After we returned to the privacy of our secret abode in World’s End, Skull and I had to manage our various affairs, social obligations, matters of state, and so forth. Once all of that was taken care of, including a more-than-satisfied Chooka slumbering away in her bed after a thorough session of “quality time”, we found a moment to enjoy reading together. With Skull on my lap, I sorted through a pile of books that I levitated in the air after withdrawing them from a pocket dimension.

  “We have quite the selection,” I informed Skull as I went from one book to another. “We have earmarked Beyond the Pail: Milking Your Dairy Production For All It Is Worth, which I have been assured is still relevant in modern practices. We also have Of Wheel And Woah: How To Be A Better Wagonmaster, which was a bestseller four years back. There is also Phantom Of The Operation Of Heavy Machinery, a dwarven play that combines comedy, tragedy, and safety briefings about operating heavy equipment. This one is odd, Self My'a Fossil Release is about reincarnation via the bones of distant ancestors. Lastly, we have Big Broody Britches: A Fashion Guide For Large And Mysterious Races. Do any of these strike your fancy?”

  “I think I want Of Wheel And Woah: How To Be A Better Wagonmaster,” she answered as she nestled deeper into my person and the chair we sat upon. “With you shaking up the shipping industry, it may be beneficial to know the ins and outs of what used to be best practice. I am sure some of it still applies, but learning how to leverage what the average wagonmaster thinks is the best way to go about things may help us in the long run.”

  “Very true. And speaking of ‘ins and outs’, I did hear back from the publisher of Inns And Outhouses: A Guide To Lodging, and they said they could send us a copy of its sequel as soon as the author gets around to finishing it.”

  Skull almost purred as she nuzzled closer and snuck in a few kisses. She really enjoys “how to” style guides that outline how a profession or business works. She also desires books about flora, fauna, and the natural world. In short, she prefers practical information that can be put to use some day, although she will occasionally go for a good work of fiction. Naturally, she already has a respectable education in the great warriors and leaders of old, mostly in the context of knowing where their relics or graves are in the event that she needs to go purify them or whatever on behalf of her religious duties.

  And so, with our book selected, and an array of snacks, warm beverages, and a cozy blanket all providing ample comfort, we prepared for a session of taking turns reading to each other when I found myself suddenly alerted to a disturbance. One of my many minds from [Court of the Emperor] alerted the primary-me about a matter that demanded my attention.

  “What’s wrong?” Skull asked as she turned her head from the book to gaze up at me.

  “Someone is desecrating one of my shrines and has stolen the coin I left there from my [Hoard].”

  “Another thief?” she asks with a small note of annoyance. “It seems we can’t even go a week without one idiot trying his luck.” Dutifully, she hops off my lap, and with a manifestation of her will, her temporary and new set of armor and weapon appears upon her person. “Alright then, let’s go settle that matter. In and out, twenty minutes as Adventurers, then we come back here and resume story time,” she finished with a strong edge of finality, as if it were all settled and merely a matter of execution by going through the motions.

  With the matter apparently set in stone, we rushed to my own personal shrine within my house and prepared to teleport to the shrine in question.

  “Performance issues?” Skull asked as she sensed my frustration and noticed the delay in our departure. “Don’t worry, it happens to a lot of guys from time to time. What matters is that we care about one another and spend time together.”

  “Har har,” I replied to her sarcasm. “I cannot teleport directly to the shrine in question, which makes sense if the coin has been stolen. More concerningly, I cannot teleport to any shrine within about 200 miles of it. They are not damaged in any way, but the way is blocked. Whenever I try, I get this.”

  [Teleportation attempt has been blocked by the World Heart in accordance with the aspirant's declaration.]

  We both puzzled at the meaning of that for a moment before Skull suggested I rope Nanu into our escapades. A few minutes later, an eager-to-please and excited Nanu met me at another shrine located about halfway between us. I wasn’t going to waste my mana and the cooldown duration of my Abilities on intracity transportation, especially when I intended to teleport very far away.

  “My Emperor,” Nanu greeted with an air of formality that suggested her interest in unraveling a mystery. “What service may I render unto you this night?” she asked with a bow.

  I explained the situation, and her expression darkened as a deepening frown replaced her earlier smile. By the end, her demeanor shifted to be entirely serious with all formality dropped.

  “We knew that your Blessing, being so advanced, would have an impact on the world itself, and that the World Heart would pay attention to what you did. You must have said something recently that runs contrary to what you are trying to do now. We can go to the nearest shrine and then fly with all haste to the shrine that is being desecrated. I see no other way to figure this out in a reasonable timeframe.”

  “I thought as much as well. That’s why I summoned-”

  The clanking of heavily-armored boots on obsidicrete announced the mountain of metal and muscle that I expected.

