The positioning of dwarven Highways begs an investigation that the White Pantheon is unwilling to perform. I say this not as a judgement for I myself am guilty of it too. None of us were willing to sacrifice our Orders on expeditions into the underground. Even Kavaa, willing to handle the Erdely front with almost no support, put her foot down and said no. Whereas I cannot comment on the internal logic of others, whether it is spite or fairness, a promise to end the bloodletting or simple fatigue from the century of warfare, I can comment on my own.

There are plenty of Dwarven Highways about that run through the world. Some overlap, some cross with junctions, they are seemingly random. Theories such as Conquest Preparation fall flat in this regard. Dwarves are a secretive race yet they are not so secretive as to be completely isolated. We are aware they have maps of us and Arascus possessed maps detailing them. Conquest Preparation states that the dwarves are preparing for a war of global conflict to dominate Arda. Yet even if we go by this logic, they leave major regions bare and unoccupied. Likewise, there are many islands in the North Sea that have connections into the Underkingdoms. These rocky outcrops of land are worthless in value, one has to make the stretch that the Dwarves were wrong and thought they would be blocking trade routes. Yet for the Eparika sea, there are only three holds and those are all conglomerated on the Rilian island of Isania.

Conquest Preparation theory nevertheless is popular because it is an acceptable worldview. Other theories are far more pessimistic upon our future. Continental Tearing is popular, in that the Highways are created through cracks of weakened ground which were smashed and joined during Worldbreaking. If this is the case, then there is little I can personally do to alleviate the situation, it would fall to someone like Elassa. Maybe we would need to free Anassa for assistance too. Monster Retreat Theory stands as the crowned king of pessimism in the theoretical sphere, nevertheless it has its issues too. Largely the amount of space that has been excavated would be unfeasible for beings even as large as Divines to accomplish. Kassandora’s question of “Where has the excess ground been moved to” also raises questions. Whereas soil-eaters do exist, even soil-eaters leave behind excrement.

Pantheon Peace, in some regards, is built upon nothing but hopes and dreams that Arda does not reveal what it hides. Leona states that she has never once got a vision regarding this situation and that even in moments from far ahead, not once has the Highway Network been of any significance. Whether Leona can see eternally into the future, or whether just across her life is unknown. Nevertheless, Leona has not predicted her own death yet, she says that, at the very least, there is still at least another half-a-millennia left of her life.

– Excerpt from “Problems in Peace.” Written by Goddess Fortia, of Peace. Written four centuries after the Great War.

“You know what?” Baalka had heard this question at least a dozen times in the past dozen hours. She trekked behind the men that were supposed to be the rear-guard. After thirty had died from straying too close to Baalka’s diseases, the rear-guard became the forward scouts that stayed far ahead of Baalka and made sure that the route ahead was cleared. Mutual contact had quickly wilted down to Baalka getting on the huge truck and getting off in silence. Baalka didn’t particularly about them, she doubted the soldiers had much of an opinion of her that wasn’t tainted by fear.

Fer’s coming had been the nail in the coffin. That had slowed the convoy down greatly, the Goddess of Beasthood and the Goddess of Disease could not fit both on the back of the truck. Fer herself was so heavy she would not even risk breaking the axle by trying to test it. So the two Goddesses kept a quick yet lethargic pace as they trailed behind the forward scouts. The journey wasn’t far and frankly, Baalka was enjoying the time. She had enjoyed Arascus’ celebration too, but simply walking with a sister was more enjoyable. “What?” Baalka snapped. Now if only that sister was not Fer.

“I love you.”

Baalka sighed. It was lovely, it was sweet, it was wonderful to have a sister that loved so freely. And it was tiring. Damn tiring as well. “I love you too.” Baalka replied out of sheer politeness at this point. How many times did it need to be said.

Baalka glanced at Fer. The woman towered above her, strolling as Baalka needed to get two steps in for everyone one of Fer’s just to keep pace. Even then, it was obvious Fer was slowing down. Baalka’s eyes travelled to her sister’s head. Her fingers were interlocked on the back of her hair, two ears popped out of the top. And then down. Somehow, most likely father’s work this, Fer had actually been forced to put something on that wasn’t just rags or her own fur. She had a black coat, the back had been ripped open to allow her tail through. “Why do you have that?” Baalka asked.

“I have what?”

“A tail.” It was a long limb, obviously strong and covered in short fur. The end had a fluffy tip.

“I drank your blood.” Fer replied and Baalka sighed.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know.” Fer said.

“So?”

“So I drank your blood when I rescued you from the Jungle and I got a tail.” Baalka sighed. She knew the story, both Kavaa and Kassie had shared it, the former in great detail, the latter in just a series of verbal bullet-points that covered everything important.

