Arnora and Valmund join me as I conclude the ordination of the Jarl and his bodyguard as Worshippers of Zeus. Arnora shifts her weight from one foot to the other, she looks, seeking permission …

I grant Arnora permission to speak, her voice pitches high and her body animates in rapture, her emotion bubbles forth, words tumbling from her lips. “We have released many tortured spirits High Priestess, once snared and captured pitilessly by the Dungeon Azizos and put into his service and once free of him, eagerly returning to the land for renewal and rebirth.”

From the Divine teachings of Zeus granted to me to date, spirits are the bedrock of knowledge and power, the basic tools or foundations of the pyramid of supremacy, which Gods sit astride. Armora must accept they need to be herded and utilised in much the same way the Giant Gar flesh sustains the Frost Giants. While celebrating their freedom from Azizos she needs to accept they need to serve her in the service of Zeus. I cautiously attempt my explanation of the concept.

“Once they are renewed, we hope to reward them by bringing them into the service of Zeus …”

Arnora screams with delight, her eyes bright and passionate, staring Valmund down. “I. Told. You.”

Valmund, certainly a proud and fierce Frost Giant, withers before the Frost Giantess Adept’s fervour and vindication, cautiously shuffling back. Valmund’s retreat encourages Arnora to step forward, her confronting presence demanding my attention.

“A spirit I crushed with my will refused to return to the land, pleaded to serve me.”

Her eyes flicking, her nostrils drawing in and drawing out with each breath, I recognise within her the acquiring and savouring of power over another, absolute and utter. Worse she desires more, not spirits specifically, more of the reward, the sensation or perhaps the thrill. To dominate.

“I demanded a demonstration of its willingness to serve, and the spirit did, my will exploring its being, understanding its existence and caressing its fears. Such simple existences and yet, as you say foundation stones, like the stones of our Temple to Zeus.”

I remain silent, uncertain of the change taking place before me. Wary as her eyes drift upwards without focus. Then I recall I didn’t mention foundation stones to Arnora and shiver ever so lightly.

“They require guidance, they are like children and need a Mother!”

A cruel assault, a savage hurt, pierces my heart and I am thankful for four legs as I manage to hold my stance. Arnora I am sure doesn’t notice as she is now away with her thoughts. Valmund though reaches out with a hand, too far away to assist and sends me a fleetly look as I save myself; I notice him swallow. He realises the word affects me, he wouldn’t know why, even I don’t know why, and a pang of sadness grows around my heart to replace the hurt. Some part of me is lost or stolen and the hollowness aches within my heart.

“I am more than Mother though. I am their guide in their service to Zeus and I will command them in his name. I have commanded them, behold my High Priestess!”

Her eyes subtly glow, and I join her and cast [Soul Sight].

Three spirits pull and tug from her person before me. Two “surround” bronze rings on Arnora’s right hand. One glows from a jewelled silver earing, no I am mistaken, one glows from the small red jewel within the piece and the other glows from the silver of the piece. Four spirits. Valmund displays none. Alba, dim and grain-sized positions herself directly behind Arnora at the furthest possible distance away, the bounds of the Temple prevent her from escaping any further. I recognise her I suspect due to our agreement while Valmund seems oblivious to the presence of Alba or simply distracted by Arnora’s triumph.

“The two spirits bound to my earrings I can demand magic from, there is no resistance and over time they will recover their magic. I can drain them completely and still they remain in my service to the exclusion of all else.”

I imagine a burst of cackling laughter being internalised by Arnora at this moment and my shiver returns.

“The first I commanded to service I drained completely of magic and now, it will never know the fulfilment of service. I swore, never again. The secret revealed and practised before joining you, High Priestess.”

Arnora claps her hands as would a child.

“The spirits have names and purposes once released from their bodies depending upon the trauma suffered. Those who approach us are aware of their previous life, a Giant Gar from the Frozen Lake Zone for example and latch onto us to retain it. Others though, we can chase and intercept before they return to the land.”

Armora enjoys this hunt, stronger versus weaker, the identification, the pursuit, the capture and ultimately the bludgeoning submission. Her voice growls and chomps through every word of her retelling.

“Those that flee immediately to the land are the base of the base, their past existence and personality destroyed by the trauma of their death, and they remain as vessels of function, no more or less.”

She takes a breath and closes her eyes. Her hands clench and unclench, the pause a deliberate build-up to a discovery perhaps. Her eyes spring open.

