When Alpine fetched her this morning to settle a dispute, she already knew their kind would be involved. Victoire wasn’t too surprised to find three werewolves bound to chairs when she arrived, with Lourson looking over them rather than handling the forge as he was supposed to be doing. From the prisoners’ bruises and the werebear’s angry scowl, the former had managed to piss off the latter fiercely.
“What happened this time?” Victoire asked with sincere annoyance. She had been forced to delay her inspection of the mine to deal with this mess.
“We were denied our bathing time!” a werewolf protested. “We’ve spent the entire night scouting the wilderness! We deserve a bath break!”
“I told those three that the hot spring was occupied for the next thirty minutes and that they would have the next shift,” Alpine said with a hint of anger in her voice; something rare enough from the kind weregoat to be noted. “But they tried to muscle their way in anyway, and a fight broke out when the previous occupants refused to leave. Lourson had to intervene before the brawl turned ugly.”
This is getting out of hand. It had been a week since Jasper’s warband attacked Narc and Goreville’s group arrived, and a steady stream of settlers continuously flowed into Narc since then from all across the region. Tribes eager to enjoy Lord Wepwawet’s protection flocked to the village like moths to a flame, and they had yet to learn how to get along. We need to lay down the law before things escalate.
“You should have waited for your turn,” Victoire told the werewolves. She hadn't found the time to try out the hot spring yet herself. “Nobody gets special treatment here.”
One of the werewolves bared his fangs at her. “Then why does our god look like us, and not like you?”
“And why did he put me in charge then instead of you?” Victoire retorted. She had heard that argument often enough to grow sick of it. “The rules are the same for everyone. Deal with it.”
They didn’t listen. “A human can’t judge us!” one of the werewolves protested. “We’ll only answer to Goreville!”
“Is that so?” a voice called out from the inn’s threshold. “Then I’ll take over from here.”
Victoire peeked over her shoulder to find Goreville walking into the inn. The werewolf packmaster looked about as frustrated as she was.
“You’re talking back to one of Grand-Loup’s chosen, Bertrand.” If the trio expected any sympathy from their leader, he didn’t show them any. “How do you think your actions reflect on our pack? You’re shaming all Snowsteps.”
“But chief–”
Goreville didn’t let his men finish. “Enough! Assaulting fellow followers of Grand-Loup is no different from attacking packmates! You’re on double chore duty till the end of the week!”
The three troublemakers looked ready to protest, but their leader’s mere glare cowed them into silence. They lowered their heads in quiet submission.
“Forgive them,” Goreville told Victoire and the others. “I’ll chastise them sharply and teach them respect. You have my word.”
“If only they were the only ones causing trouble,” Victoire replied with annoyance. “This is the third fight werewolves have started this week, always with the same pattern.”
“Your people just keep trying to put others down,” Alpine complained. “This is getting tiresome.”
Goreville shrugged. “Don’t misunderstand me, anybody who can fight magmorians has my respect, whether they’ve got fur, horns, skin, or talons… but Grand-Loup did create us werewolves in his image and sent wolves to guide his flock. My kind clearly have a special place in his heart.”
Lourson squinted at him. “Then why did Lord Wepwawet first show himself to us rather than your tribe?”
“I don’t recall Lord Wepwawet affording werewolves any special privilege either,” Victoire pointed out. Her god was more concerned with interrogating the magmorian prisoners and directing the architectural works around the village than intervening in disputes, having trusted her and Goreville to handle them.
Goreville snorted. “Grand-Loup showed up because you couldn’t defend yourselves, unlike us. The magmorians wouldn’t have attacked you if you had a good pack to shield you.”
“Don’t patronize us, wolf.” Lourson’s lips curled to reveal his fangs. “My teeth and claws cut deeper than yours.”
Goreville growled in response, with Alpine immediately stepping between him and Lourson before yet another fight could break out. “Enough!” she complained once at her wits’ end. “How about we just ask Grand-Loup instead of fighting? He’s not going anywhere!”
“The both of you, back off,” Victoire said with a sharp tone that broke no disagreement. Lourson followed through, and Goreville stopped growling soon after. “Alpine is right, I will take this matter to Lord Wepwawet and ask him to settle it.”
“Fine by me,” Goreville said as he nodded in agreement and took his grumbling packmates away for punishment. “I’m sure Grand-Loup will make the hierarchy clear for all.”
Alpine glared at the werewolves on their way out. “I can’t believe that one,” she complained to Victoire. “Do you truly think Grand-Loup favors werewolves over everyone else?”
