Return of the Runebound Professor-Chapter 704: To sharpen a blade

“Decras,” Renwal said, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the fading image of Garina on the screen to the god sitting by her side. “Have you considered reigning your little snotlings in? They’re starting to get on my nerves. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“It isn’t our job to interfere,” Decras replied with a small frown. “And there’s only so much we can do. You know this. If we start meddling too directly with anything that happens on the planet, it’ll disrupt the Order. Not that I have an issue with that… but Judgement might. Do you really want to bring her attention down on both of us just because we got too involved in our entertainment?”

Renewal crossed her arms in front of her chest. The fluffy Cumulo she sat on was currently doing its absolute best to eat her. A twinge of annoyance shot through her and she sent a pulse of magic into the cloud.

It cringed back, releasing her legs from its grasp.

A tiny tongue of regret licked at Renewal’s thoughts. There had been no reason to attack the monster. She’d known what it was when she sat down. Standing up would have solved the issue just as well — but she currently had a pair of cats sitting in her lap. That made standing about as impossible as popping over to Arbitage and introducing herself to Noah.

“I fully agree,” Renewal said. “We can’t be interfering too much. The only thing we should be doing is observing. Maybe a nudge here or there. Right?”

“This sounds like a trick question.”

“It is. Now answer it.”

“Then yes. I agree,” Decras said through a grimace.

“Then what do you make of all the trouble your Apostles are causing? I’d argue that’s about as close to direct interference as one can get. I’m not innocent of that either, you know. We had absolutely no problem doing it when we thought Noah just had something interesting we wanted for ourselves. But now that we’re learning more just by watching him…” Renewal arched an eyebrow. “This is where we draw the line? What changed?”

“Precisely that,” Decras said. He blew out a sigh. “We didn’t care before. The fate of that world was irrelevant to me. It was just another one of millions. Of trillions. You know how many galaxies, how many planets there are. How many people there are. Even the number of gods is almost uncountable. Who cares if a planet gets pushed off course and is destroyed by our meddling? It didn’t matter. I have Apostles across the universe. Entire planets built in my image. This was just one more.”

Renewal’s jaw clenched. It was a twisted line of thinking, but she was incredibly displeased to internally acknowledge that Decras was right. There was a certain amount of leeway gods had with mortal planets. Room in which they could shuffle pieces across the board without too much hassle.

But the leeway was on their end. Not the mortals’ end. The Order wouldn’t immediately notice that a planet had been shifted from its course. Nobody could truly control fate, and no matter how much Order ordained, there was still chaos in all things. Nothing could ever be perfectly predicted…

Until the tipping point. The harder a god influenced a planet, the more their runes, their being, infused into it. And when the Order discovered a planet that had been clearly tampered with, that planet was removed. It no longer fit into the natural world.

Far too many universes had been completely destroyed as worlds unraveled. The Order had told Renewal that it had been the fault of Chaos. Now, she wasn’t so sure — but that didn’t change the hard facts that the Order had ways to discover if events on a planet had been extensively interfered with.

“That may be so, but giving a simple order to your Apostles to keep their noses out of Noah’s business isn’t going to break anything,” Renewal said firmly. “My church doesn’t even know where he is. They might be looking for him, but Ferdinand has covered his tracks well.”

“Garina isn’t Noah,” Decras replied. “It is not Noah that stands directly at risk. It is Garina. And were I to interfere again, it would only stunt her growth. Why would I take that opportunity to grow away from her?”

Renewal let out a harrumph. “I may logically agree with just about everything you’re saying, but you’re still wrong. There are different types of strength. Would you not say that Garina has gotten more powerful from building relationships with Ferdiand and Noah? Allies are a form of power.”

“They are. So she should use them,” Decras said with a nod. “The Apostles have always thrived from conflict. It is how they grow. Do not mistake their group for allies. They are rivals who serve a similar cause — the pursuit of power. None of them have any lost love for each other. That is how they have always been.”

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“Bah,” Renewal said. “And what happens if they find Noah? He’s got some potential. A lot of it, really. But I think we’re both more than aware that any one of the Apostles, should they take him seriously for even a moment, would slaughter him and his entire group.”

“Most likely,” Decras allowed reluctantly. “That would be disappointing. But I make it a point not to directly communicate with them often. It gives the wrong idea… and they don’t always listen to me. I do not demand obedience.”

“What are you, a father trying out some fancy new method of parenting that probably won’t work?”

