The difference between the White Pantheon and Arascus is that Arascus would kill them in our position. We are not bloodthirsty monsters though, a sword without a wielder is merely a sharpened piece of metal. It is one thing to have an ideal, but it is another entirely to let that ideal turn into farce. We are not going to remove cliff on Arda because someone could fall off, we will not drain the oceans because they have storms, we will not destroy the air because it has winds.
The weapon Divines are harmless without a soul to wield them, and without Arascus, there is no one who would dare to claim them.
And there is another factor, the White Pantheon has secured Arda from internal destruction, but external threats may yet exist. It is stupidity to throw a useful tool away in the name of an ideal. They may be needed yet.
- Excerpt from the White Pantheon’s Closed Library: “The Principles of Pantheon Peace.” Written by Goddess Allasaria, of Light.
Iliyal’s eyes scanned the grand hall as Waramunt took a step towards them. He looked at the hundred or so Paladins, tower shields already forming a line, a line of pikes held at the ready. And that God, a defensive one, almost every fortress in the past had its own guardian Divine, there was no reason for Drayim to not. It was Maisara’s fortress too, so that meant the era of Pantheon Peace would have little effect on the man, if he turned out weak, Maisara would be sure to train him until he was strong. Iliyal recalled how other fortress spirits were killed, usually they were overwhelmed with sorcerers, if not that, then Divines would be brought in. They had nothing like that now. Iliyal’s eyes went to his rifle, he took a few steps forward, to be ahead of all of his forces and aimed at Waramunt. A plan had to be crafted quickly, and that was exactly why Kassandora had sent him instead of anyone else.
Waramunt swung his sword as his armour grew. A helm covered his face with a tiny slit for a visor. Each step he took was as loud as one of the centurion-sentinel’s. The only saving grace was that the man had no shield but with armour like that, was a shield even necessary? A Divine should have been brought, Fer or Anassa to smite him down. But a Divine had not been brought, so it was up to the elf.
Iliyal pulled the trigger once, the gunshot echoed throughout the hall and the bullet merely clinked off Waramunt’s steel plate. Iliyal had assumed that would happen, but he did have to check. The God stopped his walk, looked down at himself and brushed his steel gauntlet against the silver chest-plate. He started to chuckle. “Is this the famous rifle I’ve been hearing about?” He asked.
“I simply had to check.” Iliyal said. “How old are you?”
“Seven hundred and eighty-three.” Waramunt replied flatly. “It is rare for me to be junior to someone.” Iliyal lowered his rifle and took a step back to Olonia.
“There are things far older than either of us Waramunt.” Iliyal shouted back as he turned to the Goddess of Lubska. A national Divine against a mere fortress spirit would have not even been a fight in the past, but Iliyal had seen how Olonia handled herself outside. She was not a warrior, not at all. The armour and the curved sabre were mere attempts at playing dress-up, even now, as her blue eyes passed over Waramunt, they were practically overflowing with fear and uncertainty.
Team three stayed in the corridor but split into two. Half the men covered the corridor leading into the hallway, the other half watched the inside of the hall, guns drawn. That didn’t need to be said, every man holding a rifle had it pointed upwards and forwards at one of the Paladins on the other side of the hall. Tall pillars held up the ceiling, and there was a steel door on the other side of the room. Large enough for Divines, that had to be the correct way. “Waramunt!” Iliyal shouted and stepped forwards. That God was slow. That, or he was dragging the moment out…
Iliyal thought for a second. Dragging it out on purpose definitely, there was a hundred and one reasons for him to end it quickly, but there was a thousand reasons for him to drag it out. Reinforcements would be coming, the troops outside would need a few minutes to recover and re-organize themselves, or maybe he just needed time to charge up power. The elf turned to Olonia, she stood there, slightly shorter than Waramunt. That was never a good sign, height was a good indicator of strength. Those who broke that rule were the exception. “Can you summon your bird in here?” Olonia shook her head without even looking around as watched Waramunt swing his blade, two cold grey watched them from within the God’s helmet.
“It needs clouds, not here.” Iliyal nodded heavily. What a useless Goddess.
“Hold your sabre.” Iliyal said quickly then turned to Waramunt. The only difference between war and diplomacy was the armaments: weapons for one and words for the other. There wasn’t an aspect of war he did not excel in, the thousand years without Divine support proved it. If the Paladins charged, it would be a bloodbath for them, but his own soldiers would have to avoid shooting at Olonia too. A brawl with the Goddess in the middle was a recipe for friendly fire and disaster, and he wasn’t prepared to test her durability in a situation like this.
“Waramunt!” Iliyal shouted and drew his open weapon. If Waramunt had his armour cracked, if an opening could be found, then he could be slain. But as he was now… The God stopped when Iliyal shouted his name.
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“What?” Iliyal took a heavy breath as he turned to Olonia. He saw those blue eyes of her concentrate entirely on the God’s sword, that was another sign of an amateur. A professional would keep the entire person in his gaze to track whether a hidden blade would suddenly be pulled out of nowhere, or a hand would turn into a grapple or a fist.
“I challenge you to a duel.” Iliyal said. “Olonia versus you, leave the men out of this.” The men would not be left out of this. But Waramunt had to be removed, and the only he could be removed was if he managed to concentrate firepower on him. The God laughed.
“That is good.” He said stopping, then swung his sword around himself in a theatrical fashion. Iliyal wished Kassandora was here to truly show the man what being a master of the blade meant. “Just me versus the mascot?” He laughed again. “That won’t be a fight.”
