Goreville knew he should rejoice over it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of having been used when approaching Roynimalia’s great temple. Constructed from huge blocks of granite atop the city’s knoll, its shape reminded him of a massive warhammer ready to strike. The place’s aesthetics didn’t quite fit his god, but he could taste the mana flowing from there.
Goreville arrived to find a large delegation waiting for him. Representatives from Roynimalia’s council—including Rapoleon, Rickart, and Sagesse—were present alongside Viviane. Their group stood a good distance away from Renarde and her own guest: a giantess with ivory skin, bright blonde hair akin to silver in color, eyes paler than ice, and armed to the teeth.
Goreville had never seen a giant before, though he had heard the tales. He would have lied if he said he didn’t feel intimidated in that one’s presence. She was about eighteen feet tall, with Goreville barely reaching above her knees, and carried a sword and shield taller than most houses. She reminded him a little of Victoire, yet where his superior carried herself with a certain grace—favoring speed and mobility over raw strength—the giantess was a figure of pure, unbridled might. Her legs and arms’ muscles bustled with naked strength.
She could fell a tower in a single blow, Goreville thought. If this is how giant women look, I dare not imagine the males…
Goreville considered that a good thing. Having such powerful allies on their side would surely please his god.
“Goreville, there you are!” Renarde enthusiastically waved her fan at him and then at her guest. “Let me introduce you to Paymaster Cynisca of the proud Winter Chariot sellsword company!”
“Paymaster?” Goreville squinted in surprise. “You’re not the leader?”
“Boss Jarlack and the bulk of our forces are busy elsewhere, so my warband is looking for side gigs,” the giantess replied with a scoff. Her thunderous voice had a sharp edge to it, like an icicle. “Where’s the gold I was promised? I was told you furballs had a job for us.”
“I will call our lord soon, and you may negotiate the terms of your service with him directly,” Goreville replied. He hoped Renarde hadn’t promised too much. “How many soldiers do you have at your disposal, Lady Cynisca?”
“I’ve got twenty under my command, including the winter worgs that drag our war chariots,” Cynisca smirked upon seeing Goreville’s dejected expression. “Don’t worry, wolf. One of ours is worth a hundred of yours.”
“Is that a challenge?” Goreville’s blood coursed with pride and his hand reached for his sword’s pommel. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Are you really rabid enough to challenge me?” Cynisca grinned ear to ear. Goreville could tell she relished the thought of a battle as much as he did. “I like your spirit, furball. We’ll do good business, you and I.”
This one only respects strength and money. Goreville could live with that. He knew how to work with her kind, which mostly involved never showing weakness and standing one’s ground. I like her already.
He was very much in the minority, however. Most of the Roynimalia council gave her a wide berth, which only worsened Goreville’s opinion of them. These people’s spines were like bronze; they would bend rather than break. Nonetheless, Goreville kept those thoughts to himself.
“Thank you for stepping aside,” Goreville thanked the andvar councilor. Lord Wepwawet’s spirit wolf had written down Goreville’s instructions in the snow, ordering him to treat the andvari’s church with the same respect he would show to his own followers and to arrange a ‘special weapon delivery’ in partnership with them. “I’m told your god and mine have reached an agreement?”
“Lady Axomamma recognizes Lord Wepwawet’s sovereignty over Verglane so long as we were allowed to practice our faith in peace, and in return your people will be allowed to adore your own god within Stalheim’s borders.”
“Fine by us,” Goreville replied. If anything, he was quite relieved not all gods opposed each other. They would have enough trouble fending off the magmorians, so no need to open another front on religious grounds.
Moreover, he could see his god’s genius master plan at work; by having the andvari practice their own outdated religion next to Lord Wepwawet’s firm yet tolerant cult, they would inevitably recognize the latter’s superior virtues and peacefully convert on their own.
After all, why else would Lord Wepwawet allow a foreign cult to operate within his borders if he felt in any way threatened by it? His tolerance was a show of strength, not weakness.
Truly, Lord Wepwawet’s brilliant planning knew no limits!
“I’ve also been asked to arrange an exchange of gifts,” Goreville said. Lord Wepwawet himself had given him this mission through a noble spirit-wolf, and he would not fail it. I will see that ours outshine yours in every way that counts.
“Indeed.” The counselor cleared his throat, his spine stiffening. “Lady Axomamma ordered us to deliver to you six of our best golems in return for their weight in food supplies.”
Goreville had no idea what ‘golems’ were, but half the people present gasped in surprise in response.
“Golems?” Sagesse repeated, her voice shaken with disbelief. “You will give us golems?”
“Is that unusual?” Goreville asked. Their reaction aroused his curiosity.
