Chapter 443: Man Plans, Gods Laugh

Though Argrave had been captivated by the discovery of [Blood Infusion], the Alchemist’s suggestion of robbing Erlebnis of knowledge drew his attention unlike anything else before.

Argrave and Anneliese walked into the Alchemist’s temporary abode constructed by his Pawns, where the giant waited for them with stacks of books laid out without much reason. He seemed to take issue with this, for he scooped up the books with many hands conjured from his body and placed them inside the wall. Argrave was baffled at what, exactly, this place was constructed of. Was this obsidian, or something more?

“Was that idea of yours more than just that?” Argrave decided to ask bluntly.

The Alchemist did not look back as he said, “Mortals have stolen from gods before.”

“Those tales generally end in smiting the mortal in question,” Argrave rebutted, recalling well the stories of gods and their wrath.

Whether in his world or in Heroes of Berendar, some poor sap would steal the Super Sandals, the Awesome Armor, or the Magic Mantle. Afterward, the thief would suffer a curse ten thousand times worse than whatever meager benefit the items actually offered. It was a bad deal.

“These tales spread only because people don’t like to think they are responsible for their mediocrity.” The Alchemist turned around. “But we can steal from Erlebnis. And whatever knowledge he holds will undoubtedly be of more use than this upstart, Mozzahr.”

“How do you know we can steal from a god?” Argrave gestured toward him.

“Personal experience,” the Alchemist said coldly.

Silence followed after that declaration. As Argrave exchanged glances with Anneliese, the Alchemist extended his hand to the ground. He clenched his fingers as if molding clay, and then a table rose up to occupy the once-empty room.

“The key in making this heist a tale of victory rather than one of hubris lies in the forces behind it.” The Alchemist waved his hand across this newly-formed table, and sculptures arose.

One was an all-too-familiar statue: it depicted a malformed lump of meat vaguely resembling a head with a mouth possessing far too many teeth. It had two eyes but they were not in alignment, as though its face was melting and drooping away. It represented Erlebnis. The other was simpler—the king piece in chess.

“Erlebnis is impartial. He cares not that you foiled him, I guarantee it; he would deal with you all the same. But you have earned the animosity of the Qircassian Coalition by what you did in the Bloodwoods,” the Alchemist said, picking up the obsidian king piece. Argrave was surprised he was so abreast of the news. “Enemies of enemies are friends. You must enter the world of divine politics.”

“Divine politics,” Anneliese repeated.

The Alchemist set down the king piece, and eight others identical to it rose up from the obsidian table to form a circle. “Gods might seem incomprehensible. They have unknowable urges—Erlebnis’ thirst for knowledge, Fellhorn’s desire for control of all water, Kirel Qircassia’s bid to flatten the earth to make way for his legions—but they are not so far removed from human struggles.” The Alchemist raised his huge hand up, raising one finger. “Least of all, now, when they are immortal no longer.”

“I didn’t want to involve gods in the fate of Vasquer.” Argrave stepped to the table and grabbed one of the king pieces.

“That is an unintelligent decision. You would be best served abandoning that idea,” the Alchemist’s voice retaliated sharply, cracking like a whip. “This is not about your kingdom. This involves the world itself. Abandon your insistence on self-reliance. This is about more than only you.”

Tell me what you really think, thought Argrave as he smiled bitterly. Surprisingly, even though he was naturally obstinate and resisted advice that challenged his preconceived values, he had no issue letting go of this idea. ‘No gods, no masters’ was a good slogan, but the reality remained that Argrave was one man. Even with a kingdom at his beck and call, he had to bend with the wind. At least this way, he could enter on his own terms, and not while bound to Erlebnis inextricably.

Argrave heard footsteps behind, and when he turned a Pawn escorted Galamon in. The snow elf looked about cautiously, and then came to stand behind Argrave and Anneliese.

“To earn a place in divine politics, you must speak for the divine,” the Alchemist continued. “Not all are like those elven gods. Some are so far removed from mortality that communication is impossible. Their servants might fulfill that role. In other cases... champions.

“You have many among you who might champion gods. This man is watched by Veid,” the Alchemist pointed Galamon out, sliding a king piece closer. When it neared, it morphed into an elaborate idol depicting a woman clothed in fur—Veid herself. “I doubt she could be called upon to help with theft, however. But she can earn us a place at the table.”

Galamon looked shocked, and examined the crafted statue with some reverence.

“And you two... more gods watch you than you even know.” The Alchemist crossed his hands together. “Tricksters, thieves, charlatans, magicians, lovers, war masters, scholars, and seers... they watch you like wolves, waiting for opportunity. If the forces of the world permitted it, they would stalk you every second, propositioning you. But they are bound to their shrines, and this is a relatively godless continent. There are little more than local spirits scattered throughout your kingdom, and I have little doubt you will slay them all, taking their fragmented divinity as spirits to fuel your war machine.”

Argrave felt a little aggrieved when it was phrased like that, but he didn’t have much rebuttal. It was true—he did intend on having Durran roam the land, slaying lesser gods.

Argrave set the king piece he held down, twisting it. “Shouldn’t I be... well, rather unappealing, if I’ve provoked Kirel Qircassia?”

“You think that makes you a pariah? Moronic. People outside the faction fear the Qircassian Coalition, meaning cooperation is near as likely an outcome as ostracization. And the key point of your conflict is this: you dealt Kirel a grievous blow. Another god fragmented his realm.” The Alchemist reached out, rearranging pieces. He waved to them all. “You have proven your mettle. This is a buyer’s market. Strike while the iron is hot.”

Argrave stepped away from the table. He’d been preparing to deal closer with divinity almost as an inevitability, but he didn’t think the time would come so soon. He looked to Anneliese, seeking her counsel, but she seemed to be in agreement with the Alchemist on first glance. Galamon was simply awed and touched by the idea that Veid was watching him, and he stared at the statue the Alchemist had made with some sort of fascinated reverence.

But then Argrave looked back. “And what about you? Why aren’t you volunteering?”

The Alchemist’s body seemed to bubble—that was a good indicator he was somewhat angry, Argrave suspected. Then, he said very slowly and deliberately, “It will not happen.”

“What’s this? Rules for thee, not for me?” Argrave held his hand out. “I get the merits, but you...?”

The Alchemist stepped straight through the table, all of it bending around him as he walked until he came to stand directly before Argrave. A mouth on his stomach opened and said grimly, “Gods seldom forget one who made another meet as gruesome an end as my last.”

Argrave stared up, his eyes shaking. He gave a slow, steady nod, and then the Alchemist withdrew. What he said had some implications to it—by ‘last,’ he must’ve meant that the Alchemist had once championed a god. That left yet more questions on the table—questions that weren’t pertinent at this time.

“Alright... okay, so we get some divine representation, earn some allies for this heist against Erlebnis. But what of the act itself? I have no idea what we’d be doing. I know some things about his realm, about the Lodestars and the Annals, but... it’s very limited knowledge. I don’t think Erlebnis has some sort of floor plan we might consult for this grand raid of ours. And gods cannot enter his realm without causing massive problems, so it would have to be us mortals alone.”

The Alchemist held both his hands out. “There is no one better suited for scouring his endless libraries than myself. There is order in them—efficiency. And once I determine that order’s pattern, I can tear through all of what we need until nothing remains. I can extract what I need. And you can be a suitable ally in this task, if you take the lead and embrace allies.”

Argrave closed his eyes and caressed the bridge of his nose. Planning a heist against a god...? Certainly, he had stolen from one before when he had Nikoletta yoink some elven god-berries, but this? Breaking into Erlebnis’ divine realm with the aid of other gods, and then stealing all that they could? Erlebnis had other, vastly more powerful servants beyond his emissaries, and could personally exert his power there. Heading to his realm, plundering it... it was absolutely insane. And damn if Argrave didn’t love it.

But he didn’t let his eagerness at the prospect of this heist cloud his judgment. He had other things he held responsibility for, and others matter that needed to be tended to, lest they cause echoes throughout the whole of Berendar. The first of which was Mozzahr and his Ebon Cult.

Argrave lifted his head up and met the Alchemist’s gray eyes with his own. “We can find gods to champion. Lord knows Galamon would be eager to meet Veid, and I’m sure I can arrange a good deal for Anneliese and myself. But the Mozzahr matter remains.” He stepped a little closer to the table, and then picked up one of the king pieces. “How about we do a practice run? Get what needs getting from him, and then apply it on a grander scale.”

Argrave and the Alchemist held their stare for a long while. Both were eerily still. Galamon seemed to grow concerned, and eyed the two of them as though prepared to act.

“Did you think...” the Alchemist stepped forward once again, and looked down at Argrave. “That I would not factor your would-be arbiter and magic despot into my plan?”

Argrave started to laugh, feeling a bit outclassed in terms of boldness. Anneliese looked upon the Alchemist curiously. And when she looked into his eyes... there was a familiar glimmer. One she’d seen gleaming in gray eyes many times before.