Iliyal stepped close to Olonia and lowered his voice. “You’re a national Divine, you are stronger than him.” Waramunt laughed.
“I can hear you.” He said. Iliyal contained his smirk, he merely made his voice loud. If he had been Waramunt, he would have not said that. There was nothing to gain from telling your opponent he was making a mistake.
“What I said is true!” Iliyal said so loudly his voice echoed around the tall pillars. “Olonia is your better.” Waramunt swung his sword again and pointed it at Olonia.
“In theory, that is true.” He said. “But everyone here knows who would win a duel.” That was true too. Waramunt was no doubt the better in combat, Iliyal would bet on it. But Iliyal did not have Waramunt behind him, he had Olonia, so he would make her work. There was nothing else to be done about it.
Iliyal drew his sword and pointed it at Waramunt. “Olonia!” He shouted. “Goddess of Lubska. This is your nation.” Now that he couldn’t tell her what he wanted discreetly and directly, he would simply make sure she fought in a way that would have the same effect. “And before you stands this pretender.” He put spit and bile into his voice as he talked, as much as he could.
“This is not Allasaria. This is not Fortia. This is not Maisara. This is not Zerus. This is not even Sceo.” He saw Waramunt chuckle. “What stands before you, Olonia, is a creature so useless it was not even brought to Arika.”
“Watch your mouth, elf.” Waramunt said coldly. Iliyal lay it on further. Olonia needed to be worked up, she needed to be angry. No. Not angry. Anger was a small flame that would devour a bush, she needed to be a volcano about to annihilate a city.
“NOT EVEN IN ARIKA OLONIA! This is the God who claims he will defeat you. This fool that was left behind, as Maisara’s Paladins are fighting and dying in those desert sands, he was tasked to watch over this castle.” That wasn’t true, spirits like this got weaker the further they got from what they were protecting. Even if Maisara wanted him in Arika, he would die before he got there. Anyone with half a brain would see through his words immediately, but someone in fear would find them a lifeline. “NOT EVEN IN ARIKA!”
Iliyal turned his back to Waramunt so that he could look and measure Olonia’s expression. She was still terrified, her eyes flicked between Iliyal and Waramunt, and she gripped her sabre until her knuckles were white. “OLONIA!” Iliyal shouted. “What will you tell Saksma? What will you tell Paida? What will you tell Agrita? When this is over, what will they do? Will you go? Will you cry to them? Will you tell them you made it right to the end, but just there, you weren’t strong enough?” Iliyal took rapid steps towards the Goddess.
Those blue eyes were still full of fear, but Iliyal saw something else in them too. A sense of shame as she answered the questions in her head, they cast themselves down as she looked at her own hands. “OLONIA!” He shouted again, he changed how he would assault her mind, the shame obviously wasn’t working, time to build her up. “A national Divine! The Goddess of this entire land! How many Divines do you think envy your innate strength? Do you think a Goddess of a precious little tree does not seethe at you? Do you think that the God of Cologne is not jealous at your demesne? I’m sure you’ve seen the Fer EIE interview, what did she say about the Gods of Windows and of Wires? ARE YOU A DIVINE OLONIA? OR ARE YOU A MASCOT?”
And Iliyal saw it. A flame of raw rage that burned and burned until it melted stone and became a volcano erupting. There it was, this was the way to get her fired up. He let himself have the smile, it would only add to what he was about to say. “A national Divine which makes no decisions. A national Divine which commands no respect, a national Divine which cannot even speak if allowed to!”
Iliyal saw Olonia’s eyes start to simmer as she grew angry. There it was. He lay it on further. “Did you ask Jozef for permission before coming here?” He shouted at her. “Or did he give you the order? What are you even Olonia? The Divine of Lubska? Or Lubksa’s Mascot?”
“Don’t call me that.” Olonia said quietly.
“And yet everyone does Olonia!” He swung his sword around the entire hall. “All of my Legionnaires see you like this. All of those Paladins see you like that! Waramunt sees you like that!” He spun back to Olonia. “He knew me, he called me by name. He called you Lubksa’s Mascot.” Olonia took a deep breath as she started to shake again, not of fear, of anger this time. “A thousand years ago, when a National Divine said to jump, people were already in the air. Now, a mortal elf will get more recognition than you.”
“I am not a mascot Iliyal.” Olonia said, her voice was calm. It didn’t even have the tremble. Iliyal saw her eyes, looking at Waramunt. Not at the God’s blade in fear, but at the God himself. And those blue eyes burned with nothing but pure hatred. Malam could have not done a better job herself.
“A National Divine stands in the same leagues as the Pantheon Olonia. Does a country give up because Zerus’ lightning strikes it? Because Alkom’s Sun is hot? Do Sceo’s winds cause eternal chaos?” He turned, blade aimed directly at Waramunt. That God was good too, he had already adopted a defensive stance, his blade held low and forwards, ready to make distance and parry a blow from whatever direction it came. “And this God is so leagues below the Pantheon that I am older than him. Respect is not given, it is earned. If you want respect, you have to grab it and pound it into the dirt until there’s nothing left.”
Iliyal smiled at Waramunt, he could not turn back to Olonia with this face. He had dreamed of killing Gods, but then he killed Atis. Tearing a Goddess down with just his words was far more satisfying. He tilted his head up, and stared down his nose at the spirit of this fortress. “If you are not a mascot, then prove it.”
And Olonia shot past him.