After healing Paul, and easing the little bit of pain in his back, I once more, had nothing to do. All I had left was a half bottle of whiskey, so I wandered down to the burgeoning town to find some more. The sound of children laughing and playing with one another rang through the ancient stone buildings. They splashed and played in the rolling tide; Efran and human both. A call came for them to come back, and that break was over leading to a disappointing groan. A woman from the church volunteered to be a teacher to the children, and one of the Ir that Nyt had freed from the Icarian Corps worked side by side to teach the Efran children English so that, when the time came, they’d be able to integrate into society once Porterville and the surrounding area was cleansed from the cult’s grasp, and my name was clear. They did this by also teaching the human children things that they’d be learning in school at their age; math, history, and a heavy emphasis on world mythology. I wonder how long it’ll take for the educational system back on Earth to include myths in their curriculum…

The older children — the teenagers and whatnot, sat in these lessons if they wanted to learn one language or the other, or, if they had the opportunity, of starting a trade. Sir Lior, the old deerrman who made my robes, weapon, and cape, ran a workshop in the middle of the town and taught the basics of his craft. Some humans who had hobbies like knitting, jewelry making and even carving also taught prospective crafters their trade. [Alchemy was a different beast, and only really worked through experimentation for the most part; though Seth was able to purchase a book written by an alchemist off of war-efra for me, and used it to help guide those wanting to learn alchemy.]*

The people here had set up a temple dedicated to the Christian God. They gathered every Sunday and Wednesday for service, though I really didn’t see the point. What’s the point of worshiping one God when many exist? Comfort? Perhaps it helped them feel some sort of connection to the past when their life wasn’t relegated to living in isolation and fear. Perhaps it reminded them of better days. Others might scoff at their beliefs, but I wouldn’t begrudge them of small comforts.

Those more artistically inclined took it upon themselves to repaint some of the faded murals of Fen’s kind carved in the stones of some of the building faces along the stone staircase that led down toward the beach. What history have these ancient walls seen? What stories have been lost here due to Roki’s invasion? What poems were never shared? What songs were never sung to their lost goddess of art? It filled me with an inexplicable despair, walking through these ruins: how would it make Fen feel, or Ikit?

A thought comes to my mind. Nyt said the Ir figured that Roki came from these lands, right? If that were true, wouldn’t these lands hold some secrets to help with our war? Wouldn’t it be best to learn of the history of the lands? If we learn the way Roki fights, then we’d be better at defending against it, no? Information in times of war is crucial. With that in mind, I walked over to the edge of the cove, where the roots of the mountains stretched into the sea, and towards the large round gong stuck inside of the mountain face, and struck it with the hammer of my fist.

The whole of the mountain sang out its melodious tune and reverberated into the deep. The whole of the cove went quiet. Ah, right, it would be the first time they’ve heard this song…

Moments later a shadow emerges on the surface of the water; vast and serpentine. Mothers screamed for their children to get out of the water, and men yelled out warnings and for arms as the massive Rainbow Wyrm emerged from the deep, and looked down at me. In the distance, I hear Seth trying to calm everyone down….ah, I suppose it’d be the first time they’ve seen him. Though he was still missing a few of his scales, where Seth had attacked him, those prismatic scales, free of the black inky venom, shone beautifully.

“It is good to see you again, Lawrence.” Ikit’s melodious voice puts a stop to the panic.

“You too, Ikit.”

His massive snake-like head swiveled side to side as he took in the faint figures staring at him from a distance, then to the skies which, much like every day that passed, seemed bluer than the day before.

“It is good to see this town being used once more. It is good to see children laughing in the waters, and it is good to see the life returning to this section of Efra.”

“Were you around during the time of Roki’s initial invasion?”

The Rainbow Wyrm turned its gaze toward me.

“I was.”

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know how better to fight him in our world.”

“I did not witness a lot of it firsthand, as I live in the waters, but from some of the elderly mykos who came to dwell within this alcove, I learned many things about the nature of Roki’s invasion.”

