And on the accusations foisted upon me by Allasaria? I would not bother responding to them were it not for the fact that Allasaria has also mentioned my daughter. Even then, it is not even worth arguing against with what she has claimed about us, so I will only say this.

Purpose, to those without it, is madness.

– Excerpt taken from a biography of Arascus, written by Grand Sorcerer Sirianus although with assistance from the God of Pride. The entire book is written in the fashion of an interview. Dated to the Great War.

Arascus looked upon the city of Anver, the Union’s new administrative capital. It was a city large by Epan standards, but small by UNN ones. From this high above, the city centre was a series of spikes formed of the dozen or so skyscrapers and other city blocks that cascaded upwards towards the ocean of stars that was starting to come out now. Towards the west were arid and rocky mountains, their peaks capped with snow, all around the city was thin shrub as if the land could not decide whether it wanted to be a temperate forest or sandy desert. It was a pretty sight, Arascus had to give it that. Epa did not have land like this.

The wind blew Arascus’ black coat and hair to the side as he slowly lowered himself through the air. Raptor One had simply dropped him off in the sky, closed its cargo bay and then shot off to make a slow, wide turn. Arascus’ magic had slowed the God’s fall down to a crawl although he could not speed it up. Falling down to the ground would be a bad look and he had an image to maintain. So Arascus let himself slowly float down towards the city. It was almost odd to see how little homeless and slums there were considering the disaster that had struck this nation. Was it Ciria’s influence? He had seen the Goddess of Civilization pull out almost ready-made housing from the ground, all that they needed was to have plumbing and electricity. And furniture of course. Or it could have been the fact that the tidal wave which had struck the nation’s east had just killed most outright and there was no point in housing the dead. Arascus decided it was a bit of both.

The city was a patchwork of bright lights which lit up the arid shrubs around it, it had come awake at the sound of the sonic boom produced by the Raptors. People were leaving the streets, they were crowding rooftops and balconies and they were seeing what was about to befall their city. More than a few flashlights started to sign into the night. Now, more than ever, Arascus could not afford to look bad. No doubt there were cameras on him already. By the time a flashlight did catch and focus on him, he was sure that there were entire film crews. If the Raptor’s breaching of the sound barrier had not alerted Anver government, then this no doubt would.

Arascus tried to find Anver’s town hall. He had assumed it would be an easy matter, much like how town halls were always easy to find in Epa. Here though? He came to a stop some distance away from the surface, still high enough for the wind to be furious and biting yet not so far that the air felt as if it was thin. And his eyes scanned the city. What a stupid reason to delay. He had a damn image to uphold and he had crisis upon crisis in Epa’s mainland to attend to. This wasn’t the time to be stood in the air for nothing.

Eventually though, it was Ciria who saved him. He saw movement on the ground, he saw a dress of white that was so large it could only be donned on a Divine, and he began to get closer. It was the Goddess of Civilization, she had emerged from a white structure fashioned that curled around its own entrance in the style of a semi-circle. Ciria would take him to the UNN’s leadership, unless Ciria was the UNN’s leadership. He should have given Malam the job of finding out the intricacies of what was going on here. Every window inside was turned on and people were crowding at the windows to see what was happening.

So the God of Pride slowly lowered himself to the ground. Ciria said nothing, she just stood and waited for Arascus to get close. Police quickly rushed to the town hall at the same time as people assembled to get a view closer. The fact it was evening may have actually been a negative, the only traffic on the street was soon the one that was transporting people closer to Anver’s town hall. Arascus pristine black boot touched down upon the sandstone plates that made up the pathways to the UNN’s government. He landed no more than a half dozen steps from Ciria, she looked him up and down, eyes focusing slightly too on the ceremonial sword sheathed on his belt. Amateurs always gave away their nervousness when it came to weapons, even if that weapon was the medieval relic of an ancient era. “Arascus.” The Goddess of Civilization said, white dress outlined with edges of blue swayed in the wind. She only reached to just above his belt. Short. Short even for Divinity.