“Of course not,” Victoire replied bluntly. “Look at the people he selected to become his Champions. How many werewolves can you count among us?”
“It’s not enough that Goreville’s band sees it,” Lourson said. “They have to hear it too.”
“I’ll see to it that Lord Wepwawet makes his thoughts clear,” Victoire promised. If he has any thoughts on the matter at all, that is... “Until then, call me if anything happens again.”
“Of course.” Alpine smiled sweetly. “I’m still holding on to your hot spring shift, by the way.”
“I’ll have to ask you to push it another day,” Victoire replied with a sigh. “I promise I’ll find the time soon.”
Leaving Alpine to manage the inn and Lourson to his forge, Victoire walked through Narc on her way to the mine. It astonished her just how quickly the place had changed in the last few days. They’d successfully drained the excess water, fixed up the walls, and built new barracks up on the cliffs. The influx of new settlers forced them to build houses for groups rather than individuals, with lower areas used for farming. It would take time to adapt the latter to their new population. They would likely be facing food shortages without Lord Wepwawet’s gift of lettuce and spirit-wolves.
On the other hand, more people meant more hands to work with. The newcomer groups included wereowls, werecats, werebears, werebulls, and even a handful of humans; many of whom excelled in physical labor or brought skills they could put to good use. Construction advanced at a much quicker pace than expected. Viviane also promised to bring assistance from Roynimalia once she returned from there.
Now, if we could all pull our weight instead of slacking off… Victoire thought with annoyance once she heard a song coming from the quarry. Like that one.
As she expected, she found Renarde busy singing a song to Marcel and the other miners digging deep into the mountain’s base. The werepenguin’s crew worked with feverish zeal which neatly contrasted with their werefox overseer, who happily danced atop a rock with her fan. Victoire wasn’t too much of a fan of the spectacle, but the miners seemed to appreciate it.
“Victoire, how good to see you!” Renarde stopped and gracefully leaping off the rock the moment she saw her superior. “I would be delighted if you would watch my next performance!”
“I would rather see you dig,” Victoire replied curtly. Renarde had a gift for avoiding all physical tasks and chores.
“Ah, Victoire, such a lovely winter rose you make with your razor-sharp barbs.” Renarde dusted snow off her robe. “I will tell you that Lord Wepwawet himself asked me to sing for these poor fellows and ease their burden. Music energizes the soul and the body.”
“She can serenade us anytime!” a miner shouted, all of his comrades whistling at once.
“Thank you, thank you!” Renarde waved at them with her fan and a foxy grin which Victoire knew to be utterly insincere. “I love you all too!”
“And I’m sure their newfound productivity compensates for your inactivity?” Victoire asked sharply. “No one denies that your magical songs bolster our workers’ strength and morale, but you always use them as an excuse to skip your chores. Everyone should do their part.”
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“I don’t skip, I delegate,” Renarde protested. “My fans are all so happy to work in my place, and I don’t have the heart to refuse them!”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Victoire crossed her arms in annoyance. Something about that woman just rubbed her the wrong way. “Why are you even here, Renarde?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” The werefox giggled and hid her mouth behind her fan. “Would you believe me if I said I was on an archeological tour?”
Victoire frowned in confusion. “An archeological tour?”
“You’ve never wondered why your god—I mean, our god—asked Marcel and his fellows to dig so deep into the mountain? What do you think these people are unearthing?”
No, she hadn’t. Victoire figured that Lord Wepwawet was looking for ore veins to exploit, but Renarde’s smug smirk made her wonder.
“You've never asked,” Renarde guessed. She searched under her robes and brought out a tattered scroll hidden within. “Let me enlighten you then: this scroll, which I found in an ancient tomb and which Lord Wepwawet allowed me to translate, was written in a language unknown to us.”
“An ancient tomb?” The very concept took Victoire aback. “How ancient?”
“If I had to make a guess…” Renarde put the scroll back into her robes. “Older than recorded history.”
“That’s impossible,” Victoire argued. “Verglane was sparsely habited until the Glarmes discovered the Source a little over a century ago.”
“And yet it is said that Grand-Loup has been watching these lands since times immemorial.” Renarde played with her fan. “If you ask me, he buried something beneath this mountain long before any men or wereling settled it, and I’m dying to learn what!”
Victoire pondered the matter when Lord Wepwawet’s spiritual projection materialized to her side, startling the miners. “Ah, Victoire, there you are!” he said with a jovial tone. The god sounded like he was in an excellent mood today. “How’s the mining going?”
