Chapter 316 - Pirates and Prayers VIII
Claire stared silently at Flitzegarde’s temple as she weighed her options. She wasn’t sure if she had the energy remaining to evaluate the goddess’ intentions. It had been a long day—she had assassinated some idiot with a fetish for taxidermized bears, spoken to three of the possible representatives that Ciel had put on her list, and even beat up a group of pirates before returning to Velkhagan.
It wasn’t a problem with her body that stayed her hand. Her muscles were still brimming with vigour, ready for a full-on fight at any given moment, but her mental bandwidth had been used up in its entirety. All she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep for half a week.
Still, she stepped onto the temple’s grounds and made her way to the back of the line. The lyrkress had decided on the visit much earlier in the day, and she had even procured the goddess’ snack in advance. And so, with a bag of freshly-baked kelp cookies in hand, she assumed her humanoid form, filled out all the forms, and abided by the goddess’ instruction. Before long, she was in the silent cathedral again, beholding it in all its majestic glory. Rather than following the red carpet and heading straight for the altar, Claire decided to explore the holy space. She floated off the ground and fluttered towards the windows through which the brilliant sunbeams streamed.
A quick peek confirmed that the church stood upon a mountain. She hadn't the slightest clue as to where exactly they were, but it was high enough that the clouds lay far beneath them. Through the gaps in the fluffy white shields, she could see a number of idle hamlets, tiny villages off in the distance, too far for their architecture to ring clear. Despite the vertical distance, the mountain itself was completely devoid of white. There was not even a speck of snow in the sea of green. Blooming deciduous trees ran along its length, covering it in a dense jungle bustling with life. There was the odd pine mixed in as well, but the evergreens refused to take over, in spite of the seemingly colder environment. She knew that it wasn’t quite as warm as Vel’khagan, but Claire couldn’t guess the temperature. The caldriess was never uncomfortable, regardless of how cold it got.
She tried to squeeze her way outdoors, but an invisible barrier barred her from interacting with the outside world. Bearing with the accompanying pain, she created a small portal to see if she could reach beyond the wall, but to no avail. The goddess of order refused any outside interaction.
Her attempts to walk out the front door were equally as futile. The barrier was more obvious there, clearly stopping her from heading outside, even after she opened the door. There was no choice but to walk up the aisle, return to the altar, and complete her act of worship. Reluctantly, Claire did just that. She placed her offering on top of the stone tablet, assumed the usual pose, and prayed to the cat that had stolen Alfred’s heart.
“O goddess of order, ruler of the divine realm and enforcer of law. I bestow upon you a snack a dear friend of mine enjoyed and ask that you may be so kind as to provide a moment of your time and attention.”
The deity’s presence filled the room as the last word left her lips. It came with an overbearing, crushing weight—the weight of all the faith placed on her shoulders since her final ascension. Claire almost felt like she would be flattened beneath it, but she resisted the urge to become a pancake and kept her back straight as a rod.
She had to fight to raise her gaze, but not because of the pressure. Her catgirl skill was going wild. She was normally able to ignore it, like she had when she met Larisa earlier in the day, but before Flitzegarde, its might was impossible to resist. Her whole body screamed in a way that she didn’t quite understand. Neither the pounding in her chest nor the ringing in her ears were unfamiliar, but there was a strange burning heat that spread throughout her body, originating in the pit of her stomach. It felt like it was going to swallow her whole, even as she fought it back and raised her eyes.
Cursed or not, she could not quite deny Flitzegarde’s enchanting beauty. The goddess’ skin was tanned a perfect bronze that only accented her golden slit eyes. Her tail and her ears were both a deep raven black, just like the long, flowing hair that ran all the way down to her waist. Her frame was on the more slender side, and the light clothing she wore did little to hide it. There were only two straps of cloth to obscure her chest. Each ran down from her neck and wrapped around one side of her body. The flimsy outfit was held together with a series of golden accessories, necklaces and bangles adorned with glimmering gems. Her skirt was very much the same—an impossibly thin layer of cloth the same colour as her hair, locked in place by a belt made of several gilded braces. It was practically a loincloth, only much wider and longer, extending all the way from hip to hip and down the full length of her legs.
