The capital of the Celeri Empire was quiet. The largest city within the Empire, the center of government and commerce, it had, for hundreds of years, been a bustling hive of activity.
Now though, observed a towering figure in a hooded clock, the streets are quiet, with few carts and even fewer pedestrians. Even the open marketplaces were quiet, with most vendors avoiding the area. Most people are staying at home or have packed themselves into the temples to pray.
The Celeri Empire was on the half of Ager that a week ago had seen the moon, Caelum, light up like a second sun in the sky. Across two continents, every sapient and even many non-sapients had eventually looked up enraptured by that confounding sight. It was a miracle, many first thought, an awesome, wondrous event. And though not everyone had such optimistic thoughts, even the most cynical would not have anticipated that System announcement that a Third War of the Gods had begun.
It had been 4,536 years since the Second War of the Gods had ended. And hadn’t that been a right disaster. There were no contemporary records of that war. Indeed, the written word—and nearly everything else—had seemingly been scraped off the planet until nearly a century later, and those few recorded historical accounts described a general hellhole. Deserts and wastelands abounded. Monstrous animals roamed and dominated many landscapes. Food was hard to grow, and experience was thin. It was a Dead Age. At the time people didn’t know any better, and it wasn’t until millenia later that [Archaeologists] found that there were pre-War civilizations.
And so, to the modern sapient, the Second War was really only known as a founding, historical disaster to their world, a legend lost to the mists of time, but seemingly irrelevant. Something which could have never happened again.
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How they were wrong.
The figure moved throughout the city, eavesdropping on those willing to speak on the state of matters. He bought some grilled meat on a stick from one of the few marketplace vendors, and made his way back to the abandoned building, moving inconspicously through the door and up the stairs.
He paused for just a moment before the bedroom door, before shaking his head at his own silliness, and passing through. He plopped down nonchalantly on the one stool in the room taking a bite from one stick, as the winged figure in the bed continued to stare at hands, still-damaged from true magic overuse. The reclined figure didn’t give any indication that he had noticed the entry until the smell of the grilled mammal wafted across his nostrils, causing them to sniff.
“You’re back.”
“Do you want a bite?”
“Not really.”
The silence fell heavy over them again as twelve sticks became eleven, then ten.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind? Why your hands still look like that?”
“I’m thinking.”
“How long do you think we have for you to keep thinking?”
“Nothing’s happened since that first day. Gods are patient if nothing else.”
Ten sticks become nine.
“Meat’s good. I think there’s paprika.”
“Hmm. A new trade route had been opened up while you were away.”
Nine sticks become eight.
“City’s still quiet. Folks are scared. Holed up in homes or temples, praying either way. Even the one’s who usually sense opportunity in disaster don’t know what to do with themselves.”
Eight sticks become seven.
“I mean, it just doesn’t make any damn sense,” he cursed and slammed a fist into the mattress. “We’re missing something and no matter which way I flip it, it doesn’t make sense that we’d receive a quest to kill—”
Ding!
Quest Received: Travel to Godhome and meet up with Adonite.
Silence fell as the pair looked at the notification.
Seven sticks became six. “Well, maybe we’ll get some answers.”
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