Grimhild points to a mother and her girl child. Her seething scream demands their compliance. “Mother and daughter with me, we need to educate the High Priestess.”

The girl child hugs her mother’s leg, while the mother seeks approval from her Jarl. Valmund slowly nods. I inwardly commiserate with him, his bride to be, commands and all must heed her.

The mother lays a hand on the back of her child as they cautiously step forward.

“We will seek some privacy under a fur tree and return shortly,” utters Grimhild, while marching towards the forest, fully expecting mother and child to follow.

The mother and child follow Grimhild of course and with many expectant eyes upon me I join the unusual procession.

Once at our destination, Grimhild instructs and educates me by comparing mother to girl child and then allowing me to “inspect” her. Generously she rewards the mother with coins, the value of which I am uncertain of, although the mother smiles as she runs off with her child.

“Before we return, tell me about Zeus,” she asks.

The night surrounds us when my explanation ends, the delay due to her many questions and most welcome interest. She doesn’t display any concern or worry about our absence, probably assuming the mother and daughter would talk of their unusual task and good fortune.

“Has Bloodaxe’s soul been gathered by Zeus?”

I chose not to lie and without hesitation, I reply, “His faith in Zeus was weak, therefore he returned to the ground, his soul and spirit polished to be reborn completely new.”

“How disappointing, I did enjoy threatening him and thought to do so forever if your … religion or worship of Zeus is to be believed.”

I overhear her soft chuckle and resist rising to the bait, except to say, “The God Zeus invites belief in him and his ways, rewarding those who worship him faithfully.”

“Like Bloodaxe, though you can pretend,” she suggests cheekily.

“Until the day of your reckoning. Lay worshippers have few demands upon them, although the pretence needs to last at least one year before a serious examination of your faith is tested to be ordained Guardian where you are expected to worship Zeus more fervently.”

“Ordain me, High Priestess, as a Lay Worshipper of Zeus, hurry so my first day can start sooner.”

The undercurrent of disrespect tempts me to command and unleash the Temple’ bound spirits upon her, although I relent as she will become a problem for her husband to be soon enough. I indicate she must kneel, which she does over eagerly, lightly clapping her hands, her playfulness another demonstration of disrespect I suspect.

“Grimhild Sigurddotta, I bless thee in the Name of Zeus and welcome you to his faith, may you learn his ways and your worship of him provide greater meaning to your life.” I then trace my thumb across her forehead, drawing an invisible lightning bolt and offering my hand to assist her to stand, which she accepts.

Her head leans to one side. “I don’t feel any different?”

Genuine surprise washes across her face and I am taken aback given her derision to date.

“No, you must earn your way by demonstrating your faith, joining others in worship,” I confirm to her.

Shrugging, she strolls away, retracing our footprints in the snow, the starlight seemingly enough for her. Shortly one of the Jarl’s seconds, lit torch in hand joins us. I am disappointed with myself that I didn’t smell the smoke long before he met us, although mollified somewhat when my sense of smell picks up the second one before he joins us.

Somewhat smugly she announces, “They are my father’s Housecarls, loyal to me only, formally on loan to the former Jarl.” She giggles slightly, due to her small play on words, I suspect.

We continue through the snow bereft of further conversation or chatter.

Her confession explains their actions, saving the Jarl or trying to save him, must have been with her blessing, following her and patiently waiting upon her orders, her lack of concern for her safety due to her sworn Housecarls. Her father, in reality never left her without protection.

I leap from the snow slush of the ground to the solid cold stone of the Temple of Zeus and absorb into my bones a glorious holy welcome, leaving the bride to be and her escorts as soon as possible.

[Aphrodite, Priestess of Zeus has entered the Temple of Zeus, link to Quest Dungeon of Azizos severed.]

I make my way to the Temple edge nearest to the Challenge Circle and like locusts, the smattering of chatting groups gather before me.

“Grimhild Sigurddotta is pure and whole, so do I swear by the God Zeus as his High Priestess.”

Their hopes and thoughts echo within my mind an empathy perhaps due to our shared worship of Zeus. They cheer in celebration, perhaps her father may not attack and slay them, especially if their new Jarl impresses his daughter.

I notice Arnora and Valmund break off their deep discussion when Grimhild Sigurddotta joins them. I would like to be privy to their conversation, deciding instead that sleep calls to me. I find a position near the alter and curl up within my wings and big cat torso, a final comfort before sleep; assurances from both Temple Spirits that they will guard over me.