“Ciria.” The God of Pride replied, his black coat swayed in the same wind.

Two Divines stared at each other.

Arascus let the silence hang. Why was she seeing to him exactly? The Union of New Nations had its own Goddess and its own government. Here Arascus had thought that Ciria was trying to take a stand against the terrible trouble that was Divinity intervening in mortal governance.

Two Divines stared at each other.

Ciria was obviously not happy to see him whatsoever. Those golden eyes had the colour of gold being refined and drained from the filthiest gold. It was as dark as gold could become before being reclassified to brown or grey.

Two Divines stared at each other.

Did she think he would crack? That he would come in here and scream demands? No. Everyone knew what he was here for. An email had been sent off to tell them precisely why he would be here. If they didn’t get it then that was only their own fault.

Two Divines stared at each other.

The bubble of motionless silence, captured by people pulling out their phones from the window to try and catch the moment of tension and framed by the backdrop of a crowd that edged away after seeing the warm welcome of two Divines that obviously had nothing positive to say to each other.

Two Divines stared at each other.

The silence was broken by the wooden doors of Anver’s town hall swinging open. A mortal woman opened the door. Her hair was raven-black, her eyes were sharp, she wore a black suit. Professional. The total lack of creases, even in the elbows and shoulders, said she had put it on just now. “God Arascus.” She said. “I am Kara Hashiumi. Foreign Minister of the UNN, we were just preparing for your arrival.”

Arascus was as polite as he could be. “It’s my pleasure.” Ciria’s eyebrows darted towards her nose as she took a deep breath and stepped aside.

“We hope to have a peaceful

meeting.” Ciria said.

Arascus smiled and walked past the Goddess. He had to appreciate her tenacity, the closer he got, the more prominent and worse the height gap between them got and yet she still managed to meet his gaze even when she had to tilt her head back. “There will be no blood spilled today.” He said it as a declaration and followed the mortal woman inside.

Arascus scanned the inside of the marble town hall. There were lines of bureaucrats pretending they weren’t curious lining the entrance hall and all of them seemed to have something extravagant to do to such a degree that Arascus knew none of them were actually working. Some things were the same no matter what continent one was on. This building had obviously been built following the White Pantheon’s building regulations. All the corridors were needlessly large, half-again taller than Arascus. The doorways were wide-enough for Arascus to stand next to himself and still have room for a person in between. Helenna had once mentioned that they were so large so that Allasaria could glide through them without touching the ground.

Up through one corridor, down another, to a huge door which had a pair of men in black sunglasses and blacker suits waiting to open it. To a room that had a dozen people. It was the UNN’s entire government, Arascus swept his gaze across them to see how many would recoil. Two-thirds did. The main man of the hour though, President Kochinski, was sitting in the middle and made sure to keep his gaze stable and cool. He had the same tiredness that officers near the end of the Great War had. Behind him and off to the side stood the Goddess of Democracy and the patron saint of the UNN, Etala. Ciria’s height, but that was normal for a national mascot. Like the rest of the ground, she wore the same black suit that was used in business meetings. Halkus was a by window near the rear. He silently turned and met Arascus’ gaze as his wife returned to his side. The God of Pride gave him no reaction. Arascus stopped and stood in front of the crowd, he made sure to keep his posture relaxed and made a show of looking around. If they were not going to introduce themselves, then he would. “Certainly this is no Imperial greeting.”

Etala’s shoulders dropped. President Kochinski leaned back and eased the pressure. Ciria leaned forwards like a predatory wolf. Kara began to tap her finger. The entire crowd shifted, Arascus kept track of the individual faces. The ones that tried to apply pressure, he wrote off, the ones that eased up may be more forgiving of the Empire. Etala took the blow of explaining. “You came on short notice and we are rather busy.” Arascus smiled at the Goddess and inclined his head in the smallest bow he could manage. Of course, he could say that the notice was enough and that the Empire was always ready for guests, but the obvious counterblow to that was that the Empire did not have a quarter of the country flooded by Continent Cracking.