“Golems are powerful automated siege engines,” Renarde explained, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Only the andvari know how to build them.”
“We megalorians know how to break them though,” Cynisca quipped.
“We usually don’t sell golems to outsiders,” the andvar councilman replied. “Lady Axomamma must hold your lord in high esteem to consent to such an exchange. Unfortunately, it will take at least two weeks for us to complete the delivery.”
Goreville quickly calculated the time in his head. They should receive the weapons right before Peridot’s ultimatum expires, which was quite the fortuitous timing. He hoped these automated siege engines lived up to their reputation; they would need them to break through Citadel Sapphire’s walls.
Still, these cunning dwarves are trying to outshine us in the eyes of the non-believers! Goreville thought, hiding his unease behind a mask of caution. I’ll have to offer a banquet of the senses as our gift; something whose splendor will overshadow these golems!
“Very well,” Goreville said. “I thank you and your goddess for your generosity and will deliver our own mighty gift in due time.”
He wouldn’t allow their generosity to shame his homeland!
“Are we ready to proceed then?” Rickart asked.
“I should only have to touch this place to summon Lord Wepwawet,” Goreville replied before turning to Rapoleon. “You’ve won, wererat. Your plot succeeded.”
Rapoleon feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“A strange thought has occurred to me lately,” Goreville said. “I’ve heard that the wererat clan controls most of the underground tunnels linking Roynimalia to important andvari trade centers, on which you exact a heavy toll.”
“Our tolls are more than fair,” Rapoleon replied, his lips curving into a smirk. He knew exactly what Goreville was talking about. “Tunnels take a lot of effort to maintain. It’s a tough job no one else is willing to do.”
“Hence I realized that your people would be in quite the difficult situation should the andvari suddenly, I don’t know…” Goreville squinted at the wererat leader. “Teleport from their city to Roynimalia while skipping all the previous trade routes.”
“I knew it!” Sagesse complained. “Your promise of assisting us against the magmorians was all a ploy to maintain your people’s trade monopoly, wasn’t it?”
“You do what you must for your people, wereowl, and so do I,” Rapoleon replied while shrugging his shoulders. “I’m as good as my word though. If your god is indeed real, I’ll lend you my aid.”
Who was Goreville to deny him? The werewolf took a few steps forward towards the mana fountain suffusing the temple and then touched the walls. The entire knoll immediately began to tremble beneath their feet, startling the non-Champions among them. A surge of magical power coursed through the entire city and shook it to its foundations.
The temple transformed in front of everyone’s eyes, its stones rearranging themselves. Watchtowers twisted into arms with crenellations for fingers and the walls rose into a torso of piled bricks. The face of Lord Wepwawet arose at the center, with shining windows serving as his eyes and reshaped stairs as his teeth.
The entire architecture of Roynimalia’s temple had changed from a horizontal structure, to a vertical monument to his god.
“Citizens of Roynimalia!” Lord Wepwawet’s voice thundered out of his Altar’s mouth like booming thunder. “Rejoice, for your god has come to aid and guide you!”
His power spread across the city and empowered Goreville with newfound strength. He grinned ear to ear upon seeing the shock and amazement spread across the Roynimalia council’s faces. While the likes of Rickart immediately bowed in genuine respect, his more cowardly comrades cravenly knelt upon realizing that they had been obstructing a genuine deity.
“Are you doubting now?” Goreville taunted Rapoleon.
Rapoleon assessed the situation for a few seconds before dropping a knee. “No,” he said, very calmly. “No, I’m not.”
Only Cynisca took the god’s appearance with surprising calmness and a whistle. “He’s waaay bigger than Boss Jarlack.”
“Trust me, darling,” Renarde said, her voice quieter all of a sudden. “You have seen nothing yet.”
Lord Wepwawet’s projection popped up next to the group. While nowhere near as immense as his temple Altar, the spirit remained taller than Cynisca.
“Goreville, you have done well in summoning me to our homeland’s beating heart!” Lord Wepwawet declared. “Roynimalia and its people shall now enjoy my blessing!”
“It is my pleasure to serve, Lord Grand-Loup,” Goreville replied with humility. He carefully watched the council’s reaction and then followed a course of action that Renarde suggested to him earlier. “Allow me to introduce you to Roynimalia’s faithful among their council: Lord Rickart Coeurdelion and General Rapoleon.”
“It is an honor to meet you in person, Lord Wepwawet,” the former said with utmost sincerity. “Viviane’s tales did not do you justice.”
“I am pleased to exceed your expectations!” the god replied. “You have a Champion’s heart, and I know we shall achieve great things together.”
