The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]

There is no such thing as a Counter-Divine. Man can will himself into existential hypocrisy but he does not survive in existential hypocrisy. The likes of Ciria, Halkus and Anarchia are not the harbingers of times post-Divine but the mites that swarm and devour metamorphic cocoonry. The splitting of theology and the natural philosophies of biology, chemistry and physics was a crucial step in Arda’s development, the only reason we are successful in the war against Tartarus right now is precisely because of the inventions, technology and discoveries that were made because of that great leap forwards in Arda’s development.

And the only reason that such vainglory which would tell mankind that they are able to abandon Pride, Love, Warfare & Peace, Order & Beasthood, Chaos itself, is because of that change. Yet what separates man from beast is the manifestations within his mind. We cannot reduce those that have conceptualized to nothing more than biological automata, which require only a turning of the levers of their needs to be satisfied. No, mankind was not satisfied with a land of untamed trees, nor with the avarice of the dream-stalkers, nor with Divinity itself already. And yet, here Divinity still is because there will always come a time when the only choice left is whether to pray.

For aeons, Divinity in all its brutality dragged humanity through crisis after crisis. The voracious woods of the Age of Gaia, the near-miss extinction at the hands of the mind-whisperers in the Age of Monsters, the violent warfare against the giants of Arda: dragons and titans and all manners of beasts that look upon us how we look upon ants. We broke the world, and then we rebuilt it, and then we almost broke the world again during the Great War. We dragged and dragged and dragged, until finally we dragged as far as we can.

Divinity has always been at the vanguard of power in this world. It has always been a mountain far too tall to scale. Individually, we are still that, most likely for forever. Yet Divinity has never been cohesive, and mankind always was. I have written about this extensively already for it is just as Kassandora has stated: a Divine is an island and a man is a drop, yet the ocean is nothing more than countless drops and oceans have been known to swallow islands.

In this Age of Industry, we come into it as organised as we are able. The Pantheon Decrees have been rendered obsolete. Not by the failure of the White Pantheon but because a Divine of Divinity will no longer be a mountain upon mountains, but it will be the lone peak on a field of hills. The Empire already has its lost patron-spirit somewhere out there anyway, so we shall play with the hands we are dealt, and not with the hands that we want.

The industrial age has rendered most of our powers obsolete, the next age will render our powers obsolete. This is a fact. Humanity kicked and screamed as Divinity dragged it into the future in the past, yet it was never about the fact of who was doing the dragging. The dragging was the goal itself.

Now, we drag Divinity into the industrial age.

- Internal memorandum written by God Arascus, of Pride, distributed throughout the upper caste of Imperial Divinity during the Counter-Divinity Debates.

Arascus descended down upon a field that now lay with a grass that pretended to be glittering, emerald daggers. Fortia watched him with a breath of relief. Ciria had been bad, then she had softened up, then the scale of the endless work had made her annoying again and this past month of a spring untouched by winter had been utter torture. “Fortia.” Arascus said. “Good to see you.”

“I have not forgiven you for making me a nanny.”

“I was busy.” Busy with new year’s celebrations, busy with drinking and touring, busy with all manner of activities that Fortia could only see on the fucking news. But no, of course Fer and Maisara had been having a blast of a time. Of Beasthood had taken Of Order mountain hiking in the Land of Gods, where Maisara had picked out a series of locations for a house that she would share with Fortia. Fer would live close by, naturally the giant bear preferred the open sky.

“I saw.” Fortia said bitterly, crossing her arms. The wind moved her skirt and shirt, the last time she had changed clothes was a month ago. The last time she had taken a step was a week ago. She had just stood here, in this position, making sure that she locked her knees in some vain hope that the blood would pool at her calves and cause her to pass out. Kavaa was not good company, but she was company nonetheless. That was a league above what Ciria was.

“Are you still mad about it?” It was the tone. That was the annoying fucking part. Arascus actually sounded as if she deserved being made nanny instead of just having the normal, sensible option of having someone stay on Ciria-Duty for a week before it got passed on.

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“You broke military hierarchy.” Arascus said and Fortia began to grind her teeth. Well, it was true. And she had executed men for less. “The medicine isn’t supposed to taste well on the way down.”

“Did Kavaa teach you that?”

“I picked it up through osmosis, I don’t know who said it to me.” Idiot. What sort of answer was that? Was the man always sensible. Above, in the sky, a civilian passenger plane through overhead in one direction. Another was going south to north. The skies in Epa, select routes at least, had been opened formally now. Soon enough, it would be the whole continent.

