Neneria has never stood for anything, Neneria has never chosen a side in any major conflict before. It is not that she dismissed humanity, enough payment and she would allow for a final communion with the dead. But whilst the payments were great, she rarely kept them for herself. I always saw them as Neneria’s test, to prove that a loved meant enough material possessions in order to warrant her involvement.
I utterly despise that Of Death was recruited. My most minor gripe with it is that I did not think of this idea first, no one, me, nor Maisara nor Fortia nor Elassa even considered recruiting Neneria before she was adopted as another of Arascus’ Daughter Goddess. But more importantly than that, it is a defilement of a Goddess better than all of us. Neneria was the most neutral force in existence, a wanderer who was given a roof and hearth in whatever place she visited. Arascus destroyed a certain purity in her, she embodied a trait of ancient Divinity: the overwhelming deity above, who favoured none and treated all equally.
It is that which most offends me about Neneria joining Arascus. I could look at Divines such as her and see a better world. From before the Ages of Statehood, where Gods and Goddesses were not aligned to national values but to humanity as a whole. Neneria and Olephia are two sides of the same coin in that regard. I hate Arascus for it, but when I look at Of Death and Of Chaos, I can only feel a certain regretful sadness: I should have been there to stop them from joining this great game.
- Excerpt from “Death’s Apathetic Mistress”, written by Goddess Allasaria, of Light.
Maisara stormed into the UNN’s Command Centre One, CC1 or just CC as people generally called it. The proper houses of government and control had all been washed away in the tidal wave brought on by Elassa’s Continent Cracking. Etala was here, tall for a modern Goddess, only scraping Elassa’s height amongst the old stock. She reached up to Maisara’s shoulders, fair-skinned, with a hard face and brown-gold hair that reminded Maisara of gold hidden within the earth. The woman wore a pristine blue uniform with a tie as she helped the President of the UNN, Rudyard Kochinski, run…
Well, it wasn’t the rebuilding of the country yet. It was simply averting greater disaster. The man sat in a large black chair, in just a week he had aged a decade, his skin was looking gaunt and pale. His hair had started to both grey and thin and apparently he had started to subsist entirely on a diet of cigarettes and coffee. Ciria was here too, dark-green uniform as if she was roleplaying at being a soldier. Halkus was off, busy somewhere, at least he was being useful. What was Ciria even doing here? Standing and farting about? She had built this CC1 true, simply pulled it out of the ground, but she should be off building ports for docking rather than relying on White Pantheon help.
In the huge dark room, the walls covered with screens and endless desks filled with computers, was an army of bureaucrats and commanders and politicians all running around. The UNN had been forced by Fortia to create a standing army and was conscripting soldiers to serve in the rebuilding and cleanup efforts. The threat of nuclear meltdowns had been averted, but still the actual reactor cores had to be cleaned up. Tasaidien in Alanktyda had already raised issue with the amount of trash and garbage which had been washed into his ocean and someone needed to go build floodwalls around the landfills that the water hadn’t started to retreat from yet.
Why wasn’t Ciria doing that? Maisara didn’t bother raising the objection, the Goddess of Civilization hated the Pantheon right now and she wouldn’t do anything unless Etala asked her to. The room went silent, everyone turned to look at Maisara as she strode in. “We have a problem.” Maisara’s voice was cold and commanding, but it had always been recently. “Look at this.” She threw a series of pictures taken by drones which had been searching for groups on survivors on the mountainous coasts, but then had been redirected to where the twelve ASF-1 had been downed. The air-superiority-fighters One. Theosius and Halkus had worked together to design. Halkus had focused on making sure they could be manufactured in mass, Theosius had been there to make sure they would actually be combat-worthy.
So when twelve of them had disappeared, even if the mortals in the UNN had thought of it as mere misfortune, Maisara had redirected rescue efforts to make sure they found out why. Well, they knew why now. The drones had brought images, the same ones that Maisara had just thrown onto the round desk. Etala, Ciria and Rudyard all took the foremost photo as the rest of the UNN decision makers scrambled to get a look at the others. “What are we looking at here?” Rudyard asked.
“The twelve downed ASF1s. As I said before.” She made sure to cast a glare at Ciria, the little Goddess had thought this was some mere accident. Accidents happened to one plane, maybe two, not twelve at the same time. “We have Arascus’ daughters confirmed. On those images are Anassa, in the red, Neneria, in the black and Fer, with the gold mane.”
“Oh.” Etala said, her voice quivering.
“Why are they here?” Rudyard asked.
“Neneria is the Goddess of Death.” Maisara said coldly. “She has come to reap souls.”
And the entire room fell silent. Rudyard and Etala exchanged looks and even Ciria’s expression had changed from that distrustful annoyance to now a slightly more worried and pressing face of disconcertion. A few of the men gasped, several dropped the images they were holding. Blood drained from faces and the room went so silent a pin dropping may as well have been a drumming gong. It took her a few moments to realise, but Maisara eventually caught on that they were waiting for her to explain. “Neneria conscripts those who don’t move into her Dead Legion, it’s a conscription, it’s not a choice. She pulls souls into herself, her horde will grow by millions if she is not stopped.” Kochinski slumped into his chair further as Ciria straightened herself.
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Even when she tried, her eyes could only level with Maisara’s chest. Of Order, in her damaged uniform from the work she was doing at the nuclear power plants, with her cold grey hair and even colder grey eyes, stared of Civilization, all in blonde-gold, down. Maisara dared Ciria to ask a question, and Ciria did. “How do you know that?”
