Jackal Among Snakes

“Are you talking about the god’s blessing within me?” Argrave asked with a firm voice—he was proud of himself for staying steady given the walls themselves were shaking.

“You admit, then, that you have the favor of another god,” Chiteng’s red eyes narrowed somewhat.

“No. I was blessed, but I have no favor from him,” he shook his head. “We traded. Bartered. I had something that he wanted, and in return for it he lent me access to his power. I will admit he did express interest in making me one of his champions, but I refused the offer,” Argrave scratched at his ear as he shook his head.

“And why refuse?” Chiteng threw his hand up gently, prompting elaboration. His voice had quieted, so he didn’t seem as angry as before.

“The same reason I proposed cooperation with you, not subservience to you.” Argrave spread his arms out. “I have a duty. To myself, and to others.”

The congregated servants behind muttered, but Argrave stayed razor-focused on the figure on his throne. The truth of the matter was that Argrave thought he’d be better than the gods at making this world habitable. This little eerie red ocean this throne stood on was a perfect example at why allowing gods with narrow focuses unadulterated access to the world was a net negative. Humans were the best to serve humans—that was his purpose as king, now. He’d gotten the crown, and now he needed to hold it. It was as much for his future as it was for others—that’s how these things worked.

Chiteng didn’t look satisfied by that answer. “Duties are long, thankless threads that can form impeding knots when intertwined. You propose cooperation. I do not intend to subvert my own duty by wrapping it in yours without understanding your intent fully.”

Argrave nodded, filtering past the grandiose speech to get the root of the matter—he wanted Argrave’s motive. He took a breath and answered, “My duty is simple. I must allow everyone who falls beneath my banner to get through this without painful submission or death. And why? Because I want to live in a nice place.”

Chiteng watched without judgement. “You don’t care for their fates?”

“As much as about anyone else, yeah I do,” Argrave nodded, being quite honest. “The world is better with others living in it. Innovation, structure, safety… that’s what organized and civilized society offers, in large part. I want to preserve that for me and mine. I’m sure you understand, having watched over the elves for as long as you have.”

Chiteng tapped his finger on the throne’s armrest. “The chains that bind are long and greedy. I once thought it foolish that we divinity should fight amongst each other for territory, for worshippers, but death is the thing we fear. The gods will try and make their mark on your people. I am rooted here in the Bloodwoods because my family and I served the elves, earned their worship, protected them, and gave them a home to live. Your life has been short, but many of us have seen dozens of millennia pass by. The opportunism stems from seeking a staging ground for the next cycle, for it never truly ends. We seek to build a fortress in the hearts and mind of the mortals, so that when next the arbiter raises his judgment we may step upon familiar soil.”

The elven god leaned in. “They will come for all you have. They will try and erode your people’s will with filling pleasures, try and conquer the land by might, try and beat you down with reason honed over centuries. I do not chide your resistance, but they resist all the same against powers greater than they are. In your land, bodies that meet the earth nourish the crops that grow in years to come. For the gods, we need only eat each other to grow stronger. You know this, having offered that silver medallion laden with divinity.”

Argrave listened intently, surprised the impersonal god spoke so personally. At the end of that, he nodded. “Life is hard, that’s what you’re saying. I don’t see that as any reason to give up.”

“No. I say that cooperation is a rare luxury, for the opportunism and base greed of one alone can pervade the attitudes of all into a ubiquitous and internecine struggle for power and supremacy. Such is as we see plainly on display.” Chiteng fell back into his throne, lost in thought. “You spoke sense. Kirel Qircassia has no reason to so meekly allow myself and my family to join his coalition when he could establish his presence in these woods both for this cycle and the next. Experience has taught me that people rarely speak sense without another motive behind it, and I find it difficult to cooperate with one who bears the taint of a power well known to me.”

The god spoke fast enough Argrave felt the proceeding silence after he finished unbearable. Eventually he defended, “Erlebnis is fair in his dealings.”

