Lv.? Swordmaster Charmmahwang [2]

Of course, Gaon did not laugh.

With Gaon's arms folded across his chest, Charmmahwang pressed on.

This time, he was speaking to everyone in the room.

"There are those who say we don't stand a chance. That Earthlings have learned magic now, that they know us well, while we remain poor and few. That our technology is obsolete — that dwarf tanks will be crushed like tin cans beneath American Abrams. Do you believe that?"

"No!"

As the dwarf craftsmen bellowed in outrage, Charmmahwang went on.

"Of course it isn't true. But even if it were, it wouldn't matter. We are united, and our purpose is clear."

"Mr. President. Might we hear what that purpose is?"

When the dragon Ataraxia asked, Charmmahwang answered as though he had prepared the words in advance.

"Of course. The goal is this. That dimensional gate the Archmage opened a hundred years ago…"

"The Great Dimensional Gate?"

"Yes. That catastrophic gate! Through it, every manner of scum came pouring in, and As was defiled. We tried to stop it, even if too late — and we failed. We lost the gate and the entire region to them. Decades ago, we couldn't even dream of taking it back. Far from reclaiming stolen land, we were too busy defending what little we still had."

Charmmahwang continued, chewing the words and spitting them out.

"This time, we will take back what was stolen, and destroy the dimensional gate that stands there."

"So it isn't merely about recovering territory."

"That's right. The Earth-scum stole everything they could from our world, but they still haven't stolen the secret of creating dimensional gates. So if we simply destroy that damned gate, they will have no way left to cross into our world. We alone will be able to go through — one way.

That's why the American imperialists refused to return the Arin Plains. They even rejected our final offer — hand it over if you don't want a war. Citing security reasons, no less! Fine. If they're so worried about their precious security… we ought to make those worries come true!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. President."

"My apologies… In any case, our objective is simple. Concentrate every ounce of our strength on the Arin Plains, seize the dimensional gate, and destroy it. Only then will the war end."

When Charmmahwang said the war would end, he did not mean peace.

"After that, we take our revenge as we please. Unilaterally! When the elf Swordmasters killed their own superiors, the Earth imperialists retaliated with cruelty. They burned the World Tree and desecrated the elves' souls… We need not worry about such tragedies repeating. Not if we destroy that damned gate! Our dragons and Swordmasters can appear in Tokyo, in New York — in London and Paris — and they will have no means to strike back!"

"Setting aside whether that's even feasible. The budget? Can the war chest actually be filled?"

"The Chairwoman's financial support has certainly been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a great help. I never knew entertainment could be such a moneymaker. Quite a surprise."

"I didn't say it to fish for compliments. You can't arm an army on my company's backing alone. Are there enough other patrons? I was under the impression the entire business community is appalled by the war you intend to start."

"Ah, of course. We have patrons far better than any industrialist. Allow me to introduce them here and now… Let us all pray."

Charmmahwang closed his eyes and prayed.

A few followed along.

"Sing of wrath."

It was a prayer. A prayer offered up to the gods.

The prayer reached the heavens.

Gaon felt a will of overwhelming power descending upon this place — a will so fierce that everyone present could feel it.

"A god of the heavens has descended."

At Charmmahwang's words, those gathered hastily began to show their respects.

The god's will now manifested so powerfully it was nearly visible. Most of those present prostrated themselves in submission.

The only ones still standing were the arrogant dragon who believed herself an equal partner to the gods, and Gaon and Charmmahwang, who, as Great Warriors of their respective deities, had no obligation to bow to any other god.

After a moment, the god's will took on a distinct form.

The God of Thieves and Messengers spoke.

Charmmahwang asked,

"And the issuance of indulgences? Selling indulgences would surely fill the war chest better than war bonds. What became of that…"

It was an age when even the gods were denounced for their political leanings. As the leading deity of the center-left, the Goddess of the Hearth made her fury known.

That creature, blaming the progressives now of all times! This goddess of yours saw perfectly well that the conservatives didn't dare cast an open vote in favor of that bill either, terrified their worshippers would abandon them!

While she raged — about how the Messenger God, who ought to have held the center, could make such a biased announcement, and that she would certainly file a protest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— Gaon simply listened in silence. As a rule, one did not discuss politics with family. Still less with the god one served.

This goddess of yours took point in opposing that deranged bill, and they would have more than tried to retaliate against my faithful for it. Ordering a tax audit of my churches, that sort of thing. But with my Great Warrior glaring at them, they don't dare stoop so petty. You did well to come, Gaon.

While the Goddess swallowed her anger, the God of Thieves and Messengers continued.

This time, he addressed the only undead in the room.

Kashad's psychic waves trembled.

Kashad, who had rejected the God of Death to become a lich and was thus destined for hell in the afterlife, wept in his mind.