“So?” Fortia asked. “What are you here for?” She sighed and let the annoyance spill out of her. This wasn’t worth a fight because it was her own mistake and Arascus’ punishment hadn’t even been a humiliation. Of Pride had always been good at that kind of avoidance of resentment. He got too high and mighty for his own boots of course, but it was nothing like Allasaria declaring that Fortia and Maisara should bow publically.

“I’m here to tell you are done. Kass ran the numbers, we have enough towers plus a third.”

“Plus a third.” Fortia said dryly. “So how long did that third take?”

“About a month.” Arascus said and Fortia began to grind her teeth again. She had spent a needless month out here to watch over this smarmy little shit of a Goddess, chasing away the news that wanted to interview her and threatening Ciria not to leave. Maybe he wasn’t so good at not building up resentment in the first place. Arascus raised his arm, the red-gold-silver cape on his back that silhouetted his black-silver uniform waving in the chilly wind of Lubskan spring, and raised his voice. “CIRIA! HALKUS!”

“You could go to them.” Fortia said and Arascus shrugged.

“I could.” He said. “Would you go to them.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” It didn’t even have to be explained. Ciria and Halkus were young Divines that had not even seen battle, Fortia going to them was like a wolf walking before a pug to ask for dogfood. Things simply did not operate that way. Ciria stopped, she had just finished yet another tower. Halkus turned too. They were far more presentable than Fortia. The two began their march as Fortia finally felt the tension leave her body. She bent her knees and took a step to the side. That did feel good.

Ciria stopped with all the vainglorious pride that Fortia had assumed Arascus wore when she heard a God of Pride was in existence. In the cream coat, outlined with gold, with her little arms in little fists on little hips with a stupid little smile smeared across her stupid little face with those stupid little golden eyes staring up at Divines twice her size as if she was in any position to be looking down at anyone here. Halkus, at the very least, had the decency to at least act tired although even then, why? He obviously wasn’t, he had worn that defeated posture for the past few months as he willed the factories which made steel to work.

“So you finally come to drag me up here? What for?” Ciria sneered. “Or have you just come because it’s an embarrassment that Fortia doesn’t change her clothes?” Arascus chuckled and leaned over, speaking quietly.

“You know you stink.”

“Do I care?” Fortia bit back.

“How long have you been stood here?”

“In this position for a week.” Fortia said.

“And you didn’t take breaks?” Arascus asked.

“It’s a punishment, isn’t it?”

“Well good job on keeping to it.”

“Hello?!” Ciria said. “Are you two going to keep on talking like reuniting lovers or what?” Fortia just smiled. What did this little girl know? It wasn’t even embarrassing frankly. Arascus straightened out, smoothed his suit and sighed.

“Ciria.” It was a declaration, an executioner’s tone. “You are finished.” Ciria’s face grew pale, a moment of terror that lasted for a short while as she tried to steady herself. Halkus tightened his fists and tensed his entire body. Fortia sighed and shook her head. And Fortia felt herself want to rip this idiot apart. Who said things like that? And to children?

“You’re an idiot.” She whispered to Arascus, although the change in colour on Of Civilization’s face changing back from to a pinkish sort of confusion said she heard it too.

“What?” Ciria tried to shout the mumble.

“You are done with work.” Fortia said. “Not finished, he’s not going to kill you.”

“I’m not going to kill you.” Arascus said, realising the mistake. It was just a turn of phrase after all. Nothing harmful about it. “You’re finished.” He extended an arm out to the towers. “So it’s over.” Ciria blinked, then turned to the Lubska Site. A forest of steel, so long that the towers blocked out the view of the horizon. From the side, it looked like a wall of solid metal, all angular in places and curved in others.

“I’m done?” She asked.

“You’re done.” Arascus said. “Like I said, I hired you out for this, it’s a good job.” Ciria blinked, then turned towards him as Fortia chuckled. Of Peace bumped her elbow into his and leaned in to whisper.

“You realise she thought you were about to kill.”

“It’s how we speak to each other.” Arascus sounded downright exasperated. “Do you know what I mean?”

“She’s not us though.” Fortia, she saw Ciria stare daggers of pure hatred and fury at them, and then made her smile smug as she leaned ever closer. “And I do know what you mean.”

“So what this mean for us?”

“You are free from me and we are free of you.” Arascus brought out two passports. “Here, you can tour the Empire, if you wish, if not, then leave.”

“And do what?”

“Am I your father?” Arascus asked. “I don’t know Ciria. Drink, go to a beach, watch a movie, plot against me as long as you do it outside of these borders.” Fortia’s smile turned even more smug. She understood perfectly.

