There is another thing I would like to mention when it comes to our so-called ‘allies’ from the other worlds. When Allasaria first stepped foot on their lands, we did not really have any expectation. We had anticipated confusion at beings suddenly traversing from Arda to them. We had anticipated rage and a battle for survival, of which Leona assured us would never happen. We had anticipated being cast out or laughed out at asking their blood to be spilled on our world in our war. I think we all even quietly anticipated them to call us friends and that of course they would help out. That is when I realised Leona was not infallible, for she predicted that was what they would do.
Instead, I think everyone received the same unanticipated confusion upon meeting them. They knew of Arda, of course they did. Our worlds have indeed known of each other. They had a rather predictable apathy about the what I suppose will be called the Great War. Although it was not many, several of their scholars and learned elites even knew of Arascus and Allasaria and of myself. And yet when they learned what the Great War was being fought over, when they discovered that Arascus was trying to unite Arda, all of them reacted in the exact same fashion. It was baffling in its universality: Fear.
The question has to be posed, does it not? I mean, everyone in the Pantheon has thought it and some have even tried to answer it. At this stage, unless some miracle happens, I doubt we will ever know.
Why?
- Excerpt from “Documenting the Great War”, written by Goddess Fortia in the final decade and the years immediately after the conflict.
Etala returned to her room in Anver’s town hall. This was own sacred little space. Her tiny little retreat from the world at large. Some Divines had great temples, Etala knew that was rather common amongst the Epan deities, even amongst their national Divines. Apparently there were even minor inventions that demanded castles and palaces to prove their own Divinity. Etala needed none of that. She had her little room.
The ceiling was high enough, it could be higher. She could not stretch her arms above her head but she could stand straight. If she got on her toes, she would brush up against and swing the lamp in the middle of the room. There was a huge desk, it was not of any grand wood nor lined with precious metals. It was just a desk, painted in a dark brown colour. There was a wardrobe, its colour matched the desk. There was a mirror in which Etala saw herself and sighed. She finally undid her ponytail and gave her hair a shake. And there was a bed, the frame in the same dark-brown as the desk and wardrobe but the sheets were a fairly unassuming dark blue. The walls were in cream wallpaper. The latest book Etala had taken a pleasure to was resting on the bedside table, again dark-brown to match the colour scheme. The window had its blind closed because Etala didn’t want any peeping toms looking in on her.
And that was that. Simple. Unassuming. Cozy. Precious. Silent. Some Divines demanded adoration in order to be at rest. Etala demanded a break from it and she found it here. The Goddess of Democracy collapsed onto her bed with a sigh and immediately felt dirty. She got back right up and spun in front of the mirror. Her clothes weren’t dirty but she had just spent almost eight hours with Kavaa. And in a hospital at that. Divines could not fall ill of course but there was a principal of cleanliness that people should stick to, for no reason other than to stick to the cleanliness itself.
Etala collapsed into her seat and kicked her black boots off. She wiggled her tones, she undid the top buttons of her white shirt and took off the suit. And now that she was sat down, she did not want to get back up. Not even to get a drink, not even to fetch her book. Etala simply sat and thought and stared at the blank wall and the table. Before all this had happened, she had recently taken to drawing. Now, with the entire eastern seaboard of her nation being wiped away, she could not find it in her heart to actually draw. It was not a case of lack of skill, it was rather just a lack of motivation.
How could anyone do anything when something like that had happened? Etala looked to the window and realised the grey blinds were rolled down. She didn’t have the energy to pull them back up. So Etala sat there. Should she shower? She knew she should but the shower could wait. For now, she had done the work that the UNN needed her to do. Not the UNN’s government or anyone within it but the consciousness of her nation itself. Her people had to be healed. The Goddess of Health could heal them. So Kavaa had been brought in.
What a Goddess.
What an absolute Goddess.
There was no other way to describe the woman that Etala had just met. That was it. Kavaa just a Goddess. Her character was despicable, she was rude, she was strong-willed, she had her problems. Etala could honestly never see herself working with the woman but then… But then she could? Kavaa should of course never be placed in an administration or a place where she had to deal with people, but what did that matter? There were none who healed like Kavaa and as rude as the Goddess was, Etala still suspected that Kavaa must be receiving some inkling of pleasure or satisfaction from her work. Who wouldn’t after all? Etala had seen people break down in joyful tears after receiving Kavaa’s healing, Etala wished she could inspire that level of adoration.
