The chance that Arascus got from me, he only got because of my own curiosity. Back then, I did not think particularly highly of him. The fact that he had aligned himself to Irinika was almost too predictable to be worth commenting on. Irinika had always been prideful herself, and she was grand too. The two naturally were destined to attract each other sooner or later.
The story is impossible to forget. Arascus left Rhomaion in the hands of humans for two whole years. Irinika stood as the guardian of the city that would become the capital of his Empire. There was talk that he had died, or that he fallen into depression, or that he had given up. Personally, I thought he had finally gone insane, that cosmic justice had been handed out and that the universe had snapped his will after he had decided that the universe was his responsibility to carry.
Alas, the stars were lazy, or maybe the stars wish to be carried and they actually look down upon Arascus with favour. At this point, the man has surprised me so many times that I almost expect anything to come out of his mouth. It was shocking, Irinika working to protect a city that did not even worship her. Other Divines went to investigate and other Divines were simply forced out of the city. Irinika provided no answers as to what was happening. I am sure she knew. There was no way that she could have not known.
And then came a day, like every other, where I hear the news on the wind. Arascus had returned. If that day had not come, then that day would remain forever unimportant, there was no events, no festivals, no political manoeuvring, there wasn’t so much as a notable marriage on that day. And yet that was the day when fate was set. It was when I grew curious of Arascus and what the man actually was like.
On that day, Arascus strolled into Rhomaion like a man returning from a journey and with Olephia, of Chaos, following close behind him. I suppose if it was just her in chains or broken, then I could accept it. It could be rationalized that he had found out some weakness of hers and exploited it. But it was nothing like that. Arascus returned to Rhomaion with Olephia, and it was an Olephia that was smiling. The event is well documented, both by Irinika herself and by the thousands of witnesses. There is no discussion about what happened, the only differences intensity of description: to sum them up, Olephia’s smile was apparently such a view that those without sight gained it, and those with sight lost it.
That curiosity was the first hook the man had ever struck into me. When we met, I think he sensed that curiosity and the fact I was open to his advances within the first meeting. The battle was over at that point. He had won.
- Excerpt from the Private Writings of Goddess Neneria, of Death. Never Published.
Helenna walked through the town square of Osheim, Norje’s capital with crowds around her. The Goddess of Love, dressed in a thick black fur coat, stepped off a pavement of concrete and onto the cobblestone of the old town in the city’s centre. She strode for the government offices with a suitcase and an entourage. Today, the Empire would receive yet another player. And as she did, she admired the view. The city was a carpet of colours, with great houses, all connected with each other, painted in different bright colours. Some green, some red, some blue. And then there were great tower blocks of glass, none a simple rectangle. Instead they had harsh turns and slow curves and looked as if they should have fallen over, but never did.
It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Someone, the whole city fit together as cleanly as if each building was just another thread in a huge carpet.
As always, Arascus had been correct. The hardest part of diplomacy was getting your foot in the door, this notion, Helenna didn’t even disagree with. Once you were there, you could get inside the house easily, whether through pushing it open or asking nicely. The success of Rancais’ Liberation, the total revival of the Doschian economy, the boom in Allia and in Lubska had been the foot in the door. The first domino to fall and set the example was Rilia.
Helenna had read the report of the negotiations, obviously she had. There were practically none save for the dissolution of the Rilian Department of Foreign Affairs, the submittance to Imperial Courts and integration of the Rilian Army in the Imperial one. King Aimone was allowed to keep his position wholly as long as he stayed loyal to the Empire, he didn’t even have to give up his title as King. After all, Kings ranked below Emperors. He didn’t have to make any sweeping changes of legislation save for allowing Imperial Bureaus to operate on his land and promise to found three Imperial Colleges of Magic in the country. The financial obligations to the Empire were covered by the rearranged budget. Apparently, King Aimone had burst into tears after he left the meeting at to how generous the deal was.
Although it had to be generous. Rilia was the first domino, Rilia was the model example of a nation joining the Empire. Arascus’ project was not an economic union which could leverage its strength through money. It was an independent nation. The price was independence cut and dry. Crisis could be exploited, whether war or economic, but not every nation was in crisis and not every nation was willing to simply sign away its national identity.
The Rilian integration into Imperial society had to be smooth and painless because the Rilians would be poster-children for Imperial efficiency. Not a single tear could be shed.
And no tear, save for Aimone’s, had been shed.
And just as Arascus had said, once the pillars of Epa started to march in line, the rest of the continent follow. And follow the rest of the continent did. Arascus had told Helenna being she set off here that the very fact the Norje government was requesting audience was because they had come to the conclusion that their ideals had a price. Now, her role was to negotiate that price.
So Helenna kept on walking through the colourful city of Osheim. Supposedly the meeting was to have been kept a secret. Helenna would have preferred it be kept a secret for she trusted her own talent in the way of the word far more than the whims of the crowd. Norje’s government at large got the message, the plan had been to negotiate first, then present the plan to the public, then the goal was to sign the deal after the people knew what they were getting into.
Osheim’s mayor must have missed the instruction. A week ago he had announced to the whole country that glorious Goddess Helenna was going to attend and then enthusiastically proceed to tell everyone to be on their best behaviour and that he would appreciate it if the city were to be extra tidy. In the centre of the city, people were conglomerating around the StortingBygningen, the building of the Storting, Norje’s government. The crowd was huge, they were singing the Norje national anthem. Flags, both the red and blue of Norje and the red, black, white of Empire.
A small barrier had been put up around the entire of red cloth was around the entire entrance. Police wandered around it but they only kept loose formation. Helenna had seen Rancais put down its riots with policemen that were modern day nights. Here, the officers only walked around in plain clothes and strolled. Even the demonstration, for how loud it was, and how the people were practically overflowing onto the streets around the square, was truly well behaved. People waved there flags but there was nothing being thrown, no taunts shouted, no curses at Helenna for being the Goddess who had come to sign away their independence. Nothing.
The crowd even parted for her and her entourage. Everyone was all in their best clothes with even the children dressed up formally as if to try and impress the guest. Helenna supposed she was a Goddess, but this was the sort of greeting and preparation temple-complexes gave, not cities. The crowd parted and kept a comfortable distance, people looked up at Helenna with fear, with adoration, with awe. She stood more than half again the height of man, in her black coat, she cast a shadow long enough for men to lie down in and have room to stretch.
So Helenna walked through the crowd, up until the steps of the Storting. Admittedly, of parliament buildings it was not the largest but it had a character few others possessed. The building was circular and then flanks by two great wings, with three floors of huge windows and a wooden door large enough for a Divine at the front. It had been White Pantheon building guideline that all buildings of high governance be large enough for Divines. Helenna slowly climbed the stairs. She turned around at the stop, her hair lightened from to a golden blonde. She stood there and watched. The singing died down. People moved about in the crowd but no one pushed or shoved or threw anything. Even the police had turned around to see what Helenna was going to say. Her entourage had just gotten to the foot of the stairs and were looking up, the frontman had a questioning expression as if waiting for a signal from Helenna as to whether to follow or to stay.
The feeling across the crowd was obvious. They wanted a speech. They wanted something. She couldn’t just leave them here, she was to represent the Empire. Arascus was not some heartless bureaucrat, he was not Maisara or Allasaria who cared only for purity of ideology and nothing else. It wouldn’t be a good look for anyone if Helenna said nothing now. Not for herself and not for the people she was supposed to represent.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Helenna supposed she should give a speech. She didn’t want anything too long or too flashy, but she supposed saying something was better than saying nothing. At least then it wouldn’t be that the representative of the Empire was just some heartless, faceless Divine who came in to annex them. “I know that your land is cold but your greeting is warm like no other. I wish to say thank you-.” That was as far as Helenna managed to get.
A gunshot rang out.
Glass shattered.
A flash from straight ahead.
The speech stopped.
Instinct kicked in. A century of experience in warfare. Countless years before that. Helenna moved like a flash of lightning. She turned her body, she put more mass between herself and the direction of the gunshot. She raised her hands to protect her head. And she felt something enter side. Her hair surged into a pale red of shock and anger and panic. She touched her side. She pulled her hand back. Blood.
Helenna looked up at the crowd as she stood there. Her pale red hair becoming a darker red as she took a deep breath. The bullet was still inside, she could feel it every time she took a breath. But whatever she felt, the crowd must have felt a thousand times over. Everything had simply stood in panic, in shock, in fear. They stared at the Imperial Goddess who had just been shot.
The only sound was of the window’s broken glass shattering as it smashed against the ground.
The Goddess may have been of Love, but she was a Goddess nonetheless. Helenna stared at the window and raised her hand. Another gunshot came. It thudded into the heavy door wooden of the . Helenna caught the glint of metal. Her eyes found the sole broken window. Her eyes locked in, she saw the barrel move slightly. It flashed. Her eyes caught the sliver of metal. It would hit.
Helenna tensed her core. She felt the steel bury itself in her. She grit her teeth. And again there was another. At her head this time. Helenna tilted to the side, she let her chest fall. She moved her head down. And it flew straight past her. As she was straightening, the man fired again. Her shoulder this time. Helenna twisted just a moment too slow. The bullet hit, it pierced the dark cloth, it entered her, she felt it bounce off her bone and tear itself out of her body.
It was a matter of Pride at this point. Arascus would be watching. She had not survived the Great War only to be made to run from some man with a rifle. She had not stared down sorcerers and countless assassins, beastmen and other monstrosities to now cower. Cowering was for mortals. Running was for cowards. She was a Goddess. What type did not matter.
Another bullet came although. It was a bad shot into her lower abdomen. Difficult to dodge so once again Helenna steeled herself. This time, she felt a spike of lightning shoot down
Police rushed into the building although it didn’t seem like they needed to. Already from inside, there was the shouting of men. Something crashed. The door probably. A man appeared from the window and waved with both hands. “SAFE!”
No one answered.
The entire crowd was fixated on Helenna. Her hair had turned to a deadly black. She stood there, her dark coat going darker in spot across her torso and her shoulder where she had been shot. But she stood. These wounds would not kill her. She would not let them kill her. Her entourage raced up the stairs to try and shield her with their own bodies. The very zenith of the tallest man struggled to reach her bosom. If she actually wanted their protection, she would have to dive to the ground as if this was some humiliation ritual.
There were no mighty Divine Orders to her name, no nations she had ruled, no kingdoms that admired her. When put up against the titans that were of Order, of Light, of Peace, of War, of Darkness and of Chaos, she was the mere Goddess of Love.
But whether it was measly, pathetic, weak Love or not, it was Goddess nonetheless.
Helenna stood.