Chapter 373: Chewy |
Theocracy
Requirements: One or more deities that have blessed your kingdom, rule, or other aspect of your state. The deity must be willing.
You conduct a ritual to align your state with a deity. If the deity accepts, your state becomes sacred to that deity. Entities within your state’s borders are considered sacred as long as they follow the tenets of your primary deity. Conversely, entities hostile to your state are considered profane while within your state’s borders. (Hostile means willfully attempting to harm.)
Your Magisters can distribute your stacks of Blessed to other entities.
Consider your relationship with the deity carefully, both before, during, and after the ritual. Other effects may occur.
Available deities:
Yara, Godqueen of Civilization
Sumrann, God of Harvest and Bounty
Sam’lia, Goddess of the Seven Organs
Nephithaya, Goddess of Ancestry
Chalgoth, God of Blood and Steel (Forget all that crap about Chalgoth being a god of the ‘Perfect Self’, by the way. We’re not buying it. Don’t tell him we said that, though, he’s kind of scary.)
You might be able to use a Dread Star question to see if Gap Daddy wants to get in on this, but we have no idea what would happen to your civilization. It’s hard to predict what an alien, unknowable cosmic deity whose concepts involve the very nature of non-existence would do with an open-door invitation.
You know, now that we think about it, it sounds kind of fun. In fact, you should choose that one. We’d love to have more data on that kind of thing.
Ominous.
First of all, an evolution with requirements was unusual, and it told me this one was special. The fact it had so many available deities seemed like it wouldn’t be the ordinary case for most people, but my reputation as a god wrangler hadn’t been earned for nothing. I’d made a deal with Yara to help her faithful, acted as a vehicle for Sumrann to ensure Krimsim’s survival, had a pretty casual and friendly relationship with Sam’lia, and had a more distant link to the Eschenden through Nuralie and my activities helping Eschendur avoid all-out war with Litta.
Nephithaya was interested in Varrin, but I didn’t otherwise have any notable connections to her, so far as I knew. The less said about Chalgoth, the better, and the Dread Star was right out as an option. I didn’t want to risk melting everyone in Closetland’s brains.
The evo was a bit vague, however. Making people and things sacred would have varying effects depending on the deity. Making things profane would as well, although it would certainly give wielders of Divine magicks a huge advantage when fighting any hostile actors within our borders. Having my magisters distributing Blessed stacks was interesting, and could do a lot to help out an ordinary person, but the stacks came from me personally. That meant I had to gain them first before handing them out, and I didn’t have a way to do that on my own. Really, I expected that the last line, “Other effects may occur,”carried a lot of weight for the evo.
I wasn’t really a religious guy. My relationship with religion had been reshaped during my time on Arzia, something that felt inevitable given that I could have an actual chat with a deity. If I’d grown up in this world, maybe I’d have kept the faith through adulthood since it–somewhat ironically–required less faith to know a deity was real.
I didn’t have any plans to start worshiping one of these gods, goddesses, or non-gendered cosmic existences, but the evolution didn’t ask me to do that. So long as the deity didn’t mind my secular nature, then it didn’t matter. There were certainly going to be a lot of benefits to following a specific religion if I took this–for me and everyone else in Closetland–but it wouldn’t be an official state-sponsored religion.
Of course, I wasn’t going to delude myself into thinking this wouldn’t create an unofficial state-sponsored religion. The incentives would unavoidably bias people heavily towards a specific deity, and there would probably be a lot of people thinking it was one of those “optional, but required” types of deals. Even so, there didn’t need to be any commandments that a person worship in a certain way, or worship at all.
Honestly, the only reason it appealed to me was my connection to Sam’lia. I had her revelations, I was bonded to the Third Layer through the Xor’Drel tribe, and I’d been a pretty distant adopted tribe member. Having Sam’lia more intimately connected to Closetland would likely allow the kingdom to connect more meaningfully with the Third Layer and the tribe itself.