“Ah, called it!” Viviane rejoiced. “I told you you had it in you, Ricky!”
“It would be an immense honor to serve the god of all werelings,” the werelion said. He seemed almost sheepish at the praise he received. “Allow me to lend you my axe.”
“You have knelt as a mortal, but now you shall rise as a Champion!” The window eyes of Lord Wepwawet’s Altar shone with a bright light that swirled around Rickart and marked him as one of the god’s chosen ones. “I extend you the same offer, Rapoleon.”
“Me?” Rapoleon squinted at the god with wary caution. Did he mistook this immense honor for a trap? “Why not recruit the giantess here instead? She’s ten times my size and strength!”
“Hey, don’t think you can buy my services with petty titles!” Cynisca protested. “I don’t care if you’re a god or not, I don’t come cheap!”
Goreville scoffed. “Are you a merchant or a warrior?”
“I’m a wife-to-be!” she replied proudly. “I’m trying to buy myself a very expensive husband, and my pick doesn’t come cheap!”
Goreville blinked in confusion, though Viviane reacted quicker. “Come again?”
“The megalorian wedding market is extremely tough and competitive,” Cynisca tried to explain, though Goreville still struggled to understand her situation. “Good wives and husbands cost their weight in gold nowadays, and the one I want to buy has a few nepobabies on his trail.”
Thankfully, Renarde was familiar with the subject. “Wedding contracts between megalorian usually involve one party purchasing the other for a set period of time.”
“Seriously?” Viviane asked. She looked almost outraged by the concept. “That’s absurd! You should marry for love!”
“Yes, exactly, that’s why I don’t work for titles,” Cynisca replied with a shrug. “Love doesn’t come cheap, especially if you add a perpetuity clause.”
“That…” Viviane shut her mouth and thought over it for a second. “That… I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
“Then don’t,” Lord Rickart suggested. “Some hills aren’t worth dying on.”
Lord Wepwawet, who had listened to the whole discussion without a word, began to mutter in the wind. “I’m starting to see why he wanted to trade civs…”
“What?” Cynisca asked.
“Nothing,” Lord Wepwawet said quickly before offering the giantess his mercy. “All my chosen Champions receive a salary and a good share of any collected plunder, alongside other gifts. I shall deliver the payment my emissary promised.”
“Glad we understand each other.” Cynisca nodded in agreement. “We can discuss the finer details with the rest of my company.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Very well,” Rapoleon said. He didn’t argue for gold like Cynisca, but Goreville saw the gleam of cunning ambition in his gaze all the same. Much like Wintresse, he knew which way the wind was blowing. “I shall join you.”
“Marvelous!” Lord Wepwawet replied before bathing the new recruits in his light.
All the other councilors were patently ignored. Goreville suppressed a scoff at the unease spreading on their faces and the sweat forming on their brows. Just as he expected.
Goreville was no expert diplomat, but he knew pack politics. When a new leader showed up, it always felt dangerous to be unworthy of his attention. Few proud souls could stand being ignored and the threat of being overshadowed.
Sensing an opportunity, Goreville pounced for the kill. “Lord Wepwawet, would you allow me to give Lord Rickart and our allies an overview of our defenses in Narc?”
“Of course,” Lord Wepwawet replied. “Viviane, do us the honors.”
“Sure!” Viviane kindly grabbed her blood brother’s paw and pressed it against the Altar’s wall. “You’ll see, it’s very surprising the first time!”
“What do you me–” Lord Rickart spoke up, only to vanish with his blood sister in a flash of light; much to the gasps and shock of the non-Champions among them.
“W-What happened?!” the weregoat council asked in utter disbelief. “Where did Lord Rickart go?!”
“To Narc, my dear representatives,” Renarde replied with a mirthful smile. “It is a power only available to the faithful. A gift of passageway that lets us safely walk from one end of Verglane to the next in an instant.”
The glint of greed and desperation in the councilors’ eyes was a sight to behold.
I knew it. These merchants only find their courage when their wallets dry up. Goreville snickered. Once these cowards realized how much money they could make from the teleportation network, they would start eating out of his god’s palm. They’ll fight over who sends the most troops to Narc, if it secures them access to long-distance trade.
His god would have his army.
Roynimalia gave Wepwawet quite the rush.
All the previous Altar sites started with only a handful of inhabitants in the area to witness his divine spirit, even if Narc grew far larger over the last weeks. By comparison, thousands upon thousands of people now watched in awe at his image; gasping, whispering, and believing. The rumors of a wolf-god protecting Verglane, so carefully spread by his missionaries and visitors, now appeared well and truly founded.
The surge of mana that followed put all others to shame and finally, finally let him fill his reserves. His vision briefly went white for a second as a surge of pleasure overwhelmed his divine spirit.