“I meant why my blood? What does my blood have to do with new limbs? At least Irinika turning your ears black makes sense.” Did it though? When Fer had drank Irinika’s blood, she had been put into a coma for a week and her fur had darkened. Those fluffy ears had turned black and they stayed like that for a few decades. Iri may have been the Goddess of Darkness, but what did that really have to do with Fer’s hair colour?

“I don’t know.” Fer said. She twisted her core. That always made Baalka jealous. The fact the woman was so flexible she could do triple cartwheels in the air whereas Baalka struggled with even rolling over the shoulder was just unfair. Her tail whipped forward so quickly that Baalka felt the wind whip the back of her head was also annoying. “It’s cute though.”

What a comment. “Is it?”

“Is it not?” Fer asked. “Look.” She gently brushed the fluffy tip on Baalka’s tip and giggled to herself. “See? Cute?”

Baalka just shook her head and rolled her eyes as they kept on walking through the tunnel. The trucks ahead gave enough light as to light most of the terrain up. Spotlights in all directions had been mounted on the transport truck that had been carrying Baalka, they cast their blinding white light in all directions, even illuminating the roof. This had obviously been Imperial territory long ago. The twinkling gold in the ceilings had been ripped out, resulting in long, thin scars in the stone. Or, most likely geomancers since Kassie had mentioned that they had Elassa on their side now, had covered it up. The ceiling got lower in certain areas, as if it had been overgrown with tumours of stone. “Cute indeed.” Baalka replied out of sheer politeness again. She wanted to talk to Neneria or someone easier than that. Even Kavaa had proven herself to be on Baalka’s wavelength.

“I know!” Fer said. “Children come up to me sometimes and they want to touch it!”

“Sounds adorable.” Baalka did not mean it.

“Just like little foxes!”

They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes. Past what had to have been some forward operating base. The crates had been taken, there were no heavy vehicles, not even a bullet left behind. All to stop Tartarus from being able to reverse-engineer Imperial weaponry for as long as possible. It wouldn’t hold of course, eventually the technological gap would close but that did not mean the Empire would assist the demons in any way. “You know what?”

“You love me?” Baalka asked.

“That too.” Fer chuckled to herself. “But look at this.” Fer said. The forward scouts kept on rolling in the distance at their slow pace. Fer pointed to a piece of rubble and then walked to it. It was sheets of corrugated iron that had been thrown into a pile. A smash wooden crate sat there. There had been some attempt to set it alight. It was charred. The cold air here must have drowned out the flames. Most likely the soldiers were conserving gasoline or they didn’t add enough.

“Do you smell something?” Baalka asked.

“I sure do.” Fer said. “Oil.”

“Oh.” Baalka said as she watched the Goddess of Beasthood bend down. In one swift movement, so fast Baalka could only stare and blink after the fact, several of the sheets had been punched through and Fer pulled out a small pistol. Baalka had seen these, she wanted the soldiers to show them off to her since even her own fingers were too large to fit through the trigger guard. After those fools had killed themselves though, that had put a stop to the showings of new technology.

“It’s a gun.” Baalka said.

“It’s a nine-millimetre Ager from Doschia. Kassie said we can’t leave these behind.” Baalka just stood there, downright annoyed. This was the worst part of Fer, just the worst. If she was some great big brute, then she could be dealt with. That was a neat category of creature such as ogre or troll or other thing that had been pushed back by the coming of humanity’s dominion over Arda. She accepted everything so easily that and so lightly that it would make sense for a mind simple.

Yet Fer was not simple. Fer was smart enough to glance at whatever tiny contraption that was and know immediately what she was looking at. The Goddess of Beasthood flipped the pistol and did something to it with both hands. It fell apart into neat puzzle pieces immediately. Show-off. A Goddess that smart should not act so stupid. It was terribly, terribly annoying. “What did you do?” Baalka looked at the pieces. It had not been torn open. A spring rolled on the ground. Another part looked like a flat box without a bottom. There was obviously the hilt or the handle or whatever they decided to call it there too. No bullets though. Baalka knew the name for those by now.

“I took it apart.” Fer said. She made a motion with her hands. “That’s how you do it.” Baalka did not even bother trying to replicate whatever it was she just did. Kassie or Arascus or even Kavaa would have to explain it. Fer did not explain; she just did.

“Oh.” Baalka said sarcastically. “Thanks for the demonstration.”

Fer chuckled at the annoyance. “It’s so easy to get underneath your skin Baalka.” Baalka sighed.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Baalka changed the topic. “So? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll smash it.” What an annoying answer. No finesse to it. Nothing. Just smash. Just fucking smash. The worst part was that Baalka could not even find a way to disagree with that. Fer was correct to some extent.

“Just that?”

“Well we can’t leave it, can we?” Fer said. No. They should not leave it. If this pistol had been accidently left behind then others would have too. No doubt a full rifle fell off a truck in the mayhem of retreat or something slid out of a soldier’s pocket elsewhere, but that did not matter. This pistol could not be left behind.

