Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers over a sheet of parchment that sat atop his desk.

“The temple room is a conduit to the Pantheon,” Arkk said, looking up to Vezta. “You said that before, right? Your former master was able to use it to gain boons?”

“That is correct,” Vezta said with a half-bow. “Though I do not know the proper rituals as my former master considered it a rather private affair, I do know he frequently ventured into the temple, sealed all doors, and emerged after with magical items, minions, gold, and a plethora of other welcome additions to our war efforts.”

“Did he ever enter with any equipment that he might have used? Or did the temple already contain any kind of ritual equipment?”

Vezta paused, gaining a vacant look in her eyes for a brief moment. Notably, the expression only applied to the eyes on her head. The multitude of glowing yellow-in-black eyes dotted around the rest of her body maintained their constant vigil over her surroundings. Eventually, her journey through her memories came to an end as she refocused on Arkk.

“You… may not wish to hear this,” she said, hedging her voice. Arkk simply waved her on with a quick gesture. “It didn’t happen every time, but my former master would frequently take prisoners into the temple. They didn’t often return or, when they did, they came back changed and fully allied with us.”

“Ah.”

Sacrifice. From Zullie, Arkk knew that sacrifice wasn’t used in modern magic anymore. The Abbey ranked it among the highest anathema and even outside the Abbey’s sphere of influence, it wasn’t a very popular method of enacting magic. Modern magic and rituals were often convenient enough. Rituals could be increased in power simply by adding more spellcasters, negating the need to kill people to work them.

The orc chieftain had been planning on using sacrifice to bypass magical requirements for her demon summoning before Arkk interrupted it. The black book mentioned that sacrifice was simply easier than trying to gather together upwards of a dozen competent spellcasters to perform the same ritual. It did mention that demon summoning was possible without sacrifice, but Arkk doubted most people willing to summon demons cared all that much about killing a few people for an easier time.

He wondered if the Prince had sacrificed a bunch of people to summon a demon during his subjugation of Vaales. Someone willing to summon a demon might not care. At the same time, he doubted a Prince would have difficulty gathering together enough spellcasters to perform the ritual properly. Yet again, that would mean a great number of people were involved in it and the more people, the higher the likelihood that someone talks.

“He didn’t bring people in every time,” Arkk said, trying to keep focused on the task at hand. “I presume those times resulted in lesser boons?”

“Sometimes. Not always. What are you thinking, if I may ask, Master?”

Arkk clasped his hands together, rubbing his chin against his knuckles. “We’ve been exploring the other planes for power, magic, resources, and weapons. But it is a long and time-consuming process. We can’t even spend more than a few minutes in the Silence without succumbing to sleep and the Anvil is completely cut off from us at the moment.”

“I see. You wish to bypass manual searching by going to the gods directly.”

“When we first constructed the temple room, there were only five statues in place, three of whom belonged to the traitors,” Arkk said with a nod of his head. “I was a bit wary of using it because of that. Our encounter with Xel’atriss only further discouraged interacting with the Pantheon. Now, over half the pedestals have statues and the traitor gods are outnumbered…

“But what boons to ask for,” Arkk said, turning his explanation into muttering as he thought aloud. “Wouldn’t want to offend them by asking for anything too grandiose. Nor anything that might come from the traitor gods. More weapons to fight in the war? Something to completely nullify the threat of a demon? Honestly, we seem to be doing rather well on both those fronts on our own. Granted, we haven’t faced a demon and there is about to be another big battle unless Evestani finally gives up after their losses to the undead—”

“Master, if I may interject.”

Arkk looked up to Vezta. “You have an idea?”

“Nine of the sixteen pedestals are occupied with statues. Each additional statue beyond the initial five came about when we connected the portal to another plane. With the exception of the Laughing Prince. Regardless, finding ways to fill the other pedestals is likely a positive sign towards our ability to repair the damage the Calamity wrought.”

Arkk drummed his fingers against the sheet of parchment once again. He still wasn’t sure that undoing the Calamity was the best path forward. Not if, as Zullie had theorized, all the magic in the Underworld would come flooding here, wreaking havoc across the whole world. Zullie’s analysis of the Silence, brief as it had been, indicated a higher concentration of magic there as well, though not quite to the extent of the Underworld. Directed by Zullie, he had carved out a small testing ritual with the servant in the Anvil to check there and found almost no magic at all. Savren put forward the idea that the Burning Forge had somehow found a solution to the magic buildup problem by creating that massive factory, which hadn’t been there in Vezta’s memories, constantly producing everything to consume excess magic.

At the same time, Vezta’s idea did warrant consideration. Especially if they could get magic and other boons from additional gods. The Silence had given them a potential weapon against the Heart of Gold’s avatar and the Underworld had equipped his troops with weapons and armor far beyond what they could produce here. Other boons on similar levels would see his troubles with both the Kingdom and Evestani diminished to the point where he could put his full efforts toward finding a proper solution to the Calamity.

Closing his eyes, he looked into the temple room. He swept his gaze over each of the statues. The Almighty Glory, the Burning Forge, the Cloak of Shadows, the Eternal Silence, the Heart of Gold, the Holy Light, the Jailer of the Void, the Laughing Prince, and Xel’atriss, Lock and Key.

Seven pedestals were vacant.

“Who are we missing?” Arkk asked. He had discussed the Pantheon with Vezta before, but a reminder couldn’t hurt.

“The Fickle Wheel—god of luck, random chance, and patron to gamblers everywhere. The Red Horse—god of war, physical strength, and animals. The Veiled Dancer—god of sensuality, celebration, and flow in all forms, from rivers to air to words in a bard’s song. The Whispering Gale—god of winds, travel, exploration, and messengers. The Permafrost—god of ice, winter, and stagnation. The Bloated Mother—god of fertility, disease, and life… and…” Vezta pursed her lips like she licked a sour lemon. “Unknown, the Enigma.”

Arkk waited a moment. When Vezta didn’t elaborate, he prompted, “God of…”

“Nobody knows. Presumably mysteries, the unknown, or something along those lines. I would recommend against entering Unknown, the Enigma’s realm, if at all possible. A single step into the Maze and you may never find your way out again.”

“A single step. You can’t just take a step back?”

“The action itself is possible. Whether or not it takes you back to where you started is another question entirely.”

“I see…” Arkk said, frowning. One of Zullie’s failed projects for dealing with the Evestani army involved a maze of shifting barriers and boundaries. He wondered if that would have succeeded if she had called upon Unknown instead of Xel’atriss. “Well, we’ll avoid that one for now. The god of war, on the other hand, sounds like a useful ally to have at present.”

The expression on Vezta’s face didn’t fill Arkk with confidence.

“Wrong choice?” he asked.

“The Red Horse is a god that extols the virtues of physical strength and loathes magic in all forms. Followers of the war god made up the vast majority of my former master’s enemies prior to the Calamity.”

“It wouldn’t support us even though it isn’t one of the traitor gods?”

“Hard to say.”

Arkk hummed a note of disappointment. Probably best to avoid that one for now too then. What else? The Permafrost, perhaps? Priscilla was a devout of the Permafrost so getting that god on their side could only further ingrain Priscilla’s loyalty to him.

“Speaking of potential allies,” Vezta said before Arkk could put forward that idea. “What of the letter?”

Arkk’s pursed his lips as he looked back down to the parchment. The flowery words written across its surface did not fill him with confidence.

Before you stand not one but two in might, their shadows cast upon your lofty height. Yet from behind, a foe does stealthy creep, To strike your back while you in battle weep. If aid you seek, just voice your earnest plea, An Ally’s hand will then be yours to see.

It was like that prophecy that the inquisitors had given Arkk. Except slightly more straightforward. Assuming the letter wasn’t somehow intended for another and misdelivered, the two standing before were the Evestani and the Eternal Empire. The towering height was probably the Walking Fortress at Elmshadow. The enemy behind was a little less clear.

There were only a few possibilities. This war now involved three factions, not including Arkk. His two opponents and the King’s army, the latter of which was set to arrive at Elmshadow in a few days.

It was something he hadn’t put much thought toward. They were allies coming at his request to reinforce the Duchy and end this war once and for all. But…

The Kingdom was the home to the Abbey of the Light. If the Heart of Gold’s avatar was directing the Evestani army, there was a chance that the other traitor gods also had avatars who might have their own feelings about his existence. Probably feelings of ill intent. The King’s army could easily show up, stab him in the back in the name of the Light, and then shake hands on a job well done with Evestani.

Except…

This letter had been delivered via a statue of the Holy Light.

“I’m confused,” Arkk said eventually, looking up to Vezta. “Is the Holy Light trying to aid us? Sow distrust between us and the King’s army? Or… was this accidentally delivered to the wrong statue of the Holy Light?”

It could refer instead to Evestani having two enemies in Arkk and the King’s army, warning them of a saboteur at their back. Seeing the letter as having been erroneously delivered made the last bit of it make a little more sense.

Ask for an ally and get an ally.

If it wasn’t referring to the Abbey wanting to re-vitalize their alliance with Evestani, and the letter had reached its intended reader, then it almost sounded like an offer to join him.

“I can’t say with absolute certainty, Master, but the thought of a letter being accidentally delivered to the wrong recipient in this manner seems… egregious.”

“Right? But that would mean that the Holy Light supports us?” Arkk paused, frowning to himself. It hadn’t been so long ago that Zullie put forward her suspicions that Vezta didn’t actually know all she said she knew. That nobody would be able to tell if she got something incorrect.

There had been frequent wars between Evestani and the Kingdom throughout history. Never with such overt magic that it might have directly involved avatars—or their involvements had been wiped from the annals of history—but enough to suggest that the Abbey of the Light and the Golden Order had rarely, if ever, been friendly toward one another.

“Is it possible that the Holy Light isn’t a traitor?” Arkk mused, mostly to himself. “Perhaps they escaped the effects of the Calamity through some other method…”

“Absolutely not,” Vezta said, eyes firm. “There is no doubt about the identities of the traitor gods.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, staring at Vezta for a moment. He nodded his head, deciding not to argue with her for the time being. Instead, he looked down at the letter once again, tapping his finger against it.

“Is there anything on my schedule for the remainder of the evening?”

Vezta shook her head, completely unbothered by the sudden change in subject. “You have a meeting with your magical researchers in the morning. Aside from that, you are mostly clear until the arrival of the King’s army. Barring any emergencies, of course.”

“Of course,” Arkk said, pressing his lips together. “In that case, I’ll think more about this letter. And likely involve my other advisors before making any real decisions.”

“Seeking counsel is a wise decision, though I do not know that any of your other advisors have any expertise in this domain.”

“Be that as it may…” Arkk stood, carefully placing the letter among his important files. “For the time being, it would be best if we carried on as usual. Head to Elmshadow and ensure we’re ready to receive the King’s Army. They haven’t stabbed us in the back yet and I’ll be damned if I’m the first to wield that blade.”

“Understood,” Vezta said with a deep bow. As soon as she righted herself, she turned and departed.

Arkk, left alone in his office, paced back and forth. He checked in every few moments, watching Vezta’s progress through Fortress Al-Mir’s corridors. She encountered seemingly half the notable employees on her way, all of whom stopped her and spoke with her for varying amounts of time. Everyone knew her and it appeared as if most everyone liked her.

Which Arkk did find a little interesting. He could still remember his fear upon first meeting her, the unease among Langleey Village after successfully defending it from the horde of goblins, and the utter terror the soldiers in the Duke’s manor had of her after the assassinations at the party. Although a monster far beyond beastmen and demihumans, she was accepted here.

Unfortunately, her popularity delayed her by almost an hour. It was far later than he wanted by the time she finally made it to the teleportation chamber and vanished from Fortress Al-Mir. Given what he planned for the rest of the evening, he might have to delay the meeting with Zullie in the morning.

Zullie always hated disruptions to her schedule.

But for now, Arkk teleported himself out of his office, reappearing back in the center of the temple. Alone save for nine statues of gods and seven empty pedestals.

He turned slowly, sweeping his gaze around the chamber. He met the eyes of each of the statues. His eyes lingered the longest on Xel’atriss, but he didn’t stop on the thin woman surrounded by tendrils or the door she stood near. Arkk kept turning until he finally ended on the majestic pose of the Holy Light.

Narrowing his eyes, Arkk glared at the statue. It had returned to its usual pose, standing strong and tall. The outstretched hand that held the letter was back at its side. Now, if anything, the only difference from before was the amount of light concealing the statue’s face, acting as its clothing. It was bright. Almost blindingly so.

Arkk didn’t like it. The idea that one of these gods, especially one of the supposed traitors, had such control within his domain set him ill at ease. What if, instead of a letter, the statue had delivered an alchemical bomb capable of destroying the entire fortress? The temple chamber wasn’t adjacent to the [HEART], but it was a whole lot closer than some of the experimental chambers down below.

If the Holy Light could do that, what was stopping the Gold or the Almighty?

And, perhaps more importantly, could he send something through the statues? It was a bit dangerous without knowing who possible recipients might be, but if he could hand the armored figure of the Heart of Gold an alchemical bomb and have it show up at the avatar’s real body…

Planning was useless at this stage. There was no point unless he figured out how this room worked. And all he had to operate on were a few suggestions from Vezta, none of which sounded particularly reliable.

“So,” Arkk said, turning around once more to meet each of the statues. “Let’s chat.”

He waited a moment.

Then a moment more.

Nothing happened.

It was a good thing Vezta wasn’t around. He was embarrassed enough talking to himself as it was.

Spreading his arms wide and spinning around, an assortment of trinkets and items appeared around him. A small pile of gold, what little he could spare at the moment. A pig from the farms. A tome from the library, not unimportant but nothing he or Zullie couldn’t recreate if necessary. Rare ingredients from his personal alchemy laboratory. One of the shadow scythes, fresh from the Shadow Forge. Food and drink stolen straight from Larry’s meal for the evening.

While he did have a few Evestani prisoners, he wasn’t quite willing to leap to human sacrifice just yet. There were plenty of other things to try first.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”