  “-Jericho to accompany us for extra security.”

  The looming orc beauty, covered head to toe in armor that costs as much as a respectable duchy, slammed a closed fist to her heart in salute as she came to a stop beside me.

  “Alright, boys and girls; you know the drill. Everyone gather in close and touch me as I touch my shrine.”

  With Skull, Nanu, and Jericho bunched in as close as we could be, the air popped behind us as it rushed to fill in the void where our bodies had been a moment before. I found their restraint impressive as none of them fondled me this time, so perhaps they were all taking this seriously. Almost at the same time, we appeared at one of my shrines at a three-way intersection, where the minor road connects to the nearby town. Indeed, they didn’t make any comments about a “three-way” for the dozenth time, which only cemented my confidence in their attitude to what events were transpiring. Without delay, we were in the air, with Skull in my shadow and Jericho on my back. Nanu flew just below me to help her hide her profile in my own to anyone looking up.

  With great beats of our wings, Nanu and I hastened to a town on the edge of nowhere as I reviewed any and all occurrences of the past two days near my shrine located at our destination. Most events warmed my heart, one “prayer” in particular causing me to smile. However, everything after that sapped all mirth from my person as wrath filled my being. Heads were going to roll tonight.

  I have experienced war before. I have seen bodies piled so high that I cannot see over them, even in my draconic form. I have watched the innocent and the guilty alike cut down in the street without trial or mercy. I have been the one with a sword in hand, both as the aggressor and as a defender. I am not proud of all the deeds I have done in such circumstances, but I acted in accordance with the will of my former Emperor.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  And now, my current Emperor looks around with a mask of neutrality, for bodies litter the road, especially near his shrine. He tries to hide his distrust, anger, and sorrow, but, with his [Aura of Certainty], even while suppressed as best as he can manage, combined with my familiarity with him, it is plain as day to see that he is violently displeased with the sight before him.

  Even in those days, he considered his roads sacred, and that any attack upon an innocent traveler who stood upon a road was paramount to an attack on his flight. I had a wealth of experience to draw upon, and by the positioning of the bodies, I could tell that these were the fallen forms of those desperate to beseech my Emperor for intervention as they rushed to his shrine, all cut down before they could make a petition. He was not a demigod in those days, but he could still observe what occurred near his shrines if he so chose. Without divine intervention, a petition to an Emperor was the best alternative.

  I know he reviewed what transpired here after the fact, and I know such revelations only brought him pain. As an [Archivist of Secrets], I, Nanu, had more insights into what transpired here, especially since the butchers sent here were under orders for some measure of discretion to keep events under wraps.

  The bodies told a different story.

  Some were mutilated. More blows than strictly necessary were rained down upon the helpless. I beheld glimpses of the attackers’ desires and the revelry in their depravity. Many of the fallen were maimed, and apparitions visible only to me demonstrated the foul deeds as they replayed for my review. These were not men and women merely following orders, but twisted psychos that craved the opportunity to no longer hide their deepest desires. They were not so much spurred on to behave with such brutality as finally let off the leash.

  With care and hefty amounts of editing, I created a memory packet that filtered out the worst of it while still capturing the salient details and transmitted it to my Emperor, all in hopes of sparing him the worst of it while also expeditiously delivering to him actionable intelligence. His mood darkened, not towards any of us in any way, but his conviction became resolute as his will solidified into iron.

  “Jericho, save any of the villagers you can. Give no quarter and show no mercy to the attackers. Secure a perimeter, that none may escape, as I will want to unleash my rage upon a few of them. Go now.”

  With a grim nod, Jericho summoned forth her massive shield and a variant of her labrys. She had many models to choose from, and after hours of training and sparring with me, she favored one where the heads of the double-axe almost formed a circle. The beard of each allowed for her to hook over enemy shields and wrench them from the grasp of her foes. Its elegance came not from ceremonial flair and edginess, but rather from its raw practicality and tested reliability on the battlefield. Many would be on the receiving end of such beauty tonight, and my only regret would be that each bastard would only have one life to offer up in tribute to its grisly work.

  Sadly, there were no survivors, save one. We found a little girl, one who had prayed at my Emperor’s shrine this very night. An elven girl, not even adolescent, and what happened to her… it would haunt me for years to come. Her body was broken, her innocence and decency despoiled by men that had ravaged her body with their lust for flesh. I remained a short distance away as I watched her life slip away. In her final moments, she offered her doll to my Emperor. It was a simple creation: a crude, anthropomorphic bunny rabbit with a blue dress. Only one of her arms still worked, and the poor thing did her best to fight through the pain of her broken fingers as she gave it to him.

