Because I was a man of war and not of healing, I used the only tool in my box I could think of. I slapped the priest several times hoping it would spark a glimmer of sense in his eyes. After the third time my great bronze hand met his puffy red cheeks, the priest wriggled out of my clutch and took a step back.

“Who are you to strike a Priest of the Pantheon?” He thundered, suddenly sensible to the world around him.

“I am Shieldfather, Varian Lord of Tartarus and I was told you hold answers, priest.” Once he took in the glory that was I, his tone suddenly shifted.

“Well…You know, lord or not, you don’t hit a priest.”

“I’m not familiar with your codes, human. Am I right to call you human?” He seemed confused by the question until Bleff tugged on my loincloth and whispered, “He is.”

“Forget about it. I have many questions. I’m told you are familiar with the Gods, with Hell and the path that would lead to it.”

“Of course, I am!” He said offended then cleared his throat, “I mean. Yes, yes. Where’s my wine cup?” I grabbed the cup off the stone stairs and handed it to him. He looked it over much longer than necessary then shrugged.

“Guess, I’ll have to refill this one. Follow me inside,” he said and as he turned his back and entered the church he continued to mumble. “Every Morksday it’s the same. I swear, I should just stop going outside altogether.”

“It’s not Morksday,” Bleff said as we followed inside.

“It’s not?” He said as we came up to the altar where the priest opened a cabinet and rummaged through until he found his wine bottle. He filled up his cup, took a sip and smacked his lips.

“What day is it?”

“Whatever day comes after Morksday, I guess,” Bleff said.

“Tussday then? Eh, when you get to my age it all blends together. So, what’s a barbarian doing with a goblin, eh? And since when do you folk care about the Gods?”

“I’m not a—.”

“He’s not a barbarian, that’s just prejudice steeped in ignorance,” Bleff said grinning happily at me.

“That,” I said. The priest eyed his half-empty bottle of wine then took a big, long swig from it before squeezing the last few drops into his cup.

“Godly duties. And not that anyone asked, my name is Porter Hogwind,” he added. It was custom to share drinks with Steelspeakers as they taught us about the world. Here it was different, the wisemen seemed to keep their wine to themselves. I didn’t want to judge for I knew little of the customs of this land and I had great respect for men of knowledge, but I had to admit I had a great craving for wine.

“So what do you want to know about the Gods, adventurer? Oh, by the way, how did you slip past the king and his men on Morksday?”

“Shieldfather challenged his son and all his guards to battle.” Bleff said and giggled.

“You did what?”

“I only did what a Varian Lord would do. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Not really. Alright, let’s say I believe you. You have questions, ask them. I’m a very busy man.” He said and his words echoed across the dusty church until they didn’t and only the soft drip of water leaking through the roof could be heard.

“How do I get to Hell?” I asked. The priest snorted and wine came spilling out his nose. He laughed raucously as if I had just told him the maddest of anecdotes.

“You’re as funny as you’re tall, my friend. But seriously. What do you want to know?”

“I’m Shieldfather, priest. A soldier of the Oomerian Cohort. Sworn to Ra’een the Angel Protector. Shield of the Steel Bastion, Guardian of the Bulwark, Varian Lord of Tartarus. I’m Ta’een’s frustration and despair. I do not joke when it comes to Hell. Now I’ll ask you again. Where is Hell and how do I get there?” The priest seemed unimpressed.

“You, uhm…You’re from Hell?”

“Yes.” After a moment of tense silence, the priest laughed again. My patience grew thinner but by now I understood that my words seemed more than confusing to the overworlders.

“You know of Ra’een, priest?”

“Bah! Of course I do!” He snapped. “The son of Kold. Forever fighting his twin brother Ta’een to keep the world safe and all that…” I felt like he wanted to add another word but seemed to stop himself. Still, I felt a great surge of hope finally being able to talk to a man who knew the Deep Truth.

“Yes, very good, priest. Except that Ra’een’s battle is one of the soul, while the true war is waged by our kind in the caverns of Hell.”

“Your kind? What? That’s not what the scriptures say. I’ve never heard of your kind.”

“You know of Ra’een but have never heard of Tartarus and the Steel Bastions? Impossible. We are the shield that—.”

