A Welcoming Smile, A Quiet Word

I nodded slowly at this God. It was an interesting gambit. To try and employ hope as a tool to drive the races of this world to survive against the oncoming war, it wasn't the easiest ploy.

"And how are you expecting to do that, exactly. It seems that the races did pretty well last time, all things considered." I said, feigning a nonchalant demeanour. The God smiled heartily at me; the warmness almost radiant.

"We of the Hearth Court have long since played the quiet game. We are Gods of hospitality, of safety," he extended one arm as a scale, "however, we are also Gods of silent politics and quiet conversation." The God extended his other hand, forming an equalized scale. He grinned at my raised eyebrow.

"So you are hidden daggers of sorts?" The God scrunched his face up in distaste.

"No, no. We aren't nearly so uncouth. Well, some of us are, but as a whole, no. What we are, is the largest and most powerful conglomeration of deific information brokers." His grin became radiant once again, filled with sly and cunning.

"So, you collect information by sneaking peeks on people around campfires and in your domains?"

"Precisely, young Maximilian!" He winked at me. He knew my name without me telling him. Great.

"So, if you are successful as information brokers, why is the Lord God of the Hearth Court here to speak to little old me?�� The jovial innkeeper laughed merrily and made a show of 'thinking' about his answer.

"Well. Let's just say that some other Courts believe us to be too powerful to be a self-interested party. Other than the divine power we receive as payment for our efforts, of course." He smiled pleasantly, but if I could read anything from him, I could tell he was decidedly unhappy with that fact.

"The other Courts are effectively trying to hold down your power in fear that they wouldn't have a chance against you? Rather flattering." He chuckled dryly at that.

"I admit, it does sweeten the deal a little. However, it does not help when we see the worlds crumbling in front of us and we are powerless to do anything, lest the Courts themselves go to war." He looked dismayed, but it was more acting. He perked right back up soon after.

"So, you have chosen to involve yourself now? For what reason?"

"Why, it is as simple as it could be, young Champion. It is our domain." As he finished the word, I felt a strange alignment in the world that surrounded me, as if the world itself handed over its dominion to the God sitting in front of me, bowing at his feet and awaiting his order.

"You're intending to get personally involved?" The God scratched his full bearded chin at that.

"No, Gods are unable to truly effect the worlds. Influence? Yes." His sly grin returned to his face. He was an undeniably amusing God to be around, so bombastic in his intonation, hand gestures and faces, acting his way throughout the entire conversation. He was a social enigma incarnate, somehow being the person capable of making friends with anyone, hold a salient conversation with everyone and be the whole world's best friend. I just sighed, a bemused smile poorly hidden on my face.

"So, you have come to 'influence' me?" He grinned.

"Well, you certainly were a candidate. We were looking for Mayer, initially—even though he has already been 'claimed' as such." The large man winked at me conspiratorially, not elaborating on the interesting tidbit, "The man is a true war hero. He is well respected amongst the Courts. Even Arun is partial to him." The jolly God scoffed. Arun, the God of Death here. Wasn't he supposed to be impartial?

"He is, of course. He's a Death God. But he's still a living being, capable of just as much, if not more emotional variance than you or I. Though it is hard to win his trust." The smile on the God's face was beyond pleased with himself. I rolled my eyes.

"So you were looking for Mayer and ended up finding me along the way?" He nodded.

"I believe one of us found you during a conversation about goals," He smiled genuinely, "and you spoke words I wasn't sure that I'd hear a Champion ever speak. Some of the Champions are more inclined to protect, but you are far more inclined than the rest. It begs the question, are you even part of the same species?" The God's question was joking, but also holding enough truth in it that it worried me. If a God, Lord God even, found an observable difference between myself and the rest of the Champions, I couldn't help but worry if it was possible for me to relate to them at all.

"Regardless of the other Champions, your mindset has been unique so far, especially when dealing with the common folk. Your strides to ensure the safety of those in your employ, and even those that wronged you was unique in the fashion you approached it in. The letter was genius, by the way. That Jothian boy who attacked you is going to become an accomplished carpenter, it's quite the sight." The God nodded his head to his own assessments. Him knowing these strange tidbits was frankly unnerving. But I believe it just goes to show that the Hearth Court is capable of extensive research, even into the lives of those as small as the Jothians.

"So, I'm an interesting prospective? For what?" This prompted another round of thinking. Although the thinking was simply an act, I could take a small peek into the emotions of the God and see the whirlwind inside. He winked at me, knowing of my intrusion.

"To be truthful with you, you are the only prospective. We are effectively set on you. If you do not accept, then we will recede into the shadows of the divine realms and simply let what happens, happen." He smiled sadly, making it clear what option he would prefer I take. I waited for him to continue, and he sighed, scratching his balding head in what seemed like genuine awkwardness. Awkward and this God were almost two entirely different concepts.

"What we intend to give you is a Court Blessing." The mere mention of the blessing made the air shimmer around me, becoming strange; warm, inviting, pleasurable, safe. I realised it was but a taste of his domain. Just the mundane tip of the iceberg.