  I did not hear much of what he said. I do know that he tried healing potion after healing potion, none of which worked. In hindsight, I completely understand why, for none of them were defective. However, her final words before the sweet embrace of death invited her to the hereafter seemingly carried to every corner of the hamlet.

  “Stop those bad men from hurting more people.”

  She lasted only moments after those final words, and my Emperor stayed with her the whole time. Afterwards, he rose to his feet and tucked the doll into the interior of his vest. Without ceremony, he blasted his [Aura of Certainty] at full strength, and even though it was not directed at me, I trembled before him as I stood there in my mortal form.

  He was not the raging inferno devouring the grasslands but the man steadily mining a path through the mountains after his wife died because a healer could not arrive in time to save her. He was not the rising flood that would wash away all of civilization but the janitor who grabbed the big brush to go back to that extra stubborn bit of grime that refused to come off. He was not a scorned lover stabbing over and over into the man that bedded his wife but the gardener picking the caterpillars off his tomato plants, their bodies to be used as feed for his chickens.

  His wrath was serene and cold, so removed from any notion of negotiation or accommodation that there was no hope for those who had earned his ire. He moved with measured steps, systematically cutting down those butchers who only moments before had been reveling with macabre and disgusting “artistry” with the corpses of the fallen. They were so stricken with fear that they could not move, and he spared no time or consideration in dispatching each and every one that Jericho had not previously purged.

  And once the last of the extermination squad had been dealt with, my Emperor approached me. I felt a strange mix of awe and terror, as if only a single mistake could bring a whole mountain of wrath and despair down upon me. I had been bigger than him in our draconic forms when we first met, and though he had recently outgrown me, it never really struck home until now. Even in those days, I was one of the most powerful creatures in the world, and yet, before him, I may as well have been an ant. I found myself humbled, cowed, and strangely aroused at the sensation.

  “Employ your craft to determine what happened here,” he commanded me with absolute authority. “I want to know exactly where these bastards came from, who gave the orders, and everything of significance I can use to help justify destroying whoever organized this. See to it that the villager’s next of kin are informed of their loss, and see to it that the villagers are given proper funeral rites.”

  Ultimately, the fallen villagers would find their bones used in the Skeleton War, but most cultures had adapted to the preparation for such an eventuality for centuries, so it would not be outlandish to organize the proper priesthoods to conduct such rites. Although, few villagers would be whole enough to contribute a full skeleton, as most were now only fit for spare parts.

  “And the bodies of the aggressors…” I led as I needed more instructions.

  “Fuel for Purgatory Engines.”

  Such was a grim fate. The soul of the departed does not immediately travel to the afterlife, and indeed, with the proper Abilities, it can be made to linger for quite a while. While souls are immutable, they are influenced by what experiences a person has while alive. The Bone Wardens have a large army of skeletons that are used to help fight in the Skeleton War, as most people call it. Contrary to belief, not a drop of [Necromancy] is involved, as The Bone Wardens actually use [Animancy], which is the same thing one would use to animate a golem. And all that [Animancy] requires a great deal of mana to maintain.

  While few know of the existence of Purgatory Engines, they take the soul and spirit of the deceased as fuel. The soul passes right through technically unharmed, but the spirit, and thus, the last vestiges of a person’s Blessing, are consumed in the process. The gods have confirmed that this is extremely unpleasant for the deceased used as fuel, and thus, they have ordered that it only be reserved for those who have been very evil in life.

  I found myself rather pleased by such a decision. The bastards deserve a fate worse than death for their atrocities, and this is the next best thing. Additionally, it would engender goodwill with our allies, which could see a return of investment in the form of future favors. When one considers that the Purgatory Engines have been calibrated for the wickedest of individuals, these bodies would be premium fuel for them. Just look past the superficial aspects of their bodies, like the strange growths of gray flesh, tentacles, and other vestigial limbs.

  I followed my Emperor’s orders, and after a short while, I noticed he was gone. Not gone like he flew away, but more like he had disappeared. A somewhat apprehensive and mystified Skull paced around the area where I presume he was last spotted. As I reached out with all my senses, I felt the tinge of divinity, and, not wanting to be poisoned by such a raw form of it that had not been purified through a proxy, such as a priest, I withdrew my senses.

  “It seems our Emperor has earned the attention of another god,” I commented to Skull and one of the clones of Jericho that remained nearby. “Care to wager which one?”

  “You dare make a game of such a serious matter as this!” exclaimed and exacerbated Jericho.

  “I hear the words of your voice,” I replied diplomatically, “but are you not actually stalling as you try to determine which god decided to abduct him for a tête-à-tête?”

  “No!” Jericho shifted in her armor as she glanced away. Then she turned back slowly. “Yes.”

  “What are we wagering?” asked Skull.

  With that, we found a way to amuse ourselves as we dutifully awaited the return of our Emperor.