“Right on schedule, my lord,” Victoire immediately replied with a deep bow. She shouldn’t have let her curiosity waylay her. “As you can see, we’re near the depth you asked us to reach for.”
“My humble contribution certainly helped,” Renarde said obsequiously.
“Fantastic! Keep up the good work everyone!” Lord Wepwawet nodded to himself, but Victoire could tell he was only barely paying attention. Something else consumed his thoughts. “Anyway, Victoire, I need to have a talk with you one-on-one! I’ve got a very special mission for you, you’ll love it!”
“A special mission?” Renarde’s head perked up in impish curiosity. “Could I join it?”
“Maybe!” Lord Wepwawet snapped his fingers. “That’s the volunteering spirit I like to see!”
He’s in a really good mood today, Victoire thought. A pity she didn’t share it. “My lord, I must discuss a grave matter with you first.”
Lord Wepwawet stared at her in the eyes, his mood suddenly deflating. “You’re referring to this morning’s brawl, I presume?”
“And two others,” Victoire confirmed. The fact that the god knew about the incident and yet didn’t intervene bothered her. He can see what happens within our walls, but he can’t appear everywhere at once either… or chooses not to. “The werewolves in particular constantly challenge others for dominance. We should solve this issue before it spirals out of control.”
“True…” Lord Wepwawet considered the matter for a moment before agreeing to her request. “Follow me, Victoire. We’ll discuss it on our way up.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Victoire walked after her god’s projection as he led her to the path ascending up the cliffs. She could feel Renarde’s gaze trailing after them. She would bet half her belongings that she would try to finagle information about the god’s plans sooner or later.
“I thought I was quite clear about our hierarchy,” Lord Wepwawet said. “Commanders like you and Goreville answer directly to me, then come my Champions, then an assembly of officers and tribe heads, then everybody else. Sounds simple enough."
“It wasn’t.” The two of them eventually made their way to the eastern cliffside which faced the Boisblanc Forest. A seemingly endless sea of pines, spruces, birches, and wild grass stretched the horizon. “I fear other tensions among the settlers will only multiply. We’ll soon reach over three hundred people according to Mistouffe, and many of the tribes and wereling clans migrating to Narc weren’t always on good terms with each other before coming here. It’s only a matter of time before more incidents crop up.”
“Mmmm…” Lord Wepwawet crossed his arms and stared at the sun, his wolfish visage deep in thought. “Maybe I should set commandments like Moses…”
“Mooses?” Victoire raised an eyebrow. “The deer have commandments?”
“Uh, it’s, it’s complicated!” Lord Wepwawet replied as he straightened his posture. He once again tried to look more impressive, which only told Victoire that he wasn’t that confident in the first place. “I shall answer your prayer for help and put an end to these disputes among the faithful today.”
“We would all appreciate your guidance,” Victoire replied, though she had a gut feeling it wouldn’t turn out well.
“And I’ll provide!” Lord Wepwawet’s projection coughed and pointed a finger at the Boisblanc expanse. “Anyway, I want you to prepare an expedition east into this forest. You must claim a sacred site and build something there.”
A sacred site? Victoire couldn’t think of any place that would fit that description, but Boisblanc covered a lot of ground. “Build what, my lord?”
“My!” Lord Wepwawet laughed. “You’re going to build your god’s first altar!”
It was good to start a day with four points of mana, even if Wepwawet had to sacrifice one to keep One Pack to Bind Them All running and another to produce more food for his followers.
Wepwawet’s Mortal Management classes stressed the need to free worshipers from the burden of producing food and water they needed to function. Most mortals had to work all day simply to feed themselves, which prevented them from specializing in better-value jobs like smithing.
Nonetheless, Victoire was right. Wepwawet had been so busy with helping the village’s reconstruction and logistics to ensure its inhabitants would all have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies that he didn’t address social cohesion and governance issues. Interrogating the magmorian prisoners and figuring out what to do with them had taken most of his time too. Jasper had stubbornly refused to say anything about General Peridot’s forces so far, though he didn’t show the same loyalty for the sorceress who sent him at Narc.
A purple-haired witch didn’t ring any bell, but her ability to teleport worried Wepwawet. That ability was usually reserved for powerful mages or the result of a Miracle; and titans shouldn’t be able to use the latter outside of a proper Incursion challenge, where they challenged a world’s gods and Champions.
Either the titans managed to recruit some high-ranked Champions of their own before the gods even reached Elphion, or something trickier was afoot. Wepwawet needed to find a way to contact the Nexus as soon as possible.
