Hineni stands there, watching as the first wall of the new house is erected. The stoneworkers are at work today, beginning construction of the exterior of the external structure now that the engineers have finished planning all of the details.

Insects buzz and voices hollar out from the surrounding regions as people spend their days fighting to the death. The front-line has phases. It shifts continuously, moving in towards the city, where the lines fight on open plains, littered with bodies, before being pushed back into the thick, heavy forest that never quite seems to burn away, despite the hundreds of raging fires and the dozens of massive explosions every hour. The battle ebbs in and out, like the tide.

Currently, it’s at an ‘in’ phase, and soldiers are in the no-man's-land between the city and the deep forest.

It’s pretty violent. Hineni has seen at least three people die horribly in the distance, and he hasn’t even had breakfast yet. He looks to the side. “Hey,” he calls to a stoneworker. “That wall should be pushed back another few steps.”

He walks over to the workers, perhaps entering a little too heavily into the role of a busy-body. But after all, it is his first house. His family home to be. Wanting everything to be perfect for the money they’re paying here is only reasonable.

Three days have passed.

Hineni digs down through the soil with his hands, opening a hole in the dirt atop the hill. Obscura hoots, watching him work.

She’s still holding the seed in her hands.

“Magic sure is funny, huh?” asks Hineni. “It’s all a bit too much wobbly-woo for me. But I have to admit that the idea is… unique.”

“You will see,” replies Obscura. “The Hineni-man doubts in my vision of the world,” says the owl-god. “But that is because he has only two eyes. Not three. Three!”

“Fair enough,” replies Hineni, nodding his head. She bends down, gently resting the seed on the patch of soil. The two of them gently pack the dirt down over it together, their hands meeting in the middle. “So, if this doesn’t work, at least we have the external house,” he says.

“Fool,” hisses the owl-god. “It will work.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” replies Hineni, looking into her eyes. She lifts her gaze, and the two of them stare for a while.

Someone clears their throat to the side. Sockel. They turn their heads, looking at her as she points over her shoulder, towards the distance. A giant, thundering golem rampages through the forest, breaching far past the crowns of the trees. It smashes through entire groups of soldiers and camps, filling the forest with terrified screams.

“Such a vibrant neighborhood,” says Hineni.

“Many voices fill the air, like the cries of playing children,” hoots the owl-god.

– The golem hurtles a man through the sky. He flies over the city and over them, presumably landing somewhere in the north.

Sockel rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Paradise,” she says. “If you two love-birds are done. We have a visitor.”

“Huh?” asks Hineni, tilting his head to look the way she is gesturing. A rickety, old model cart wobbles down the way. Its wheels have been cheaply repaired. It doesn’t have a cover and is being driven by none other than Avarice himself. The bird towing it is a scraggly, off-market creature, likely bought from a farmer at a discount after its best years had been used.

A procession follows after him. But he seems more annoyed by them than pleased. His followers are in much more extravagant, ornate carriages with drivers and pedigree anqas.

“Ah, hell,” says Hineni, rising to his feet.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” says Avarice, sitting across from him. Hineni looks around himself. The two of them are sitting on the hill, on two chairs. The walls around them are marked out, but most are still not standing. There is no roof, and crates are still stacked sky high, waiting to be unpacked.

“It’s a work in progress,” replies Hineni, looking back his way. He looks around at the many followers of Avarice, walking around the area and… scavenging the dead? “Really?” asks Hineni.

“Waste not, want not,” replies Avarice. Rhine walks over, carrying a tray uphill with two cups of tea and some biscuits. “We don’t keep the items. The military has a bounty out for returned and plundered equipment. While we’re here, we might as well, no?”

Hineni looks at the extravagantly robed followers of Avarice and then back towards the dark-elf, who takes his tea from Rhine. He is much more plainly and simply clothed, like any other person you would see on the street. “Thank you.”

“I gotta ask,” says Hineni, nodding to the god’s followers. “The contrast. What’s that about?”

“Hmm?” asks Avarice, sipping his tea, before looking at his people. “Oh.” He sighs and takes a biscuit, biting off a corner. “What do you see?” asks Avarice. “When you look at me?”

Hineni blinks. “What?”

Avarice, needing a free hand, drops the rest of his biscuit into his full cup and then points at himself. “When you look at me. What do you see?”

