Chapter 822 – Sacrament with a Sword, Gospel with Gunpowder

We share Arda with walking relics of the past. And before any historian will slobber over that notion, and think that those relics are suddenly great sources of information or history, I care not. Frankly, it is an argument I will not even entertain because it is worthless. The priority of some old texts and forgotten facts is not worth the damage that these walking relics put us through.

We talk of a God of Pride that incarnated when pride was found in being a conqueror on a chariot, we talk of Peace when war was ever-present. We have a Goddess of Magic that incarnated when the world had enough of magic and wanted to be rid of it entirely. We have a Divine of Sorcery that exhibits cruelty enough to curdle your blood, and then we are supposed to somehow look up and say that her opinion is valid?!

No, I refuse to accept it. I will not talk of a Goddess of Hatred that comes from a time when Hatred of Monsters was a method of survival, and I will not respect a Goddess of Love that existed because we needed the longhouse and paranoia to survive an ancient crisis. Even the Goddess of Light, as she exists now, is a relic when people were not searching in themselves for how to advance in life but looking for yet another power to believe in. A Goddess of Order that was made entirely to prevent a ruinous civil war. And we ask why Maisara is blunt and brutal? What exactly was she made for in the first place?

It is not that I think they should be killed, or put down, but Arascus, as he leads his nation, has a track record of eternal failure. Uru-Silim, which he led with Fortia, collapsed into chaos. The Age of Heroes was broken not by the death of Paramethus but by the fact that the power the Gods of Pride and of Spirit were handing out had no filter. The Reconstruction Authority was disbanded and he played his own role in its disbanding. The Great War, which he led, he lost.

These relics are not fit to lead, because they do not keep up with the times. They are incompatible with Arda in the modern day in fashions moral, spiritual and philosophical. They are barbarians, and they are against everything that we stand for upon Arda. If times were so much better back then, why do we not return to them? Why not give up modern plumbing? Or instant communication? Or vehicles? Or electricity? Why not give up organised agriculture and return to hunter gathering? Or maybe medicine should pay the toll?

No. Arda advances as a whole. Technologically. Materially. Spiritually. Morally. Mentally. And in every fashion, we leave and forget what is in the past. And yet, these creatures think they can pull us back to the brutal times of tribal raiding.

- Excerpt from “The Divinity Problem”, written by Goddess Anarchia, of Anarchy (dead).

Helenna tipped and tapped her fingers into her phone as she walked and replied to yet another email. The height of Divines had always been somewhat of an issue. In Helenna’s case, it had always somewhat annoyed her. There was no playing at fantasies when you were half-again the size of the next tallest man in the room. And when finding somewhat that only reached up to your belt was merely an uncommon occurrence, and not a mythical once in a century event.

But now, as she stood amongst a row of Imperial reserve garrison from the city of Hallin and typed away into her phone, she counted it as a blessing. There was no need to even hide what she was typing, no one at ground level would be able to get the correct angle to even think about reading what she was typing: Saksma, I am in Hallin, your people have failed to get the crowds under control.

Saksma was replying immediately, she was somewhere in the city. The IBI would know for sure, but it wasn’t important enough information for Helenna to waste her time getting it: Helenna, please. Give me one more hour then. Please. Helenna looked up from her phone and at the crowd of garrison soldiers around her. Kassandora had made the rule, but a local garrison was to be split fifty-fifty with those from here and those from away. Now, Helenna saw the logic. The locals were all still at base, internal policing was done by those not from Hallin. Another message: Helenna, I will calm them down.

Helenna gave one more reply: It is no longer about just Hallin. This behaviour will not spread to the rest of the Empire. I am moving out with the troops right now, you have until we get there. Helenna put her phone away, ignoring the sudden flurry of rumbling it did. Saksma would be panicking now. Helenna gave it no mind, the Goddess of Doschia had wanted to rule her nation, she now got to see that rulership was not all just victories and parades.

Helenna moved down the sidewalk, passing the garrison of two hundred men in their grey coats and caps. Each one held a rifle at his chest, each one stared ahead with a thousand-yard stare. No speeches had been given, no victory chants would be shouted. They were going to organise a silent procession through the city. And Hallin would weep, or Hallin would cheer, and Helenna would get the refineries back online. Because frankly, a few hundred people should not hold the survival of Arda hostage.

The Goddess of Love smiled to herself. And if a few hundred souls wanted to hold the world hostage, then they should have formed a better plan than just raising banners at a refinery. Where were their guns? Their tanks? Their own Divines? Their own power? It was much as Kassandora had once said. If an idea failed to protect its own, then it was a failure of the idea in the first place.

The phone kept on pinging and rumbling as Helenna marched through the streets of Hallin with two hundred soldiers behind her in a silent procession. That was the sound villages always made in the past when all eyes in the longhouse settled upon a target they had worked out to be a monster. Words of passion weren’t said, nor any curses or swears to cast upon the outsider. It was just silence. And then the shifting of men and the drawing of swords or clubs. Helenna didn’t know why people ascribed song and cheer to Love, in her mind, it was silent.

The feeling of being about to do something irredeemable to save those who you cared about. Not the Love that cried and screamed and pled for saving, but the Love that cast your immortal soul down into the darkest abyss because you were certain it would return. And in that lovely silence, Helenna marched past tall homes, and factories, and cars parked on the sides of the streets. People watched from their windows, shopkeepers from behind their tills, pedestrians peeled away, or froze and said nothing. And everyone knew what was going to happen.