As the lich's psychic waves surged violently outward, the dwarves trembled, their very souls taking the blow. Even to Gaon's ears, it was not a particularly pleasant wailing. Nearly everyone present, Gaon included, frowned in displeasure.

Charmmahwang, however, laughed with genuine delight.

With this, that skeleton's entry into the war was locked in. Unless the Christian God personally descended and tried to woo him with a place in their heaven, Kashad could never betray them.

The Messenger God delivered one final oracle.

The oracle complete, the god vanished. Those still prostrate, however, showed no sign of rising.

The honor of hearing a god's words directly? Some wept. Some laughed.

Meanwhile Gaon, still thoroughly unimpressed, wanted nothing more than to drop the whole affair and go home. He could not.

The president's secretary approached with care, bowed at the waist, and spoke.

"His Majesty wishes to see you."

"How have you been? Made any progress in your training?"

"Can't complain. Looks like you've got a lot on your plate?"

"It's been a rewarding stretch. Well? Even if you've walled yourself off from the world, you must have a rough idea of what's going on. Will you stand with us?"

"No."

"Ah… I'll be honest, that caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to refuse so immediately. I thought it was about time for some payback. Might I hear your reasons?"

On the way home, Gaon wore a sour expression the entire time.

The conversation with Charmmahwang had run far too long, and it had been mentally exhausting. On top of that, he now had to waste gaming time going to a salon.

Before stepping inside, he changed his appearance with a polymorph spell.

The same human form he used in the game. He could assemble the look in an instant, and he even finished the precise adjustments so that when the stylist cut his hair, his real hair would be trimmed to match.

"Wow, you're really handsome. You've got a girlfriend, right?"

He let the chatty stylist's words wash over him and left the salon. Fortunately, the Goddess — whose mood had been foul throughout the entire council — was now genuinely delighted.

Doesn't this look so much better? From now on, take proper care of yourself and make your goddess happy, Gaon…

That, too, finished, he was on his way home.

In a dark back alley, a familiar scene came into view.

Orcs loitering with cigarettes, wearing sleeveless shirts despite the cold spring so that their muscular forearms were on full display. Massive frames, too — typical orcs, every one of them.

Orc gangsters, by the look of it.

He was able to confirm that immediately. The orcs took one look at Gaon, their faces twisting, and came at him with a snarl.

"The hell's a human mutt doing crawling in here? You don't wanna get the living shit beat out of you, you'd better—"

Gaon was scanning the ground for a discarded stick when it happened.

An orc stepped in to put a stop to that particular brand of justice.

"Wait, wait!"

It was an orc Gaon knew. He recognized the face.

The orc I saved last time?

A conspicuously scrawny orc spoke, his eyes trembling.

"Don't. This is the person who helped me last time."

"Oh, yeah?"

At that, the orc gang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠switched tactics. From a shakedown to a sales pitch.

"A good dude, huh. Well then… wanna buy some powder? You helped our brother out, so I'll give you a real deal."

Gaon asked,

"Powder?"

"Cocaine and… party drugs. What, first time? Don't think so. A looker like you? Bet you know how to have a good time, huh?"

Drug dealing. Gaon frowned.

"I don't buy that stuff."

"Nah, I'll give it to you real cheap. This is quality… It's product the vampires sell, y'know? Even if the cops bust you, you show 'em the receipt and they let you go, yeah?"

Gaon glanced, despite himself, at the scrawny orc.

Whether he meant to or not, the orc's shoulders had drawn in, and he wore the expression of a man who knew he was in the wrong.

Just looking at him, Gaon would never have guessed he'd run with this kind of crowd.

He had been about to lecture them when the Goddess spoke.

Buy it.

What?

That orc is scrawny, so his standing in the group must be low, no? Because of him, those orcs couldn't shake you down. If you don't buy the drugs on top of that, he may well suffer for it later.

Gaon obeyed the Goddess without argument.

"How much?"

The orcs lit up at once and named their price.

These bastards said they'd give me a deal, and they're still ripping me off.

Gaon thought as much, but paid without a word. It wasn't as if he'd miss it. That money would have gone to taxes anyway.

"Thank you-eu…"

The scrawny orc offered his thanks with a face in which guilt and relief sat side by side. The Goddess's concern, it seemed, had been well founded.

As the scrawny orc bowed his head as if in apology, Gaon gave an awkward smile and turned away.

Once he was clear of the alley, he tossed the packet of drugs into the air. Then he flicked his hand, and fire caught it.

It was sacred fire, kindled by the Goddess's power. Without a trace of the drug's potency or its scent spreading, the stuff turned to ash and scattered on the wind.

With every matter on the surface thus concluded, Gaon teleported from a suitable spot.

Down into that dark underground — to his own fortress, hidden away with no entrance of any kind, not a door, not an elevator, so that no guest could ever come calling.