“Do not apologise, I have had worse.” Arascus said easily. They were definitely not going to carry this meeting. “I assume we all know what has happened in Rockport, do we not?” He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room. No one showed signs of confusion, they were all on the same page. A few eyes looked away though, as if they were begging for mercy. “First things first, are the Clerics alive? There is no point in holding this meeting if they have passed.” Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel⁂fire.net

“They are alive.” Kochinski answered. Arascus had thought so, there was simply no reason for them to be dead and whilst relations were cold between the two countries, they weren’t so belligerent as to execute trespassers.

“And can you be trusted on that?” Arascus immediately followed up.  

“If proof is needed, then we can acquire it.” The president replied and Arascus shook his head.

“I trust your word.” Arascus said and immediately felt the temperature in the room drop. The mortals all looked uncomfortable with the God’s declaration, Ciria grimaced. Halkus must have seen the effect though, he smiled as he looked over the humans as if impressed. Etala almost seemed to shrink. “Whilst official reasoning is they were arrested for military trespass, I assume you want someone healed. To put it simply, you could have gone about it in a different way.”

Arascus wondered if anyone would be stupid enough try and take issue or deny what he said. One man was. Unorganized cabinet then or the politicians had lots of autonomy. This would never happen in an Imperial meeting. He was diplomatic enough though. “That is an assumption in itself, they did break the law by stepping foot onto our land.”

“Then why let the pilot and the helicopter crew go?” It was a small thing and Arascus only noticed he said it after the words left his mouth, but he had kept the fact that the Clerics had their own auxiliaries off the table. The UNN men probably knew, but there was no reason to confirm anything. No one answered his question. No one would. That fellow had raised a stupid point. “So as I said before, who and why?”

Kochinski looked turned to Etala. Arascus found it quaint how subservient the Divines of this age were to mortals. The Epan Nationals had been the same before they met him. “There are countless to be healed.” Etala said, her tone was softer and obviously trying to seem like she was wanting to compromise. This was the Divine to aim at, better to keep her talking than let Ciria intervene. “It is not a case of an individual, we do not have that. As for the why.” Etala stopped for a moment and picked her words out. Arascus actually watched her lips moved as she rehearsed saying something. “If you were in our situation, Arascus of Pride, would you not also need to declare a line in the sand?”

It was an attempt at diplomacy. Arascus had to give her that. “That depends on how the line on the sand is drawn. If I were in your situation, I would not antagonize me.” He made a theatrical shrug and thought of offering the services of a Clerical Order. That would mean reassigning an Order from the Second Expedition to here though. The Expedition was stretched thin already though. The Clerics working in general hospitals could not be reassigned either, the Empire had its own sick too. Arascus gave them a non-committal answer. “Nevertheless Etala, I do see your logic.”

Ciria finally cracked and intervened. “There is no logic Arascus.” She spoke quickly and stepped away from Halkus when the God of Industry tried to put his hand on her shoulder to cool her down. “No one will say it so I will say it.” It would be something terrible and it was smart diplomacy. Officially, Ciria was a third party. What she said, the UNN could deny or accept as it wanted to. “It is your Divines who cracked Arika apart and it is your Divines who got us into this mess. I’m not going to pretend that the help is not appreciated. Alanktyda and the Imperial Navy are obviously great boons to the cleanup, but the cleanup is caused by people you represent. Do not expect the UNN’s gratitude. It is their turf; it is your mistake.”

Arascus let the silence hang for a few moments. In moments of trust and companionship, silence was a pleasure. In moments of unknowns, silence was more suffocating than any danger. “I am not here to absolve Kassandora and Elassa of what they did nor do I have the power to. The damage they have caused is the single greatest single-day loss of life in history. Even if I begged a thousand years for forgiveness, it would be an insult to the millions that have perished, we all know this.” Those words were the flanks being secured, now time for the main offensive. “I come for the two Clerics that have been arrested because they are my subjects and it is my duty to protect and represent them. That is the implicit agreement all souls that follow Imperial laws make.”