“Don’t make it an administrative problem and we’ll leave you alone.” It was a low blow, but surely she could have some indulgence after this nightmare of an experience she had to go through? Surely! Arascus didn’t comment on her, so she was.

“And what? You’re out here saving the world and I’m to stay where? Etala doesn’t want me.” Fortia just about stopped herself from reminding the girl that no one wanted her. This was the price of such moralism. Countless Divines had gone through it in the past. You were either a natural at flexibility, or you learned, or you suddenly found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time and there was no one to call for.

Arascus stood there and thought for a while. Above them, some spring birds flew overhead. “You’re forbidden from news broadcasts or interviews. Don’t make a public scene, travel around, then…” He shrugged. “I don’t know Ciria, what do you usually do?” Fortia bit the inside of her cheek. The man was good, he was good, but this natural paternalistic aspect had always infuriated her. Men should not be this calm at all times.

“I work.” Ciria said. “I work and I read and I help those who need help and I do so much that I don’t even know what to say. How do I answer that question? What do you do Arascus?”

“I drink.” Arascus replied flatly. The silence could have been a deafening thunderclap.

“You drink?” Ciria repeated.

“What do you do Fortia?” Arascus asked.

“I go on hikes with Fer and Maisara and we drink.” Fortia said. “And I’m not at all too happy that I got to miss so many of them standing here, watching over her.”

“Don’t you have a war to run?”

“Well of course, but that’s work, managing the Empire is my default state.”

“Basically girl.” Fortia intervened before Arascus could launch into another one of his fatherly lectures. This girl wasn’t his daughter, she did not deserve the daughter treatment. “We are both busy, we both have things to do, and you are free. Now shoo.”

“And what are you going to do now then?” Ciria asked. “And what? You just expect to turn around and walk off?”

“Yes.” Arascus said, he pointed. “That direction, standard Divine marching pace is Kaczaw, four days out. Three if you don’t take breaks.” He turned. “That way is-“

“Arascus, please.” Fortia said. “I am certain they know how to read signs.”

“Well…” He looked down at Ciria and Fortia swallowed her laughter. The doubt on his face was honest, it wasn’t because of Ciria either. It was easily one of his worst aspects.

“I can read signs oh mighty God of Pride, believe it or not, that’s not below me.” Ciria hissed back.

“Just checking.” Arascus said. Ciria stared daggers at the two of them.

“You can walk off now.” Fortia reminded her.

“What will you two be doing then?” Arascus sighed and made the decision for them.

“We’ll probably drink.” Fortia was not even annoyed. They could even share a few bottles and not complain about each other’s lack of taste: whiskey was the holy substance of choice for her and him after all. Ciria’s fists curled, she looked away, at the forest of steel towers. A train drove away, the engineers and builders and magicians were coming together to get their break time.

“I hate how close you two are.” Fortia blinked at Ciria, then turned to Arascus, to find him looking at her. Then they both turned back to Ciria.

“Alright.” Arascus said. Fortia didn’t even reply. What was there to explain?

“And that’s it?”

“We’re less than two decades apart.” Arascus said. Probably true, although neither of them actually knew. Both preceded the calendar by a smidge, and whenever Fortia tried to claim her being first, Arascus would suddenly remember he formed first, and then she remembered she had actually spent that early winter of her life already alive, and suddenly he would recall the previous summer, and so it went.

“Oh great, how romantic how is that!? Childhood friends are we?” Fortia raised an eyebrow and looked at Arascus. Surely the little girl had the wrong idea. Arascus chuckled, then smiled at Fortia with the sort of grin she had not seem him cast at the Goddesses he adopted as daughters once in the year since she’d joined the Empire.

And she immediately realised what he was going to say, because the memories of three thousand years past flashed through her mind. “Don’t.”

“Well if you say so.” Arascus replied. “We’re just two good old friends and Fortia has Maisara now, so I will not step between them.”

“Maisara is a much better fit.” Maisara, had, after all, incarnated to protect one of the regimes that history had decided to call the Divine Tyrannies, although back then, that land had a much different name.

“Oh is she now? Why exactly?”

“She incarnated to defend Uru-Silim.” Arascus said and Fortia rolled her eyes.

“It’s ancient history, not even anything to do with this world.” Fortia corrected him. “What does it matter anyway Ciria? I also know Irinika and I’m not an enemy of that woman either.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“We fight and kill each other, but we do not hate each other Ciria.” Fortia said and Arascus sighed. “That’s different from you, who can’t raise a hand against us openly but will scowl like you do.”

