“Do you mind taking over now?” Atasimon asked. “I need some time to rest and think.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to meeting Inea after what your son said, but I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you. You’ll probably handle it more diplomatically than I would at any rate, I trust your judgement.”

Knowing the goddess had confidence in her filled Derzina with pride as she explained to Mostanto the change that had taken place and concluded by asking, “Is that alright?”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I’d planned to introduce the both of you anyway.”

The palace towered over the rest of the city and Derzina was sure she could easily have found her way through the sweeping avenues leading to it, not that she minded the escort. Though Mostanto’s presence was technically superfluous, it was reassuring to have someone she knew in this city of strangers. Even if she’d only recently made his acquaintance.

A great circle of clear space surrounded the palatial structure, the enormous circular balcony looming over the entrance before them, fenced by iron delicately shaped into flowers and branches. Though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the soldiers holding polearms placed at regular intervals all around the fence.

From what Derzina could see, it seemed to be composed primarily of circles. The inner circle from which the balcony extended was flanked on both sides by two far larger ones that made up the bulk of the building. They curved upward toward the outer edge, resembling the wings of a colossal stone bird. Even the stone itself was decorated, covered by a mixture of spiralling murals and elegant inscription.

Grand as the structure was, Derzina only found it captivating until she began to wonder just how much space had been wasted on it. Though none of the tightly-packed buildings in Ortesion could match the palace’s beauty, they had done an exceptional job of maximising the amount of liveable space.

How many had been crammed into tiny homes or forced to go without entirely just for the sake of this display? After what Xanathel had said, and seeing where the goddess chose to make her home; Derzina already found herself disliking Inea.

They were approaching the wide steps enclosed within the fence leading up to the palace’s entrance when several of the guards present, wearing far heavier armour than Mostanto, stepped forward to block their way.

“State your business,” the foremost guard said, an officer by his more ornate armour.

Mostanto gave his name and position, before informing the officer that he was here to convey Derzina to Inea on the orders of Xanathel.

“Will you consent to handing over your weapons?” the officer asked.

“Of course,” Mostanto said, already unbuckling his sword belt.

Unarmed, Derzina simply stood there as Mostanto disarmed himself. Once he was done, the officer handed the weapons off to one of his men and said, “We shall escort you inside.”

He gestured to two of his fellows who moved behind Derzina and Mostanto, then the gate was opened and the five of them climbed the steps together. Up close Derzina was able to appreciate how intricate the designs carved into the stone were. They’d appeared disjointed from each other at a distance, but now she saw that they were all connected into one grandiose work of art.

The officer proceeded them as they reached the front doors and pushed open the curved wood with ease, though they were easily several times the height of a man. Beyond lay a vast open space with high ceilings and a floor of polished white marble. In the centre of the room sat an empty throne of pale blue on an elevated platform.

As the group approached the throne, their footsteps echoed through the immense emptiness, making Derzina feel small and unimportant. What business did a mere mortal have here, in the home of a god? As they walked, she stared up at the ceiling which held the grandest art of all.

Dozens of gods, many of whom she didn’t recognize, were arrayed in all their splendour while opposing them stood the Demon King. Depicted as a giant of black fire with a spiked crown atop his head, he bore a long fiery spear with which he menaced his foes.

Derzina was led across the room to stand before the throne, where the officer who’d brought her stopped.

“Wait here while I announce your presence to Lady Inea.”

Nodding, she watched as he walked past the throne and up a narrow staircase set into the wall. The floor was cold beneath her feet, which by Derzina’s reckoning fit well with her impression of the palace. Beautiful as the chilling edifice was, she could not imagine any human truly feeling at home here.

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Derzina grew tired of staring at the throne room and turned her attention inward.

“What’s Inea like, anyway?” she asked, speaking within her mind.

“I’ve never spoken with her myself, so I can only offer what I’ve heard; she used to style herself Lady of the Splendorous Host, which she may still though from what we’ve seen of her so far that seems doubtful. When last I saw her, she was one of the generals commanding the human armies. From what I heard, she was considered well-spoken and well-liked by humans and gods alike.”

Well-liked? It was clear the humans of Brtet respected the goddess, but Derzina would be surprised if they were actually fond of her. If the enormous empty palace was anything to go by, the line between god and human was crystal clear in Brtet.

It was nothing like Ortesion had been, where Ortestia regularly held gatherings for even the humblest of her citizens at her temple and spent much of her time walking among them. Though her impression of Inea seemed to worsen by the moment, Derzina reminded herself to withhold judgement until she’d at least had a chance to meet them. Not that she fancied her judgement of a god’s character was of much significance to anyone.

