Argrave’s meeting with Artur had gone about as expected—the man wanted some recognition, and so they gave it. When they had entered, the former Magister of the Order was ready to demand something substantial. But Argrave had buttered him with sweet words, promised a nice plaque with his name on it, and the man folded like wet paper. Artur wanted these vain things—and quite frankly, he did deserve them—and so who was Argrave to deny that?

On the other front, the Vysenn refugees had yet to arrive in Blackgard. With skin like alabaster and customs far removed from the kingdom’s norm, it might be difficult to integrate them with the largely native population of Blackgard seamlessly. Still, these refugees were unmatched at dwelling underground, could work forges well if given the opportunity, and frankly made better soldiers than Vasquer natives. They would be given a place to stay and a job to work, and hopefully would slowly assimilate into the kingdom’s culture.

But with the kingly duties aside, the job search was bound to begin. Argrave returned to the Alchemist with a larger group in tow. Here, they would plan for the future.

The Alchemist waved his hand, and the obsidian house closed off entirely as the last of them entered. The small yet tall room that was the Alchemist’s temporary abode was lit by fleeting purple lights. The house’s owner moved to the head of the table. There, Argrave, Anneliese, Durran, Galamon, Orion, Elenore, and Melanie waited for the formidable spellcaster. The majority of them had grown used to the Alchemist’s presence, save Melanie. She was not quite cautiously optimistic—perhaps the better term for her outlook would be pessimistically hopeful. She was here all the same.

“Alright.” Argrave clapped once, drawing everyone’s attention. “This place should be safe to speak. Even Gerechtigkeit himself can’t peak through these walls, isn’t that right?” He looked at the Alchemist.

“To the point,” the Alchemist insisted.

Argrave smiled. “Ideally, I’d like everyone here today to walk away from this with a solid grasp of my intentions in mind. Honestly, I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, Orion, but I think you’ve become even-tempered enough to broach the idea.”

“I’m… honored that Your Majesty believes so,” Orion dipped his head, then set his golden helmet upon the table.

Argrave nodded. “Everyone here knows how powerful the divine are. Anneliese, Orion, and I have more personal experience, but I think everyone knows about the Shadowlander.” He pointed his finger up and shook it. “We are at a disadvantage in the fights ahead. But society is built off of cooperation and alliances. Even the gods aren’t exempt from this.”

Argrave lowered his pointed finger and leaned over the sleek black table. “It’s time we seek to ally with the gods themselves, and earn their boons. This is both for another unrelated matter, and for the future of the kingdom. The Alchemist and I gathered here today to help you walk this path, provided you’re willing.”

Durran crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes—he had a low opinion of the gods, Argrave knew. Melanie reacted in abject surprise. Orion’s reaction was startlingly calm. Everyone else had been informed in advance.

“Ally, not… worship, right?” Melanie pressed.

Argrave nodded. “It’d be an arrangement of mutual benefit, not one of reverence. They may ask certain things of you—wear a symbol, allow them to spread their faith—but all in all, we’re seeking out gods that are already interested in each of us. We’ve built something on Berendar that the gods need more than they might realize. And that’s a foothold on this continent.”

“You would become a god’s mortal champion,” the Alchemist explained. “It would entitle you to their blessing, among other boons. In turn, they would demand certain obligations of you. Given our position, each of you can ask for appreciably small obligations. But among them, most importantly, is that the champion must take a pivotal role in resolving the conflicts of the gods that arise because of the mortal realm—disputes over territory being the most prominent example.”

“That’s right. And we’re going to shop around, negotiating the best deal that we can. To that end, I’ve picked out several gods I believe would best serve each of you.” Argrave tapped the table, looking up at the Alchemist. The man waved his hand toward the table, and several figurines bearing deities on them arose before Argrave.

“Galamon will suffer no other god than Veid,” Argrave said, taking her piece and placing her near the former vampire. “Veid’s blessings revolve around honor, fealty, loyalty, and righteous crusade. If blessed, Galamon could receive many boons. He might be able to compel absolute loyalty from subordinates by entering into a contract with them. Similarly, he might receive benefits from his own loyalty, or might grow in strength from the number of honorable people he employs. I believe it will suit his role as knight-commander well. And given what I know of him, Veid would be a fool to reject his devotion.”

“…it is not your place to judge Veid, Your Majesty. I may be found wanting in Her eyes,” he defended, holding the piece in his hands.

“Could be Galamon secures one of those blessings. Could be he secures none. And that goes for all,” he looked between them. “Good negotiation is key, here. So, next, Elenore.”

“Have you gods for cripples and sightless folk?” she questioned.

“Rather the opposite.” He isolated three pieces. “I believe you can draw the eye of three gods. There’s Old Iron Miser, a god of wealth and war. His role in the cycle of judgment is facilitating the exchange of goods and services. You could have a network of otherworldly trade and mercenaries at your disposal.” Argrave slid over a piece of an old man with a cowl and plate armor, then grabbed the next. “Next there’s Yillinillnu, goddess of diplomacy and negotiation. Her blessings facilitate effective communication between all parties low and small. And lastly, Lira, goddess of connections. Her abilities… are more nuanced. It involves connecting people—communications, transportation, et cetera. I can explain it more later.”

He slid the two goddess idols over to Elenore, and the princess studied them as Argrave moved on to the next person. “Alright, then. Anneliese.”

She smiled, waiting expectantly. Argrave wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d spent the most time thinking about her choices. It was probably because she had the most choices. Wildly intelligent, skilled, empathetic, magically talented, knowledge-seeking, and in Argrave’s opinion, stunningly beautiful… there were many fonts she could draw from.