“Yes. But mortal beings are not bound as he and his servants are by reputation and expectation. He has earned a powerful place for himself in this world by trading knowledge between all powers equitably. Nevertheless, many names have been stomped beneath his feet and forgotten in the time of the arbiter’s judgement. For a god to grow, other gods must die. And your swift arrival in an hour of need bears implications. Your pervasive knowledge, too, bears implications.”

“You need me to quell uncertainty,” Argrave finally realized.

No response came. Chiteng watched and waited, his monologue finished.

“I can’t,” Argrave said. “But I can return the favor.”

Chiteng shifted in his throne, saying nothing further.

Argrave paced as he talked. “I didn’t know whether or not my party would make it through the barrage of elven attacks without being harmed. I didn’t know whether or not I’d be able to lead my people through the caverns where the centaurs patrolled. I didn’t know if I could open the portal to the Mother’s Steppes without sacrificing someone. And I didn’t know, coming here, if I would be received… and if I would live. And I was very far from certain that my A-rank ascension would work.

“If people only acted when they were certain, then uncertainties would never be eliminated. The future itself is uncertain.” Argrave paused, briefly losing track of his point for a minute. He stepped up the stairs toward Chiteng’s throne, then paused before him. “But I see something coming that’s hard to ignore. And the only way I see crisis being averted is cooperation.”

When Argrave finished, the only reply he received was a steady tapping as Chiteng’s finger thumped against the stone. “You will need to explain how you will aid in combatting Kirel to my family.”

Argrave brightened. “Meaning…?”

“I will stride into uncertainty certainly. I will speak to my family. But they were not revitalized with an offering of divinity as I was—they will be slower to wake. Though your friends have already stirred them, give it time.”

Argrave smiled broadly. “Excellent! Then I’ll wait a few—”

Chiteng’s fist slammed down upon the armrest, and the noise echoed like a giant gong out across the room until Argrave’s ears felt like they would bleed.

“But I will not relax my vigilance. I watch for signs of Erlebnis repeated anywhere,” he stressed. “Return.”

#####

“Your absence was noted.”

One of the emissaries of Erlebnis looked down at the elf Onychinusa as she sat before the shrine. Its too-long arms were crossed before it in what appeared to be disappointment, but the abominations of the ancient god of knowledge never expressed emotion so perhaps it was merely illusion.

“I was absent only a day,” she defended herself, looking up with pleading amber eyes.

“You were told to return, and yet it took you twenty-five hours to do so.” The emissary stepped forward, thin lips speaking harsh words casually. “We cannot stray far from the lord’s shrines of yet. As His mortal servant, you can. This is a privilege granted to you to extend his reach. If you cannot follow His will absolutely, you will be retained and reeducated.”

The woman shuddered and lowered her head, playing with the grass before the shrine in panicked helplessness.

“You will facilitate His descent, here,” the emissary continued as though its gentle scolding never was.

Onychinusa lifted her head. “The lord’s… descent?” She blinked quickly, a mixture of awe, surprise, shock, and anxiety. “The presence… the presence of that king, will it…?”

“It is because he is present that the time is ideal,” the emissary interrupted. “You will get in touch with His mortal servants. You will direct them to do as they have been bid. And then you will return to the shrines, to hear and wait for his directive.”

“To the shrines? Not to His realm?” she questioned.

“That was not said,” the emissary answered neither harshly nor softly.

She said nothing in response but rocked back and forth on her spot happily. Then, she looked up. “Why does the king’s presence matter?”

“He has insight. His purpose is known,” the emissary explained, remaining behind unlike last time. Perhaps it knew the reason she had wandered last time was because of her frustration that it did not answer her questions.

“He has knowledge the lord wants?” Onychinusa questioned.

“Yes,” the emissary nodded.

Onychinusa looked pleased her question was answered, then followed, “Why are these elves here, when I—” she cut herself off, then smacked her face hard with her hand. When she raised her head up once more, cheek red, her question changed. She instead asked, “Is this insight how he knew my name? Not previous correspondence with the lord?”

“Presumably,” the emissary nodded.

She stood up suddenly. “I will do my duty.”

Then, the emissary was gone. Onychinusa took a deep breath of anticipation, and then stepped toward the exit from the shrine’s alcove.