Inexperience was one thing. Naivety was another. Both could be excused. Yet naivety and inexperience when put in a position of power, as Ciria had done for herself, was worse than having a traitor in the midst. At least traitors would pretend to be competent. “Ask yourself what would Kassandora do in this situation? Would she let millions of souls go to waste? Or would she recruit them immediately?” It was obvious, even a quick chat with Kassandora would expose Of War’s ruthlessness. “Throughout the entire century of the Great War, we predict Neneria only conscripted about five to ten million souls.”
“That’s quite a range.” Ciria said dryly.
“Apologies for never having the chance to ask her.” Maisara answered. “Deaths in the UNN measure around sixty-million. White Pantheon estimates say she can recruit anywhere up to forty million at this point.”
“What happens then?” Rudyard asked dryly. The man had sense to ask about this at least.
“If she breaches twenty million, then we declare her an existential threat who poses a danger to all Arda. If she breaches thirty million, then our predictions say that even if all Arcadia came together, they would not be able to stop her army.”
“And there is nothing that can stop her if that happens?” Rudyard asked again.
“With the quality of magician we have today, there is nothing.” Maisara said. She prided herself on not once having told a lie, and it was true. An archmage of Worldbreaking or a full battalion of mages from the Great War would be needed in order to even think about how to start draining Neneria’s reserves. The Arcadia of today would simply be rolled over.
“There is actually nothing?” Etala looked so pale it was as if she was about to faint..
Maisara sighed, she hated explaining, but sometimes explaining was necessary. “It is akin to ocean waves. A small wave can be handled without any damage, then.” Maisara pressed her finger into the table and started dragging it away from her. “As it gets larger and larger, it becomes harder to stop. If Neneria gets multiple tens of millions, we’re dealing with a wave of souls whose equivalent would be the same tsunami that just devastated the eastern third of your country.”
And the room went silent once again. Etala took a deep breath, she looked to President Kochinski, the man looked up at her. The entire horde of bureaucrats around the table exchanged the same wordless expression, with sighing eyes and silent cheeks full of resignation. Only Ciria tried to issue any sort of counterattack to Maisara’s words. “Is that the UNN’s problem?”
Maisara turned to the little Goddess. If they were in private, Ciria would not be alive by now. From what Fortia had told her about that one meeting the Goddess of Peace had with of Civilization, when the latter made one final attempt to stop the Invasion of Kirinyaa, Ciria was a naïve optimist who should be ignored. Fortia had been wrong, Ciria was a naïve optimist, but Ciria had become forceful in her naivety and optimism. That sort of mentality is exactly what lost wars. “Do you enjoy the freedom you have?” Maisara asked.
Ciria did not respond, so Maisara asked again, harder this time. “Do you enjoy the freedom you have?” Ciria only looked down at her feet and leaned back from the table. Maisara turned her attention from one Goddess to the other. “Etala, what about you? Do you enjoy the freedom you have?”
“I do.” Etala answered.
“And you Rudyard?” Maisara asked.
“Of course, this country was founded on freedom and the right to choose.”
“Mmh.” Maisara said. “And do you think Arascus’ Empire will guarantee you that freedom? Or the White Pantheon’s reserved guidance.”
“Look where that guidance got us.” Ciria muttered.
“That guidance got us a millennium of Peace Ciria.” Maisara said. “We spent a millennium under Pantheon Peace, do you understand what sort of accomplishment that is?” The Goddess of Order made her tone harder. “But you don’t, do you Ciria? Because you’re from this age, you don’t know what it was like before. And I’m not talking about the Great War here, I’m talking about before even then.” Maisara realised she was being watched by the whole crowd of people and took a step back to project her voice across all of them.
“Do any of you know what it was like back then? When Divinity aligned itself to kingdoms? When the strongest Forces and Abstracts were mere mercenaries for hire? Can any of you imagine what those wars were like?” All she got was ashamed pairs of eyes staring back at her, Ciria’s included. “The success of the Pantheon is undeniable. We have hit a setback, that is true. No one will deny that the Pantheon is not in trouble. Yet compare the track record of the Pantheon and promises of Arascus. What does he give? Dreams of Empire? Hope of subordination? The freedom of conscription into Kassandora’s Legions? He once talked of conquering the stars. I wonder how high he would stack the mountain of bodies before giving up.”
Maisara finished and looked around the room. The UNN did not need to be pushed to support the Pantheon, but reminders every now and then were helpful. If for no gain then simply to make that they were kept on their toes. Of Order looked around the room. “The situation is as this: Allasaria is heading to Arcadia to convince them to support the White Pantheon.” That was true, although it was only a half truth. Allasaria was going to recruit as many magicians as possible to set up a new White Pantheon College of Magic. One that would not be reliant on the Elassa. That Goddess simply could not be trusted anymore, so as many magicians had to be stolen from her as possible.
“Fortia is organizing a mass assault onto the three Goddesses.” Maisara continued. That was true too, Maisara had given of Peace command over most of the Paladins in the UNN. “I will go ahead and slow them down.” Of Order added. “Whether I go alone, in the same fashion that I ventured into your nuclear stations, or with support, is entirely your decision.”
There. That was a good enough speech, short and to the point, just as Maisara usually gave them. She looked around at the room. Ciria slinked away, Etala looked to Rudyard. The President of the UNN sighed a heavy breath. A few of the bureaucrats turned to him, gazes expectant of affirmation on the faces. A few more, then a few more again. Bit by bit, until the whole was looking at the man, waiting for an answer. The man looked up at Etala, then down at the desk, then finally at Maisara. And he spoke.
“Under the powers bestowed upon me by the people of this great country.” He let the pause hang for a while. “I declare that the UNN will do everything it can to stop Neneria, Goddess of Death.”