“Uh…” Hineni scratches his chin. “A dark-elf?” Avarice shakes his head. “A dragon?” The head shaking continues.

“Someone wealthy?” guesses Rhine.

Avarice nods, pleased. He grabs another biscuit from the tray. “Smart lad,” praises the god of wealth. He nibbles on the second biscuit and then takes a sip of his biscuit-tea. “That’s the key element.” The god looks around the hill. “Given my reputation, I tend to attract those who want money. They want to be rich,” explains Avarice. He looks towards Hineni. “What a lot of people get wrong, though, is that I’m not the god of the rich. I’m the god of wealth.”

“Isn’t that splitting hairs?” asks Hineni.

“It is not,” replies Avarice, taking a large sip from his cup. “Being rich means you have money,” says the god. “Being wealthy means that you have everything that money can’t get you too.” He looks at his followers. “They think that if they get the money, the life, the love, and the self-warmth, those things will follow.” He shakes his head. “What they don't understand, Weaponsmith Hineni, is that it is the other way around.” He finishes his biscuit and drinks his tea, setting the cup down on the tray. “A poor man with love in his bosom will always find money to feed his heart’s treasures, and then he’ll have both things.”

Hineni nods, rubbing his chin as he looks at the god suspiciously. “Very poetic,” he replies, leaning in. “Let me get to the point. I moved down here to get away from all of this. Why are you here?”

“Why?” asks Avarice. “Well. I was very surprised to hear about your sudden departure. Why, you practically stole away at midnight.”

“The contracts are all transferred over to Kleidet. The old guild is still running.”

Avarice waves him off. “Didn’t I just tell you? I’m not interested in the money itself. I’m interested in the factor behind the money. You.”

“Sorry, not for sale these days. I’m getting married, you know?” replies Hineni.

“I’ve heard. When is the wedding?”

Hineni clears his throat. “Haven’t made a plan yet,” he half-lies. It’s true that they haven’t made arrangements yet. He really should get to that sometime. “Anyways, I’m out. I’m not interested in any power games or politics or whatever. No frogs. No owls. I’m trying to live a quiet life, okay?”

Avarice looks at him, looking at some of his followers carrying a helmet past them that is still very much in use, despite the rest of the body being somewhere else. He stares for an oddly long time.

“You see the irony here, yes?” asks Avarice.

“Just a rough patch,” replies Hineni. “Give it three years and some gumption and this place will be a goldmine.”

Avarice shrugs. “To be honest, you aren’t my primary reason for being in the south. It’s just a happy coincidence,” explains the god. “Maybe I should set up a bank here too?” asks the god.

“If you aren’t here for us, then why are you here?” he asks. “It’s a long way from the north.”

Avarice gets up. “Unique times offer unique opportunities,” replies Avarice, staring out over the battlefield with hungry eyes. “We’re at a precipice of change, Weaponsmith Hineni. Things are going to be very different in the world, very soon, and I would like them to go my way.”

“I see,” replies Hineni, rising to his feet. “And what way is that, exactly?”

The god smiles, holding out a hand towards him. Hineni takes it, if only out of politeness. He’s still deeply distrusting of the god, for whatever reason. Maybe he’s just wary of people who are too nice to him. But there are still many open questions about Avarice’s motivations.

“Let’s just say that there are a few social kinks that I would like to unravel,” replies Avarice.

“A weird, oddly vague answer,” notes Hineni. “Is that why you were helping us, back in the north?”

“I have a wealth-based mindset,” replies Avarice. “And you are helping me to my fortune.”

“Again, oddly vague,” says Hineni. “But I guess I don’t care.”

They shake hands.

“If you’ll excuse me,” replies Avarice. “I have some work to do. Thank you for the tea.”

“Take another biscuit on your way out,” notes Hineni, gesturing to the tray. Avarice is already walking off, waving him off with a free hand.

“I wouldn’t want to be greedy,” is the last thing that the god of wealth says as he returns to his rickety cart and dumpy anqa, down at the bottom of the hill.

Damn.

Hineni looks at the biscuit on the tray in Rhine’s hands. Both of them are thinking the same thing.

Only two biscuits have been eaten, instead of three. It’s a very unfortunate circumstance.

“Half, half?” asks Hineni.

Rhine nods, and the two of them split the third biscuit before starting their forging work for the day.