we ally with the UNN.”

“After they’ve just arrested two of ours, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Two Clerics though.” Iliyal said. “And they let the pilot and their support go. If I had more time, I would be able to pull our papers on Etala to see if she has anyone close to her.”

“She’s two hundred and forty nine now.”

“Barely a child then.” Arascus said. “She may still be trying to form connections with mortals.” The fact that Iliyal was an elf and that elves were ageless just like Divines made it somewhat easier for Arascus to like the man. He too knew what it was like to know the little thought in the back of one’s head that everything they put into a person will eventually be wasted. It was not even a matter of death or not being good enough, Arascus could train a man to best ruler that the world had ever seen, and that ruler would have how long in power? Half a century? Ciria had definitely not learned her lesson yet, although she was under two centuries old. Etala was getting to that age in which Divines usually snapped and stopped caring for mortals. But getting there was not being there. “It would make sense.”

“Mmh.” Iliyal said. “I would actually advise against a rescue. At least immediately.”

“Of course, we don’t want anyone being killed here.” Arascus said. A rescue could very quickly have casualties on either side. Populations could tolerate arrests, there was some romantic drama in them in fact. Who did not love a good story of human will surpassing the cold directive of government after all? Yet if someone died… Well, then they killed one of us and they did it on purpose. Blood could only be paid for in blood. “I think there’s one option we can realistically choose Iliyal.”

“We need information.” Iliyal said.

“Send word to the UNN, tell them that I will be coming.”

“Should I say when?” Iliyal asked and Arascus checked the clock. On a normal schedule, he would say tomorrow. He didn’t want to. There were things to manage here. Work could be done on the plane though. Every day Allasaria gave them was a day they had to prepare against for Great War Two. The source of this content ɪs noveⅼfire.net

“Today. Order a plane for me. Make it a hypersonic. If there’s none then tell Helenna we need to take a Raptor off her hands for a day.” Iliyal saluted and left. Arascus got back to his papers. He could be able to get at least another set of letters done before a plane arrived.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep