Chương 29: Dead Gods

The morning after the intruder's attack on the 4th Regulars' base was a miserable one. The already-depleted garrison found their duties doubled in the aftermath — patrols, scouts, and sentry postings not only increased to guard against further infiltration, but also stretched thin to cover the holes left in the roster by the recent casualties. Alcyr was thankfully spared that loathsome burden.

Though technically already part of the 4th Regulars, he was the victim of a targeted attack by the prepretrator, and his wounds were still severe. Lenore's insistence that he get immediate rest and treatment once he had snuck back into the base gave him a convenient excuse to catch up on the sleep he missed the previous night, letting his Restorative Slumber skill mend a portion of his wounds.

In the afternoon, once the situation had calmed somewhat under Commander Faldren's steady hand, Alcyr was brought forth to be debriefed on his encounter with the assassin. He gave no more information than he had to, wary that it might bring the improbability of his survival into question. The only other witness present during the initial attack was Ishmael, who was quite dead and thus unable to contradict his lies or expose his secrets.

That left Alcyr free to lean on his Persuasion skill and downplay his role in repelling the assassin. It wasn't perfect, of course. Lenore's gaze was decidedly unconvinced, though she refrained from poking the obvious holes in his story — such as how he had set her infirmary on fire or how he was able to fend off such a powerful opponent in his crippled state. Faldren's suspicion proved harder to avoid, but his interest lay more with the assassin than with Alcyr.

As such, giving the Grandmaster one particularly valuable piece of information about the feral woman was enough to waylay his focus entirely.

"The woman is a Corpse Spawn?" Faldren asked, his tone warring between disbelief and excitement.

"Are you certain of this, cadet?" Alcyr was a little taken aback by the Grandmaster's sudden intensity, but he nodded.

"When I drank her blood, it healed my wounds, and the System notified me of her origins with a notification. She is the child of a Corpse God, I am certain." Ten thousand years ago, the heavens ruptured and the old gods died with them. The primordial star of Divinity — once kept whole and selfishly secured within the celestial skies — shattered into countless shards and became infinitely scattered across the Hundred Worlds.

Over the next ten millennia, twelve Saints rose to the Godless Heavens, gathering the largest fragments of divinity to assemble their heavenly thrones. But even now, not every shard had been claimed. Though much rarer, great pieces of divinity still remained on earth, entombed within the corpses of the old gods who had fallen after the calamity that killed them. These dead deities were known as Corpse Gods.

And just as a Saint could grant followers skills, Artes, and Mysteries, so too could a dead god bestow power upon its worshippers. Or, in certain extreme cases, even a divine-blooded child.

"Did your System tell you anything more?" Lenore asked.

"The Corpse God's True Name, its domains, anything?" Alcyr shook his head.

"Nothing beyond confirmation that her blood carries fallen divine essence." Faldren grimaced, clearly displeased. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Did drinking the blood give you an opportunity to Commune with the dead deity? Have you become its follower?" Alcyr stared at the commander.

"If I did, I would have fled the base by now, lest you have me executed for being a pawn of a heretic god."

"It's not as if we really have a way to check," Lenore shrugged.

"For what it's worth, we're far enough from the capital that the clergy's tiresome laws on licit worship carry less weight out here. If you receive an offer of Communion, with the promise of skills or even a Mystery from the Corpse God, I suggest you take it." Faldren winced at her bluntness. Even Alcyr blinked, a little taken aback by her audacity.

"Is that the 4th Regulars' official stance?" he asked carefully, looking at the commander.

"That their soldiers should partake in heresy behind the clergy's back, so long as it grants them power?" Faldren sighed.

"The clergy's edict that only the first three Saints are permissible for worship is laudable, but ultimately flawed. Not everyone's Path belongs so neatly within the domains of Authority, Creation, or Perpetuity, however righteous or beneficial those three might be for a stable civilisation." It was an unexpectedly unorthodox view, though perhaps it should be expected given the commander's background.

Though the modern pantheon comprised twelve Saints and their twelve Paths for mortals to tread, not all Saints were regarded as equally virtuous. The first three Saints — otherwise known as the Triumvirate, or more colloquially as the 'Big Three' — embodied the fundamental pillars of civilisation. The clergy and the Crown had thus deliberately cultivated their worship above all others.

