The chorister of Regina spreads her arms wide, encompassing the entire hall as she continues with her sermon. On my part I stifle a yawn as Hiro nudges me gently in the ribs.

"I can't help it." I whisper to Hiro, "We learned all this in catechism class at the Academy." Hiro merely puts a finger to his lips as he listens to the sermon in rapt attention, ignoring my pout.

"And so with the existence of the divines proven," the chorister drones on, "the age of faith began. Our ancestors dreamed of one world and one people, united in their love of the gods."

I roll my eyes as this stupid boiler plate sermon. I've heard it repeated countless times already and can even guess what is going to happen next. The exile is next on the list if I remember correctly.

The chorister's voice drops dramatically, "But it was not to be."

There. Called it.

"Not everyone was willing to accept their place at the feet of the gods." the chorister continues, "Even with irrefutable proof before their faces, they disputed the grace of the divines."

At the signal of the priestesses standing behind the chorister, the Cathedral's PA system begins playing a slow, sorrowful tune in time with the tempo of the chorister's sermon.

"War broke out. Sister turned against sister. Blood flowed through the streets." the chorister intones, "The age of faith had turned into an age of unending strife."

"Some age." I mutter, "The age of faith barely lasted a few years."

"So a great prayer was sent to the Seven," the chorister's voice rises to a crescendo, "begging them to open the eyes of the unbelievers. To show humanity a way forward."

"Nomi." Hiro whispers to me, "I know we learnt all this before, but we should show some respect at least."

I pat Hiro reassuringly on the shoulder while replying, "Relax. Its not as if the priestesses can hear us anyway." Unfortunately just as I finish speaking, the Commander turns around and scowls at me. I quickly put on my most innocent look and return to staring blankly at the stage. Stupid eavesdropping bitch.

"And the Seven hearing the pleas of our ancestors cast the unbelievers into the void," the chorister concludes, "exiling them from the light of day until they have repented. The age of exile decimated our society, so many friends and even family lost in an eye blink. But our ancestors squared their shoulders and rebuilt, bring about the golden age."

"Hey Hiro, you think an eye blink counts as an age?" I murmur to him stifling my laughter. Hiro says nothing, but I can see him trying to keep his expression solemn. Hiro makes a valiant effort, but a soft chuckle finally escaped from his lips.

"Arising from the wreckage of the age of exile were the beast folk, creatures less than human but filled with faith for the divine." the chorister intones, "An object lesson from the divines to us, showing that even a subhuman is worth more than an unbeliever. And we have honored the compact set by the Seven, granting the beast folk the indulgence of living on this world."

"In the name of the Seven." all the Valkyries in attendance answer. I just mime the reply, rolling my eyes all the while.

"Only Iros cares about the beast people." I snort, "The other goddesses probably went along with it just as a sop to her."

Hiro leans into me as he answers in a hushed voice, "That's sacrilege, Nomi. All the divines are equal with each other."

"Yeah." I agree snickering, "But everyone knows some goddesses are more, or less, equal than the others." I point to the painting of Regina at the stage's backdrop for emphasis.

The painting of the goddess of beauty and victory takes the place of honor, set right in the center of the stage flanked on both sides by the portraits of her sisters. Nothing is said explicitly, but the implication is fairly clear. Regina is the leader of the Seven, or at the very least, first among equals. My finger then moves to the portrait right at the end of the row, located close to the edge of the stage.

Anybody looking at the stage for the first time would find their eyes drawn to this particular portrait almost immediately, but for all the wrong reasons. Each of the portraits displays a incredibly attractive woman, for instance Regina as a victorious general or Serusha the goddess of the land as a pretty and good natured farm girl. Divinity and beauty go hand in hand. Except for the final portrait in the series.

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Unlike her beautiful sisters, Iros is painted as a bent over old woman dressed in beggar's rags. Her face is partially hidden by a tattered hood, but the skin that can be seen is marked with lines and creases. Both of Iros's hands are extended, displaying unsightly calluses and scabs on her fingers and across the length of her arms. In one hand Iros presents the viewer with a loaf of old bread and in the other a rough wooden bowl filled with brackish water.

"Iros is the divine of mercy and compassion." Hiro frowns, "Judging her by her appearance misses the point entirely."

"You're saying stale bread and water matches up with beauty and victory?" I gently rib my friend. Hiro chews his lip meditatively as he considers his response. He knows what I am hinting at.

