Sarikiz stared down at the four assembled elven gods. Then, in sudden motion, she lashed out fiercely and her foot descended on them with tremendous weight. Merata, Ghan, Ujin, and Gunlik and joined the strength of their projection to catch the attack.

“Stop it!” Argrave shouted out, stepping forth behind the gods. “If we wanted to fight, we wouldn’t have stopped to say ‘hi’ beforehand!”

Sarikiz looked at him, her golden dreads waving before her eyes as she half-crawled away from them. “Is refraining from a sneak attack doing me a courtesy?”

Anneliese stepped up with Argrave. “Even following that logic, you are being discourteous by attacking without provocation. It has been a thousand years, Sarikiz, and the cycle of judgment is here once again. Please, heed them.”

“A thousand…?” she said in disbelief, and then slowly settled onto her rear. “I’ve been… hah,” she laughed, shaking her head. “A millennium lost to me. Who are you two? You are not their kind—why do you speak for them?” Her radiant white eyes scanned them quickly.

Argrave looked over to the four. Ghan had collapsed to his knees from the blow, and Ujin helped him as Merata and Gunlik stood guard. Between Chiteng’s betrayal, Ghan’s injury, and the fact that he conversed with these people as… well, as people, the question about what was truly divine about divinity rose to his head. He supposed it wasn’t truly different from Heroes of Berendar, but at the same time it felt wholly so.

After a long while, Argrave answered, “They were a bit busy being kicked. That’s the only reason I spoke.”

“But we are here…” Ghan said hoarsely from his point of weakness. “We are here at his suggestion. We are here to end the last cycle. It’s the only way we can advance and fight this one, Sara.”

“Do not call me that any longer,” Sarikiz slammed her fist upon the ground with emotions still raw after a millennium. “Sara was a slave, and I am not.”

“It is just a name,” Ujin urged as she supported her husband. “The only name we knew you by.”

“That has always been the difference between you and I,” Sarikiz crossed her legs, and then placed her hands atop her knees. “You accept the name. I grow beyond it.”

As Argrave looked upon them, he felt a strange sense of déjà vu. They’re a family, he realized in his head. Might be a family as ruined as the Vasquers, but they’re a family. It’s like watching Orion and Elenore argue. Lord knows I’ve seen enough of that…

And as in all of their conversations, it seemed to be leading nowhere. That is, unless Argrave intervened.

“The two of you worked together to topple a tower. It collapsed. Why do you debate about the direction it fell, and what to do with the crumbling stones?” Argrave stepped between them, his glare giving neither leeway in this situation. “This divide between you came about for a simple reason. Sarikiz wanted to do away with the imperial structure of the empire. Ghan and his family wanted to preserve it. At the end of the day, it has dissolved completely. The empire is gone,” he finished loudly.

Perhaps his voice was small before the divine. But big or small, he was heard.

“Sarikiz—you fought for the centaurs. You sought their freedom—their total freedom, unconstrained by any system or laws,” Argrave continued, pointing at her face. “Has your conviction wavered on this?”

“I… who are you?” she narrowed her eyes, still confused.

“I’m…” Argrave stopped himself from saying that he was a king—doubtless the anti-imperial rebel wouldn’t take kindly to that. He straightened his back and then said, “I’m a little like you, Sarikiz. Erlebnis and Kirel Qircassia have teamed up to make a right mess of this continent. And me? I’m not content to let my people, let my wife’s people, simply accept that fate. As a matter of fact, I’m trying rather hard to keep this faction cohesive in putting an end to the tyranny they want to enact. Sound familiar?”

She stared at Argrave, and then did chuckle slightly. “I cannot tell how much you fabricate… but indeed, it was a dire struggle maintaining cohesion in our slave rebellion. A struggle that failed. A struggle that sent me into a sleep lasting one thousand years,” she looked back at the elven gods just as Ghan rose to his feet.

“Then listen to their words,” Argrave pleaded, gesturing to the four of them.

Ghan looked up at Sarikiz. He took a deep breath in preparation and then said, “Sarikiz… you were right. I can admit that now, admit it freely. We were caught in delusions of grandeur, of seeking to recreate the empire we toppled with a new regime. And as a result, our people moved on from us. Yours stayed true to you even in your long slumber. There is…” Ghan closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “There is a lesson in that. And that lesson is one you taught us.”

Sarikiz listened to the words, letting them fall onto her open ears. She closed her eyes, saying nothing as she let it wash over her. Then, quietly, she responded, “…you have had a long while to think on it, I see. But the wounds of our fight still persist, and the betrayal hurts most of all. I am not certain what you hope to achieve, saying that.”

“We could argue that you were the…!” Gunlik began, but Argrave held his hand up and interrupted.

“I could argue that you shouldn’t argue,” Argrave shot him down. “Remember why we’re here.”

Sarikiz marveled at him. “That man is rather bold to speak to you thusly. What has changed in my time absent? Are men so great that they demean even gods?”

“He is rather bold,” Merata finally spoke up with a sigh. “But nothing has changed, Sarikiz. Nothing at all. The world conspires against us.” His red eyes fell on Argrave. “The man mentioned Erlebnis. Are you familiar?”

“Certainly. He helped me… learn of your intentions,” Sarikiz said slowly.