And then there were her ears. They were much longer than the ears that most of Alfred’s creations had, barely falling short when put next to Claire’s own. They were shapely as well, and their position, while not precisely centaurian, was reminiscent of that which the lyrkress’ would take when she raised them above her head.
The goddess’ almost childlike pout only added to her beauty; it sent Claire’s mind spinning into disarray and nearly robbed her of all good sense. But again, she stood her ground, met the goddess’ eyes, and spoke with her tone steady and controlled.
“Good afternoon, Flitzegarde.”
“Good afternoon,” said the cat.
The statement was followed by an awkward moment of silence, with Claire awaiting another set of words, and the goddess only staring into her eyes. She was not too nervous to speak, as was the case with the god of the abyssal depths. She was simply choosing silence instead.
“I have returned, as you have requested, Goddess.” Eventually, Claire broke the silence.
“So you have.” But again, Flitzegarde’s response was curt, short and blunt enough that the lyrkress was unable to respond.
She tried to scrutinize the goddess’ gaze, but she learned nothing. The only fact she could discern was that Flitzegarde was annoyed, even though it was she that had demanded the caldriess’ return.
“Is the offering not to your liking?” asked Claire.
“It’s fine,” said Flitzegarde. There was another delay, another few moments of silence that ended when the goddess continued. “I was waiting for the effects of Alfred’s influence to leave your mind.”
“I see,” said Claire, with a frown of her own.
“Now that you are free from it, I’d say we’re overdue for a chat.”
Claire raised her brow. It was her first time hearing that the goddess had business with her, and frankly, she didn’t see why she would.
“First, I’d like to apologize for my handling of Alfred Llarsse. You never would have had to deal with his nonsense had the measures I put in place been any more robust. My barrier should have suppressed his divine powers, but I was unfortunate enough to underestimate the extent of his abilities.”
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Claire took a breath. “I do hate his curse, but I never thought it was your fault,” she said. “I would’ve died, if not for his dungeon.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Flitzegarde. “Flux was ready to interfere, despite my explicit instruction.”
“And you wouldn’t have stopped her?”
“I considered it, but I decided that I was better off appeasing her.”
The lyrkress cocked her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be the strongest god? Couldn’t you just beat her up?”
“I am, and I could,” said the cat. There was no pride backing the statement; she said it like it was a matter of course. “But maintaining order doesn’t necessarily always mean enforcing the rule of law. There are times when you have to take a step back and evaluate if overlooking a minor infraction or two might lead to a better long-term result.”
The answer drove Claire to narrow her eyes. Flitzegarde was not at all as she had understood her. The church’s reputation suggested that she could not be defied, and the contracts that borrowed her power generally ensured absolute compliance. And yet, there she was before her, casually claiming that there were exceptions to be made. She was once again struck by the sense of incongruency that had followed their first encounter. Something wasn’t adding up.
The goddess frowned. “You seem confused, but it’s really simple if you stop to consider it. It’s the same reason that most crimes do not merit systematic punishment and why people aren’t just given the classes that would best suit their talents from birth. Order exists to ensure the world’s function, not to rob people of their will. Individuality has always been something that we have strived to protect. That was why the system was first created.”
“Was that your decision?”
“No.” Flitzegarde closed her eyes for a brief moment and curved her lips into a smile. “It was my predecessor that dictated the system’s purpose.” There was a fondness in her words, as she recalled the antecedent in question. “He has since departed, but we carry on his will. The core tenets were never once changed.”
Claire knew of the god in question. He was referred to in myth as the god of all things, and sometimes described in lesser terms as the god of creation. It was precisely on his concept that Alfred had set his sights.
“Sealing Alfred was impossibly difficult. Unfortunately, he is more powerful than the average god in spite of his stage of ascension. He would have had the potential to become the greatest among us were it not for his twisted personality.”
“He’s that powerful?”
“To explain his abilities entails going beyond the scope of what I’m allowed to say,” said Flitzegarde. “But his abilities likely appear to be inert because you’ve only met in his sealed state.”
“I see,” said Claire, with an internal shudder. If there was one thing she learned from the encounter, it was that she did not want to see Alfred unchained.