"I assume that is a big deal?" I said, acting nonplussed, but entirely failing. Even the God himself couldn't help but look… stricken.

"An incredibly big deal," he coughed into his fist and sighed, looking up to the stars, as if for guidance, "giving even a blessing is a large investment, from a single God. Blessings are usually given by lesser Gods inside of large courts, though Gods without a court sometimes do as well. Mostly so they can gain power for themselves. It comes at a high cost, effectively gambling divine energy with one of the races against the world itself." He paused to take in a large breath of fresh air, clearing himself of the nerves of what it seemed he was about to do.

"However, sometimes there is a blessing given by a major God, even a Lord God in exceedingly rare cases. They do this to create a direct link with their followers, maybe to reforge a church from the ground up if destroyed, to run a crusade or very rarely to handle a social issue. It is almost never done for the benefit of the races as a whole." Gloomy, I had to admit. Gods who care, but don't really care.

"So we have the power grabbing Gods, and we have large and already powerful Gods solidifying their own power within the world and managing it." He nodded heavily.

"And then we have Court Blessings…" he waited for the effect in the air to disappear, looking mildly annoyed, "they are in a totally different league than the rest. A Cour–" He looked up to the stars with an angry gaze, before returning to the conversation, "This sort of blessing," he waited for a moment and nodded contently, "is like going absolutely all in with a fortune that nothing but the greatest of empires can produce in their lifetime, in one single bet."

The jovial God that had initially greeted me was gone. Now, in front of me, was a man that was loading a six-shooter with three bullets, spinning the cylinder and cocking the gun. His immense seriousness was borderline oppressive.

"Why?" I asked simply. He smiled at me with immense sadness.

"It is the only hope we have. The only hope that the second war won't spell the doom of both the worlds and the divine realms alike." He shook his head with emotion and re-focusing on the task at hand.

"We intend to offer this blessing to you. We wish for you to, quite literally, become our living, mortal avatar." I knew it was coming, but I couldn't believe it. The God let me have my moment, intensely gazing into my own eyes. I could feel all of his emotions, and they were all resolute in their conviction.

"What do you want me to do with this power you are granting me?" I asked, the hesitancy leaking into my voice. He only smiled.

"Whatever you feel is right. We have been watching you for a long time now, Maximilian. I myself am the origin for those blessed as Soul-Seekers. You are not one of mine, nor even a close relative, but I can see your emotions just as well as you can, only that I have seen far more than you. I have lived through thousands of generations, looking for those that embodied what I am. You are a young prodigy of what I am, in essence. Almost a facsimile of values. Safety, hospitality, the quiet word, and the convincing smile. I may be a God, an old and powerful one at that, but we are more similar than you might think. The races always seem to forget that we are they and they are us."

I couldn't help but be a little shocked. To be compared so closely to a God, of all things, was frankly baffling. My mouth had dropped agape at some point, but I didn't have the willpower to close it. I was a God's gambit.

"What will you grant me?"

"A seed. A seed that will separate you from the God you are subject to. One that will wash your name as a Champion, and institute you into this world in truth. A seed that will bankrupt us." He smiled, gaining back some of his humour. I smiled weakly in return.

"I'll no longer be a Champion? Will that get rid of the powers I have?" The God shook his head.

"The powers you have are yours to keep. Only your God would be capable of undoing the physical transformation, and once you are bereft of his chains, he will be unable to affect you. You will, however, lose your link to him." I guess that means that I lose the stat numbers and achievements.

The stat system was rigid and uncaring for realistic progression. I received very little progression through practicing the Sharah, and only at a breakpoint in which I managed to shift was there a payout. I shared Ryan's suspicion that the stat system would stop being an ever flowing source of power and begin a decline into shackles that kept us weak enough for the god to bring us back, but powerful enough to destroy the worlds. I hadn't levelled, past the initial one I had received. It was true that it had potential to make me absurdly powerful, but how powerful?

More powerful than a divine seed, gifted to me by an entire court of Gods, willing to gamble their everything on me? Even though the 'everything' was completely abstract to me.

I don't remember much about the God that I presume was God. I'll blame it on the headache I had and total shellshock. But I remember one thing. He seemed self-serving. You could say that making a decision based on what I feel about a God that I know basically nothing about, and only half remember, is a bad idea, and you are totally right.

But what choice do I have?

Do I trust a God that I only met extremely briefly, and sent me to an entirely new world—enacting a war of catastrophic proportions for those that live there? Using those lands as a testing ground for what is tantamount to human nuclear missiles?

Or do I trust the God who sits right in front of me, offering me everything, doing almost everything but literally pleading with me use their power to save their worlds from my own people. People who, while smart, may cause civilisation ending damage to the worlds I now inhabit and will likely die in, someday.

Maybe I was right on the cusp of earning a new achievement that would truly shed light on how powerful and gracious the God I met so long ago is.

But I doubt it.

It's time to lock the door to the old world and throw away the key, no matter how painful. I muster all my bravery I can, in front of the most terrifying decision I will ever make. I raise my voice, shakier than I'd like, but surer than I'd hoped.

"I accept."