I keep this diary for the very purpose of organising my thoughts and answering questions that have obvious answers, yet somehow are eluding me. Today, I have once again considered this madness that has consumed Arascus. On one hand, I wish that the God of Pride that we all knew, the respectable deity all of us would go for to seek advice, would return. On the other, Arascus had a monopolistic possession of prestige amongst us. Whenever one seeks advice, whenever one seeks mediation, whenever one seeks anything, then who do they go to? There is one obvious answer, the rest of us are always the second choice. When a Divine excels in one field, it is tolerable. Kassandora is number one in all things warfare, yet no one goes to Kassandora for advice on relationships.

I suppose that is one reason why the White Pantheon has been such an immediate success in terms of mass Divine mobilization. Arascus may have the more efficient Empire and he may possess Divines that are in the upper echelons of strength, yet the vast majority of Forces and Inventions have come to side with the Pantheon. This madness and eagerness from him is almost encouraged, for it is one of the few times that it feels like Arascus has overstepped.

Yet nonetheless, what I wish to write about is this feeling. This dire, dismal feeling I have when I look at Arascus. All my previous entries were lies for I have always known what I felt when I was looking at him. It is that I was simply running from myself and pretending not to see it. I look at Arascus’ collapse and fall into obsessive madness and I see Kassandora.

There is some difference of course, they have different obsessions, but they share the same madness. Kassandora and I formed in the same nation, in the same city, only a years apart. The Goddesses of Light and of War, it is said that there was never a Divine of Victory for Victory was within us. When Kassandora pulled away, I could not stop her. Now, as I see Arascus pull away and drag others with him, I feel as if I could have never stopped Kassandora back then. The madness and the surety is the exact same. They both knew what they were doing. In some ways, I even expected this outcome, although I thought that they would eventually marry rather than the Goddess of War submit to the position of a Daughter.

I look at Arascus and I feel the same sadness as when I look at Kassandora. In some ways, what I am thinking is disgusting. I feel sadness for them, and I feel sadness for myself. Sadness because I do not know what to do, what to say or what to give. I should, I know I should. I know that the role should be mine for I am the Goddess of Light and there are none grander, yet I do not know.

And blood will be spilled because I do not know.

– Excerpt from the Private Diary of Goddess Allasaria, of Light. Written just a month before the start of the Great War.

Etala stood with her hands behind her back as the entire room looked at her. Upon returning to Anver, the UNN’s new capital after the old one had been washed away, all she had time for was to thrown on a black coat, change her shirt, send the two Clerics off to the closest hospital and get them working before anyone realised what was actually happening. And now, she stood in the semi-circular office of President Rudyard Kochinski’s new home. Construction had not even started on a new home for government, this was just the Town Hall of Anver which had been requisitioned by the remains of the UNN government. “We were just talking about you.” President Kochinski said as he smoothed out a pile of papers on his desk. “Everyone bar God Halkus, Goddess Ciria, Milford, Antonio and Kara stay.”

The horde of politicians evacuated from the office, leaving it somewhat empty. It was too large a room for only seven souls. Supposedly, this was a conference room before, although it was the only place in the entire hall that had a ceiling high enough for Halkus and a door straight to the outside so it would have to do. The marble floor and the tables which had been arranged here were quickly cleared. Etala stood with the same defiance before the most people in her nation that those two Imperial Clerics had stood before her with.

President Rudyard Kochinski leaned forward, fingers interlocked, his eyes barely having the strength or energy to look up. A year ago, he had been a man in his prime. In his early fifties, he had even been young for becoming president. Some said he had even managed to outrun aging. The disaster after disaster, the war in Epa, the fall of the White Pantheon, everything that had happened had made sure that aging returned at the speed of a supersonic sprint. His hair was thinning and going grey, he had lost weight, his brow was permanently creased. Etala had once read the account of a man from the Great War, she always pictured soldiers returning from year-long campaigns looking like Rudyard did right now.

