Chapter 210: INTERLUDE. Raise a glass
Chapter 210: INTERLUDE. Raise a glass
Instead of returning to Hell, God of Rogues travelled to another quiet place in the mortal realm. He learnt that Goddess of Wizards was a sneaky one… But he had to know who else knew what she knew.
It wasn’t hard to send a message to Goddess of Druids. She grumbled about being pulled away from her search, but after God of Rogues had a chat with her, which went about the same as it did with Goddess of Wizards, she was too engrossed in her thoughts to complain any more.
God of Rogues found that just as he suspected, Goddess of Druids knew about the harm the hoarding of EXP brought to the world, and just like Goddess of Wizards, was positive that there was some magical way of fixing it. And just like Goddess of Wizards, she was sure that no one else was aware, and was intent on leaving it that way.
A series of tête-à-tête then ensued, and by the end of it, God of Rogues found that besides the two goddesses, Goddess of Rangers knew too—but the rest were blissfully ignorant. By God of Rogues’ efforts, they stayed that way. It was easy to lie to them, come up with false platitudes and whatnot—they were too used to look and to hear only themselves, and accepted anything they liked as the truth.
There was only one exception to that list, the only god which God of Rogues respected as a fellow scoundrel and disliked in secret for the same reason. It was the one hardest to trick because he was a trickster himself, but God of Rogues couldn’t avoid him just for that reason. Especially since, being the trickster, he had the highest chance of knowing more than others.
Thankfully, like others, he at least didn’t refuse a private chat.
Unlike other gods, God of Bards chose to stay not in a temple or a mansion, but in a high-end inn, posing as a travelling noble. God of Rogues played along with this, changing his cloak-and-dagger outfit for something more dashing for once. The wide sleeves of his shirt hid blades just as well.
God of Bards greeted his divine colleague with a bright smile and a raised glass of wine. A half-empty bottle of it stood on a small table.
“Hello there, Rogues! I hope that your askance for this meeting means that you already forgot my last words to you. I swear, they weren’t out of malice—you know I just can’t resist a pun. And have no desire to travel anywhere without even a modicum of comforts that only civilisation can bring. Civilisation—one thing, amongst many, that Hell severely lacks.”
God of Bards gestured at another glass, empty, that stood on the table. “Please, sit, drink. This wine was made a century ago from berries of the Bloodthorn Vine. I wanted to offer it to you, together with my most sincere apologies, but couldn’t resist its temptations. I succumbed before you even got there, as you may see.”
“I may see alright, Bards,” God of Rogues chuckled, sitting on a free chair and moving it opposite of the other god. “Well, it’s the intention that counts. Forget it, forget it—my offer was a joke, anyway. Unlike some, we two actually have a sense of humour, after all!” He poured himself a glass and raised it, too. “But how I’m finally back from that damned place, and cheers to that!”
God of Bards let out a bark of laughter. “Damned, indeed! Cheers!”
There were few poisons that a divine body wouldn’t withstand with ease. Nevertheless, as he drank, God of Rogues made sure to carefully test the wine for scent, taste, colour, texture and magic signatures of poisons. The expert he was, he was sure that there were none—and that this was a superb wine.
“Excellent bouquet,” he concluded, placing the half-empty glass on the table. “Apologies accepted. But now I better move to the matter I came here to talk about, as it is quite important.”
God of Bards inclined his head to the side. “Pray tell… Is it connected to the fact of your long-awaited return to us? By the way, I apologise to that, too. I’m sure God of Monks had told you our reasoning already.”
“Yes… That, and Devourer. There’s been plenty said about him in Hell, and all of that useless now that he had been reborn. But one thing struck me as so impossible, so unrealistic, that it could actually be truth—”
“—If only because no self-respecting liar would come up with something that ridiculous, you wished to say?” God of Bards finished for him and leaned forward. “But Devourer is quite impossible as he is. What worse could there be?”
God of Rogues clenched his fist under the table, where God of Bards couldn’t see it. Yes, this is what he wanted to say, and the two of them understood each other so well that they could finish each other words. That didn’t mean he wanted him to.
He also knew God of Bards well enough to know that he thrived on being a source of annoyance and anger, and even now, could see the well-hidden to any but the most discerning onlooker sparks of amusement in his eyes.
God of Rogues forced himself to appear unaffected to not give him a reason for any more inward laughter.
“What could be worse? Well, that only depends on your imagination. But what I heard is that, no more and no less, Devourer was created by the First himself. Yes, I’m not kidding. It’s just a rumour, no, even less than that—some words from a single senile demon, but the description of the First was unnervingly close to how I remember him himself.”
God of Bards now abandoned his glass on the table too, and was listening to God of Rogues with the uncharacteristically intense attention. His lips moved, producing a whisper, “A being of pure radiance, so bright and shining one can turn blind from his light, but won’t ever be able to forget.”