“I know.” Baalka had utterly devastated the weaponry she had left behind with diseases. To even touch them at this point would be sign a death sentence. To clear them, they would have be melted down or bathed in acid or something of the like. The smokeless gunpowder had served for a good base for a devastating mycelium. “They must have missed it. Smash it then.”

Fer lifted her leg and Baalka stepped forward immediately. “I can poison it.” Baalka said. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Have I ever hurt myself?” Fer asked.

“Where do I start?” Baalka rolled her eyes and threw her hand forwards. Whatever, it was Fer. Even if she accidently cut herself, her own regeneration would fix her.

“Careful has Fer in it.” Fer said. “That’s has careful I am.” Baalka looked away at the stone as she tried to think and carefully spell out the name. C, A, R, E, F…

“Backwards doesn’t cou-“ Baalka began and Fer smashed down with her leg on the pistol. The crash could have been a thunderstrike. Dwarven stone that had laid untarnished for thousands of years crashed under Fer’s foot as cracks spread out in all directions. Baalka does just looked down at the woman and shook her head.

“Owie.” Fer cooed.

“Owie indeed.” Baalka said flatly. She had seen Fer be almost ripped apart. There was only a certain number of times Baalka could see the woman take a hit that flung her with such force she went through walls and then stand right back up. Likewise, there was only a certain amount of blood the woman could spill before Baalka had realised she was borderline unstoppable. “Did you just hurt yourself?”

Fer lifted up her leg to reveal the flattened pistol. Even an industrial press would not be able to do a better job. It would just shards of metal that lay pancaked on the ground, press to roughly the thickness of paper. Yet that leg went even further up. Fer should not be that flexible nor should she balance that well. The woman’s hair was such a heavy sheet of fabric that it should be toppling her already. On the bottom of her foot was a small scratch with a few droplets of blood there. It had cut deep Baalka supposed although she was in no mood to check. Already, she could see the woman’s sinew and flesh regrowing in real time. “How is it?”

“It’s not bad.” Baalka said. Fer bent her leg even further, until she could look at the bottom of her own foot. “Why did you even ask for an opinion?”

“Blood makes me queasy.” Fer said, Baalka was about to respond when she realised what her sister had just said.

“No it doesn’t, you eat people.”

“Dirty.” Fer declared. She sniffed the air loudly and shook her head. That golden cloak of hair followed her from one side to the other as if it was trying to constantly cast her body in a silhouette. Baalka silently watched her sister sit down. She checked on the forward scouts, they had stopped. A few men were walking about but no one was coming close.

“Come on, we’re wasting time.”

“Haven’t you stopped them anyway?”

“Who?”

“Tartarus?”

“Just come on.” Baalka said. “Stand up. What are you…” Baalka trailed off as she watched Fer sit like some disgusting damned child. Some runt that should not bear the noble title that was Divine. The woman grabbed her leg by her own ankle and bent her foot until she could lick it. “You are disgusting.”

“I’m cleaning.”

“Like a dog.” Baalka hissed back.

“Mmh.” Fer said. “What am I the Goddess of again?” A tiny tongue popped from her lips. Like some snake, it merely wetted the woman’s foot. Once. Then twice. Then she rubbed it clean with her wrist.

“Disgusting.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t do that.” Fer said as she inspected her foot again. Clean.

“This is why people say you stink.”

“I smell of bear and honey.” Fer said as she tapped her toes with her nails.

“It is vile behaviour.”

“What a way with words you have.” Fer said. She looked up at Baalka and smiled smugly. “Do you know what you can’t do but I can?”

“You have a better sense of smell than me.”

“Even children can do this.” Fer said and she bit her nail to clip the toes. Baalka stared for a moment, then felt herself want to wretch and throw fists at the sheer display of stupidity she was being watched. What did it matter that they all had nail clippers in their bags? What did it matter that such things weren’t necessary to do anyway? Fer could shed her own nails anyway in the same way she shed fur and left a mess everywhere! Letting the woman into a house was like letting a herd of sheep wander through but at least sheep were better behaved!

“It’s disgusting. Those are dirty.”

“I’m a cleanly little Goddess.” Fer said, even though she was sat down, her head was still at Baalka’s height.

“Little is the last word I’d use to describe you.” Baalka watched in disgust as her sister finished off one foot. “Don’t do the other!” Fer just chuckled to herself as she moved onto her other leg and subjected Baalka to another disgusting display of pure barbarity. Even medieval peasants had more class than this. It took her less than ten seconds to clip her nails with her fangs. And then, as if nothing happened, Fer jumped up onto her feet straight from that sitting posture. How she did, Baalka did not even know. It was as if gravity simply refused to obey the woman. Gravity and bones and muscles. They all just seemed to bend to her will. “Come on, I’m done.” The pair of Goddesses walked for a few steps. The convoy ahead once again began to trundle onwards. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep