Jackal Among Snakes

The god of flesh and blood, Chiteng, filled the role of a god of fertility primarily. Men were intended to pray for virility. Women were intended to pray to prevent their children from being disabled physically or mentally—specifically, they prayed that the flesh and blood of their children was sculpted to be both beautiful and strong. Supposedly he made the figures of all men and women. All the elven gods took sacrifices, but Chiteng supposedly used the bodies to craft their children inside their wombs.

When Argrave looked back from where they’d come, he could see the shore no longer. Soon enough, the blocky throne of ivory came into view past the fog. It had been difficult to see from so far away, but there was a small white harbor leading to an entrance with a door well familiar to Argrave. The whale swam up alongside it, planting its broad head against the smooth stone. Argrave and Orion stepped up onto it. When they looked back at the whale, it sunk into the deep and disappeared before their eyes. Argrave wondered what else was lurking beneath in the deep beside that whale—the player could never swim in there. He didn’t care to find out now.

When he looked upwards, Chiteng peered down at the two of them. He seemed to exert pressure with his gaze alone that almost made Argrave want to drop to his knees. Perhaps it was just his size, but maybe there was something more to divinity than mere power. Argrave felt entirely a fraud calling himself ‘king.’ But he did call himself king, and that came with certain responsibilities. So, he had to begin.

“Are you interested in an early victory in the struggle to come?” Argrave asked boldly. Though he felt intimidated standing closer to the divine figure, the fact he had been brought here suggested there was some leeway he might have.

The god leaned forward until he hunched, placing his arms atop his knees. He said nothing, but only stared at the two of them, waiting and watching. Orion shifted uneasily, and Argrave gave him a glance, pleading that he would do nothing to provoke Chiteng.

Argrave looked back up at Chiteng. “I was able to reach you because Gerechtigkeit is targeting the region, specifically. He’s bearing pressure upon the Bloodwoods strong enough that an ancient god has been able to enact its will on the land itself. This has destabilized the situation tremendously, and if left unchallenged, the forest itself will die—the forest that you and your family made for the elves.”

Chiteng tilted his head from one side to the other, still listening.

“The god that comes is a fell being strong enough to be the first to break through the division between the realms,” Argrave continued, speaking slowly and clearly so that his nervousness did not cause him to stutter. “Whoever it is clearly has no interest in cooperation—they intend to destroy the forest to make way for their domain. I can give you an advantage in this situation. With my presence on the mortal realm, I can facilitate the connection of realms and position your family to strike back against—”

Chiteng laughed once again. Every time his guttural voice echoed out, the harbor they stood upon shook. The great god leaned back on his throne and laid his head back, chuckling. Slowly the laughter faded away, and taking its place was the constant sound of deep horn calls pushing out from the fog as Orion and Argrave stood in uneasy silence.

“I’m not suggesting you hunt and kill an elder god,” Argrave finally started to speak again. “But if someone sticks their hand through a hole, they only have themselves to blame when their limb receives an injury from those already present. And if you think me incapable of actually doing what I claim to be capable of… know that I opened the altars to the centaurs’ great steppes using Sarikiz’s hair, and that I know the location of your holy artifacts—the spade, your father’s mattock, your sister’s sword. I can use these to manifest them. I can make good on my promises—I swear on my soul.”

Chiteng silently watched Argrave, all the mirth drained from his elven face. His hand clenched around the armrest of his throne, and then his lips parted, saying two words that echoed across the entire ocean. Two words, yet one name.

“Kirel Qircassia.”

Argrave took a deep breath when he heard that name. Anneliese and Argrave had come to the conclusion that it was an elder god behind all of the trouble in the Bloodwoods—nothing else could come close to that kind of power. They were wrong, as it turned out. It wasn’t an ancient god. It was the ancient god.

Humanity was not alone in conceiving the idea of unity against the threat of Gerechtigkeit. It was a stage of opportunism for the gods, true enough. But just as some people sought protection under Argrave, some gods sought protection under other gods. Kirel was the self-proclaimed eldest god, who allegedly had been through the judgement cycle hundreds of time before. To be fair, the claim was not in question—many with old ties to Kirel supported that claim and obediently fell under his banner—the Qircassian banner.

The principles were simple—those who took the name of Qircassia had total autonomy, but they had to fight together against Gerechtigkeit and all outside threats. Infighting was strictly forbidden. Beyond that, they were free to do as they pleased. It was nothing more than a defensive coalition. When its founder and enforcer was Kirel, a force in and of himself, a defensive coalition was nothing to balk at in the free-for-all Gerechtigkeit enacted. It was stability in insanity.

It would certainly be laughable if a mere mortal wandered into your domain, claiming to have the key to deal a crippling blow to the leader of a divine faction that had persisted for many of the cycles of judgement. Argrave didn’t think he was wrong in claiming what he’d claimed—that the elven gods, working in tandem with true presence in the mortal realm—could expel Kirel. Making some roots overturn the earth and suck up saltwater was potent, relatively speaking… but it was a drop in the pond compared to what Kirel was truly capable of. He wasn’t fully manifested. They could push him back before he did.

Argrave turned away from Chiteng and stared out across the ocean of blood. There was no problem with Argrave’s plan. The problems would come later. The problems would come when things really got bad, and when the full force of the Qircassian Coalition had come to recognize Argrave and his godly allies as those who had cut off the grasping hand of their founding member. The gods had long memories… and unforgiving vendettas. Argrave and the elven gods were one blip on the radar to them.

He listened to the pleasant sound of the waves battering against Chiteng’s throne of ivory as the whales let out their calls, one after the other, in endless ambience. Argrave was running down his list of favorite curse words. He could remember more than he usually could. Even if he had been prepared for this… persuading Chiteng? Persuading all of the elven pantheon to go after the heaviest hitter? Even if he told the elven gods that he knew both their favorite color and who they had a crush on, his knowledge about Heroes of Berendar paled before the overwhelming might of the Qircassian Coalition. Knowing how a gun worked didn’t stop him from getting shot—it just told him to stay away from the line of fire.

Kirel usually appeared overseas, on another continent, Argrave reflected. If he’s here… when the time comes, all his crony godlings will come and make Berendar their territory. If I know that’s coming, I can prepare better. I can position us to take the least of the impact. We’ll… have to submit to them. If we’re lucky, we’ll be dealt a good hand. Maybe I can influence the way things shake out. For now, we have to fortify Vasquer for the collapse of the Bloodwoods. It’s going to be devastating. God damn it, why…?

As a total defeat settled over Argrave, some words came to him.

I saw countless people that, when faced with one tragedy, turned it into five or six by weakness of will. Self-pity does nothing for no one. No matter what comes, you cannot pity yourself.

Anneliese’s words rang in his head so clearly he could practically feel her breath on his ear. He wished that she was here. But she wasn’t. And he couldn’t allow this one setback to turn into a spiral toward oblivion because he was weak.

Argrave turned around and looked back up at Chiteng. He was glad the god did not speak much, then—it gave him ample time to choose his next words carefully.

“I think this situation is rather funny, too,” Argrave began with a disciplined calm brought by near a year of constant hardship. “Maybe you think that you’ll be allowed into the Qircassian Coalition, to fight against Gerechtigkeit side-by-side with all of the other members. You think there might be some loss of life, but if you submit you can mitigate the damage. If your family submits, you might not gain as much as wish… but you can survive.”

Argrave stepped slowly down the harbor, heading toward Chiteng. “But Kirel has already staked his flag in the Bloodwoods, and already made the trees your family grew obey his will. His emissaries are already fighting your worshippers to claim their territory. You and your family have no ties to the coalition—I can’t imagine Kirel even knows your names. Forget allowing you to subsist in his ranks; the raiders already pillage and plunder what existence you eked out fighting against the centaurs and the giants in the last cycle of judgement. Why would he stop to negotiate when he can simply have all you own for himself? He is powerful, well-connected… and so why should he respect anything you wish to happen? After all… this is the cycle of judgement. No one would balk if you were shattered and consumed.”

Chiteng slowly leaned forward once again, whatever amusement he’d shown entirely vanished.

“If you want to make it through this… so do I,” Argrave continued, coming to a stop as he stared up defiantly. “And I’m not content to sit by and let every god flatten this continent. The cycle of judgement determines who is worthy of surviving another millennia, if any at all. And in the coming years… you and yours are just as mortal as me and mine. So, let’s cooperate.”