“So, we’re in agreement? These are the thirty-five pillars on which we will build our platform against the mayor?” Torveld tapped the list in front of him as he frowned down at it. He was certain he was forgetting something, but they’d been at this for hours. If he’d missed anything, they would just have to release an amended platform later.

“I still say number six and seven are redundant,” Joshu said. “However, I’ll trust to your opinion on the matter, Torv. So long as the bridge committee’s primary and secondary demands are met, I can promise our full support, regardless of the platform.”

“I’m sure with you as vice-mayor, there’ll be no need to worry about the bridge committee being overlooked,” Cartha noted, not bothering to glance up from her notetaking. Her quill flew across the parchment, recording even her own words as she spoke them.

Torveld winced at the casual use of such valuable material, but Cartha had assured him that it was a necessary expense, that future generations would offer thanks for their foresightedness.

Somehow Torveld doubted their descendants would care overly much about such banal matters as policy settlement, but perhaps that was the wrong way to think. If he truly desired to become the new mayor, adjustments like this would become unfortunate necessities.

Joshu smirked across the table, an expression that was wasted on Cartha, lost in her writing as she was. “Do you really think such a small village as our own requires a vice-mayor? Or a secretary, for that matter?”

“I’m Torveld’s wife. I’ll be his secretary whether it’s official or not,” Cartha said matter-of-factly. Her quill darted out for ink, then resumed its constant scratching.

“You’re his betrothed,”

“That’s almost his wife. Just a small matter of the official ceremony. Like my being the secretary. Or Torveld becoming mayor.”

Torveld cleared his throat. “There’ll be a little more than a ceremony to it. First I have to win the election—”

“Which you will, dearest mine. The mayor’s influence is waning with every passing day. She cannot hope to cling to the tattered remains of her husband’s legacy for much longer. It is time for a new husband’s legacy. My husband.”

She smiled and batted her eyes at Torveld. He felt his knees go weak, and was thankful for the chair beneath him.

Joshu gave a polite cough. “Yes, well that is all well and good, but I for one—”

“Just a moment.” Cartha held up a hand. “This page is filled in. Let me get a fresh one. Do not speak on any official policy matters until I return.”

“Hmmph.” Joshu watched the woman slip from the room, then turned back to Torveld. “If she insists on taking notes for every little incidental, your administration will bankrupt the town before its first year is complete.”

“Oh, come now.” Torveld attempted to use one of the smiles he was cultivating for speaking in front of crowds. He still didn’t quite have the corners of his mouth right. “The trading post’s prices are hardly that high. Besides, let Cartha have her little victories. My father always told me that if one bowed to their wife on small matters, when it came to large ones they would—”

He was interrupted by a crashing noise, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. Cartha burst back into the room, her face panicked. “Torveld!”

“What is it, my love?” He was on his feet now as well.

“It is my mother!” For a moment, she appeared at a loss for words, the look in her eyes one unknown to him. He stared in confusion a moment, and then...

“Has she... passed on?” He felt a little flutter of excitement at the prospect. Widow Ulfa had been a constant fixture in their lives ever since Torveld first started courting her daughter. The sickly woman could barely sit up in bed, yet her lungs still worked perfectly, a fact for which Torveld was reminded of any time her bellows echoed through their home. She wanted soup. She needed a new blanket, or a new bedpan, or a...” *shudder* “...sponge bath. Sometimes he wondered if she kept on living just to annoy him. If he hadn’t truly loved Cartha with all his heart, he would have fled their home months ago.

And while he certainly never would have wished for her death, to have her called to the Cairn now, just as he was about to embark on this exciting new chapter of their life was... well, he hated to use the word ‘fortuitous’, but if the trousers fit...

Then Cartha shook her head, shattering any fleeting hopes he had at freedom. “No, it isn’t that?”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Her bed. It’s simply... empty. She’s gone.”

----------------------------------------

As Callan marched towards the center of town, his thoughts turned to what this unexpected meeting with Veritas might entail, and what exactly he should say. Xeph, it seemed, was of a like mind.

Remember, human, no mention of the prisoners. We wish to negotiate with Veritas at a time and place of our choosing, and there is no telling what they might do if you spring this news on them unexpectedly. Given what happened last time, they might simply attack us.

“They might anyway, Xeph. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

I doubt that. This Veritas might be a god, but their avatar is almost certainly yeth, and as such still has a yeth’s preferences. Such as avoiding bloodshed.

Callan wasn’t so sure about that, but he decided not to argue the point. He glanced at Lisson, and a sudden thought occurred to him. “Hey, you’re not the avatar of Veritas by any chance, are you?”