“Yes, yes, yes. There are many interpretations. Many, many. Some think Kold turned himself into a man one day and walked our world. Some think Tussagar doesn’t even exists and the oceans filled up by themselves. Some idiots even think Helva is the only God and there are no others. There’s as many interpretations as there are people and none…Bah. As said, no, I have not heard of Tartarus and your bastion.”

I sat onto one of the benches and let my great body sink into itself. I gazed at the great painting of Ra’een and Ta’een embraced in eternal battle behind the altar. A work of great craftsmanship. Ra’een was indeed depicted as he was in Tartarus with his beautiful black hair, fiery eyes and golden wings and so was Ta’een with his betraying white hair, black armor and demonic visage. A face twisted by hate festering for uncountable cycles in the depths of Hell.

“In this world,” I started. “You believe in Kold and his sons. You believe in Heaven and Hell and yet you know nothing of its workings. Could my life have been a dream?” I shook my head and snorted.

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“Don’t burden yourself, son.” The priest said taking a seat next to me as Bleff ambled about the church aimlessly.

“Let me tell you something,” He lowered the cup to his side then looked around as if scanning for prying ears.

“I know I’m a priest and it’s exactly why I can say this, Gods, angels, the whole thing. I don’t trust in any of it. Who claims to know Kold other than old books and the peasantry who can’t even read them? I know I’m a priest.” He said again, this time as if to remind himself of the fact. He chuckled, “But I’ve never witnessed the Gods, or miracles, or anything really. All I believe in is wine. Could it have been a dream? Chances are it was. There are monsters out there, and ghosts, and vampires and great dragons that scorch unassuming villagers and who fights them? The Gods? No. I’ll tell you who fights them, men with steel in their hands. Men like you.” His words of heresy filled me with a certain despair spurred on earlier by Kindra and Wolfman. My head sunk and I stared at the broken stone floors for a bit simmering in shameful self-pity.

“A dream,” I repeated letting the word echo against runes describing Kold, Helva and the other Gods. And as the last of the word dissipated into nothingness I scratched the great scar across my neck. The tenlife demon who gifted it almost took my head that day.

That day.

“You know what a tenlife demon is, priest?” I said and he faced me with a tired look. He opened his mouth, but I continued to speak instead.

“It comes once in a thousand cycles. A towering behemoth with six cleavers for hands and a maw that could swallow you whole.”

“That’s so fucking rad,” Bleff said sitting down cross-legged in front of me. I let his foul-mouthed comment stand for a wind of great courage had lifted me up.

“At such size and strength, it can rampage even through the strongest shield formation. It can take up to ten lives per Tide, which is a devastating loss for a battalion. That’s why a Shieldfather needs to protect his sons when one appears in the Tide. A Shieldfather must surge forward leaving the safety of numbers and sow death through a legion of lesser demons to reach it, before it reaches the Bastion. Then he must slay this giant within a whirlwind of ungodly claws and fangs so that in battling the Shieldfather, the tenfold cleaves his own to death rather than the battalion. And all a Shieldson can do is watch him.” My thoughts wandered inward as the memory became my whole world.

“So…Did you kill it?” Bleff asked.

“My Gods, goblin. You’ve picked your skull clean through your nose, haven’t you?” Bleff stuffed the latest green little ball of disgusting treasure into his mouth then laughed. After a brief moment, I laughed too, only the priest remained fairly bored by all of it.

“I killed it, Bleff,” I said darkly as the red violent image of the tenfold came over me. “But not before it tore my shield away and dug its last cleaver into my neck. I drove my sword deep into its bowels and tore its insides onto scorched rock. I was sure I would die. I didn’t feel pain and I didn’t feel fear, Bleff. All I felt was pride because I would die the way a Shieldfather must.” Bleff’s eyes had teared up and rightly so. It was a heroic truth known to touch even the rottenest heart.

“And you,” I said getting up and addressing the priest. He squirmed for I loomed above him like an accusing god. “You think I inflicted this wound upon myself while asleep? Do you? That I’d dreamt my way through an honorable life?”

“Calm down, son. Yeah, sure you’re a great warrior in Ra’een’s service. I get it. I really do. Forget what I said.” The casual tone unnerved me even more. He was talking me down from violence rather than believing a word I said. Was I a child to this squirming piglet of a man? I laughed.

