Esperanism had no inquisitors. No priests nor monks. It was a universal religion that would have been ridiculed where it not for the fact every member of the White Pantheon pledged their allegiance to it. When Waeh appeared on the steps of Olympiada, he turned and left. The most popular God in the world has never visited the great mountain’s heights.
I have personally met with Waeh several times. My reactions is always the same: ‘I am unworthy’. I have never met a being so humble, so forgiving, so absent of wrath and with so much patience. What Waeh exudes is not love, it is simple respect. He is both delicate and gentle in every action. My fondness moment is when I came across the God as he was watching a sunset. He only pointed and said ‘beautiful.’ I have never looked at the sunset in the same way after that.
‘Esperanism: The Awe of Modesty.’ A common book read in Ardan schools.
Arascus stared at that beam of light when he heard talking. “We have cracked it!” It was a muffled male voice. “The Godstone is cracked!” There was a wave of muffled cheers for a moment as Arascus remained silent. It wasn’t a voice he recognised nor were the traces of magic coming in from the outside anything he was familiar with. That huge whirring noise died down and the crack suddenly became as large as a fist. The beam of light grew with the hole. Arascus merely crossed his arms and stared at it.
Slowly, a pole extended from the hole. It had a black glass half-sphere on the end and slid smoothly. It stopped after a moment and the voices outside went deathly quiet as Arascus stared at that odd object, it had a tiny blinking red light at the end. After half a minute of silence, finally someone spoke up. This voice was much louder and perfectly clear too as if it was amplified by magic, but it obviously wasn’t magical. “We kneel before Emperor Arascus.”
If ambrosia could be made in words, it would be those. Arascus smiled, that smile became a grin, and then a laugh. “Do not kneel before an imprisoned man. Which God are you?”
“No God.” The voice replied with full confidence. “We come of our own strength.” This time, Arascus laughed even louder. His heart shone with the joy of a parent who’s child just became king.
“Excellent.”
“We ask the Emperor to stand back.” The voice said. “Our method of breaking the Godstone is unstable.” Arascus raised an eyebrow in humour. It was rare for humans for to have this much gall to ask something of him. He didn’t mind though, the best of humanity were those who spoke their mind. Mere servants served as carpets, those who would dare to ask a God to move were no doubt interesting fellows.
He took fifteen steps backwards until his back touched the wall of the other side. That pole with the blinking light retreated and a round object extended into the gap. It was shaped like a circular pyramid, but then it was ridge with diamond blades and exuded thick magic. Arascus had never seen something like it before.
The object started to spin and the Godstone once again started to move. It started to spin so quickly it became a blur as water started to stream in from the outside, the moment it touched that… thing, it evaporated. He heard cracking after a moments and the machine pushed an inch further in.
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So his followers had made something to break Godstone? That was surprising, but then he thought about it. Naturally they would. They were his followers, how could they not? Now that whatever that thing had broken in, the progress was fast. In an hour, the hole had grown head sized, in six, it was wide enough for his shoulders. “Stop!” He shouted.
Immediately, that thing started to slow down. It stopped being a blur and then it was pulled away. Light flooded the Godstone cube along with a familiar miasma. His daughter’s searing miasma. It was aged and weak, but there was something in it that simply pulled at his heart. He smiled once again, so Baalka had tried to rescue him but she couldn’t break through the Godstone. That was only natural, if he couldn’t, what hope did she have? He eyes scanned the room through that gap, it was a ruin. A castle where the rock had been eaten away disease: that was Baalka’s fine work.
Then he saw the people. Each one was covered in their entirety in some cumbersome armour. It was grey with the gauntlets dark. The shoes they were pitch black and they had large visors made of what had to magical glass, he could make a series of awed faces in them. All in all, there were about fifty people here. The armour was odd though, it moved and bended like a thick cloth.
When he saw the machine next to them, he didn’t even try to contain his surprise. It was huge, with tracks and that round Godstone cracker extended the front. Two more people, both in those armoured suits sat on the top, their hands around various levers and wheels. “I can fit through this.”
The edges of that hole were sharp, they cut into his skin but it fixed itself as quickly as it was pierced. There was no reason to mind it. He stood up, the next tallest man in the area reached up to his chest. Good to know he hadn’t shrunk when he was in that prison. One of the armoured suits came up to him. It took Arascus a moment to realise the figure behind was a woman, her cheeks were red and she tried to look everywhere but at him, in her hands was a bundle of cloth. “Some clothes, Emperor.”
Oh. Arascus had forgotten he was locked in there without even a shred of cloth over his body. Now that they had seen him though, there was no point to try and hide. He leisurely dressed himself as everyone averted their eyes. “What is this?” Arascus pointed at the machine.
“That’s a drill.” The woman who handed him the clothes said. “We acquired it some time back, but the actual drillbit is magical, it’s our own craftsmanship.” A man stood up straight as if to make themselves known, through the glass visor Arascus could see a prideful smile grow on his face. “Mikhail there is the engineer, we could not do it without him.” Arascus recognised him with a tilt of his head.
“And you?” He asked.
“I am Sara Daganhoff.” She said. “Leader of this expedition.” She bowed.
“Stand up.” Arascus said. “Your armour is interesting too.”
“A-Armour?” Sara asked as she looked down on herself. “This is not armour my Emperor.” Arascus merely raised an eyebrow. “This area was infected by your daughter’s poison a millennia ago. The air is still toxic. These suits.” She grabbed the puffy coat on her chest. “They’re hazmat suits, to make sure we don’t die.” She turned around, there was two metal tanks on her back. “We have fresh air in here.”
Arascus did not recognise this thing they called a drill. He knew nothing of the name Daganhoff, there wasn’t a single noble house or general in the Empire called that. He knew nothing of these hazmat suits. The questions only piled up. “What is the date?” Sara blushed again.
“It’s been 1024 years after the Great War.”
“And Arda has changed since then.” Arascus phrased it like a question but he already knew the answer. Breaking Godstone without the assistance of a dozen Gods was impossible. If mortals themselves did it, the world had changed a great deal.
“Yes Sir.” She said with a bow. “Although I would suggest we leave this place before I fill you in.”