“What?” Lisson asked, at the same moment that Xeph made a hacking noise like a dying gopher and said, In what world did you ever think THAT was a possibility, mortal?

“I wouldn’t say I thought it was a possibility, per se, just it seems like every time that something bad involving Veritas happens, it’s Lisson here who delivers the news.”

Hmmph. Three times is hardly an excuse to be throwing out wild accusations.

“You know what they say: two points make a line, three make a pattern. Also, I’m pretty sure it was four times. Which makes even more of a pattern.”

More Earth nonsense... Mortal, allow me to remind you that we have observed the yeth child’s transcendental conduits, and the god was not present then.

“Yeah, but what’s to stop him from shoving the god into a statue like you did for yourself?”

Of all the... besides the irreparable damage that such a maneuver causes to our metaphysical lattice? Or the requirement to compress most of our memories?

Callan felt his cheeks flush. “Uh, sure. Besides those things you just said.”

Hmm. Then how about the fact that he is far too short by at least two feet to be the avatar?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“...Platform shoes?”

Why do I even bother responding... Xeph descended into unintelligible mutters.

“Excuse me, ah, Callan?” Lisson asked. The casual use of Callan’s name earned him a harsh glare from Kivi. He immediately cringed and snapped his mouth shut.

Callan sighed. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“If I could, there’s something I wanted to show you.” The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.

Alert: 6.25% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 6.25%

It was only Callan’s quick reaction that kept Kivi from putting a stone through the boy’s head. Instead, the rock ricocheted off Callan’s stone-encrusted wrist, then went tumbling away, barely missing Belinda. She let out a gasp of surprise. “What? What?”

He ignored the mayor’s outburst in favor of dealing with Kivi. “High Priestess, what was that about?”

“The boy drew a weapon, Avatar.”

“Yeah, the weapon *I* made for him.” Callan gestured at the stone knife now quivering in the boy’s hands. “Maybe next time don’t shoot first and ask questions later, hey?”

Turning back to Lisson, he reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “So, you wanted to show me something?”

“I—ah, yes, A—Avatar. I managed to use some tools that my—um, the blacksmith left behind. See?” He raised the knife, and Callan noted several rough whorls etched into the side.

“Nice work. Is it sharper, too?”

Lisson nodded nervously, then pocketed the knife as quickly as it had appeared. He glanced at Kivi again.

“Don’t worry, the high priestess won’t bite. Probably.”

I don’t think you’re helping to ease his concerns, mortal, Xeph noted dryly.

“Yeah, well maybe none of us should be at ease right now.” Callan glanced in the direction of the village square, then at his stone-encrusted fists. He almost dismissed the manifestation but stopped himself at the last second.

Whatever Veritas wanted, maybe it was wiser to go in there already on the offensive.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. Soon, the peak of the storm tower came into view. Callan’s eyes drifted from the stone weathervane atop it all the way to the base, where two figures stood waiting.

One of them was Higarth, maskless but wearing the metal god’s customary priest robes. The other was Veritas themself.

The first thing Callan noted was that the avatar had repaired the damage done to their wolf mask. Or just made a new one, he wasn’t entirely certain. What was certain was its leering expression locked onto him the moment he entered the square. Veritas strode forward to meet him.

“Avatar Callan.”

“Avatar Whoever-The-Hell-You-Are,” Callan retorted. “To what do we owe the displeasure of your visit?”

“Oh my, such hostility.” The voice modulation on Veritas’s mask gave the impression of an upward inflection to their words. “Even after it was you who attacked me at our last meeting. Yet have I not tried to remain hospitable at every opportunity? Have I not attempted to settle matters amicably, even when I could easily have turned to violence?”

Callan didn’t let himself rise to the bait. “What do you want, Veritas?”

“Perhaps I’ve come to parlay.” The other avatar shrugged. “A last chance to end this fight between us. My offer still stands, you know. You can leave this plateau, return from whence you came, and no further harm shall befall your people. Simply take that ill-begotten mayor with you and never return. That is all I ask and no more.”

While they were talking, a crowd had slowly begun to gather around them, more and more yeth drifting out of homes by the minute. Callan crossed his arms and scowled. Of course they showed up for Veritas but had to be cajoled out at his request not an hour earlier. If that didn’t show the mayor’s waning influence...

“Why should I believe a word you have to say?” He pitched his voice higher so the whole village could hear. “After you murdered one of my priests in cold blood. You’re lucky I don’t tear you apart in retribution.”

The crowd let out a little gasp at this. Callan wasn’t sure whether it was because of the murder accusation or his own threat of violence. He was past the point of caring either way.

“And yet, were you not the first to draw blood?” Veritas retorted. They turned to the crowd and raised their arms. “Were you not the one who killed my priest first? Does that not grant me the right to do the same?”

“I never laid a finger on that priest, and you know it!” Inside, Callan felt his confusion mount. He’d expected the avatar to hide behind their precious Accords, not spout nonsense accusations.

“Yet who else could have done it, if not a non-yeth?” Veritas demanded.

“If that’s true, then what does that make you, murderer? Are you not a yeth as well?”

Veritas hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words. Callan used the moment to press his advantage. “And what reason would we have to kill Rictee? He’d already defected. The only person who had any cause for violence against him was one of yours.”

This elicited more muttering from the crowd. Veritas glanced around, seeming to notice the shifting mood. He waved a hand dismissively. “This is a distraction from the matter at hand. I have come here today in good faith to offer you a chance to withdraw. Why do you continue to spurn my kindness? Perhaps you don’t actually wish for the people of Aos to be free? Perhaps you want to enslave them under the guise of protection, hmmm?”

“High Priest Higarth,” Kivi spoke up, all eyes turning to her. “Surely you can see that this argument is going nowhere. Let the two of us, as representatives of our faith, sit down and discuss matters together calmly and logically, as a yeth should.”

Higarth gave a tight-lipped smile. “I am but a humble servant of my god and avatar, High Priestess Kivi. You of all people should know the futility of trying to convince either to choose a course when they’ve already set their mind to another.”

“But surely your avatar must know that we cannot simply leave this place with unfinished business. And we cannot leave another cult so active close to our own.”

“And your avatar should know that they are the interlopers here. If promises were made in bad faith, well then it is hardly Veritas’s fault that they cannot be honored any longer. Or is Xeph-Zul-Karatl so arrogant that they cannot leave another god to live in peace? After all, we only wish—”

Mortal.

Xeph’s voice snapped Callan’s attention away from the argument. He let a small growl escape his lips. “What is it, Xeph? Trying to sort out... whatever this is, here.”

I can see that. However, something is not right. This conversation is going in circles.

Callan glanced back at Higarth, who was still rambling on about some point or another—he’d already entirely lost track of the conversation. Turning away further, he whispered, “So what? They’re yeth, they like long-winded arguments.”

That’s just it. This isn’t an argument so much as it feels like...

“Yeah?”

The god was silent a moment. Veritas has to know the futility of coming here. Either they are lulling you into a sense of false security before they strike, or... this is not their true purpose.

A cold chill ran through Callan at the words. “You think they know about... you know.” He didn’t dare mention the captured priests out loud. Not with Veritas so close at hand to possibly overhear.

I think it is a distinct possibility. This is nothing more than a distraction.

“A distraction from what? If Veritas and their high priest are here, there’s nobody left to rescue their...” Callan trailed off.

The chill from before ran down his entire spine.

Mortal?

Ignoring his head-mate, Callan closed his eyes. He summoned Wurmchain.

Alert: 3.1% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 7.35%

Screams erupted from the crowd, and Callan heard the sharp bark of Higarth yelling angrily, but it all faded into the background as he focused on his breathing, finding that Zen state like Xeph had taught him. In, then out. He let his perception stretch outward, sense the mist gathering at his feet, and beyond that...

There.

Slightly off to one side floated the white bundle that was Kivi, and several orbs of light that could only be Paeral. Across from them hovered another set of orbs, these the same angry red like the cultists had borne. That would be Higarth, of course.

But where Veritas stood?

Nothing.

Callan opened his eyes. His gaze darted to the other avatar’s wrists, noting immediately the bracelets were absent. Perhaps Veritas had simply discovered a way to remove them, but...

He strode forward. Higarth yelled a warning to stay back, but Callan ignored him. He could be wrong, but something told him the priest was powerless at the moment, his words were nothing more than that—mere words.

And this moment called for something stronger than words.

Veritas tried to flee, but Callan was faster. Working his fingers, he manipulated the stones at the avatar’s feet to reach up and seize them.

Alert: 6.25% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 13.6%

“What is the meaning of this, Avatar Callan?” Veritas glanced at Higarth, who hadn’t taken so much as a step forward to come to their god’s aid. They turned back. “Release me at once!”

“C’mon, Veritas. I’ve seen you break free of better traps than that.” Callan moved forward until they were almost nose-to-metal-nose. “Or is there a reason you’re not flexing that crazy strength of yours?”

“That’s not—”

His hand shot out and yanked the wolf mask away. The crowd let out another gasp of surprise, even as they edged closer for a better look. Callan just stared, his expression blank. He couldn’t even find the energy to be surprised.

Maskless now, Alyssa gave an embarrassed smile.

“...Did you miss me?”