In my sleep my holy magic replenishes, his presence close and in my sweet restful dreams without words, he urges me to move on.

+++

I wake, my limbs full of energy and my mind active. The morning sunlight reveals the crafting efforts of several Stone Giants as they mould and meld stone to form pillars and beams of stone. At the far end where Nasim first constructed pillars, beams are laid, and a stone roof is underway. As I admire their skill, several wives, Stone Giant and Frost Giant alike lay bowls of food before me, fish and fruits in the main. I pick at the offerings and then my appetite resurfaces, and I consume every morsel on offer. Instead of shock due to my gluttony, they smile and delightfully laugh.

Arnora and Valmund are in discussion once again. I assume they have slept but wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t.

“He escaped my mother last night by falling asleep in front of her.”

Hrut’s joyful and amusing voice over my shoulder is welcome.

“Did she wake him this morning?”

“Yes, mother cheated, she commanded one of the Temple Spirits to wake her at first light.”

“What isn’t he agreeing to, do you know?”

“She wants him to send his bride to be back to her father, convinced if her father attacks, Zeus will empower us and especially Valmund to defeat him. I think Valmund wishes to sample Grimhild.” Hrut snickers as only youth can about such a topic.

“Your mother doesn’t want Valmund for herself?”

“If age wasn’t against her. She realises Valmund needs an heir and her baby bearing days are in the past, so no brothers or sisters for me.”

Hrut didn’t display any emotion one way or the other about further siblings, so I assume he accepts the reality. Then just like that, an idea germinates within me.

“Perhaps you should interrupt your mother by suggesting if she and Valmund could convert Grimhild to true worship of Zeus they would be halfway to conquering her father.” I hold a finger in the air. “Who seems to dote upon her and care for her a great deal, given the way she confidently acts around others.”

“Thank you, High Priestess. If I can convince my mother, I will win her favour and I will win Valmund’s as my mother will be distracted with another purpose and perhaps his dalliance with Grimhild will then become mother’s plan instead of her bane.”

Hrut collects a bowl of fish and a tankard of water and saunters over toward the debating couple, he listens and picks at his bounty, to begin with. Shortly after, they realise they are hungry and thirsty, and he offers what he carries to satisfy both. He runs off once to refill and returning he starts talking while they have their mouths full. They ignore him until several moments pass and they both slow their chewing and begin listening. I smile despite myself, smart boy.

Grimhild Sigurddotta exits her lavish tent; a mystery, to me at least, of who owned it now solved. She discards her dress for warrior attire, plate and chain armour and two-handed axe, like father, like daughter? She strides determinedly towards Arnora and Valmund, twirling and wide arcing her two-handed axe, scattering lesser subjects before her. Her two Housecarls follow, one left and one right, their positioning behind her to such precision they are never in danger from her battle like display. I suppose where sweet words fail, perhaps threats of violence will promote agreement.

Hrut rushes away before Grimhild’s arrival, a wide grin across his face. His quiet shouts of ‘yes’ are clearer the closer he is to me and the Temple.

When within the Temple proper he asks, “Can I hug you, High Priestess?”

I open my arms to receive him, a brief hug and no more.

“Valmund is the easiest to convince, mother eventually realised and now I am favoured by both!” Unable to contain his joy, he jumps about, stopping when the number of quizzical looks from others nearby becomes too much for him.

“You need to make scarce, your mother approaches. Alone.”

Hrut doesn’t look, he strolls away having complete faith in my word, following my advice.

Arnora’s face is one of neutrality. She has a need, otherwise, why would she approach me? If my answer is no, is there an alternative?

“High Priestess, Grimhild informs us she must serve one year as a Lay Worshipper of Zeus before being ordained a Guardian, she is the daughter of a Jarl so perhaps there is a quicker path?”

“Only if her father by some happenstance is an Adept.”

Arnora containing her impatience well continues. “How did I, and others become ordained without delay?”

“You were found worthy and raised on high during the Sanctify Ceremony for the Temple and most certainly at the behest of Zeus’ mighty will.”

Wringing her fingers, she replies, “A year High Priestess? She will lose interest.”