That really appealed to me, and the emotion sank down to my bones, resonating on such a deep level that it took me by surprise. Only a few people were genuinely close to me in this world, and while I was devoted to Closetland, that relationship was new. The Xor’Drel’s were my people, ones who’d supported me since the very beginning of my journey here, and bringing them closer felt like coming home.
There were still plenty of concerns. It’s not like Sam’lia was a paragon of moral purity; one of her main concepts was vengeance. Some piece of her was responsible for creating the c’thons and other horrors. The Third Layer was terrifying and deadly when faced in small groups, enough so that many people considered it a manifestation of hell itself.
She was also a goddess of family and civilization, of mind and dream. Each of the seven organs had their own qualities, many of which served as guidance towards helpful virtues. She had a dichotomy of good and bad that seemed to encompass the extremes of life itself, and I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted for Closetland. Who was I to make that kind of choice when it would have such a massive impact on so many people?
The answer to that, of course, was that I was the king. Unless I decided to start dividing and handing out my authority to other people, it was my job to make those kinds of decisions. I wasn’t blind to the problems that could create, but it was the best we had for the moment. I wouldn’t let it give me decision paralysis.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Either way, I wanted to consult with some people before making such an important decision, so I put the matter of my Statecraft evolution on hold while I dealt with other things.
I’d said I would release our United prisoners if Charl let us past, and I was going to stay true to my word. The only hiccup was where we should release them. I doubted New Krimsim wanted them anywhere close, so the portal was a no-go, and there was no way I was about to lead them into Closetland. Now that Cerulean was out of my kingdom I was eager to lay down a Checkpoint and head back for a break.
I also needed to coordinate with the Littans on what their pursuits in the forest were going to look like from then on, assuming the forest was even still there. I’d kind of dropped an elder dragon on top of two avatars and a mountain-sized meat man in the middle of the place, not that Charl likely had much to contribute in that conflict. If Cerulean decided to fight rather than flee, I could only imagine the devastation.
I’d been standing by the prison group for an awkward length of time, staring at nothing as I considered my evolutions with both halves of my mind, mumbling weird shit to myself. I blinked a few times, swallowed my last bite of charcute, and looked our captives over.
Then Ember’s neck exploded.
Her neck tore open and sprayed out a fountain of blood with such vigor the scene could have found a loving home in a Quentin Tarantino film. Her helm was retracted, showing a facial expression that was closer to somebody getting a hangnail than a surprise throat slitting. The only reason I didn’t immediately gear up for a fight was that the archer’s reaction to the occurrence was so mild.
The blood jettisoned out for a few feet, then began to coalesce in the air. It formed into a large blob, and soon enough it was a floating ellipsoid about the same size as Ember’s head. Over the next few seconds, a pair of eyes congealed inside of the blood orb before floating to the surface, followed shortly by a mouth. These weren’t made of blood, but actual humanoid tissue that was suspended in the crimson liquid like someone had plucked the organs from someone else and dropped them into the soup.
The blood head was still attached to Ember’s neck as well, looking like the woman had spontaneously formed some kind of conjoined liquid twin. The eyes in Ember’s new head rolled to look at me and its mouth opened into a smile.
“Arrrlllloooooo,” it said in a too-familiar tone. “How are things?”
“Chalgoth?” I asked, looking between the manifested god and his worshipper. Ember gave me a sort of half-shrug like this situation was inconvenient for her but not at all weird as shit.
“It is I!” said Chalgoth. His eyes bowed out for a moment before coming back to center. “I hear you are looking for a deity to sanctify your rule.”
“Nope,” I said, holding up both hands. “Listen, Chalgoth, I’ve done my best to let bygones be bygones, so I don’t have any direct problems with your faithful so long as they aren’t trying to make problems for me. That extends to you as well, but there is no way I’m subjecting all of Closetland to your influence.”
“You haven’t even heard my pitch yet.”