Next to him was Milford Ekana, the man in charge of the eastern seaboard and its cleanup. Tall, broad-shouldered, he only returned to Anver in emergencies. Otherwise, he was living in that red uniform of the Rescuers. Antonio Seraca was the minister of state, the president’s right hand. Just a few years older than Rudyard, he too looked as if he was a foot in the grave already. A year ago, he had hair. Now, he had a grey horseshoe around his head that he just shaved bald. Kara Hashiumi was the minister of foreign affairs. Raven-haired, in a blue suit and sitting with a laptop in front of her. Her brown eyes only looked disappointed at Etala.

Ciria stood in a dress of white and blue. White was an iconic shade, but the blue was to separate herself from the White Pantheon’s gold. She was just an inch taller than Etala, although Etala never worried about her own height. Her golden eyes, her crossed arms, her posture, her heavy breathes, it all said that Etala was in trouble. Halkus, the God of Industry, her husband stood in a black uniform. Etala always liked the man, he always had a booming voice that commanded attention although he rarely spoke. The top of Ciria’s head reached up to Halkus’ shoulders.

And absolutely no one in the room looked happy that Etala had returned. Outside, the Anver skyline gave way to arid shrub in the distance and then rising snow-capped mountains. The setting sun dragged a duvet of purple and yellow and gold and red over the sky and birds were flying in huge flocks as they began to return to their nests at night. “What did you do?” Ciria asked. At the end of the day, she did not care. She had done what was right.

“What and when?” Etala asked.

“Don’t play coy with us.” Ciria snapped back and Rudyard raised his arm.

“We just got word from Captain Mallowholme. Do you know who that is?” Rudyard asked. Etala’s cracked smile revealed she did recognise the name of Anver’s police chief. “Explain to me why he just got a letter from you that he needs to keep a squad of officers at Anver General Hospital to safeguard two Imperial Clerics? Explain to everyone here why what should be taken as a joke is actually reality? Why do we have a pair of Imperial Clerics claiming they are arrested and healing the sick?”

Etala knew Rudyard far better than Ciria did and just with that series of questions, she knew she had an ally on her side here. Rudyard was the sort of man to win the presidency in his fifties, when he wanted to, he was smooth beyond belief. Those questions, aggressive and angry though they were, framed Etala’s actions in the best light possible and they gave her a chance at explanation and a damn good one at that. “Because we have sick and injured and because we need to draw a line in the sand. Because I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“You took it without consultation and without even word of warning.” Ciria said. The Goddess of Civilization was actually angry. “You didn’t even tell us on the way back. Why are we hearing it from some local police captain and not the Goddess that did the arrest herself?”

“It happened hours ago. Apologies for me handling the issue.” Etala said, she made sure to fix her gaze on Ciria. The Goddess of Civilization stared back angrily, her cheeks flaring with crimson rage. Her husband walked to the window, crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall as he watched the skyline of Anver.

“I don’t think you actually understand what you have done.” Ciria said.

“I have drawn a line in the sand!” Etala raised her voice. “Because that’s all we’ve been talking about since Imperial ships have decided to come and help us. Did we ask for their help? Did we even want it? Is it good? Yes of course, that’s not the issue though. The issue is that they just decided that we need help and that they’re the ones to help out. This is not when Maisara and Fortia came to stop the nuclear reactors overloading. This is Arascus stepping out of his lane and into ours!” Etala knew her sentences were fragmented and short and that it wasn’t too good an answer but with this many sets of eyes, and it was eyes she knew personally, the columns of patience holding her from being crushed in panic were beginning to crack.

“When you…” Ciria began and trailed off. She turned to the minister of foreign affairs and Etala realised why Kara was here. “Miss Hashiumi, you will frame it in a better light than I.”

“Thank you Goddess.” Kara got to work immediately. She brought something up on her laptop and turned the screen around. “Goddess Etala, I apologise for being so crass, but this is Arascus’ Empire we are dealing with. What do you think will happen now?”