“I am sure Valmund will maintain her interest and in the meanwhile certain magic could be demonstrated for her benefit. The year will pass quickly, especially if she falls pregnant with child and motherhood occupies her.” My pleasant smile is difficult to hold while my stomach churns, a hollowness of loss as I utter those final words. In my earlier conversation with Hrut each mention of that word, trying and difficult, although I successfully suppressed my discomfort then, why not this time.

“Will you return to us in a year High Priestess?”

Stammering my reply, “H … how did you know I will be leaving soon?”

“Zeus spoke to us, not in words, more in will and intention High Priestess, we assume he …”

“Yes, he did, and I worried how to tell you, such a small worry it seems when the all-powerful Zeus protects us.”

The concern in her voice is clear. “High Priestess, you will return?”

“I have a better plan. Would you consent to be assessed and if Zeus wills it ordained as this Temple’s Priest?”

Arnora is speechless: an amazing sight. Her mouth opens slowly, then closes. Breathing, rapid at one stage and hands busy. Stamping her foot, I guess to re-engage her mind and then leaning against a stone pillar to collect her thoughts or perhaps collect her breath.

Finally, a response with dignity. “High Priestess, yes!”

“Submit and kneel before the Alter, placing both of your hands upon it.”

She hurries to comply. Those busy around us, as one, suspend their toil and movement sensing a special moment. A Temple should have rooms for this very reason, not to hide success, but to protect the aspirant from the disappointment of failure. Regardless of Arnora’s enthusiasm and excitement the final verdict lay with Zeus, I am only his vessel.

I cast [Assess Aspirant] upon Arnora and wait while maintaining contact with her head. Heartbeats accumulate and a slight murmur spreads across those within the Temple. Moisture forms and wells up within Arnora’s eyes as more heartbeats skip by. Over three-quarters of the Ceremony duration ticks by and no result. Neither Armora nor I have cast this spell to ordain a Priest before and it is that unknown which fortifies our hope, a possible chance of success.

Arnora’s tears splash to the floor, and her face twists in anguish as the Ceremony’s duration ticks down to single figures. Her heart beats like a drum, each stroke matching a tick now. Her heart rate once high, now resigned to failure, calm, accepting.

A chanting breaks our addiction to the thump of Arnora’s heartbeat and the Ceremony duration tick countdown, worshippers packing the Temple, their fanatic zeal calling and beseeching Zeus on Arnora’s behalf, generating holy magic to surely draw Zeus’ attention. The Ceremony expires, yet the congregation is ignorant and continues. Their chanting rises in volume attracting more worshippers, overflowing out of the Temple proper and adding their voices.

I stare at Arnora, unwilling to break our contact and unable to cast another [Assess Aspirant] for fear of resetting this event whatever its name. Crackling light and rumbling thunder surround and emanate from Arnora.

[Aspirant Assessment: Frost Giantess Adept of Zeus Arnora promoted to Priest of Zeus, Ruling Aspect, Priest Level 4]

The light transforms into bright jiggers or zig zags, lightning without the destruction touches every worshipper within and outside of the Temple of Zeus. The light bounces off each worshipper heading skyward, piercing and clearing clouds, accumulating in a brighter than day column of pure white light. A glorious announcement to the Continent of the Beast Kin.

[Critical Success: The Greek Pantheon of Gods under the Rulership of Zeus successfully called into belief.]

[System Augmentation Initiated … God Pantheon Worship routines added … incompatibility detected with existing Atheist routines … adjusting … adjusting … solution found … implementing … success.]

I have the benefit of the messages, so I push Arnora to stand, and whisper to her this is her moment, and she must rise and act fearlessly even if she feels fearful, act as a leader should even if she feels unworthy before the might of Zeus. This is her opportunity to reach for greatness, there will never be another of this importance.

The faithful are cringing upon the stone floor of the Temple, the slush and snow surrounding the Temple and melting snow further afield, waiting for reassurance, waiting for guidance and most importantly waiting for spiritual and holy leadership.

The pull of Arnora’s [Summon Faithful] is irresistible and whether she creates a greater version or Zeus grants her one, her words spread easily, either directly into the mind or unknowingly through the ear yet perceiving them in the mind. These two perceptions will be argued for as long as this moment is retold.

“I arise your Priestess, I am humble before Zeus and swear before him to serve you, my faithful, who have petitioned Zeus on my behalf to receive this great honour. Know, due to your fervour and worship Zeus is more able to hear our prayers!”