'Authority', for the noble and merchants.

'Creation', for the farmers and healers.

'Perpetuity', for soldiers and craftsman. It hadn't worked, of course — not entirely. As Faldren pointed out, it was an admirable but ultimately futile attempt at engineering a perfect civilisation. For better and for worse, not everyone's conviction fitted so neatly into the first three Paths.

"So long as you do not openly declare your Path and continue serving loyally within the company, we are willing to turn a blind eye to whichever god you revere, dead or otherwise," Lenore said.

"You'll be surprised how many of our Regulars here follow Paths outside of the Triumvirate, or even outside the Twelve."

"Within reason, of course," Faldren stressed.

"They are certain Saints whose veneration we absolutely cannot accept. I'm sure you know which ones I refer to." Alcyr nodded.

"The Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth." Agony. Rapture. Dominion. The three Scourges of the Hundred Worlds. Alcyr wondered how they would react if they knew he had a skill given to him by the Saint of Agony. Thus far, no one had yet discovered he possessed the skill 'Red March Swordplay', but that day would come sooner or later. It would be best if he had an excuse ready by then. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They continued discussing the assassin for another hour before other urgent matters demanded Faldren's attention. The guards followed their Grandmaster, leaving Alcyr and Lenore alone in the room. The atmosphere was somewhat awkward. Lenore's eyes had rarely left him throughout the entire day, and her stoic expression made it as difficult as ever for him to discern her thoughts. Unwilling to indulge whatever game she was playing, Alcyr decided it was time to make his exit.

"I need to speak with the quartermaster about my dagger," he told her.

"I'm sure you have other urgent matters to attend to. I will leave you be. He'd barely turned before the physician spoke up, her voice as dry as ever.

"Faldren's letting you off easy. We will have to work on your lies if we are to keep you safe from the other captains." Alcyr sighed. He turned around.

"We, you say?"

"Yes, we. He and I have invested too much to let you get yourself killed now. You knew the assassin was coming for you last night, didn't you?" Alcyr kept his expression even.

"That's a strange question. How could I possibly have known?"

"Why else would you have bought an amphora of drake oil and the incendiary from the quartermaster yesterday?" She tilted her head.

"You knew her senses were sensitive, hence the use of acid and fire. Even the guard outside the infirmary was manipulated into sacrificing herself, all to give you a fighting chance."

"I think you have an overly active imagination," Alcyr said bluntly.

"The acid was fuel for the infirmary's fireplace, and the flare a firestarter in case the flames went out overnight. Perhaps a highborn like you would not know the value of such things, but for a mere peasant like me, a reliable way to relight a fire in winter is essential. I don't sleep well without one." She looked almost pained.

"You can't honestly believe a lie like that to work." Why not?

"It's rational. There is no fault in my reasoning." Lenore looked at him for several seconds, realised he was being serious, then sighed.

"I'm starting to believe that whoever taught you had purposefully left gaps in your social education. As a joke." It was a strong possibility, given his mentor's personality, though Alcyr wouldn't admit it.

"May I leave now?"

"Go ahead. I see you later tonight to check on your condition." She waved him off.

"Try not to get into trouble again. The worst of your wounds may be miraculously healed, but you are still not fit for combat. There's the matter of corruption as well, given the tainted god-blood you drank. Do not push yourself."

"I'm sure I will be fine." It was still daytime. How much trouble could he possibly get into?

The armoury was even busier than it had been the day before. The death of several staff members meant those who remain had to work double shifts just to keep pace. Alcyr had overhead that Faldren was working on getting replacements from a nearby frontier city several hundred miles south of their position, but even the earliest arrival of reinforcements would take weeks.

For the moment, the 4th Regulars Company was sorely taxed in manpower, especially since more than half of its soldiers and auxiliary staff were currently still out in the tundra stabilising the destruction of the Irregulars bases. Alcyr had thought the quartermaster would be too busy to meet up with him, but to his surprise, the stout blacksmith still took time aside from his overworked schedule when he heard that Alcyr was requesting his presence.

