For the Record

And yet somehow, this only seems to increase the flow of idiots being led to my throne room.

…

I can’t help but wonder if having me obliterate the humans simplifies Vivianne’s handling of state affairs, and that’s why it keeps happening… either that or adventurers and settlers have figured out that they can, in fact, get an audience with the local goddess if they only make enough noise.

Some merchants were wise enough to send a disposable representative, not unlike how Sekhmet once sent Tathra, but it hasn’t prevented me from wiping out their houses either.

Even those houses of merchants are probably just subsidiaries, or so Tathra has mentioned in passing. Not that it matters.

Idiots die because I kill them. It’s fairly universal.

Hello, Nemesis! How fare you this fine morning? trills a voice in my mind.

Ah. Eris, for some reason. Maybe she has news on my wife…? One could only hope, it’s been nine months since she went missing and the goddess of strife played a role in it. The least she can do is offer up her resources to make it right.

I’ve tried so many things… so many, many things. Searching with my kin obviously didn’t work, since they’re immediately considered hostile monsters by any and every adventurer or guard. I told Nula to send some of my maids to search, only to find out an unfortunate drawback to creating them as dungeon bosses let alone dungeon monsters at all is that similar to Nyx in the days before, they can’t leave the plane the dungeon is on without rapidly draining of mana.

Hiring mercenary adventurers didn’t help either since most of the populated heaven and hell are closed off to mortals not explicitly invited, and the unpopulated ones are generally far too hostile for non-divine life.

Assuming the gods are even alive, technically. Again, not that it matters.

I guess I should probably answer Eris, though I’m not sure what she expects me to say. Some part of me feels that I should at least return her bland and useless pleasantries, but I just can’t bring myself to care.

Not now.

Hello Eris. Has there been any progress finding my wife?

Oh, I, she momentarily stammers, unfortunately none of my contacts have come forward… although I’ve reached out to all of my allies and connections.

So, useless. I should have known.

Everyone is useless. Every single one.

…

Maybe I should just eat everything, until I find her myself.

Although… she continues.

Although what?

A pause grows for a moment.

And then she finally says, I do have reason to contact you today. The date for the start of the war has been set, and so the pantheon intends to meet and plan our course of action.

Great. Who would have guessed that most of the gods’ things are no different from the same stupid things the humans mess with, other than being even more tedious and stupid?

I should just eat them too.

And?

And… the gala has been set for three nights hence. I do hope to see you there.

…

…

A gala?

A fucking gala!?

Why do the gods do everything with a gala?

I sigh hard enough that it definitely projects before I deliberately end the connection. It’s kind of obnoxious that other gods have ways of reaching me like this.

I’ll have to find a way to block it somehow.

***

Well, I sure made a mistake.

Knowing I had a dark pantheon gala on the horizon, I’d informed my non-missing wife.

And of course, she’d shown up with a dimensional storage full of those ‘goth loli’ dresses or whatever Markus called them, and then proceeded to use me as a dress-up doll for most of the remaining time.

At least she was affectionate I guess, though I’m not sure why it’s at all appealing.

I still don’t understand it. Comforting, I guess? Is that the word?

…

“They said I can have a guest or whatever. Come with me.”

Concern radiates through our link, concern and worry. Probably because she’s the light pantheon’s greatest weapon, and having her present for a war planning gathering would defeat the purpose.

And I can’t bring myself to care.

“I want you there, the rest of them be damned. They said I could bring a guest and didn’t specify any kinds of limitations, and besides! You brought me to a light pantheon gala. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t really matter who you’re affiliated with.”

Her concern hasn’t abated… if anything it’s gotten worse.

…

I wonder if the dark pantheon has any actual counters to her… I get the impression that’s a clear ‘no’.

Nothing effective, anyway. Maybe capturing her allies and using them as hostages or something.

Or her retainers.

Although she does seem to care much less about them than me.

Which brings that strange word back to mind…

Family.

Whatever that means. But I can tell from whatever part of me that remains of Astraea that it’s important somehow.

Maybe that’s why I need to find Izahne.

…

“Okay.”

That’s all she says, even though she’s obviously still worried… I don’t even need to read our link for it. It’s clear on her face.

But it’ll be fine.

I’ll make it fine.

“Actually, you can…” I start.

Artemis offers me one of her adorable head tilts.

I have no idea why I’m saying it, but somehow…

“You can just stay here. For now. If you want.”

…I want her here.

For some reason.

***

“Ah. Ahaha. It’s… it’s a pleasure to see you this fine evening, Nemesis, and… Lady Artemis. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

If anyone is uncomfortable with this arrangement, the most discomfort definitely belongs to Eris.

But that’s fine. She invited me here, and that means she gets everything that comes with me.

For her part, Arty offers a polite nod with a demure smile in return. I overtly offer her a few scratches behind an ear, and she leans into my hand.

We’d planned this. It’s making clear that my wife isn’t here to cause a scene, that I’ve got her under control.

…Although the looks on some of the other attendees entering the venue are hinting it may have actually made it worse…

And I still don’t care. They can be afraid. They can be afraid of her, and of me.

They should be.

I know plenty of them were involved in the past destruction of my plane, and I don’t trust a single one of them to come forward with information on my other wife. They’ve made it clear that they can’t be trusted, just like the light pantheon.

I’m in a den of wolves. I deliberately joined them.

But I’m far more terrifying than any wolf.

Once we’re past the… ‘welcoming committee’, I’ll call them, we promptly head past the concerned stares and whispers to a back corner of the venue. There’s a large open space in the middle probably intended for mingling, and I have zero interest in it. Along the way, I help myself to a flute of what is unquestionably blood from a table held by a demigod of some flavor in a fancy suit.

Tables line the outer edges, but for some reason there isn’t one where we head… so I simply form a far more elegant one from my ash, along with a set of chairs to match. I take a seat, propping and arm on the armrest and crossing one leg over the other in my usual favorite pose.

My wife promptly joins me, and after a moment of hesitation, so does Eris. Not even five minutes later, Sekhmet wanders her way across the throngs of socializing gods to join us as well.

…But I left one more chair open for a reason.

Grandmother, do you plan to attend?

Not this time, my child, her voice intones back. I have no interest in the petty wargames of the younger generations. I may however take advantage of the many delightful opportunities their foolishness will afford.

Alright, let me know if you change your mind. I’ve left a seat open for you.

After a moment of silence, other than the continued whispers, I finally take a sip of my ‘wine’.

And it’s terrible.

Absolutely dreadful.

…Or maybe it’s just that my palate has been ruined by the high quality fare I’ve been getting. Hells, even my maids’ blood tastes better than this. So I unceremoniously dump it on the floor with a splash.

“Sekhmet, would you please?” I say while idly offering her my glass.

And she stares at me a moment in disbelief… before glancing around at the other divinities who are unquestionably paying attention and piercing her palm with a claw to fill my glass.

I promptly take a sip and sigh in satisfaction. “I swear, you are the best vintage I’ve ever had.”

Her disbelief continues, even as her wound rapidly closes.

“Puttin’ on a show?”

…

I’m not surprised though. How should I even be surprised?

Of course he’s here.

I glare at the once-empty seat across from me and snarl, “Hello, Dolos.”