“There is a war beneath your feet, priest and I’m a general of that war. I come before you in all my glory with the knowledge of the Deep Truth spilling freely from my mouth. I ask you for guidance and understanding and what do you do? A holy man, no less? You not only doubt my words, you think you can make me doubt them myself? Down there, priest, Ta’een’s bottomless malice surges through the hallways of Hell and the only people to stop it are us, the Varians. The children of Ra’een. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I opened my hand before him then slid the blade of my sword across. Blood gushed out quickly and pooled in my palm. The old round man flinched again clasping his jeweled cup with both hands as if in defense.

I walked up to the wall left of the altar then pressed my hand against the first of the four runes that made up the Word of Kold. A dim red light appeared shining through my bronze skin at the rune of war. It climbed upward, filling the rune of death next, then the rune of honor until it reached the white arced ceiling where the rune of loyalty sat and filled that one with red light as well.

“I am the blood of Ra’een priest. The blood of Kold himself. Do you deny me too?”

“The bloodlight of Kold,” the priest muttered, his jaw shaking. He flung himself off the bench and onto the cold stone floor. His cup dropped alongside him spraying the white of his robes red. Bleff shot up, his baby blue eyes wide.

“Do you deny me, priest?” I asked again my voice a thunder.

“Forgive me! I—I,” he could not make himself speak so I spoke instead of him.

“I sought answers, but you had none to give. Instead, you offered a better question. There is now no doubt in my heart that Kold still watches. And I’m certain there is no doubt in you either, priest.”

“No, no, my Lord! Forgive me, the years, and the wine! And this village! And—.” The rune of loyalty suddenly lit up with a flash of fire that spread across the entire ceiling. The heat washed over me like a mother’s embrace then vanished. Leaving the white pain untouched.

“Kold watch over you, priest. May you find a good war to die in. Come Bleff, I got what I came for.”

“So fucking rad,” Bleff muttered waddling after me. We walked back out into the cold blinding daylight and despite the burning hope in my heart, I shuddered. We only took a couple of steps before the priest came rushing out after us.

“Good people of Underock! Good people! You, call your wife! Farson, bring your children, you all need to hear it. Good people of Underock. Hear my words!” Not many had cared to come closer, but all stopped whatever they were doing and looked upon the yelling priest. “This man here is a holy man! Look upon him for he is the blood of Kold himself! Do you hear me? The Gods are real and this man here—.”

“Is that the guy who had his way with Wilda?” One of the villagers said.

“Godfrey’s wife, ye mean?” Another asked.

“Aye, sure is. That’s him, I saw him at Godfrey’s hut when he was gone fishing. Him and that ugly goblin. They did Wilda dirty!”

“Is this…True, my Lord?” The priest asked, his newfound spirit seemingly leaking out of him.

“I was paying for stew.” I said for it was the truth, yet somehow I knew it would be followed by nothing but wrath.

“And all that after Godfrey showed him the ropes and all. Helped him out at the beach even though the king forbade it! He risked his life, Godfrey did!” The words pained me greatly.

“I’ve had it with them adventurers, ‘ere. The king ain’t killing enough!” Yet another Underockian showed up, this one with a shovel in both hands. Two more walked out the hut next to him.

“Kill ‘em all I say!” Someone claimed. Bleff pulled me by the hand nervously.

“Should we—should we go?”

“Cowardly words,” I said, but then a group of nine more villagers came about from the field behind the church. “But there might be some wisdom in them.”

Very quickly, a very angry mob had formed and was moving towards us and the dungeon hub in the background. At first with slow fearful steps, but then as more people joined in, especially those with pitchforks, they seemed to brave the distance much faster.

I grabbed Bleff by the back of his neck and decided to retreat. Strategically, of course. I ran with great speed as the mob came after me with shovels, pitchforks and hammers screaming insults I couldn’t even conceive. None of which I deserved.

As we passed the hub, a group of adventurers walked out the door probably stirred by the commotion.

“You should probably run,” I said not bothering to explain more as I shot by. The mob at our back spoke for itself.

I ran as fast as I could as long as I could with Bleff on my back. I ran until the last villagers gave up and only dung-flinging children remained. They proved to be of great stamina and perseverance for some reason, but once they had run out of dung, they too gave up.

I pulled to the side of the road and walked into the nearest trees then dropped Bleff on the ground and sat down myself. I picked a piece of dung from my hair and shook my head. Bleff looked at me panting as if he ran the whole way. After a few hard breaths, the goblin laughed.

“An escort worthy of a Varian Lord, huh?”