Etala stood there for a moment and realised she did not really know. She had just tried to solve two problems. “The Empire will come knocking.” That was the obvious answer.

“The Empire will come knocking.” Rudyard repeated. Etala could practically see new creases appear in real time on his brow.

“Do you understand what we are dealing with here?” Ciria asked. “With Arascus? Do you even know what sort of God he is?”

“He’s the God of Pride.” Etala replied.

Halkus’ voice boomed from the back. “I have only met the man once and he is so much more than that.” The room all turned to the God of Industry, who stood leaning on that wall and still looking out through the window. “We are angry Etala because we have made this mistake already.”

“Halkus-“ Ciria began but her husband cut her off.

“Let me, Ciria.” He began and the Goddess of Civilization nodded. “We held peace talks before the White Pantheon’s invasion of Kirinyaa. I assume none of you know that because we don’t talk about them.” No one did know about that, not even Etala. From the faces on the mortals, they did not know either. “We know about the Kirinyaan War, so I assume you can all figure how well the peace talks went.”

“There was nothing we could have done.” Ciria wove her words in addition to Halkus’ so smoothly they may have been weaving one individual cloth. “It was not a matter of Arascus, it was all of them. The White Pantheon Divines and his Daughter-Goddesses, all of them are like this.”

“Mmh.” Halkus took over again. “The thing I will never forget is when Fortia told us that peace talks are essentially worthless wastes of time because everything we can say to them, they’ve said to each other already and they have simply decided that the best course of action is to kill one another.”

Ciria interjected smoothly and Halkus let his wife take over. “It was how adamant they were about it. The worst part is that I don’t even disbelieve Fortia. I do think they have come to this conclusion, I just don’t know how but for me, it was when she said that they don’t even hate each other, just spilling blood is the natural course of action to resolve their grievances.”

“It’s something I just can’t understand. Not for me.” Halkus said and Ciria fell silent. The entire room fell silent with them. Etala had not known about these peace talks but from the way they spoke… Well, Ciria had no reason to lie. Talking about them, she did not even look angry, she just looked crushed.

“I didn’t know about that.” Etala said.

Milford Ekana, the broad-shouldered man who was in charge of cleaning up the eastern seaboard, tried to rally some optimism. “What is done is done now. We had to do this eventually, Goddess Etala, you are merely the one who did it but what you said is true. If we allow a pair of Clerics onto shore one day, then another pair the next, then in a month we’ll have a thousand of Empire troops here on UNN soil.”

Rudyard clapped his hand against his wooden desk and pointed a finger at Etala. “There we go, finger pointed, Etala, you did this, now we are past that stage of discussion and we can ask what we are going to do about this? How long do we realistically have before the Empire comes to us?” There was not a single hint of scorn in Rudyard’s and Etala felt an uncertain weight shed itself from her shoulders the moment the man said it was her fault. That, she could honestly accept. It was her fault, but that didn’t mean they had to beat her into the ground for it.

“Well they’ve already raised… I suppose it’s a complaint.” Kara spoke up.

“They’re fast then.” Antonio added. “To have a complaint on the same day.” Ciria’s face took on an even darker tone, she shoulders fell, her arms dangled loose by her side. No one said anything in response to Antonio’s comment. There was nothing to say, the simple fact of the matter was that a same-day response was a level of organisation that Etala had not expected. This was an Empire that spanned two continents after all, shouldn’t they have a bit of slack to give?

“What did it say?” Rudyard restarted the conversation.

“Well…” Kara said. She turned the laptop around for everyone else to read:

To whom it may concern.

               It has come to our attention that two Clerics, Rudolf Asenhill and Otto Mirresenn, were arrested by Goddess Etala, of Democracy & of the Union of New Nations.

“That’s it.” Kara said. “That’s all of it, I thought the email had corrupted at first but no, it’s just that. They didn’t even give it name. They just sent it to my email. If I didn’t see it was a governmental link, I wouldn’t even have opened it. It came an hour ago.”