Hence the expedition project.
If I can seize another altar, my godmind will shine brighter from the mana excess, Wepwawet thought. It will make me more noticeable to other deities, including Miss Athena. The titans’ agents already know my location, so I don’t have much to lose.
The plan would let him reestablish contact with the rest of his classmates and the Nexus at best, and let him complete a quest at worst. Wepwawet had thus spent the better part of the week examining the mana leyline on which his mountain stood and trying to identify a similar locus nearby.
And he had finally located one!
That discovery had put Wepwawet in an excellent mood. The mana locus wasn’t that far away from Narc, and all he had to do was to send a Commander to claim the spot. He was only a few miles away from contacting Miss Athena!
Preparing the expedition would take time, especially since Wepwawet’s Influence didn’t extend beyond his Idol’s range. This would prevent him from assisting his Champions with most of his Miracles, not to mention leaving Narc with fewer defenders.
I should be able to afford to send a small recon force soon, Wepwawet figured as he turned his attention to Narc. The village’s repair and growth advanced at a quick pace. So quick, in fact, that he wasn’t too surprised when a new System notification showed up in front of him.
Quest: A Town of Plenty, completed! You’ve earned the Skill: Masterworker Rank 3 Revelation Miracle!
Skill: Masterworker
Rank 3 Revelation
Teaches a Champion the Masterworker Passive Perk: Increase the maximum item quality that a Champion can craft by one step (maximum A).
Oh, what an incredible option! He would have to assign that perk to Alpine and Lourson as soon as he could spend the appropriate mana!
New Quest: A Town of Prospects
Transform Narc into a town capable of supporting over a thousand inhabitants.
Reward: Revelation Miracle.
Well, that one might arrive quickly with their current immigration rate. He definitely should provide laws for his people before the population increased any further, but which ones?
Wepwawet didn’t intervene too much in the recent disputes because he wasn’t sure what to say himself. He didn’t need to start from scratch back during his Egypt internship, and his classes warned him that unclear godly tenets would drive his worshipers to purges or infighting. Miss Athena warned him that wars had started over one misinterpreted word.
And if he misspoke and then had to clarify things, then he would look like an indecisive fool in front of his flock!
Should I tell them that they shouldn’t discriminate between their fellow worshipers? But then that would imply I’m okay with oppressing non-believers, which never ends well. The more Wepwawet considered what to say, the more nervous and unsure he grew. What if I tell them to love their neighbors and they start an orgy? That happened to Brother Anubis when he had to raise his own civilization, so I can’t exclude that risk! And if I say they’re all equal in rights and duties, then they’ll question my Champions’ authority!
This decision tree had too many branches!
Calm down, Wepwawet, you don’t have to tell them everything right away. You just have to focus on governance and social cohesion now. Wepwawet briefly meditated to anchor himself, then steeled his mind. If Yahweh could fit everything onto two tablets, then you can do it too!
His mind made up, Wepwawet manifested his face on the clouds above the village and spoke with a voice louder than thunder. “People of Narc and Verglane, heed my words! Your god has an announcement to make!”
Hundreds of eyes suddenly turned to the heavens, suddenly filling Wepwawet with overbearing tension. Too late to turn back.
“Although I come to you bearing the face of a wolf, I see all of Verglane’s people as my pack, equal in rights and duties!” Wepwawet declared. “Their race and origins do not matter to me, only their faith, character, and merit! I will always honor a brave wererabbit over a craven werewolf, or the hardworking over the lazy!”
“What, really?” He could already hear the voices of his worshipers rising in surprise, disbelief, or joy. “Wait, so even werepenguins have rights?” “Should serve those werewolves bullies just right!”
“I will welcome all those willing to follow my law to my flock and treat them fairly, regardless of where they come from!” Wepwawet said before laying the seeds of future policies. “Even a magmorian will be welcomed into my pack and enjoy my protection should he change his way and obey Verglane’s laws! Anyone can join our community, so long as their faith is genuine!”
He could already tell that one would be controversial enough, but it was a required step towards achieving peace with Lavaland in the long run; if such a thing was even possible.
“Obey the hierarchy I gave you, but treat each other with respect and help your fellow believer,” Wepwawet finished. “You are all one pack, one flock! Do not fight or wage war on one another, and settle your differences with reason or your superior’s guidance! Only together will we be prosperous!”
There, that should be clear enough. Straight and to the point.
No way his worshipers would start trouble over such simple rules, right?
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