But that was that and this was this. Kavaa had been left to tend to her Clerics and establish the Holy Order in the UNN which would heal the sick and… Etala slid back in her huge chair and thought of what to do after that. It was a sign of stupid immaturity that she was not worried. She knew it was. She should be worried. There were simply too many factors to consider. Would Kochinski still be president? He could not run again because this was his final term. Who would be the next candidate? Who would the public of the UNN choose at the end of the day? Etala had made it one of her core values to not intervene in the national elections. She would disappear from the scene and not say anything. She made an effort not even be aware of the candidate’s names before they won. Divines simply had too much of a sway in the human psyche to be allowed to intervene. When they did… Well, everyone knew that every nation, every city, every town and every village was built upon a foundation of bodies.
But that was for later. For now, Etala knew she had to rest. Etala stared at the stack of papers in the corner of her desk next to a cup with a pretty doodle of a lion. Should she draw? She supposed it was good for her. She supposed she couldn’t be bothered to. She supposed that time got them all. She had read somewhere that Divines grew dull as they aged. Was it Fortia or was it Maisara? One of them two, although Etala had never taken too fondly to the Epan Deities. Their hierarchical societies were simply antithetical to the principals of the UNN and that was that. She hoped Kavaa had not rubbed off on her. That was a downright terrifying thought. The woman was an absolute Goddess, but it was the sort of Goddess that was better left to be stared at in awe.
Etala did not know how long she sat there and thought about Kavaa. It was difficult to expel the Goddess of Health from her mind. It wasn’t obsession or fancy or anything like it… Etala had just honesty never seen a Divine so brazen. The woman had taken everything a Divine was meant to be and thrown it away. Thrown it upside. She toppled the table. In fact, there was not even a table with Kavaa about for her to topple.
What a Goddess.
A knock on her door disturbed Etala’s ruminations. “Who is it?” Etala shouted. She immediately started to button up her shirt although the shoes could stay off.
“It’s Ciria.” Ciria replied from the outside. “I’m alone, can I come in?”
“Come in.” Etala said, she was done with the top button just as the Goddess of Civilization stepped in and closed the door behind her. She wore a white dress outlined in the UNN’s blue, with eyes of bright gold and hair of brighter gold and skin shining almost like gold. “Welcome.” Etala spun on her seat and extended her arm to the bed. “You can sit on the bed, sorry, I don’t usually take guests.”
“Thank you.” Ciria said as she walked over and sat on the bed. “I wanted to talk.”
“To me?” Etala asked. Wasn’t the woman married? Maybe it was just with issues about… What was Etala even thinking about. It was obvious what about. “You mean about Kavaa?”
Ciria nodded in reply. “I wanted to know what you make of her.”
Etala sighed and slid further down her seat. “I honestly don’t know.”
Ciria raised an eyebrow. “Is she that mysterious?”
“She’s an open book.” Etala said. “And she’s the most miserable woman I’ve ever encountered.” That was true, but it didn’t paint the whole picture of the situation. “But she’s incredible. Did you see her heal people?”
“It was on the news already.” Ciria confirmed. “A lady was crying because Kavaa healed her son’s allergy and he ate nuts he should have been allergic to on TV.”
“I was there.” Etala said in awe. “And she didn’t even put effort into it. It was just like this.” Etala mimicked gently touching with her hand for just a moment before pulling it away. “Honestly just incredible.”
“Uh-huh.” Ciria said. “And yet she’s miserable?”
“I’ve never met a person more miserable than her and I don’t even know why she is so sad. Her explanations I actually can’t understand, maybe I’m just deaf but I don’t think I am.” Etala said and Ciria shook her head.
“She explained herself to you?” Ciria asked and Etala realised she an issue here. Wasn’t Ciria herself a Divine from Epa? Had she never interacted with the White Pantheon? Although things were different then too. There had been no Arascus, Arika had not been cracked, the Jungle was still devouring that continent.