“One though held knowledge of a special spell High Priestess! Called [Spirit Binding] and resolutely refused to teach me until I swore to Zeus, I would release it to the land once I attempted. It explained the transfer of knowledge wasn’t guaranteed hence its condition. I succeeded my High Priestess!”

A moment of silence and I realise she awaits my praise, my recognition?

“You are truly gifted Adept Arnora, please continue!” I tried to replicate her enthusiasm and rapture.

Arnora took in a deep breath, her smile wide and satisfying before continuing.

“The [Spirit Binding] spell requires a portion of your own spirit to bind the desired spirit to an item of the real world. My third bound spirit knows its own spell [Sharpen] which I could have commanded it to cast on my son’s Axe for example … to provide a greater demonstration.”

She pauses, her hands pat the air, I suspect instead of my shoulders. “Never mind High Priestess you weren’t to know, although now you do.”

Ignoring the barb and maintaining my interest, my follower, a not so humble Adept of Zeus continues.

“My fourth bound spirit will hold my spells for me, which is a curiosity for now as my mind isn’t … crowded … with spell knowledge. Given there is a spirit to hold the knowledge of spells and upon command recall them, there must be many spells to learn!”

I ponder upon her conclusions. Her silence was a trigger and the delay forces me to rush her praise. A beaming smile and rapidly clapping hands indicate a more than satisfactory reaction. All through her triumphant grandstanding, Valmund listens without embellishing or detailing his battles of will with the spirits and I can only assume at this point he did do battle, simply choosing to remain humble.

We all cancel [Soul Sight] and return our perspectives to the real world. During our absence, the Jarl and his followers left. Hrut remained with us, while Sturla chats to Nasim who now crafts a third post for the Temple of Zeus.

“You have provided much to contemplate upon Arnora, Adept of Zeus. I will need to pray.”

With that, I leap from the stone floor of the Temple to the forest floor and almost collapse, instead of landing gracefully to maintain my image of superiority.

[Aphrodite, Priestess of Zeus has exited the Temple of Zeus, link to Quest Dungeon of Azizos re-established.]

I am not free of him it seems, and exhale in frustration. I continue to lope away from the Temple using the momentum of my leap, my large cat muscles smoothly carry my body forward and soon the dark of the forest surrounds me, the snow crust supports my even weight avoiding the deep snow underneath. The snow-laden branches of the fir trees provide cover from observation as I rest and contemplate.

Arnora, once compliant Frost Giant wife, now proficient and commanding Adept demanding spirits bend to her will. The sole Giantess I have interacted with, the others reserved, avoiding interaction, either by order of the Jarl or perhaps culturally ingrained. Frost Giant women are expected, if they remain present, to be seen and not heard. The Ruling Aspect of Zeus was certainly an influence, if not the major catalyst of her change.

Valmund, brave and strong Frost Giant, now the embodiment of the Storm Aspect of Zeus, yet submissive around Arnora. I will need to hide Arnora’s abrasive commands or forceful demands if directed at the Jarl and his sworn followers to avoid conflict to ensure the Temple has the time it requires to bloom.

Finally, his link to me, like an old wound re-opening, an ugly influence I assumed gone and its surprise return, the reason I fled deeper and further into the forest than intended. To run to allow the link to fade with distance, although as always, never gone. I pause to wonder why I didn’t fly away and find no explanation within myself. Dancing around these distractions I eventually return to the bigger mystery. Why would one word pain me so? Arnora is a mother and an Adept, and the word holds no significance to her beyond normal, uttering it easily. When I overhear another saying the word I almost crumble.

Tumbling the word over in my mind, a loss builds within me rising to a sad emptiness, tears accumulate behind my eyes, and I surrender. A coward, I survey the white snow around me to distract myself, the flow of white on the ground, rolling over the peaks of the trees, a continuous blanket. I refuse to cry over a word for a reason I don’t understand.

“To me faithful of Zeus, rally and defend your faith!”

The voice in my head belongs to Arnora; her husband and Valmund’s brother! Azizos finally summoned one or both. I unfurl my wings and prepare to take flight. I don’t.

Unable to enter the Dungeon to assist with the capture. Unable to enter the Temple and use my Soul Sight to attract and contest their spirits. Unable to influence Arnora or Valmund once they capture their spirits if they do. Once Valgard and Gudmund are bound and demonstrated before Jarl Solveig Bloodaxe, others should believe and join. My presence isn’t required until volunteers come forth.

Is my task complete? Without deliberate intent, I walk a wandering snow-covered path and unerringly return to the Temple. Striding past a final tree I witness the stone floor of the Temple suffering from much boisterous celebration, Frost Giants leaping about, hugging and drinking. Several spot my return and charge towards me! I am tempted to fly, their rosy cheeks and bellowing laughter dissuade me and true to my instincts they pull their bullocking charge up short and take a knee.

“Bless me, High Priestess, I wish to share in Zeus’ power, I wish to grow his might!”

As I bless one, another takes his place. I assume the summoned Hoplites encamped with many waiting unfaithful, and by order of the Jarl, they answered the summons. Azizos would have been shocked and surprised by the invasion, most likely cowering after. What if the might of the Frost Giants descended upon him, his probable worry.

Out of frozen time the real Frozen Lake materialises before my eyes, a gentle wind rippling the water, the destruction of the Orc Fort plain and Frost Giants patrolling the shoreline. Azizos surrendering the Zone, the only plausible explanation. His tether to me fades further in an instant, another confirmation of sorts.

The celebration in and around the Temple froze, the eerie silence broken occasionally by a wind dancing through the snow-covered trees. Then the exchange of joyous looks as an uproar follows, celebrating this double victory. A victory I didn’t believe possible, and neither did it seem, for the Frost Giants. Azizos surrendering a Zone.

A soft hand brushing my shoulder startles me, snapping my head around to assess the interruption. No panic, blood would be spraying from my body if they intended any harm.

An orderly line of hopefuls trails back into the forest, the end lost amongst the trees the total number therefore unknown.

“Bless me and my children High Priestess, we wish to embrace Zeus,” asks the Frost Giantess, weary eyes bearing down upon me. Nestled under each arm is a male and female Frost Giant Youth their gazes level with mine.

As I blessed them, they peel off, some returning from whence they came I presume, others with a sled and older family members, who didn’t approach me, take to the forest, and announce their intentions with the swinging of axes and felling of trees. Hrut eagerly runs to assist. Fewer, typically single Giantess’, once blessed, stroll and dance to join their husband or possibly their betrothed, at or near the Temple.

Patiently, like stone statues a bald grey-skinned female and three smaller replicas, her children, observed from a distance beside a tree close to the Lake. I then notice more behind them, adults, male, and female, with families, without families and an occasional brown bear, a well behaved and obedient pet marching toward me. Intending to meet them along the shore of the lake, I pause early as stones crunch behind me and draw my attention.

“Apologies High Priestess, the family waiting is mine, those approaching are from my Clan. Jarl Solveig won his favour from us by defeating our Chief and forbidding us to contest for another for a year and a day, the period of our service to him. Without a Chief, other Stone Giant Clans see us as, erm, recruitable. Some have been taken, Stone Giantesses and some families have grown weary and agreed to leave. We who remain are defiant and are searching for an ally for the remaining time to maintain our Clan.”

The pain in his steel-grey eyes clear as he spoke, Nasim allowing me to glimpse a fraction of his soul. Heart-felt pity burrows into me, urging me to liberate this Stone Giant Clan from their deplorable circumstance and at each approach, I eagerly bless them, welcoming them as worshipers of Zeus. Eventually, Nasim and I remain, appreciating the view across the lake, the chilling wind, and the flurries of snow all now free to determine their destiny. I suspect Nasim’s Stone Giant Clan wants nothing less.

---

“Where have you been Priestess?” The Jarl’s voice is crystal clear and growling, his footsteps crunching down on the stone shoreline of the lake approaching me.

I am tempted to dance around the base of the fir tree beside me, covered and surrounded by snow, to annoy him. I resist, noting another accompanies him, a lighter step and therefore not a bodyguard.

With the sun descending in the sky, I wait in the shadow of my dance tree. His axe swings to dislodge the snow from its branches. Impatience? Anger?

Arnora escorts him and her hand touches a bone strung to a neckless about her neck, an instant later she touches my mind.

“Mindspeech Spell my High Priestess, I delayed him and distracted him. I encouraged him to consume the drink and turned him away while you served Zeus and welcomed many more to his faith. He has now escaped me, mind made up to search for you.”

“… listen when I speak, have you turned dumb?”

His voice near yelling the last few words in frustration.

“Sorry Jarl, at times I commune with Zeus to the distraction of all else. Ask your questions now you have my undivided attention,” I respond.

His hand flicks his nose and glances at Arnora before turning his attention back to me.

“Right. Where have you been this afternoon? We are celebrating a great victory and your presence is necessary!”

“In the service of Zeus.”

“Explain,” he roars, angry red blood creeping into his snow-white cheeks.

“You defeat his foes and I spread the word of his teachings, gathering more to his flock.”

His eyes and eyebrows met above his nose and he jams his axe into the snow.

“What does that mean and no more fluffy words!”

“I have blessed all who wish to worship Zeus in all his Godly glory, to be enlightened by his revelations and share in his power.”

The Jarl faces Arnora with a huff. “Why doesn’t she talk plain. Tell her if she doesn’t, I will need to correct any further misunderstanding with my axe!”

His harsh words for our ears only, the yelling and shouting from the celebration providing cover. His dismissive smile suggests a deliberate tactic. Oddly Arnora smirks when his attention returns to me.

“Try again Priestess!” he thunders, his mead laced breath exhaling towards me.

“I have expanded Zeus’ flock of worshippers, your victory celebration heralding his favour to those pledged to his teachings and drawing more wishing to be so blessed.”

His teeth grind for a moment and then he growls, “Who have you blessed?”

“Am I not your High Priestess? Shouldn’t I be questioning your behaviour as a follower and worshipper of Zeus, especially as we stand near his Temple?”

“I am Jarl first and I rule here, you live under my sufferance and only with my blessing were my subjects permitted to assist in Zeus’ victory.”

“Perhaps we should discuss this within the Temple?”

“No, you are exactly where I want you!” His two-handed axe lifts easily from the ground, both hands on the long handle, swinging casually before his body, ready to strike with a flick of his wrists.

“Jarl Bloodaxe, Aphrodite is the High Priestess you can’t …”

Her words cut off as the head of his axe swiftly jabs under her chin, head snapping back and while staggering in shock, the axe head stabs again to smash her exposed neck. Hands claw for her neck in some seemingly forlorn effort to fix whatever is destroyed, while her body dead falls into the snow like a tree falling.

His shocked gaze falls upon me, why I don’t know as he openly demonstrates his brutality. I am too busy comprehending Arnora’s fate, timidly reaching out to her. Only then do I feel a breeze on either side of me, Hrut stands on my right-hand side and Valmund stands on my left-hand side.

“Help your mother Hrut, now!” It is my turn to scream, the Jarl laughs in my face ignoring Hrut, who rushes to his mother’s side.

“I challenge Solveig Bloodaxe!” Valmund’s booming voice penetrates the noise of the celebration, quietening the forest.

Over the quiet the Jarl’s laughter echoes between the snow-ladened trees, sobering up he stares down his challenger.

“You aren’t strong enough or wise enough! To me my sworn Housecarls I have a pretender for you to dispose of!”

I place my hand upon Valmund’s wrist to stay his response.

“Any have the right to challenge do they not? The weak or the strong, the wise or the foolhardy by what right do you reject this challenge? Fear perhaps?” I shout, scanning those assembling, trying to determine the mood of those gathering towards this new spectacle.

“He stands no chance of success. He will sacrifice himself, hope to land at least one blow so another can challenge in seven days when I am weakened.”

Arnora stands without assistance. “I say!” She pauses for effect while stomping towards the growing gathering of Frost Giants, finishing to stand before Solveig’s two Housecarls. “His challenge is genuine and legitimate. I swear upon the Divine might of Zeus this is true.”

The rising of Arnora commands everyone’s attention. The Jarl, I notice, recovers from his astonishment quickly and is reconsidering his position. He clearly thought his double blow would result in Arnora’s death or if not, at the very least, her permanent silence. Hrut’s triumphant smile gives him away as Bloodaxe catches it and nods, fitting a piece into the puzzle.

The two Housecarls release their two-handed grips on their axes, allowing each axe head to fall to the ground amongst the snow and the slush.

“I accept your challenge on the condition no other can challenge until the victor is fully healed as I suspect treachery!”

“As Zeus is my God and my witness, I, Valmund Adept of Zeus hereby accept your condition as there is not and will not be any treachery!”

Torches are gathered as dusk falls and a challenge circle is cleared of snow. The Housecarls serve as seconds for the Jarl. Hrut and Arnora serve as seconds for Valmund. The torches are lit, and each challenger faces off opposite the other.