The Grand Catastrophe

…

“That was a good match,” Go Gin said as he sat next to her, and Calvaria nodded her head.

“That it was. I enjoyed myself,” she responded, the woman herself nodding her head as she swallowed a bite from her sandwich.

Yes, Momonga was still here, still in the waiting area outside of the entrance for the colosseum. It was a cozy spot, in all honesty. It was surprisingly well furnished, with a couch and a nice table.

Said couch was also large enough to seat Go Gin, the Martial Lord. Though, right now he was just wearing pants and a shirt instead of his plate. In fact, it was rather funny how a troll of his size could look like some one’s weird and fat uncle this easily. Such a thought brought a small smile to her mind.

The rest of the space was large, large enough for people of all shapes and sizes to gather. The walls were red, and the floor was a sandy yellow. It was a nice space, in all honesty.

It was then that the man who sponsored him arrived. She had met with him for a short amount of time in the guise of herself, but this was the first time that she had met him like this. Calvaria placed her sandwich, which she had been enjoying so far, on the table and stood up.

She shook the man’s hand, and his eyes sprinted at her a little. It was as if he were assessing her of something. This, while a little strange, wasn’t anything bad. At least he wasn’t looking at her ass. There was a surprising amount of people that did that, even after it came out that the guise of Calvaria and Anna were dating.

She sighed in her mind. It was then that her eyes caught the light of something on his hip. It was a blade, and along the flat of the sheath it was in, were runes. Why were nordic runes along the flat of this blade, in this world, she didn’t know. Yet, her eyes must have pulled his attention from her to his blade.

“Oh, you wonder about my blade?” he asked, his voice filling with no small amount of pride.

Yes, this was a man that would ask if you liked his hobbies, or talk about his hobbies even before one could know his name. It reminded her of herself before she came to this world. Many people she would talk to when she was still Satoru, and never knew their names.

In a way, she liked him for this. It was a reminder of simpler times. Times of when she wasn’t a goddess that liked to drink honey wine made by gods.

Yes, I thought I recognized those runes from some of the writing of a nation close to my homeland. Though, I think that gets away from whatever you wanted to speak about Mr.?” she goaded him to speak, and he responded with a smile.

“I believe you have heard of me, I am Osk,” he started, then continued, “Though, I actually wanted to speak about the weapons you use. You see, I collect them, it’s just a simple hobby of mine you see,” he explained, and she nodded her head.

“Ah, these swords were a product of my homelands equivalent of the godkin from the Theocracy. I don’t actually know how they were made. Though, I believe my Lady has some swords made in the same style by one of the supreme beings, Amanomahitotsu,” she told him, and he nodded his head.

“Ah, that is truly wonderful. I also must ask us to return to what we were about to speak of before,” he said, and she nodded her head.

In truth, she cared a good deal for rare and unique magic items. Part of her, while she spied the blade every so often, wanted it to be so. It was a bit of a childish thing, but it was there.

“Yes, I was simply wondering what type of blade that is. It is a rather pretty thing, I also recognize the runes upon the surface of the sheath,” she said, and he nodded his head.

“Of course, this is a rune crafted shortsword from the dwarven kingdom that the empire used to trade with. Though, from what my research has brought up, they no longer produce such works in large quantities, and they no longer even trade with the empire,” he said, and pulled the blade from the sheath.

It was blue, a mythril blade then. There were two runes upon the flat of the blade itself. It was also short, maybe about 18 inches long if she were high balling it. The two runes she recognized. Her friend, Ankoro Mocchi Mochi, had talked her ear off about them to the point where she had the barest of knowledge about them.

The first rune was, “Uruz,” and then below it was, “Thurisaz.” The two of them together meant that she could only discern that the enchant on the blade was meant more for defense and a stat boost than a raw damage dealer. It was strange to see such an alphabet so far away from her home.

“The dwarven kingdom used to trade with the empire?” she asked instead of a question on the blade itself.

“Yes, from what I know, they used to trade magical items for different foodstuffs and such. That about it from what I know though. They stopped trading about 200 years ago,” he said, and Calvaria nodded her head.

Thoughts about what to do after this expedition filled her head. The plan was to explain to everyone that she was making the guild a better place to work, and more of an accurate job to its title. There were other things to do, like to network some more connections with the Baharuth Empire, but other than that, she was fine to think and plan.

“Maybe I might visit them after this whole thing. As a vacation,” she said as a jest, and Osk smiled and nodded his head as well.

…

As he watched the woman that had just utterly devastated the Martial Lord leave the arena, something in Jircniv snapped. It was a little part of him that he hadn’t thought much about. He didn’t know why, but fear filled a little part of him.

Why was he afraid? He blinked in his mind, keeping the fear from his face. Calvaria had just utterly destroyed the strongest physical fighter in the Empire. The Martial Lord was the strongest person to ever grace the colosseum. He was the war troll, the warrior, that he put the most trust of personal power into, in at least his mind.

Power, the word brought to his creeping thoughts, Fluder. The man who had basically raised him. The man that was utterly enamored with the goddess sitting in the very same room as him.

They were both paragons of strength, the Martial Lord and him. Yet, Momonga’s servants were stronger, or at least on par. What if they put that strength, into invading his nation.

“Vassalization,” his body spoke before his mind brought up the idea that had been floating around in his skull.

“Excuse me?” Pandora asked.

…