“Did gods often reside in such grand residences in the days of Oelindrey?” Derzina asked.

“More or less,” Atasimon said, “they were all much too ostentatious for my liking.”

“Where did you live then?”

“My family had a sprawling temple of their own, but I didn’t spend much time there when I could avoid it. I much prefer travel to staying in one place, that tends to get terribly boring before long.”

Derzina found the idea that anyone could prefer travelling difficult to understand. Given the option, she’d have much rather stayed in the city where she’d grown up. Enduring being away from it all was the least of her trials, but it was a trial nonetheless. One she would never have undertaken were there not far more at stake than her own comfort.

“What about Ortesia?” Derzina asked “Did she ever travel with you?”

“Rarely, and never of her own volition. Her responsibilities were always far more important than seeing the world.”

That struck Derzina as eminently reasonable, the latter seemed frivolous and that was only compared to the everyday responsibilities Derzina had been burdened with before Meztraxia’s army arrived. Surely those of a god ought to take precedence over their own amusements.

“Did you not also have followers that depended on you? Or did they travel with you?”

“I generally travelled alone. Those few who opted to follow me required little from me when it came to running their own lives, they were more than capable of doing that themselves. It must seem strange to you now, in this world where men can only live by the protection of their gods, but in my day, mortals were free to live as they pleased without our tampering. Not that it never seemed to stop most of my kind.”

Derzina was surprised by the bitterness with which Atasimon spoke. Though she now felt naïve for having done so, she’d thought the gods had all worked together for the sake of humanity. That was how Ortesia had made it sound when she’d spoken of her past glories won by her and her family. Now that Derzina thought about it, Ortesia had seldom mentioned Atasimon during her reminiscences.

She stood there staring into space as she contemplated the past, only for the present to force its way to the fore with the arrival of what Derzina could only assume was Inea. The woman was more than a head taller than anyone in the room and wore a fine dress of green, the length of which trailed several paces behind her. Between her person and her clothing, she bore more jewels than Derzina had ever seen in one place, each one forming part of a delicate design formed of silver.

Taking slow measured strides, Inea strode toward the throne while her officer proceeded her. He walked right past Derzina and left with the rest of his men.

“My task here is done, good luck,” Mostanto whispered, before slipping out with the others.

Inea said nothing and seemed to pay her surroundings no attention until she reached her throne and looked down at Derzina from atop it. Her eyes, pools of deep green, betrayed not the slightest emotion.

“You are Atasimon’s vessel?” she asked, though it was clear by her tone that she was already certain of the answer.

“I am, my lady,” Derzina said.

“A mere mortal?”

“That’s right, my lady.”

A faint tremor of rage passed across Inea’s features so quickly that Derzina nearly missed it and the goddess said, “Yet you stand in the presence of your betters.”

“My lady?” Derzina asked, confused.

“Kneel.”

Though she was still taken off-guard, Derzina obeyed. Inea was far from polite, but it wouldn’t do to disrespect a god; especially when she had something they needed. Taking a knee, Derzina looked down and waited for Inea to speak.

“Then you do have some concept of respect,” Inea said, “unlike that pitiful husk attached to you. Why has Xanathel the treacherous son sent his deceitful mother to my door?”

“We have come in search of Araveena, my lady. We were told she was in your palace.”

“The goings on in my home are no concern of yours. Your transgressions already border on unforgivable; I will not tolerate impudent questions regarding my affairs. You do realize you’re a stranger here, do you not?”

“I do, my lady, and it was not my intention to pry. I fully respect that your business is your own, I only wish to ask Araveena for her aid.”

After having been in the company of Ortesia, Atasimon and even Mortisflor, Inea’s insistence on protocol was completely unexpected. Derzina wished Xanathel had told her about that rather than the goddess’ supposed paranoia, as she tried her best to assuage the goddess’ outrage.

“Do you now? You’ve brought your filth into my palace purely for the sake of one little wizard? You must take me for a fool if you expect me to believe such an outlandish story. I had hoped a goddess, even one so diminished, would have more sense. I have heard enough; get out of my sight.”

Her patience reaching its end, Derzina opened her mouth to protest. Before she could get a word out, she heard Atasimon’s voice in her head.

“Don’t. There’s nothing to be gained here, we should leave while we still can.”

Swallowing her pride and her words, Derzina bowed to Inea and walked out.