Ciria did not see the logical trap though, or maybe she did and did not care. “What is there to negotiate for then? You are sidestepping millions for two. Even if we arrested every Cleric in the Empire right now a hundred times over, your number would still be higher. And your number is a kill-count, not an arrest statistic.”

Arascus gave her another way out. It was obvious, but it was more for the audience that was the rest of the people in this room. He did have to give her one thing though, this was the nothing like the quiet and meek Ciria he had seen back in the pre-Kiriyaan peace talks. “I am not in any position to negotiate this nor was it my intention to try.”

“Then why bother coming Arascus? Your Clerics will save lives here, that may put a dent in your debt.”

Hook, line and sinker. “Do not talk to me about debt Ciria.” Arascus commanded. “For I at least know of the blood that I wade through.”

“What blood Arascus? What blood?” Ciria said and Halkus sighed from behind her. Arascus wandered if he had worked it out. He gave a moment’s pause. The God of Industry lost his chance at defending his wife.

“Why was Arika cracked in the first place?” Arascus asked. There would be no negotiation with the UNN without a discussion about Continent Cracking, Arascus had prepared himself. “Not just you Ciria, anyone here. Why was Arika cracked?” The room looked uneasy. Arascus wandered if Ciria would answer. Surprisingly, it was Elassa who did. Her tone was tentative and delicate.

Arascus wandered whether the woman was sharp and cunning or just actually this green. “To destroy the devouring Jungle.” She said it in such a tone that any sort of aggression would be a losing move. Arascus actually had to pace his words.

Cunning. She had to be. It was too perfect. “Indeed to destroy the Jungle. The entire continent was being swallowed. Kirinyaa itself had maybe fifty years left before they would become another Ausa with its coastal cities enclosed by the Firewalls.” He turned his attention back to Ciria and raised his arm forward to the Goddess of Civilization. “Now tell me Ciria how many millions were swallowed by the Jungle? How many countries disappeared off the map? How many cities were lost forever? The reason they accepted Kassandora and the reason they supported us even through Continent Cracking was because Kassandora was the first to come and try to actually solve their problem rather than just give them meagre trinkets of support.”

Ciria said nothing. She just stared at Arascus, her cheeks flushing red and her eyes wide and brooding. Etala came in to try and save Ciria. “You yourself said that you were here to negotiate about the Clerics and not try and discuss what has happened.” That was smooth.

It was not smooth enough. “That was not part of the negotiations Etala, it is simply a life lesson. The one thing all Divines share is propensity for thinking that their pile of stones somehow hides the fact they live in glass houses.” No one had any reply. That blow had effectively disarmed them. If he them gave them chance to recover, then they would take it and close up even more. Next time, they would be prepared for this talk of Arika with more of their own history, with figures and with their own numbers and statistics that painted them as the most hurt. Arascus wouldn’t even be able to blame them, he had not lied when he said that the tidal wave caused by Continent Cracking was too great to forgive. But that did not matter.

At the end of the day, it did not matter whether a man stabbed when he tripped, stabbed when he made a mistake or stabbed when he was overwhelmed. Nor whether he was out-skilled from the beginning of the duel or whether his opponent manage to exploit the smallest sliver of a chance. At the end of the day, a man was still stabbed.

Arascus stabbed every hook he could into the UNN. He would drag them to the table of actual diplomacy and not tit-for-tat counting of blood with every dirty trick, every swing of the stick and every shake of the carrot. Whilst they were still recoiling and trying to figure out what to think of Ciria, Arascus did what he did best. He gave them an offer so good they would have to be actively malicious to refuse it. He even framed it as a reward. “The Clerics are going to come back home with me, in exchange for not killing them, I will send Kavaa to establish Holy Orders of Clerics so that you have enough to fit staff every hospital.”

Was there anyone who could say no to that?

Millions would be saved after all.

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