“Now, moving on,” said Flitzegarde. “You wanted me to forgive the orbital strike you launched on the planet.”
Claire nodded.
“In spite of how I, or any of the other gods might feel, you did nothing that warrants an explicit divine pardon. The system is simply a tool for deification, and it has always been configured in such a way that rewards violence. To condemn you for the destruction of a city would be an act of utter hypocrisy. We are only gods because we have performed executions at scale and earned our divinity by etching our names into the hearts of those that survived to tell the tale. Builledracht has cursed entire nations and condemned them to rot, Vella has taken countless kings and heroes with her blade, and Primrose’s famines have brought the richest and most powerful to their ends through a desperate lack of bread.” The goddess’ eyes shone, the golden light within them even brighter than the afternoon sun. “Rule of power is primitive, but it remains a form of order itself. Rather than seeking forgiveness, you should live with the consequences of your actions. Stand tall, Claire Augustus. It will earn you more of the pantheon’s trust than your false deference.”
“I don’t understand,” said Claire, with her eyes narrowed. “Why would you restrict my class, if not to demand my subservience?”
“That particular restriction was made in the distant past, a fault on Griselda’s part. In her infinite boredom, she flung meteors at the planet and caused great disaster to do nothing but pass the time. The approval of ten gods is not a high hurdle to clear. Griselda is only denied because she never presents a reasonable argument.”
Claire frowned. “But I just earned their ire, thanks to Tornatus. They would never approve.”
Flitzegarde shrugged. “While I could certainly advise you on several methods to circumvent your problem, I would rather keep them undisclosed. For reference, I’ve no plans to ever approve the action myself unless there is no other way to prevent some sort of large-scale blasphemy, or perhaps a threat to the world. I have nothing against you, nor even Griselda. It is simply the stance that I will always continue to hold.”
“How would I make you partial to me then?”
The question earned her a suspicious glare. Flitzegarde carefully looked her over and scrutinized the depths of her eyes. “Are you sure that you haven’t let Alfred’s influence corrupt you?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Claire. She paused for a moment, mulling over the goddess’ words, before she decided to finish her statement. “Pervert.”
Flitzegarde was taken aback. For a moment, the otherwise annoyed mask slipped from her face in favour of an almost Vella-like reaction. Her lips flapped open and closed, like a desperate fish taken out of water. It took a moment for her to cough and regain her composure, her lips twisted open to reveal a fanged smile. “Please refrain from likening me to Alfred’s creations.”
“I can’t really help it,” said Claire. “They look just like you.”
Flitzegarde meowed in annoyance. “I told you to stand tall, not to get cheeky.”
Claire smiled. “Seeing as how you’re not all that angry, I take it you’d be willing to give me a quest in exchange for a blessing?”
“I am.” The goddess closed her eyes. “You were headed north?”
“To Cadria.”
“Then my quest will be for you to make the journey on your own feet and wings.”
Log Entry 849533
You have received a quest - Walk the Path
Objective: Travel from Vel’khan to Cadria without any long-distance teleportation.
Successful completion will merit a reward in the form of Flitzegarde’s blessing.
Claire narrowed her eyes. “That’s a full month of travel.”
“And a perfect excuse to see the sights,” said Flitzegarde.
“I can’t possibly defeat my father if I don’t make optimal use of my time.”
“You can’t possibly defeat him at all, even if you make optimal use of your time,” said the goddess. “Flux may be the best predictor of the future, but even I can see that the result is predetermined. There is no purpose in contemplating the fall of Virillius Augustus with only a measly year and a half’s worth of combat experience, regardless of how intensive it may be. He is a man capable of conquering foes with powers far in excess of his own. You have certainly inherited his blood, and with it a trace of his talent, but you will not defeat him.”
“I know,” said the caldriess. Her eyes were clear and unclouded. “But I will, I have to challenge him. Beating him is the only way I’ll ever be free.”
Flitzegarde frowned. She didn’t quite seem to like the answer, but neither did she explicitly prohibit the mortal’s choice. Instead, she simply meowed dismissively and allowed the cathedral to fade away.
For a moment, even as she was taken back to Vel’khan, Claire felt her presence over her shoulder. But then, the catgirl vanished, leaving only her image burned into the lykress’ mind.