“They just said that they know.” Etala said, her voice grim. What Ciria had said was one thing but then seeing it in action? Who sent a letter of complaint through online email? And who sent a letter like that? ‘To whom it may concern’? That was an effective declaration that it wasn’t even worth learning the names of the people they were complaining to. This content belongs to n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

“Is it signed?” Antonio asked.

“No.” Of course it wasn’t.

“Do we have anything we can hit them with then?” Rudyard asked.

“I could have an action plan prepared for tomorrow morning dawn.” Antonio said as he leaned in his seat and covered his face with his hands. “How good it will be, I can’t say, but it would be something at least.”

“Anything is better than nothing.” Rudyard said. Milford’s phone buzzed and he took it out to start reading his messages as the President continued. “But let’s go through what we do know. We know that Arascus has sent his army underground, we know the Empire has to be straining economically. We know that the White Pantheon is out. We know that even Fortia and Maisara have settled in Gracja and most likely aren’t looking to help us.”

“They call it the Second Expedition.” Kara said. “The army underground I mean, it’s the Second Expedition. And we know that they have an issue with the mess in Rancais after Anarchia was killed.” Milford wrote everything down with a pen and an ugly scrawl. There had been a time when the man had pretty handwriting, Etala remembered it still.

“We can’t offer the Clerics back.” Rudyard declared and the entire room turned towards him, bar Milford whose face twisted in confusion. His eyebrows darted downwards and he scrolled through things on his phone. “Not at first at least.”

“That’s a war declaration then.” Ciria said.

Rudyard shook his head. “Apologies Goddess, but I don’t think so. The Clerics are our bargaining chips. We want to remind Arascus that his army is busy right now, that we’re no real threat to the Empire, that this is a mistake, but that he is to respect our authority and then at the end of the negotiations do we hand the Clerics back.”

“You want to try blackmailing them?” Ciria asked.

“I do agree with Goddess Etala here. We do need a line in the sand as she said.” Etala smiled proudly as Rudyard indicated to her. “The Clerics do make good leverage and we just need to remind the Empire that they don’t have troops to spare right now. I don’t know how they would be able to explain assisting in cleanup and then going to war with the same country.” Rudyard finished, personally, Elassa would have gone down a more sympathetic, honest route and how the UNN had too many permanently injured and needed Clerics.

“I hate to interrupt.” Milford said. “But we have a problem.”

“What is it?” Rudyard asked.

“Ninety minutes ago, radar detected a foreign object on the eastern seaboard. It was a plane, no identification signal was given, it just flew straight into our airspace. I’ve confirmed it just now. Several stations caught it.”

“It’s them?” Kara asked. “Are you sure?”

“It’s moving at supersonic speed. We didn’t even send our own planes to intercept, there’s no point.” The silence that fell over the room this time was so thick it could practically be chewed on. There was only one nation that regularly used supersonic planes, and it was so proud of them that it was making a movie about them right now.

“So it’s them.” Ciria said. “If it’s a Raptor, then it’s probably Malam or a Divine. Maybe Arascus himself. Maybe a team of diplomats.”

“Should we close the airport and give them place to land at?” Antonio asked.

“Make them circle for a while.” Rudyard said. “They can’t be expecting to just turn up unannounced like this. How long would it take for a Raptor to get here?”

The question was answered but not by anyone within the room. From outside, the sound of a supersonic explosion that accompanied a plane breaching the sound barrier almost shook the ground. A few car alarms were set off by the sound, although none of the seven occupants were especially worried about that. Kara broke the silence, she looked up from her laptop and out the window. Ciria stepped to it, her white-blue dress swishing with each step. Halkus came close. Rudyard, Milford, Antonio, all of them went to the window. Etala followed and Kara was the last one, she had to

Past the skyline of Anver of tall, square skyscrapers, past the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Up above in the endless deep blue ocean that was the sky, a black arrow shot past. Etala didn’t catch it, but she didn’t need to catch it to know what it was. Halkus said the thing everyone was thinking. “That’s not our plane, is it?”

No. No, it was not.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep