After six hours, the number on the screen finally read ‘100%’. A notification popped up, ‘Luck Cage fully charged: Remaining time: three hundred days’. “It is done.” Leona said, her eyes growing dull. “Go back home Alla…” She stumbled and fell over onto the prepared mattress. Allasaria watched eight servants pick it up and start to carry her off to Leona’s resting room.
“Is it always like this?” Allasaria asked.
“Yes Goddess.” One of the scientists replied, a bald man in glasses. “Goddess Leona will sleep for a week before waking up.”
“I will stay here until then.”
“Yes Goddess.”
- Artica Chaos Containment Facility, Present Day, Present Time.
Since their battle with Allasaria, Maisara’s section on Olympiada had turned into a fortress. The doors had been barricaded, the walls were being reinforced by mages, even windows were being turned into arrowslits. Paladins had been mobilized to protect their Goddess and they roamed the section in their great hulking silver armour like walking statues; greatsword and shield on their back, the only part of living being peering through the armour were two eyes scanning through the opening of their plain helmets.
Maisara’s Paladins moved out of the way as Fortia stumbled towards them. Allasaria’s Seekers would have lowered their gazes for her, maybe even knelt. They weren’t Paladins though, the most acknowledgement Fortia received was a small inclination of their helmets, that was more than most Divines received.
Fortia walked unsteadily on her injured leg, her golden spear acting as support to lean with every other step. A long dress covered the muscle spiralling around her leg and slowly re-growing although even a short walk like this added another day to the recovery time. No Paladin came to assist her, no Paladin gave her more than a passing glance. The servants were much the same, saluting when necessary but going about their jobs as needed. The entire section was a cold factory, quietly working away and producing the commands of its Goddess.
Fortia stumbled through another undecorated corridor, her breathes heavy as if she just ran a marathon. Finally the door to Maisara’s door came into view. Two Paladins stood on either side, silent and unmoving, they may as well have been statues, their armour simple plain silver, unadorned. When Fortia got close, one finally started to move. A captain, the little red tassel on his shoulder served as the only piece of decoration and it was only to display his rank. His gauntlet knocked on the door with a heavy thud-thud-thud. Three, no more, no less. “Guests have arrived.” Fortia barely heard Maisara murmur something from inside. “It is Divine Fortia, of Peace.” The Paladin said, Fortia could almost feel a smile under that plate helmet. “If I may, it is always a pleasure to host Divine Fortia, of Peace.”
“Thank you.” Fortia said as the captain opened the door and Fortia stumbled in.
Fortia had expected Maisara to be working her bed, not… not this. The woman’s room had been re-arranged entirely. It had transformed into a memory from a thousand years past, a rectangular table dominated the middle. Maisara sat at the head, her seat a plain throne. She wore a simple dress, her silver hair straight, her hands clasped together as she stared at a map of Olympiada. Next to it lay a map of Epa. A dozen Chaplain-Captains sat around the table, each man with his own file of reports, each one in a suit of armour. The only leeway to comfort given was that they had taken off their helms. “What are you doing Fortia?” Maisara asked from the table.
“I came in to check on you.”
“Doing worse than you.” She shrugged. “It is what is it.”
“You should be resting.” The captains watched her circle the table and put her hand on Maisara’s shoulder.
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“I’ll rest when we’ve prepared.” Maisara said, Fortia’s eyes finally went to the table, and the documents before it. It was a collection of plain papers, each titled and bundled. Not a single folder overflowed but it was the brown parchment that caught Fortia’s gaze. Reed-paper, not produced in over two hundred years, pretty handwriting on the front cover. Pretty handwriting Fortia had cast away from memory a long time ago. She squeezed Maisara’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me Fortia, really.”
“Fading Light?” Fortia barely forced the words out.
“It is what it is.” Maisara said. “Allasaria has gone too far this time. Everyone sees what she’s growing into.” Maisara shifted under Fortia’s grip. “I expect that I don’t have to remind you not to warn her.”
“It would be war.” Fortia said.
“Is it not war already?” Maisara asked and leaned back, she turned to the crowd dozen Captains and got a series of uncomfortable nods.
“This will rip apart the Pantheon Maisara.”
“What Pantheon Fortia? What Pantheon? The Pantheon stopped functioning five hundred years ago. Why does it even exist anymore? It’s a keepsake for tradition and nothing else.” Maisara groaned in pain as she leaned forwards and tapped on the map of Epa. “Rancais is falling into chaos right now. Anarchia’s followers have started riots in Aris. It’s not a question of whether those riots can be contained, it’s a question of how far they will spread. What has Allasaria done against them?”
“Ciria requested for us to stay out of politics.” Fortia said, distaste flashed in her mouth at mentioning the Goddess of Civilization’s name, disgust spread over the Captain’s faces.
“And Allasaria agreed.” Maisara said. “Where is Waeh? Isn’t he supposed to be the Protector of Humanity?” Fortia didn’t answer. Waeh’s Esperanism was another of Allasaria’s failed plans. “Arascus cults are preparing for something too.”
“How do you know that?”
“Heinrich, the report.” Maisara said to one of the Captains; a stern looking fellow with a thick grey moustache. He shuffled his folder, pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to Maisara. She held it for Fortia to read. It was long, but the conclusion sent a chill down Maisara’s spine: Aris Police force is overwhelmed. The lack of open criminality from both Cults is an indication they are preparing.
“I see.” Fortia said and Maisara passed it back to Heinrich, he immediately reshuffled it into his folder.
“And there’s one more thing, I’ve said it to my men already but I’ll repeat it for you Fortia.” Maisara leaned back, readjusted her posture and rubbed her stomach with a sigh. Fortia got a sight of her burned legs for a moment before pulling her eyes away. “What binds the White Pantheon?” Fortia blinked.
“Now?” Fortia asked.
“Yes, now.” Fortia stood there for a few moments and shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“No.” Maisara said and nodded to one of the Captains. “Konrad, what binds the Pantheon together?” The man had a wrinkled face, old, with his hair greying.
“In the Great War, it was Arascus, of Pride. It was merely a coalition of Divines united against Arascus’ Empire, now though I would say it is only luck that the Pantheon has not been torn apart.” Maisara nodded.
“Very good. I believe the same. It is only luck that we have still somehow held together. The pattern is obvious when you look at it, arguments always flare up while Leona leaves to keep Olephia asleep. When she fainted during the Godkiller incident, we had this situation with Allasaria too.”
“We did.” Fortia said.
“Has Leona ever been wrong?” Maisara asked, Fortia scanned her memories. Even back during the Great War, Leona’s random calls on troop movements always proved to be the correct move. To call her the best spy would be an understatement, she had an almost omniscient luck which predicted the most minor of defeats.
“No.” Maisara took a second to reply.
“Likewise, I agree. She has never been wrong, so how can she be wrong now?” Fortia felt the blood drain from her face.
“Are you…” Fortia’s words grew weak and faded away.
“Leona did not say she is in danger, she did not say something was after her. She did not speak of illness nor bereavement nor assassination. Leona said she was going to die.” Maisara took a pause. “She was never wrong before, why should I not believe her now?”
“And when she dies?”
“And when she dies, the last of the luck that holds us together will die with her.”
“So this?” Fortia tapped the brown parchment.
“Yes.” Maisara said, she groaned as she leaned forward and took the document. “This is the original from back then.” She opened the first page and held it for everyone at the table to see. It was a mere few lines of pretty scrawl, a few lines would have changed the world had things turned out differently:
Minutes of Meeting - Fading Light Contingency
Participants:
Fortia, of Peace.
Maisara, of Order.
Saranael, of Knowledge.
Arascus, of Pride.
Minutes tracked by Irinika, of Darkness.
Objective: Death of Allasaria, of Light.