“Well yes and no.” Etala said. “I don’t, I can’t fathom what she’s like but she’s what? Ten times older than I am? I think life starts to lose its lustre after a while.” That was a non-committal, cowardly response. Etala knew it was. Etala did not particularly care. It was easy to judge Kavaa with how rude she was but the woman had been right about certain things. About being a grander Goddess for one. Etala did not she had ever spoken to anyone in the way Kavaa had spoken to her. That was nothing to admire of course, but after being mocked so viciously a question had appeared in Etala’s mind. Did she not because she did not want to, or because she could not?
“Now you’re starting to sound like them.” Ciria scoffed and Etala narrowed her eyes at the Goddess of Civilization.
“Like who?” Etala asked, although she suspected she already knew who Ciria was going to compare her to.
“Like Arascus and the rest of his lot.” Ciria said.
What exactly could be made of that. Everyone knew Ciria’s opinion on Arascus. Everyone knew that the woman utterly hated that lot of Divines. It was obviously an insult. And it was an insult that Etala did not especially care about. “They are doing what we asked them to do.”
“And without a price.” Ciria stood up and raised a finger. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
And Etala did not know if she was being stupid or rash or if this was actually intelligent and daring and brave. Arresting the pair of Clerics, forcing a dialogue, having Kavaa be called over here. Talking to Arascus. Talking to Kavaa. What they said was one thing, Kavaa especially, how they acted was another. Etala was the Goddess of Democracy and one thing that Democracy had taught her was compromise. Dealing with Kavaa’s utter and total corrosive depression? Well, that was such a small compromise when put up against the saving of lives that it was almost no compromise at all.
And even though Kavaa had boasted it was effortless and that she could do ten thousand, she still did three hundred and eighty-one. The UNN yesterday was a nation floundering about and thinking about how to rebuild its entire healthcare system so as not to declare bankruptcy, the UNN of today was a nation with three hundred and eighty-one men who could heal faster, more permanently and more wholly than an entire hospital could. It was not one Cleric. It was three hundred and eighty-one of them. Kavaa could be as rude as she wanted. She could pretend there had been a day when she turned a million men into Clerics. That did not change the fact of what she did today. And if she had some ridiculous standard, then the standard was not so ridiculous as to be near-impossible.
“I see your point.” Etala said. “I see your point perfectly and I’m worried too but we are up three hundred and eighty-one Clerics.”
“I see that as three hundred and eighty-one saboteurs.” Ciria said.
“I don’t even disagree.” Etala said. She almost did, but she did not want to start an argument here. “But how many lives will be saved.”
And Ciria sighed deeply as she looked down at the black boots that popped out of the hem of her dress. “I know. I know Etala and that’s the worst part because I can’t stand the fact we have an Imperial Goddess here and yet I can’t argue against her because she’ll end up saving millions.”
“I know.” Etala knew the feeling exactly. She felt as if she had dragged a wolf into her house to kill the rabid dog in the kitchen.
“I’m going to visit her.” Ciria said. “I just wanted to see what you had to say about her.” Ciria’s hands landed on her hips and she raised an aggressive eyebrow. Etala had met Ciria long before… Well, she met Ciria during the Age of Pantheon Peace, that was the best to describe it. That Ciria was a completely different Ciria to the Ciria now.
And Etala saw the problem immediately. “Don’t chase her out.”
“I won’t.” Ciria said. “I won’t, I promise I won’t, but…”
“But?”
“I know you Etala, and I know you’re nice, but I can’t promise to be nice.” Ciria said.
Etala wished she knew how to stop the woman. There was nothing to gain. Ciria had been for sending the Imperial fleets that were assisting with the cleanup of the eastern seaboard home. She was utterly and wholly against any sort of cooperation with the Empire. And yet Democracy was built upon compromise. “I’m not allowing you to send her home, it will be far worse for all of us now if we do.” Etala quickly said.
“I’m just going to talk to her.”
Etala sighed and swung her hand without moving her arm to the door. “Have at it then.” She knew she shouldn’t, she knew that nothing good would come of Ciria meeting Kavaa. She knew she should stop Ciria. She just couldn’t do it.
Democracy was built on compromise after all.