A surge of holy magic generates from those worshipping around Arnora. None is flowing through me. The current Priestess of the Temple is gathering all unto her. Her snow-white skin, clearing to near translucent, her hair now white black as found in storm clouds and her eyes a piercing silver.

I recognise the outcome and smile. She has taken the opportunity, grasping it with both hands and all her faith.

The ground surrounding the Temple, the ground on which a worshipper now grovels, is sanctified and holy in the name of Zeus.

[Success: Temple of Zeus site; upgraded to Major Temple of Zeus. Shrines to other Greek Gods enabled.]

[Special Unlock: Major Temple of Zeus; Pilgrimage Site for Worshippers of Zeus.]

“Arise, faithful of Zeus and bask in the glory of his power!”

The faithful reply with a boisterous cheer.

“To work Zeus’ faithful, build a Temple worthy of his name!”

The faithful reply with a boisterous cheer commencing work, Stone Giants shaping stone, Frost Giants harvesting trees and constructing lodges, the wives of either fishing or hunting, the children fetching and carrying. The design of the Temple is a gift from Zeus, embedded in Arnora’s mind and shared with all, including me.

“A Major Temple exists due to the will of Zeus, you will need to enlighten additional faithful to maintain and keep it so blessed,” I say to Arnora.

“Yes, High Priestess I know the task before us. I hope for the possibility of Grimhild’s father being converted, although I wonder if he will prove suspicious and faithless like Bloodaxe and therefore be a threat.”

Her change in appearance is a marvel I still appreciate, and others pay due respect as well, which she accepts willingly without question being the will of Zeus.

“I would turn to the Stone Giants, they have long sort respect and if a path is shown to them, they may appreciate it more readily than a Jarl with enough power, wanting more. Lift the downtrodden instead of tempting the powerful.”

“There are also other lesser creatures who fear us and perhaps with a common God to worship could become allies.” Arnora rustles around in a pocket of hers and hands me a bronze ring. I take it and examine it, plain, functional.

“I have taken the liberty of binding your Spirit Alba to the ring, a gift and company for your journey.” She pauses, scratching her chin, possibly considering her next words carefully.

“Valgard remembers little of his former life sadly. Of his death, he remembers one thing, the golden eyes of the creature, which slew him. Valmund and Sturla swear the creature’s appearance was like a giant eagle and yet, I wonder. Zeus told me you would return, although your appearance may change, except for your golden eyes.”

I consider lying and conclude a lie would break our faith and if Arnora suspects now, her suspicion will grow and eat at her and upon my return, if I return, she will not be the same Arnora. My form will continue to change I must accept and own the deeds, good or bad for them all.

“It is timely that I leave as I don’t wish to cause you grief, suffice to say my existence is cursed and my nature is determined by the creature I become. I am fortunate my current form allows me to confess the truth. I have two masters, one is Zeus and the other, well the other is Azizos.”

Both of her hands cover her mouth, and her silver eyes narrow as if trying to see me for the first time. She bends over to grip the alter to steady herself, finally raising her eyes again.

“I grieve for you. High Priestess yours is a life with no self, no permanent form, two masters rule you.” She drew in a breath, tears gathering, her near translucent face warming red.

“My love, my husband, who a former you slew, a creature which you aren’t now, although if you were still a stranger when the truth was revealed, none would have been able to restrain my vengeance. You are my High Priestess and you are not the creature you were, I can accept my husband, slain in battle and his slayer now perished also and, and leave it at that.”

Arnora is a pitiful sight, hurrying away, wiping the tears from her eyes, my fault, my curses’ fault. At each step forward I leave behind such pain and suffering regardless of my efforts otherwise. Do I really try though? Does the nature of my past forms prevent me and am I fated to act against myself and those around me governed by my form and whichever Master has influence over me at the time?

My hindquarters bunch and the powerful muscles there propel me skywards, my wings beat down furiously to continue my lift into the air, higher and higher. I need an escape.

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

My former Master reminds me of his ownership, while the other still has a hand on my hope. Is Zeus the one to free my Creator? If I please him by doing his bidding, will he hear my plea? Now Zeus is present in this world, surely, he will hear my prayer. Will I be able to outsmart my old Master to maintain my freedom from him and claim my humanity as my Creator intended?

Firstly though, I need to make amends; sadness awaits me, and my tears fall like rain.