“Two of them overlap with ones I’ll be seeking out. First, one known only as Law. Formless god of rulership, justice, and authority. Poises himself as Gerechtigkeit’s enemy. I figure there’s some bargaining space there… and his blessings allow for peaceful resolution of disputes through subjugation, alongside ridiculously broad abilities that enable the bearer to give just about any buff. Though extremely powerful, his blessings are limited in their scope.”

He pushed forward Law—fittingly, a scale, then grabbed the next.

“Next, Almazora. Goddess of magic. She’s quite… solitary, but her blessings are quite useful. She has a lot of knowledge and unique spells, but above all, can allow one to use magic as a force unto itself, foregoing spells or other such refinements. Ignoring that, she has plenty of other miscellaneous powerups. Might be room for a bunch of good stuff, if we prod. Those are our overlaps, Anne. This next one you share with Durran.”

“Sataistador. God of chaos, war, strategy, and ruthless destruction.” Argrave picked up the black figure. The man depicted looked quite terrifying—bearded, brawny, yet with an eerie calm about his face despite the hulking battle axe hefted above his head. With half a dozen weapons on his body, he looked like a killing machine.

“Ruthless destruction. You have a high opinion of your queen,” Durran noted sarcastically.

Argrave set the piece down. Anneliese noted, “He’s the one who fought against Mozzahr in Heroes of Berendar, yes? And lost.”

“He is. He doesn’t have any servants, and fights alone. That was his downfall. Honestly, this one is reaching a bit for the both of you… he’s never taken a champion, so far as I know. But if it happens, we save ourselves from a fearsome foe. And given his exclusivity, we can guarantee he’ll fight on our side.” Argrave set the piece down. “Now, for you, specifically, Anne, the last one…”

“I’m seeing some favoritism here,” Durran quipped.

“Yinther, god of exploration, discovery, and curiosity,” Argrave continued unashamedly. “He can give many things, foremost being [Truesight]. With it, no illusions can fool you. Any magical details about another will be revealed. You can essentially see the truths of the universe. I thought it might go well with your empathy—help you see through everyone.” He gave a smile, then turned his gaze. “Then, Orion.”

“I do not wish to do it, Your Majesty.” He dipped his head. “If you command me, I will follow through. But I believe I will cause inadvertent problems. The fact I must endure with the blessings I already have is taxing enough for me to mentally accept.”

Argrave considered that, half-expecting that response. He gave a slow, steady nod. “Alright. I hope that, if you find someone worth championing, you’ll at least consider it.” He turned his head to the next. “Melanie, then.”

She looked anticipatory. In truth, Argrave had decided on the god that was the perfect fit for her long ago. It was the best build she could ask for, in-game, with her particular skillset.

“This goes for everyone, but especially so for you, Melanie. You’re a negotiator—pinch the other gods, get the best deal with the one you want. Ideally, I’d like you to go with Raccomen, the god of space. By granting the ability to cut through space, he’ll allow you unparalleled access to most areas, and once you master his abilities, you’d dominate any battlefield you’d enter. Those chains, your blades, your acrobatics, in combination with the space-warping abilities he can give… it’s perfect.”

Melanie just looked happy to be considered, but he couldn’t deny her eyes went to other figures more than Raccomen’s. He slid Raccomen’s symbol to her, and was left with a few more.

“Last and least, Durran.” Argrave looked at him. “I have the god of dung, waste, and ugliness.”

“Hilarious,” Durran nodded.

Argrave laughed, then isolated the two figures he had in mind. “With your wyverns, and your position of influence in the Burnt Desert, I think some of the others mentioned might suit you. But given I want you to be the wandering hunter, I think Stout Heart Swan suits you very well. The goddess of hunting.” He focused on Durran. “Her blessings are very well suited to tracking, cornering, and dispatching single foes, be they gods or deer. And it works well for groups. But if that doesn’t suit you, then you might go with the simpler god of death.”

Argrave looked down upon a skull piece. “Whether it’s halting death with necromancy, or causing death with extreme force, Gaunt might suit you well. Just promise me you won’t let him make you a lich.”

“He can’t,” the Alchemist chimed in. “Part of our arrangement excludes obtaining immortality.”

Durran nodded bitterly as Argrave slid the two pieces over to Durran. As the man played with them, he said, “Least I got the cooler-sounding options. But what about you, brother-in-law?”

“Beyond my pick of the others… just one.” Argrave picked it up, examining it. “This one’s mine. The trickster god, Rook.” He looked at everyone. “Deception and subterfuge are his spheres. I think you’ll all agree it’s a little fitting.”

No words were spoken, but he sensed that everyone seemed to concur. Argrave set the piece down, leaving further explanation in his head alone.

“The main point of allying with all of these deities is twofold. One, we secure a solid foundation for the fights ahead,” Argrave explained. “We need friends among the divine. All these here are no ally of the Qircassian Coalition, and ostensibly enemies to Erlebnis. And on the matter of Erlebnis, this leads to the second point.” He stood straight. “All of this is ultimately a springboard to our main goal: a heist against Erlebnis, a god of knowledge.

“These powers don’t come without a suitable challenge to test them,” Argrave continued as everyone digested his words. “But it’s a challenge we’re more than capable of rising to. So—who’s ready to go divining?”

“What, you mean—” Melanie sputtered in surprise. “Now? Like, now?”

“No time like the present,” Argrave nodded. “Let’s contact some gods.”

The Alchemist spoke, saying, “We head to a peculiar destination in the astral planes, one that I have access to. The White Planes, a neutral ground constructed for the purpose of making deals. The place was made in collaboration by several gods. It’ll take a considerable offering for us to enter—one that I’ve prepared. It isn’t often that mortals are given the privilege of directly consorting with deities, and I cannot guarantee reentry. Once there… your bargaining will begin. And I expect you not to waste my generosity, or there will be problems.”