“She won’t understand it Fortia.” Arascus said.

“For one, you don’t have to condescend. For two, you’re damn right I do not understand. Don’t pretend this is a fight Fortia, I know you would kill me and I would hesitate before I take a life. I’m not a murderer.”

“Maisara already explained the concept of murder to you.” Fortia said.

“It’s all the same to me.” Ciria said. “Taking a life is taking a life.” And here they went again. Fortia stopped herself this time. She forced her mouth shut and elbowed Arascus to bring him in.

“Basically Ciria. If we fought, I wouldn’t kill you. It’s an important lesson to learn on what you can take or not.” Fortia rolled her eyes and tried to keep herself from shivering in boiling rage. What? So when she was an employee, she was fine to give a job and forget about but now that she was down, now that Fortia was here and had to listen to it, he was suddenly going to indulge some of his father-fantasies? Where was a daughter when you needed one?

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?” Ciria asked, her tone dry and utterly unimpressed. “Great. You won’t kill me in a duel. Fantastic. Thank you Arascus.”

“The dry comment sounds better if you don’t finish it.” Arascus said.

“Shut up.” Ciria said. “I don’t need your advice.” She turned on Fortia. “And don’t say anything, I don’t need yours either. You betrayed everything the world stood for.” A matter of age, that’s what it was. It wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the second time. Or the third. Change was change. “And now you’re stood here like you’re two friends!”

“The Great War was business. There was a reason they didn’t kill me.”

“Kassandora is the only one of us who actually slaughters Divines in mass.” Fortia said. And even then, they had kept Kassandora alive, and good that they did. Because even the White Pantheon, in all the dysfunction it had ever known, could sense a war was coming. What would have this Tartarian Conflict looked like if Kassandora’s wasn’t here to lead the Empire’s Armies?

“What? And you two aren’t even ashamed?”

Fortia raised her tone. “You do realise how close the Great War was to me being on his side?” She raised hand, pinching the air. “One word would have been enough.”

“One word would it?”

“It’s true.” Arascus said. “Fortia and Maisara got the offer second and third to join my family, Irinika was the fourth.” Ciria blinked, opened her mouth, turned from Arascus. If she had been a powerful Divine, then Fortia would have sensed the creation of a new enemy then. It was pure venom, Malam herself would be jealous at that raw amount of hatred.

“He even considered you to join his Empire?”

“I offered to make her a daughter.” Arascus corrected her. “This was before the Empire. It’s ancient history though, there’s no point dwelling on it.”

“And you have nothing to say about that?”

“No.” Fortia said. Maybe another Divine could get at this weak point, not Ciria though. The girl did not have the talent or prestige. It was akin to a bratty human telling her off. “Why would I? It’s almost an honour.”

“Almost?” Ciria asked.

“I’m older than him.”

“She’s not.” Arascus said, his tone a dry declaration of a fact. Not even an attempt at argument.

“I am.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Shut up!” Ciria shouted. She breathed through her nose, her chest rising and falling. “You two make me sick!”

“Why exactly?” Arascus asked.

“Shut up.” Fortia said. “She thinks there’s some…” She moved her finger between herself and Arascus. “You know, going on.”

“I can tell that Fortia.” Arascus said. “I just don’t see it.”

“Well it would be better if there was! At least I’d see why!” Ciria shouted.

“The why is that the same souls that made Fortia made me, and the same souls that made me made her. And it’s not figurative, it’s literal. We’re less than twenty years apart.” Arascus said, he shrugged towards Halkus. “It’s like you and Halkus.” Ciria opened her mouth, closed it, then her eyes and shook her head.

“You are impossible.” She said. “Whatever, you don’t get it, you just don’t. I can beat you over the head with it and you just don’t get it.” And with an atrocious note that could have been victory, she huffed, turned on the spot and began to stomp away in the direction of Kaczaw. Halkus sighed, gave a slight inclination of his head, and followed along.

“She tried to one-up you.” Fortia whispered.

“That she did.”

“Did it work?”

“She’s very annoying.” Arascus said. “But I talked with Fer and I sort of see it.”

“Oh fucking skies above. What?”

“It’s kind of cute.” Arascus said, chuckling to himself. “Like a bratty child.”

“Die Arascus. Die.”

Ciria trekked and pulled out her phone. She angrily typed in the name that Arascus had dropped. Maybe those two old fools did not find it important, but she did. Any of this old history was always worth knowing: Uru-Silim. The search results appeared almost immediately, Ciria almost dropped her phone: The City of Peace.