Decras grimaced. “I never claimed to be a good deity to follow. They chose this on their own. The Fallen encourage choice over all else. There are no hard rules in life. All that exists is your decisions and the consequences that come from them.”

They were silent for a second.

Renewal arched an eyebrow.

She didn’t even have to say anything. Decras’ last sentence was already everything she needed to say. Any words from her own mouth would have only weakened her point.

The second stretched into two.

Then Decras sighed.

“Shit,” Decras said. “I will not tell the Prophet to direct his attentions elsewhere… but I will give him something else to focus on. It will buy them time. Is that sufficient for you, your highness?”

Renewal beamed. “Yes. What a good choice. I wholeheartedly support it.”

The other god just rolled his eyes. “Using my own words against me is brutal. You’ll fit just fine with the rest of the Fallen. Every passing day makes it clearer that the Order were wasting your talents.”

Decras rose to his feet and pressed his palms together. A look of concentration gripped his features. Energy burned against Renewal’s domain as he drew on his power. Coiling snakes of dark energy twisted around Decras’ palms and wove between his fingers.

He pulled his fingers apart. Magic stretched between them like taffy. A humming buzz filled the air and droplets of black liquid, composed entirely of raw magical power, trickled down his hands. The droplets vibrated until they broke apart and formed into a fine mist that rose to swirl in a cloud between his palms.

A shape took form within the mist. It was fuzzy and distant, like a dozen layers of rippling water laid between them and the target of the magic. But, as blurred as it was, Renewal could easily tell that the man was the Prophet.

Decras’ Prophet, anyway. I’ve got one of those as well. Pretty much everyone who gets even the faintest scrap of understanding of their gods’ powers ends up calling themselves a Prophet. Really, they should get more creative.

Decras drew in a breath to speak.

Then his eyes narrowed.

For a moment, the god was still was still.

Then his palms clapped back together over the mist, crushing it out like an insect. Droplets of energy splattered across the ground and over his clothes. They instantly raced to flow back into Decras, pouring into his skin and vanishing.

“Decras?” Renewal blinked in surprise. Decras had really never struck her as the type to go around changing his mind after a decision had been made. He wouldn’t have stopped the magic without good reason. “What’s wrong?”

The expression on the other god’s face gave her pause. An emotion that Renewal had never seen within Decras’ features burned in his eyes like two white-hot fames. She had seen him get slightly angry before, but even during the fight against Judgement, he had been collected.

But that Decras was gone.

The god before her was furious.

“That,” Decras said, malice dripping from his words like venom from the fangs of a snake, “was not my Apostle.”

“What?” Renewal asked. “What do you mean?”

“It was his body, his mind. The memories… they were his.” Decras’s features warped in his anger and a sliver of his domain slipped free, sending flitting arcs of black light carving through the air around him like a million blades. “But the soul was changed. It was twisted. Someone has killed my disciple and cursed his corpse.”

***

The Prophet stepped out from a pool of shadow to arrive in a well-furnished room. Several wooden chairs were arranged around a homely table. A feast of food was laid out upon it, clearly meticulously arranged on beautiful plates and still piping hot. It smelled delicious beyond compare.

One of the chairs, at the very end of the table, stood taller than the rest. Even though it had nobody within it, the chair felt almost as if it carried a presence. An invisible pressure exuded from within it enough to make the Prophet’s brow prickle with sweat.

Sitting in the chair to the right of the head of the table — the only person seated before the feast — was a large demon. His plate was already piled high with food. He chewed upon his previous bite then dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before raising the other hand to spear a large chunk of meat with a fork he had pinched delicately between two fingers.

“Ah. You’ve returned. On time, no less. I should have expected,” the demon said. “Would you like to sit? You must be hungry.”

“No,” the Prophet said. “I don’t have the time. Dealing with the Apostles is taking every scrap of attention I have. It’s like herding rats. I have only come to report that Garina is predictably meddlesome. I have to move slowly, or the other Apostles may grow suspicious.”

“I sympathize,” the demon replied. He took another bite of the meat on his fork, then chewed ponderously upon it. He swallowed and wiped his mouth clean with the napkin in his hand before speaking again. “But I have confidence in your abilities. Your plate will remain warm until you are ready to eat. If there is nothing more, then carry on. The False Herald must be sharpened… or replaced.”

“As you will, Og. May the Herald guide you along your path.”

Og smiled and cut himself another slice of meat from his plate. He raised it in salute. “And you as well, Truthseeker.”