There's a reason why Regina is the most prominent member of the Orthodox Divines. Under her guidance, the Valkyries have never actually lost a war. That doesn't mean the Valkyries are invincible though. We have lost plenty of battles against the Fallen. But we always ultimately manage to beat them back. Victory against the Fallen is beyond a doubt. The only question is when we can seize that victory.

Now compare that to the cult of Iros. In the slums or the beast people shanty towns, worship of Iros is common. I would say most of her worshipers come from those kinds of places. The people there pray to Iros for some respite in their barbaric and generally pointless lives. And what does Iros provide in return for their faith? Bread and water.

Yes. Literally bread and water.

Iros has something of a reputation among the divines. She is the most responsive of the Seven, generally answering prayers to her positively and promptly. The insanity rate involved with her worship is also surprisingly low. Iros is probably the only divine you could get away with praying to without an operator. Not that you should, but you had a good chance of surviving the experience. All that would have made Iros the most popular divinity of the Seven, except for one teeny tiny problem.

Iros is the most impotent of the Orthodox Divines.

Bread and water is her solution to everything. Make a prayer to her and next thing you know, there's a loaf of bread and a bowl of water in front of you. There's even a suspicion among theologians that bread and water is the only thing Iros can provide. This inconvenient fact has caused the goddess of compassion has become something of a joke. Her portrait in the Cathedral is a continuation of the same theme, a veiled piece of mockery at Iros's expense.

"Iros is an important divine, Nomi." Hiro protests, "You know her feast day right? Everyone celebrates it, even worshipers of the other goddesses. Its the only festival where the whole Citadel joins in."

"How could I forget?" I grumble as a memory resurfaces.

It was when Hiro and I were still in the Academy. The feast day of Iros was rolling round and the Academy did what it does every year, which is donate a pile of food to feed the poor in honor of the goddess. And with the donated food a class would be randomly selected to participate in the feast as a show of solidarity with the less fortunate. That year, the class Hiro and I were in were sent into the slums to mingle.

What a dreadful experience.

The food was bland and oily. The meat was as hard as rock. It probably was dug out from the bottom of a government storehouse when the Academy was requisitioning supplies. No alcohol was served, just some diluted cordial which had barely any sugar or flavor in it. There were no chairs and tables either. The feast took place in the middle of a slum on the main street. Hiro and I were standing awkwardly by the side of the road eating our dinner while the Academy's serving staff bustled about. All that was not the worst part though.

The people. The people living there in the slum were the worst. They made the whole affair pure torture. The slum dwellers came out in their best clothes, which to be fair were neat and more or less clean. But it was the look in their eyes that scared me. A mixture of desperation mixed with envy and gratitude. They would squat by the gutter, shoveling that disgusting slop down their mouths before begging for seconds.

Hiro soon left my side to volunteer as a server doling out food for the slum people. With nothing else to do, I tossed a piece of meat that was too tough for me to chew at the feet of a cat man. The cat subhuman then dropped on all fours and picked up the meat with his teeth, swallowing the chunk whole, before padding towards me and rubbing his cheek against my shoe. It was horrid. It was disgusting. I began feeding the cat man with scraps from my plate. I knew from that point that I could get this subhuman to do anything I wa -

"Are you alright?" Hiro asks worriedly as he shakes me, pulling me out of my reverie.

I center myself and realize that I had been breathing shallowly while a smooth sheen of sweat had formed across my brow. I hurriedly nod and turn my attention to Hiro.

"The service is almost over." I say, hoping to hide my break in composure.

"Valkyries, it was your destiny to be born in the age of the Fallen." the chorister booms, "No other generation has had a better opportunity to gain favor with the Seven. Fight with skill and gallantry, and you may be deemed worthy of entering the Inner Citadel. Or perhaps even blessed personally by one of the divines."

"You think its possible?" Hiro asks eagerly, "Being directly blessed by one of the goddesses, instead of through an operator?"

"Why not?" I shrug indifferently, "Look at the blue piping on our commander's uniform. Blessed of Regina she is."

"And now we pray, in the title of our Leader, the seven times blessed, praise be to her." the chorister concludes.

I lower my head and allow myself to drift away again, merely going through the motions of the ritual. But my heart starts speeding up again, as the faces of the subhuman cat person, Jackson and Hiro whirl about at the back of my head. Spinning until they morph into a featureless blur.

Spinning until I can no longer tell the difference between the three.