"Good to see you're still alive, boy. Now, what do you need me for? Is this about the dagger?" The quartermaster's straightforwardness was appreciated, though it was strange how different it was from his previous roundabout, silver-tongued self yesterday.

"The axe first." Alcyr placed the silverite axe he had retrieved from the assassin on a table.

"I was told I'd be compensated fully for returning this." The quartermaster nodded.

"We agreed it was worth six gold pieces yesterday. Would you like it now, or would you like to keep it in the safe deposits with the rest of your coin?" Alcyr frowned.

"You are not going to haggle?"

"Three reasons. One, I'm too busy to bargain right now. Two, the policy for stolen goods is pretty much ironclad — we failed to protect or retrieve our property, and since you recovered it, it's yours once again. You didn't see me trying to shortchange your warlord bounty yesterday, did you?" Fair enough. Still, something about the quartermaster was… off. It was as if he were more deferential to Alcyr today.

"I have other plans for the silverite axe, actually. I won't be selling it just yet." Alcyr paused.

"You mentioned three reasons. What's the third?" The quartermaster grimaced, suddenly hesitant. A few seconds later, he answered, almost sheepishly:"I, eh, heard your shouting last night. Didn't realise you were favoured by the Fifth Saint." … Ah. That explains it. The quartermaster had heard him use the Deathbound Dirge.

"You follow the Fifth Path, Nihility," Alcyr realised.

"Interesting. I had thought for sure an official representative of the 4th Regulars like you would be of the First Path, Authority."

"I don't blame you. It makes sense — blueblood and merchant instincts lean hard into Authority's domains," the quartermaster shrugged.

"But the First never manifested for me when my System unlocked. The Fifth was my best option at the time, since I was already halfway through my merchant guild apprenticeship." Alcyr nodded.

"It must have done well by you thus far, given your high haggling skills and your current position." The Fifth Saint — also known as Xun, the Saint of Nihility, the Evenhanded Saint, or the Great Leveller — was not simply a deity of death. Like the other Saints, she held many greater and lesser domains. Alongside death, Xun was also the Saint of Commerce and Equilibrium. Her presence was thus equally felt at mortuaries and markets, at the grave and at the bargaining table.

In other words, she was a Saint someone like the quartermaster might worship. It seemed Lenore had not been lying when she said there were many in the company who do not worship the Big Three.

"I apologise for any disrespect given yesterday," the quartermaster said nervously.

"You know how it is for people like me. Haggling practically in my blood." Alcyr huffed.

"I'm sure the Evenhanded Saint doesn't mind. I do not walk the Fifth's Path; I had simply caught her eye one day." The quartermaster frowned." Her eye, you say… This is just a guess, but… Do you know the Fifth's True Name?" That's an uncomfortable question, especially since I can't lie to save my life. Before Alcyr could protest or deny, the quartermaster shook his head.

"Forgive me, pretend I did not say anything! And do not worry, I may be a greedy bastard, but I do not bargain in secrets. From here on, you may expect nothing but fair dealings and the best craftsmanship I can give from me. I only ask that you speak favourably of me to the Fifth should… Well, should my time come sooner than expected." Alcyr sighed.

"Sure." [Barter has improved to 23] [Persuasion has improved to 23] I don't know what he expects of me, but if an empty promise earns the quartermaster's goodwill, why not? While Death might often be seen negatively or associated with misfortune, the Fifth Saint was quite fervently revered by the common folk. Rather than a harbinger, Xun was regarded as a steadfast and impartial guardian.

All lives, from beggar to king, held equal worth before her gaze, and every honest life enjoyed a safe and dignified end under her watch. She was also one of the only two deities to still dine upon Hell's Feasting Table, otherwise known as the first floor of the afterlife. One must always pray for the Fifth Saint to find their soul first, before the far, far worse alternative does. The Ninth Saint… He Who Must Remain Unnamed… Alcyr shook his head. Thoughts of Hell always wore heavy on his mind.

It was best not to dwell on it.

"There's one final matter," Alcyr said.

"You already know what it is." The excitement in the quartermaster's eyes dimmed a little.

"Aye, I do."

"So have you found it?" Alcyr had been fully expecting the quartermaster to say no. Instead, the man's answer made his blood boil.

"Your dagger. I may know where it is. Someone had stolen it."