There was a counter protest at the protest. A mob targeting a mob, behind the latter stood the gates of Hallin Stahlwerkh. The refinery that should have been pumping black smoke into the clear blue sky was silent. Four hours it had wasted, and that was four hours too many. Its steel scaffolds bridged from various massive buildings, and curled around the massive towers. Already, trains were backed up and waiting to unload their cargo. Helenna stared at the thin blue line separating the two crowds.

If she ruled this land, this problem would have not occurred in the first place. Patriotic hooligans were not a failure of the state, they were a feature and another weapon in the arsenal. The height came in once again. The crowd naturally parted before her, the humans sensing the presence of something that large even if she was walking from behind them. Both crowds fell silent when a Divine entered the scene, Saksma should be here giving a speech and not trying to negotiate. But her issue was simple, she simply did not believe in her own authority.

Helenna felt thousands of silent eyes on her as the crowd of counter protestors parted for her garrison. They cheered and began to sing an anthem of saving our precious Arda. Helenna said nothing, neither did the soldiers. Saksma was there, talking to one of the protestors that were barring the gates of the refinery. The Goddess of Love’s eyes passed over their signs; it was the usual stuff that she expected. Talk of authority and freedom and the like.

If they wanted to find their freedom in death, then Helenna would assist it. She raised her hand and the troops spread out, forming ranks and firing positions. The only issue was Saksma herself, they would not fire at an Imperial Goddess. Arascus would be needed to solve that issue and Helenna was not fond of calling Arascus for such trite bullshit. She had only just pulled the God of Pride out of his moping, she doubted the ending of a protest would send him to it once again, but it was better not to take chances at this moment.

The police broke their lines as the counter protest naturally backed away. Everyone usually did when a Divine entered the scene, ever more so when that Divine had a small army backing her. Helenna raised her hand, an indication to ready and hold fire. The moment she dropped it, this issue would be resolved. “Saksma!” Helenna called out. “It’s over. I’ve come to end this charade.”

Imperial Goddess, through and through. Helenna stared at the crowd ahead of her. Imperial Goddess, through and through. The not-so-local local garrison filtered through the crowd of counter protestors and made a line. Imperial Goddess, through and through. Imperial Goddess… Helenna stared at the mob ahead of her. What was she even trying to mope about? “Disassemble from here.” Helenna called out. “Or be made to disassemble.”

She was an ancient Divine, and these were ancient rules. Everyone knew of the purges in the past, everyone knew of the assassinations and the various methods of execution. The burned villages and the paranoia that went on. And Helenna herself had not even been complicit, she had been a direct instigator. How did humanity survive the monsters? How did she protect the scraps of mankind after the Age of Gaia from this every present threat? “Goddess!” The police captain had found his way to her. “We are ready to issue a mass arrest.”

Helenna turned to the man and cracked her a smile. Her hair changed to the golden shade of victory. So this was how little Saksma was playing the game. Not through actually trying to stop the protest, but through trying to mediate. Of Love turned to the Divine of Doschia, who was approaching from her negotiation with the leader of the protest. She wore the Imperial Black, that at least was good. The long blonde hair was a cape that hung down her back. And she tried to seize the initiative. “They are complaining about the working hours and-“

Helenna cut her off. “I did not come here to negotiate Saksma. Understand that.” Of Love said dryly. “Are the police armed with rubber or lead?” Saksma went pale at the directness of the question. Helenna did not really care. She was not going to watch a world that she had lived on for a thousand years be destroyed because six months of effort could not be mustered.

The police captain was the one to reply. “Rubber, Goddess.”

Helenna heard the answer, and Helenna knew that Saksma heard the answer. “Rubber or lead, the choice is yours, the protest ends now.”

“They’re students!” Saksma cried out and Helenna raised an eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to make things any better for them? So they’re not even the people that work the refinery?” Helenna said.

“Bu…” Saksma trailed. “Please, I’m sure we can negotiate with them.”

“The gun is the greatest negotiator.” Helenna replied dryly. “Step aside Saksma, or end it yourself, but between the two of us, you will not defeat me in single combat. I can and will put you face down in the pavement right here, and then grab your hair and make you watch.”

“Please…” Saksma said. “You’re the Goddess of Love, please Helenna, understand.”

“I understand because I am the Goddess of Love.” Helenna said. “Because I am the Goddess for mothers who slip poison into their husband’s drink to save their children. The Goddess for soldiers who stand besides brothers by blood spilled and not by waters of the womb. The Goddess who brings peace to men who will lock homes and burn everyone inside to make sure they cannot ever again commit their crimes. That is the commitment I admire, and that is the commitment I have to this world.”

“Helenna…” Saksma said weakly.

“These are your people Saksma.” Helenna said. “You should be glad it is me here, because I know what love is like, and there are not many Divines who would give you one last chance to save them.” Of Love’s hair changed to bright red, she could not believe she was giving Saksma such pristine treatment. Frankly, the Goddess of Doschia should be weeping on her knees right now that Helenna was even giving her the time of day. “But know that one way or another, that refinery will be working again before this hour is complete.” Saksma took a deep breath.

“Can I not talk to them?”

“I make examples of people.” Helenna said. Just like when a king was found hanging from his balcony, or when a queen collapsed in the middle of a dinner. Examples were important. “What do you wish me to do? Pray so that they parley with us?” Helenna raised her voice. “No Saksma, I am Divine! I did not come here to pray! In the past, I brought sacrament with a sword! Now I preach gospel with gunpowder!” She raised her arms. “Ready your own police, and bring order to this place, or I will.” Saksma opened her mouth, inhaled and found no argument in her.

The Goddess of Doschia turned, raised her hand and signalled to the police. A simple hand wave. The boys in blue were left off the leash.