CHAPTER ONE [PART FOUR]
The Citadel
103 Years Since the Citadel's Founding
Year of the Void-Scarring Talon, Month of the Egg.
“And this is our final destination for the day - seeing as you preferred a quiet night - Temple Mountain. All manner of gods from across the Known Infinite are worshiped here.”
We stood at the base of a seemingly endless set of steps. There was an easier means up by way of a carriage, but it seemed we’d be avoiding that. Most were, unless otherwise unable, climbing the mountain.
I took a deep breath and followed shortly behind Burst. I doubted he’d suffer through the same physical trials of this climb that I would, and could preemptively feel the aching in my thighs. It had been a long day of walking.
“It is a bit interesting to consider a construct in an act of worshiping, though maybe less so, when you know constructs weren’t originally so,” I said.
“Is non-belief common amongst qhimphals?”
“I’ve dabbled in worship, and found it’s not for me.” Besides, worship was what I’d been promised wasn’t it? Alright, truthfully, worship isn’t something I had any interest in. But though the Citadel carried a great deal of promise, it did not hold up to the end of the bargain I’d been assured before giving up everything to come here. I wasn’t a god.
“There are many like you. They pray to Neutrality instead. Pray being relative. The Indifferent Deity, it is also called. There’s a temple for it above, though you have to walk past half the other temples to get to it seeing as no one ever visits it.”
“What’s the point of Neutrality then? Can’t they simply not worship anything.”
“Well, Neutrality isn’t just an idea. It is actually a god. One who rejects worship. One who regrets godhood. One who denies that their ability to gift power necessitates reverence. Most freelancers have unique abilities all to themselves accomplished through aura. In order to utilize those abilities, a contract must be made with an otherworldly spirit. The ability can be viewed as a borrowing of the spirit’s power. These contracts are typically made with their gods, they are a binding of sorts. And many people instead choose to make this contract with Neutrality, for many reasons. Alas, the contracts done with Neutrality are rather rigid, whereas one done with a god one worships… or has some measure of relationship with, may accord certain advantages and concessions. Likewise, it will force the binder to adhere to that god’s expectations, less they be ridden of their abilities.”
“You make contracts with gods for power? I guess it’s a fraction better than making contracts with devils.”
“Some make contracts with devils too, but I can’t claim to be too informed. I guess your skepticism is one more reason why Neutrality has so many adherents.”
“What about you? Do you worship one of these gods? Neutrality?”
“Me, personally? Or are you curious about constructs in general?”
You, but… “Both.”
“Constructs are varied in who they worship or make contracts with. Many choose Neutrality, but there is the Bodiless, and the Made, and the Servant, among others. And there are some who stand by their old gods.”
“And you?”
He paused as we reached the top of the mountain. The crowd was thinning, they all had better things to do on a new year’s night. We walked past temples, none quite uniform beyond the size of their lot, though many hard to make out in the darkness.
“It’ll take a moment to explain what I believe in, but if you’re interested-”
“Yes. Please.”
“Long before the Citadel came to be, or the Union was born, there was a hidden war between two… cults. A hidden war that could be found occurring on countless planets, in varied civilizations, both lost and standing, across time. It was a war over an alleged Truth. One of these cults asserted that our world was but a fragment of another. The whims of an advanced intelligence. The machinations of alien beings. A playplace. The other cult, naturally, opposed such a Truth. At least, this is the common belief. We found this battle… this war, occurring again and again, in worlds that had no connection to one another.”
“You believe that Truth? That we’re a fragment of another world?”
“The recurrence of these cults and these wars lent some credibility to this Truth. Do you recall when Tatu spoke of Ntro’s rift?”
“It has something to do with these cults?”
“Bare with me.”
“Fine. Ntro’s rift, then. Some golden fleece for rift delvers?”
“Golden fleece?”
“An ultimate goal at the end of a great journey. The prize of all prizes.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Yes. That would be it. Ntro takes for itself the title of God of Games. A meritocratic game, where all are equal victims of chance, and champions of skill. The power of aura. Among freelancers, she is revered above all others gods. It is said that much of the manner we interact with aura, with the gods themselves, was facilitated by Ntro. She was the one who opened up the rifts to begin with, and set in motion what would eventually become the Citadel, and the Freelancer’s Union. Some even believe that it was Ntro who may have set in motion these wars, and so, this Truth I mentioned, is one many freelancers, particularly rift delvers, are secretly devout to. It’s what allows them to live the life they live. Whether the Citadel, or the Union, or these ancient cults were part of her plans or not, that’s tough to say. Ntro isn’t very sociable, at least not in the ways of her divine peers. Among the gods, there are few unwilling to offer contracts if it means binding a mortal to their will. The God of Games, Ntro, is among those who has never offered up her powers. The only way to gain her favor is by reaching the end of her rift. At least, that’s the commonly held belief. Thus, this rift is the golden fleece, as you put it. Now, there is another important belief that is tied to Ntro, derived from a series of hints placed across the Known Infinite. It is said that one day Ntro might incarnate herself, for as the true God of Games, she will have to prove herself capable of taking on her own gauntlet.” Burst paused. “Maybe then, she might discover that when it comes to life and death, her machinations can hardly be called a game.”
“Not the god you worship, then?”
“No. But interesting, nonetheless, don’t you think? Still, that Truth is… one I also hold firm to. But I am not yet finished. I told you that the other cult opposed such Truth-”
“Before forewarning that this was the common belief. Hinting that you know better?”
“They did not seek to oppose the Truth. They believed it as well. But they railed against what the Truth revealed. See, once one can acknowledge that our world was the creation of another, one then begins to questions the gods that have ruled over us for so long. Who put them in power? Are they but the chosen of these alien beings… or are they the alien beings themselves? And, more importantly, is the chasm between us mortals and these gods bridgeable?”
“Can we become gods ourselves?”
“They are capable of tending us power, we know this for a fact. And the limitations of these powers is something negotiated by god and mortal. What if it was possible to take all of that power for ourselves? This is what they sought to learn.”
“For altruistic reasons, I’m sure.”
“Ntro may know that there are some who seek to discover the truth of this question, and so she has offered them a pathway if they dare. That is her nature, in any case. God of Games.”
“Her rift.”
“If one is willing to play his game, her rift could reward one with gaining the entirety of her powers. Unless she completes it first.”
“Assuming he plays fair.”
“Assuming.”
“And this other cult, it has other plans?”
“It’s as you said, assuming Ntro plays fair. Trusting gods is hardly ever a wise decision.”
“Are you one of these other cultist, by any chance.”
Burst said nothing for too long a breath. “I have something else interesting to tell you. Did you know there are no naturally pink-furred qhimphals?”
“I’m beginning to think I wasn’t nearly as paranoid as I ought to have been.” The mountaintop was near empty now, and even if it were not, I wasn’t sure if shouting for help would be fruitful.
“You’re a bit careless, aren’t you, 3451?”
“On the off-chance you intend on doing something horrible to me, can we at least dispense with the number as a name? It feels strangely detached, don’t you think?”
“And? What are we to you?”
“Up until we got to this mountain, I thought we were would-be friends. Or at least acquaintances. You seemed fairly tolerable.”
“This morning, before I first laid my eyes on you, I intended on having you meet a friend of mine.”
“Not Tatu, presumably.”
“Another. A biologist. Very interested in the anatomy of foreign creatures. You would have been the first qhimphal they’d met.”
“Biologist interested in foreign creatures tend towards unethical conduct. Not to make any assumptions about your good friend. I’ve probably seen too many anti-curious biologist works.”
“Is there such a thing as ethics when it comes to gods?”
“You’re friends with a god?”
“A would-be one. Me and my friends… we are only temporarily dispossessed gods. But we’ll take our place eventually. We each have our own manners of seeking out that place. I believe I will be the closest. Do you know, the will of the gods isn’t all that unfathomable. There are tells. Some more obvious than others. I’ve long studied the patterns of story. Repetitive elements. Chosen ones. Tragedies. When you look closely enough, when you spread your net wide enough, you start to discover that there’s more than simply an element of randomness to the world, there’s a hand pulling strings. This is how I came to discover you. Oh, I didn’t know it would be you specifically, but I knew that eventually, I would find what I was looking for. In the meanwhile, anyone that seemed interesting enough, I could pass on to my friend. And anything that seemed disinteresting, well, they got to live. The benefits of being unexceptional. And, behold, eventually I did find what I was looking for. The only pink-furred qhimphal in the world. The Avatar of the God of Patterns. The God I will one day usurp. And you, 3451, will help me do it.”
“Don’t I get to defend myself against your allegations?”
“You believe I’m wrong.”
“If I’m the Avatar of the God of Patterns, it’s not something I’m aware of.”
“No. It wouldn’t be. You’re just a piece on the board. An important piece, but just a piece, ultimately. Would you lead the way inside?” Burst gestured towards a modest temple.
“I’d prefer not to.”
Burst pulled out a card from their pocket.
“This card is a container for a spell that was placed into it beforehand. It’s quite useful to avoid the drawn out process of performing a spell. This particular one will put you to sleep. I would then have to drag your body inside.”
“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”
“You don’t have much of a choice here. I’m simply being considerate.”
I sighed, and led the way into the temple. It was sparse, dusty, with only a pair of candles lit.
“Some freelancer has a contract to light a flame in every temple, even the ones that aren’t visited. Can’t risk the gods, even a god who cares nothing for their temple or its worshippers, be offended.”
“Why did you choose them?”
“I felt a calling to it. It was natural for me. The God of Patterns was a challenge to unravel. I had to give up my body to live long enough to make sense of it all. The God of Patterns doesn’t speak directly, they let their work speak for itself. But time and time again, you can see their marks on the world. Intervening. Using their Avatars to prevent some disaster or another. Rarely directly. But the tells, recall. And with Ntro’s incarnation inevitable, and the disaster that it would be for Ntro’s power to be claimed, I knew this god would intervene again. They may not be the only one. But among my cult, no one has come this close to godhood as I have. I would be the first to claim it.”
“It takes a certain amount of megalomania to think you can become a god, doesn’t it. By any chance, do you have anything to brighten this temple up? I’m afraid something’s going to crawl up on me.”
The door to the temple closed. I found my eyes adjusting to the darkness much sooner than I expected.
“One of the benefits of being a construct is getting night-vision is almost trivial.”
“Alas, not a construct, but turns out being qhimphal also has its benefits” I said, slowly turning around to stare at Burst. “Burst, can I tell you something?”
“No. Now, let us lay our eyes on a god, shall we?”