Oh yes… For a brief instant, Wepwawet felt like he had regained his full godly might. Oh yes, that’s the good stuff…
The rush, like all good things, didn’t last too long, but the notification that followed kept Wepwawet’s spirit high.
Quest: Magic Hoarder, completed! You’ve earned the What’s Yours is Mine Rank 6 Prophecy Miracle!
What’s Yours is Mine
Rank 6 Prophecy
When an Artifact is equipped to a target within your realm of Influence: you can select any number of Artifacts within your Influence and then a Champion within reach; all these Artifacts are then equipped to the target Champion.
Wepwawet reread the description a few times before confirming that it didn’t specify whether the Artifact had to be his own. This Miracle would let him nab another god’s divine weapons and tools, or reassign his own in a pinch.
Wepwawet rejoiced at the idea of adding another combat-focused Prophecy to his deck, but his enthusiasm deflated upon checking his other options. The only Miracles with copies in his arsenal were Smite, Boost Champion, Protect Champion, Raincloud, and Barricade Kit; all of which had immediate battle applications. He couldn’t afford discarding any of them when preparing to fight a titan infiltrator.
New Quest: Magic Collector
Replace your entire beginner’s deck with new Miracles.
Reward: Prophecy Miracle.
Well, the message was clear at least. The system expected him to replace his entire beginner’s deck.
Before moving on with the switch, Wepwawet quickly checked the number of potential champions in Roynimalia. Besides those he had already claimed, along with a handful having already sworn allegiance to Axomamma instead of him, and those he hoped to recruit quickly already had relatively high ranks.
What kind of strategy should he focus on? Wepwawet usually played subversive and strategy-focused Miracles at the Nexus; card combinations that focused on controlling the terrain, disrupting the enemy’s formation, and stacking indirect advantages which his Champions could then leverage to defeat stronger opponents. Relying on brute force, raw stat advantage, and numbers never fit his playstyle.
While his limited resources forced him to adapt, Wepwawet figured he should build his deck around a similar approach.
He analyzed his remaining Miracles and quickly identified the least useful one, Skill: Longstrider. His Champions had reached a state where slight gain in Agility couldn’t compete with their own native Perks or better options like Masterworker or Treasure Hunter. A plus two bonus was simply too low and too inflexible for him.
Moreover, Revelations had little use in direct, quick-paced battles. Miracles like Sacred Food, Sacred Animal, or Sacred Weapon could let him manifest resources in the middle of a battle if needed, while Longstrider would be a dead draw.
Do you want to discard Skill: Longstrider? You will not be able to recover it.
Wepwawet hesitated one last time, before consenting to the switch. At the very worst, he told himself, he could always trade it back with Ganesha upon reestablishing contact with him. His friend should still have a copy available.
Choice registered! Skill: Longstrider has been switched for What’s Yours is Mine.
I hope I won’t regret this choice, Wepwawet told himself. He knew he was bound to permanently lose some of his original Miracles as he replaced them with new ones, but being denied one option left a sore taste in his mouth. Resource management, Wepy. It’s all about resource management.
With this matter settled, Wepwawet focused back on his new recruits’ stats.
Two Commanders out of three, all with excellent stats and abilities. Rickart and Cynisca were direct combat types, while Rapoleon was more of a rogue and saboteur. He would find plenty of uses for those three.
“Lord Wepwawet!” he heard Victoire’s voice calling out to him from within his realm of Influence. “Lord Wepwawet, trouble on the horizon!”
Wepwawet focused his attention away from Roynimalia and focused on the source of the call, at the very edge of his territory in the north. His spirit settled on Victoire, who was sneakily observing the frozen city Promesse from a tall cliff.
Bugs were flying out of the central castle.
Giant flies the size of ponies emerged from the gates and windows by the dozens, each of them disgustingly stinking of rot and death. Wepwawet immediately recognized the aura surrounding them as similar to the one produced by his own spirit-wolves. The animals were the same kind of creatures, albeit belonging to a crueler god.
That… that wasn’t good at all.
A notification appeared in front of Wepwawet, cementing his concern.
Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, has challenged you to a Board & Conquest god battle! Challenger’s conditions:
Victory Condition: The enemy Promesse Altar is destroyed.
Losing Condition: Your Insupportable’s Marvelously Awesome Den Altar is destroyed.
Reward: Beelzebub's rarest, highest Rank card; new Promesse Altar.
Loss Penalty: Loss of the Insupportable’s Marvelously Awesome Den Altar; loss of your rarest, highest Rank card.
Do you accept these conditions?
The titan infiltrator had finally decided to make his move.
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