“Does it involve making me more powerful at the cost of the people I govern?”
“Why would it?” asked Chalgoth. “You don’t seek that kind of strength. I can help you become a better leader for your kingdom, a better fighter for your allies, a better lover for your princess. Whatever ideal you aspire to, we can make it happen.”
“What happens when the ideals of two of your worshippers are in conflict?”
“Consciousness breeds conflict. Conflict breeds competition. Competition breeds competence.”
“Would you also say that fear leads to anger?” I asked.
“Is that a cultural reference no one here would understand?” Chalgoth retorted.
I grunted noncommittally. “The point I’m making is that you don’t care what each person’s ideals are. One person could have the ideal of being a perfect mother and another might have the ideal of eating children. You’d be perfectly willing to help baby cannibals.”
“You mean cannibals who dine on babies, not babies who are also cannibals, right? Because a baby can’t control what it is being fed.”
“Does it matter which? Would your answer even change?”
“No. Each supplicant seeks perfection in their own way.”
“Meaning you’d cultivate an environment where people pursue their own desires. No moral consideration would be given to others.”
“You ascribe too much will to my teachings. I simply instruct those who worship me, it is they who decide what lessons they wish to learn. I have no judgments for how they accomplish their goals, but neither do I encourage them to apathy or malevolence.”
“Let’s make this simpler. Would you help the baby cannibals find their victims?”
“I would help them become the best baby cannibals this universe has ever seen.”
“And you don’t care at all about the babies being cannibalized.”
“Why should I? You seem to be stuck on this whole baby thing. Is it because they are helpless? They aren’t. Babies have parents, and in your hypothetical they are parents who should learn to watch their young. A few motivated baby cannibals in the region would do wonders for the security of local infants.”
“You really just argued that people trying to eat babies would be good for the babies.”
“Really I said it would be good for their parents, who would learn how to deal with such adversity and be better for it.” Chalgoth’s fleshy mouth spread into a wider, wetter smile.
“Yeah, I’m gonna pass.”
Chalgoth’s smile didn’t fade one bit. “Okay, Aaaarrrllloooooo. I think you’re being kind of sanctimonious, but I’ll be around when you figure yourself out. Just remember, no matter where you draw the line, there’s always somebody on the other side.”
The Chalgoth blood balloon deflated, its sanguine contents returning to Ember’s veins. The organs that the god had created didn’t, instead falling to the ground. Ember closed her eyes and took a deep breath as eyeballs, lips, and tongue splatted onto her shoulder before flopping to the ground with wet slaps. They were accompanied by the clatter of teeth. All of it was still fully formed, creating a rather grisly scene beside us.
“May I have those?”
I took my own deep breath as I turned to find Nuralie standing just behind me and outside of my peripheral vision.
“You have to be doing that on purpose,” I said to her.
She gave me one of the longest loson pauses she’d ever given me, then slowly blinked her eyes. “Did you think I’d been doing it by accident?”
Rather than respond to that, I asked her a question of my own. “Nothing about that was normal, right? Like, the Eschenden wouldn’t come down and personally try to convert me. Or would they? Is my next glass of water going to turn into the holy visage of Geul?”
“I am not willing to predict the boundaries of what my gods will or will not do.” Her tail swished behind her. “But I think that is unlikely to happen.”
Ember nudged one of the eyeballs with her boot. “Please, take it,” she said.
Nuralie’s tail swished more excitedly as she produced several jars filled with an unknown fluid. She carefully placed each piece of the god’s disposable icon into its own container. I had no idea if they held any sort of divine power, or if Nuralie just thought they were nifty. I looked past the loson to Tomomaru and his lizard, who were now receiving treatment from Xim. The cleric was dumping heal after heal into the pair with a look of consternation on her face. I wondered what was going on, but Xim was the expert and my questions would be a distraction.
I turned back to the United, eager to have the prisoners dealt with.