“And he helped us learn that you’d learned of our intentions,” Ghan nodded. “Just as he’s done here, he’s played us against each other. He wanted an internecine struggle, that he might harvest all he pleased from the now-ancient elven empire. My son… my son Chiteng wounded me, and now works for him. His emissaries now hunt us down. Kirel Qircassia’s servants are weaker, but he is also manifested here.”

“And you wish for my help,” Sarikiz toyed with one of her dreads, white eyes tracking them.

“We want to make things right. We wish for you to have land for yourself, for your centaurs,” Ghan shook his head. “And it comes at the expense of Kirel Qircassia. He builds the would-be empire of this age. And once more… let us fight for freedom from his yolk.”

“As I asked… has your conviction wavered, Sarikiz?” Argrave asked once again.

Raise the anarchist flag one last time, Argrave begged with his eyes.

#####

Dimocles ran quickly down the coast, seeking out where he knew the emissaries were. His feet burst free of his shoes, polymorphing wider and flatter that he might run across the sand without his feet sinking inside. When he saw the elven god Chiteng kneeling there and looking upon his blade of bone, he knew that he’d finally made it.

As he ran, the emissaries started to walk out of the sea. One, five, thirteen, fifty… they were innumerable. Their numbers had grown substantially since their first attack.

“I need help,” Dimocles said at once. “Doubtless you know the emissaries I was with died.”

The closest among them nodded. “We do,” it confirmed. “We witnessed it through our link.”

“Onychinusa ambushed us,” he said. “Her wound was already recovered, and with the dryads help, with the confines from the centaurs’ cavern…” he shook his head in faux despair. “Her dryads overtook them both as she fought me. But now, she’s doing something more.”

“What is she doing?” the emissary asked casually.

“She’s approaching Kirel Qircassia. I suspect she’ll pose as an ambassador, but I’m certain she intends to sabotage the alliance somehow,” he said, looking around frantically. “I’m at a loss. I need aid.”

As he prayed Merata’s magic was similar enough to dryad magic the emissaries might not notice the difference, every one of the emissaries retracted within themselves, communicating what he’d said to Erlebnis. Finally, five of them stepped forward. “We move. The lord declares this matter must be resolved with immediate action.”

“With shamanic magic, we travel faster,” Dimocles asked hopefully. He desperately wanted spirits and shamanic magic both. The emissaries were incapable of using it, but he’d seen Onychinusa do so and concluded that mortals could.

“Gods fear shamanic magic. If we employ it, it may elevate tensions,” another emissary refused. “Move quickly, Dimocles.”

Dimocles gave a resigned nod that he could not benefit further, then prepared to rush into battle. You want Kirel to be certain Erlebnis turned on him? I can do that, Argrave… but I won’t die as you want me to. These five will handle the aftermath. And I’ll get my collection back.

In the end, perhaps Dimocles owed Argrave some thanks. The king had proven the gods could be crossed and beaten, and now he did the same. Erlebnis had played this venture into the Bloodwoods too boldly to be properly cautious, and too cautiously to be properly bold. Now, the foundations of Erlebnis’ plan crumbled—Onychinusa, Kirel, and now Dimocles himself. If not for the fact that he was useful, Argrave likely would’ve killed him there outright.

But Argrave… his chances of success grew. Even Erlebnis thought that the man would never be insane enough to oppose him, but it seemed the king was not fully sane, and so would draw the ire of both Kirel Qircassia and Erlebnis in defense of pauper elves and irrelevant gods. Even still, Erlebnis’ plan had not ever predicted Argrave’s resistance, and so issue after issue arose. Now, the king might even beat the invaders back.

With new revelations in hand, Dimocles realized only now his ambitions had been too small. He would need to do something about that. After all this, of course…

#####

Chiteng knelt in the sand, staring out across the ocean. These past few days had felt far longer than the hazy millennium that had passed in the elven realms. He thought that he’d chosen right. He’d thought that siding with Erlebnis and the coalition was the only true way to preserve the elven race, the elven beauty. Flesh and blood trumped pointless clay. Let them become vassals of Argrave, and he a slave to Erlebnis—in that outcome, they lived. The Bloodwoods meant nothing to him. Homes could be rebuilt.

But as the days passed, certainty became uncertainty. Even as the emissaries became more numerous as Erlebnis’ power grew, unexpected results kept popping up like moles. Even now…

“Dimocles assaulted Kirel Qircassia’s forces, then escaped,” an emissary informed him. “The other five emissaries are locked in combat. It matters not. We have time. Nonetheless, the lord has a new directive for you.”

As Chiteng listened, he felt something stir in the distance. He rose to his feet, turning around and peering back in the forest.

“Sarikiz is roused,” Chiteng said quietly. “And the elven gods move once again.”

“Meet them in combat,” the emissary responded, perhaps already knowing this was the outcome.

Chiteng looked down at them, only to see all of them looking at him. Their poise carried with it an unspoken threat. With so many betrayals, they wanted him far away from this place. They wanted him to meet the enemy in combat. And he’d made enemies of his flesh and blood.

I declared war on what I am, Chiteng realized. This is no life.

But now, it was time to put this battle to rest. It was time to see the worth of his flesh and blood.