The serpent let out a long, shuddering sigh. Water dislodges itself from the spaces in between the massive scales across its back at his movements.

“Really? Like what?”

“That Mykia was being invaded before the first armies arrived, and how, by the time it came to take up arms in defense, it was already too late.”

“What do you mean?’

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Roki corrupted the minds of those in the positions of power of Mykia, and turned them against their nation.”

“How did he do that? Magic?”

“Perhaps. But equally corrupting was the promise of power, wealth, women, and fame. He promised these things to those who would work for him, and many fell to these temptations.”

“How does that lead to the fall of a nation?”

“Think about it. With an agent working in the background, one person could stall the efforts of an entire army by a vote, or give bad information to lead these armies into traps. Or misallocate resources to weaken a pivotal city or town. Depending on the position corrupted, it could lead to the deaths of tens of thousands.”

“That doesn’t sound like something a god of war would do, though.”

“What is it you expect a god of war to do, if not wage effective war?”

“I don’t know, something more honorable.”

“You have a fundamental misunderstanding of War, then. Roki is a god of War, not a god of Honorable Battle.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a saying that the great generals of Mykia would use; At its core, warfare is misdirection. Sabotage, subterfuge, and assassination; all of these are equally valid forms of war as the pitched battles in open plains. Roki is a god that elevates both martial prowess and cunning. Cunning, perhaps, more so.”

I take a moment to think about this. Earth has a similar saying: Warfare is based on deception. If what he was saying is true, however, how high up did the corruption spread? Did it spread to the media? The White House? The top brass of the US Military?

“Surely there would have been some people who resisted Roki’s promises.” I tried to refute his points.

“Surely there were, but they were quickly disposed of, or brought into the fold.”

“What do you mean?”

“Blackmail was a popular tool. To keep quiet an embarrassing secret, many were willing to work against the interest of the Mykos. To save their lifelong careers, they were more than willing to give up state secrets. Assassination and kidnappings were another. Stalwart generals would vanish from their entourages, and council members who held up votes were disposed of. Another was through information manipulation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rumors and false accusations would be spread to discredit a particularly troublesome individual: usually high-ranking officers with a good track record, or apostles of Shel, to ostracize them and discredit their works. Sometimes this would lead to trials and tribunals where the verdict was already established. Most were sentenced to death. Others were exiled. I recall one such case from this specific town. 1500 year ago, there was a disciple of Shel who lived here

Now that’s a familiar scene.

“It was only after most of these things came to pass, that the armies of Roki attacked in full. It was a brutal attack; their armies appeared out of nowhere in the middle of cities and decimated the population. Those they didn’t kill, they enslaved.”

If that’s true, then the White One’s invasion would begin any time now, right? The situations surrounding the disciples of Shel sounded similar to my own situation, and the efforts of Maybe I should take this opportunity to learn what the White One was exactly. Nyt had tried to explain it to me, but it wasn’t something that I really grasped.

“So what do you know of the White One?” I ask after some time digesting the information.

“The White One?”

“Nyt called him a ‘piece of Roki,’ or something like that.”

“Ah. Yes. He is Roki, but a piece of him. He is his own being, but he is also Roki.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Draw for me a circle in the sand.”

I do so with my finger.

“Now, divide that circle into three equal parts.”

I do so again.

“Now, which piece is the circle?”

“What do you mean?”

“Which individual piece is the circle?”

“None of them.”

“But they are part of the whole circle, no? How can that be?”

Suddenly it made sense. So if the White Wolf was Roki, then his methods would be the same as the things Ikit told me, wouldn’t they? Things were starting to add up. I suppose arrogantly knocking over a god, laughing at him, and holding him up as I did upon our first meeting could have enraged him. There were other questions I had, however.

“So if he’s dead, Roki will die?”

“No. If we were to erase one of the lines dividing the circle in three, would the circle, too, be erased?”

“No.”

“No, but then three becomes two, and the two pieces will encompass a larger portion of the circle.”

“So if we erase another line…”

“The circle becomes one. And all that would be left to erase is the circle itself.”