A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Chapter 340: The Will of Men, The Will of Gods - Part 1

Beam noted the way Lombard was continually drawing attention his way, and he wasn't quite sure whether he liked it or not. Nila was looking at the Captain suspiciously, with narrowed eyes, as if accusing him of something. Tolsey too looked uncomfortable.

"A single boy with the slightest scent of a whore is of no consequence," the mage said dismissively. "With every moment that passes, your souls find themselves drained. Or had you not noticed? The Yarmdon's death, or their life, their victory, or their defeat, it as of no matter to me. For his Lord, the taste of despair as these men fell – that was the sweetness.

And now that you have won… I could not have prepared a more delicious offering. Ingolsol's delight is unimaginable."

"False. False. False," Beam heard his fragment of Ingolsol give his disagreement. "Carnage. Death. Carnage, death, despair!

I need no souls, no power."

But the mage did not seem to notice. He was quite content with himself by now, having assuaged his position mentally.

"If you will not give in to despair now, then I had only need wait. With every moment that passes, you grow weaker, and the end product grows that much more desirable. Behold, the worth of a thoughtful man! The worth of a schemer! CLAUDIA! GODDESS OF WHORES, PURVEYOR OF LIES!

LOOK DOWN UPON YOUR SERVANTS, AND DESPAIR! SEE THEM TREMBLE IN THEIR WEAKNESS, AND WATCH, AS INGOLSOL FEEDS UPON THEIR BONES!"

He enhanced his voice with magic, and screamed his ferocity up at the heavens, his madness parting clouds, beyond the dome of darkness which he had erected.

Two Gods heard the cry of that mage, as he called out their names, and tugged on the thread of divine will that connected him to each of them.

Even as forsaken as he'd made himself, even after all he'd done, Francis Balor still was unable to sever that golden thread that connected him with Claudia, and with her assistant, who held that golden abacus, and totted up the results of a man's progress, and attempted to predict his future.

Her assistant heard the mage's cry like a bird pecking on the window. She made a face, and gave a sigh, setting aside her papers for but a second.

"Apologies, Goddess… I'll close the window," she said.

"No, leave it," Claudia replied without looking up, gazing longingly into the pool of water that allowed her to see down into the mortal realm. "If you close it, how will I hear them?"

"But you shouldn't need to listen to this slander. A mortal has no way of knowing the battle you fight – you need not listen to his criticisms—"

"And what of the others?" Claudia said, looking up. There was a strong resolve in her violet eyes. "Even him… though he has given his soul to Ingolsol… even for him, there is hope."

Claudia cast her eyes on the whole planet. Ever kind-hearted, ever all-serving, she gave everyone a chance. In every moment, she did her best to watch. She did her best to listen, even as thousands called to her at once. Her methods were rather different to the one she called her enemy.

It was only then, for the first time in thousands of years, that the two of them both watched the mortal realm with the utmost of attention.

Claudia looked into her pool of the purest blue, whilst Ingolsol stared into a large goblet of wine, its red as dark as blood. None would be able to see the world through it apart from he – but he insisted on it, for, as he always said, the world was tinged in red.

He sat upon a throne of black gold, lounging, with a cocky smile on his face, and his walls shrouded in darkness. Claudia was content to spend her days reclined by the pool, with no symbol of her rank, but for Ingolsol, such things were important, such things made up the order of the world, giving him the room to throw about true chaos.

"And chaos is what this is all missing," Ingolsol said, his tone languid, his voice deep, booming, and resounding.

"Is this not exactly chaos?" His servant asked from by his throne. A scantily dressed demon, with horns, and silver hair, reminiscent of Claudia – he liked that about her, that she looked like Claudia. It made him smile every time he saw her, knowing how disgusted that do-good goddess would be if she'd seen how he dressed her.

"Oh, no, no, come on, Des – that isn't it at all. Have you not been peering into the same mortal realm for as long as I? Surely you'd have developed an artistry by now. Surely you know that such contrived chaos is not nearly enough to quench my thirst," Ingolsol said, his chin in his hand, as he berated his servant.

"How am I meant to see, when you so rarely let me look?" Desebel said in reply, her head tilted off to the side.

Ingolsol ignored her. He was thoroughly absorbed in watching the drama.

"For someone who claims a lack of artistry, you certainly seem interested," she commented.

"Hm? Oh, how could I not be? Look at this! You've seen him, haven't you? You can see Claudia's fingerprints all over him – and yet he bares my mark. Does that not delight you?" Ingolsol exclaimed, his smile was almost childish, though by his face you would have guessed he was at least thirty, and by his eyes, you would have gotten a sense of his timelessness.

"He survived your curse, yes?" Desebel said, her tone disinterested.

"Well, I wouldn't say he survived it," Ingolsol laughed. "Though he has lasted longer than the others, admittedly. It's ever so intriguing. It stirs the pot. After all these thousands of years, you wouldn't have thought to stumble upon something so interesting, would you? The power I give people far eclipses that of Claudia, but those little wishes of hers last far longer. Stay connected via mvl

We've never gotten to play properly before. Ever since I was banished here, I've barely been able to reach her… But now, I'm quite sure I feel her touch."