novelraw Chapter 113: Vol 2 Epilogue
Chapter 113: Vol 2 Epilogue
Set was in an unbearably good mood tonight, which meant an abundance of lettuce for dinner, much to Wepwawet’s and Astarte’s dismay. The ambrosia flowed as well, though only one god was drinking it.
“I am just so happy!” Set rejoiced with a cup in hand. He had opened a bottle from his sacred vault in the depths of the family’s pyramid upon hearing Wepwawet had been elected class president. “Look at my son, Astarte! Look at the very picture of success! A born-leader tempered in steel!”
“It’s not that big of an achievement,” Wepwawet replied nervously. While part of him felt proud of his father’s praise, it was drowned out by his dread. Was it truly the time to tell his father how he felt? Set looked so happy and delighted for once… perhaps he should wait a bit rather than ruin the dinner…
“I wish I could have seen that bird’s face of defeat when your classmates chose you, the seed of my loins, to lead them instead of him!”
Wepwawet winced. “It was a communal decision, Father, to ensure peace within the Pantheon–”
“No need to be so humble, my son, you can say your classmates lost faith in him after his crushing loss in the Third Incursion!”
“But it wasn’t a loss,” Wepwawet protested. “It was a draw, and Horus obtained vital intel that proved key to our victory–”
“A draw? You call it a draw when one narrowly avoids defeat and has to trust his rival to win in his stead?” Set couldn’t help but rub salt on the wound. “Tell me, did Horus cry when you stepped over his broken body to assume the throne of class president? Did he curse you, only to be told to suck it up and accept the people’s decision?”
“Not particularly, he took his loss in the election with grace,” Wepwawet replied quietly. Much better than you did with the Egyptian Pantheon, Dad.
“I’m sure Isis must be eating her headdress as we speak!” Set grabbed his godphone and began typing. “I’ll send her a pic to rub it in! The chad wolf versus the virgin bird!”
“What your father means to say is that we are both proud of your success, on Elphion and outside it,” Astarte said while staring daggers at her husband for his insensitivity. Unlike him, she could tell that Wepwawet was uneasy with the situation. “We were very worried when we heard your class had fallen into infighting like so many other Pantheons before them.”
“Is that common?” Wepwawet dreaded to ask.
“More than you think.” Astarte sighed while glancing at Set. “Most pantheons are families. You can never quite hate a stranger as deeply as your own kin.”
“That is true, betrayal feels so sharp when it comes from your own blood,” Set replied after finishing typing his message and receiving a ‘blocked’ notification. “Which is why I am so proud of you, my son! You met all of my expectations and exceeded them!”
Wepwawet sank into his chair. Every word coming out of Set’s mouth chipped away at his resolve. “Thanks, Dad, but… I have something to say about my nomination–”
“Hold that thought, you’ll soon have a bigger audience to pour your heart to!” Set cut in, raising his cup as if to toast to their success. “I’ll summon a family meeting, so you’ll get to tell everyone how and why you deserve to lead!”
“What?!” Astarte all but bolted out of her seat. “Set, you can’t mean–”
“It’s the perfect time!” Set nodded to himself, having already made his decision. “Between the scandal of Isis’ cheating, my son’s success in defeating Hastur where Horus failed, and Wepwawet receiving his classmates’ trust instead of his lesser cousin, we can make a strong case for Ra to reexamine the succession! His relationship with little Artemis, and thus the possibility of an alliance with the Greek Pantheon, will be the clinch–”
“No.”
The word flowed out of Wepwawet’s mouth before he realized what had happened. He had managed to hold his tongue when it was just about him, but hearing his father’s intentions to drag his girlfriend into this messy dispute was the last straw.
This discussion couldn’t wait. There would never be a right time to truly speak his mind, but it had to be done.
“No?” Set raised an eyebrow, but he was in a good enough mood to let it slide. “Oh, do you have something planned with little Artemis? If so, we reschedule–”
“No, Dad, you don’t understand.” Wepwawet clenched his jaw and mustered all of his courage. The moment he had long dreaded had come. “I’m not making a bid to succeed Grandpa Ra.”
“What?” Set blinked in surprise, as if his mind failed to comprehend his son’s words. “You want to wait? I reassure you, you are more than worthy–”
“I don’t want the throne!” Wepwawet snapped, his outburst startling Set and even Astarte. He had never spoken back to his father like this before, but there was a first time for everything. “This dispute has been settled a long time ago, and I have no desire to take the position!”
“I don’t understand,” Set replied. “Becoming Pharaoh of the Egyptian Pantheon has always been your dream since you were a child!”
“No, that was your dream, Dad.”
“But that’s the same thing!”
Wepwawet winced. Those words hurt to hear because, deep down, he always knew they were true in Set’s mind.
His father had spent most of his life training him to become a powerful war god like him, pushing his son to adopt his playstyle and to succeed where he had failed. He was starting to wonder if that truly was the act of a father wanting the best for his child, or a man wanting to live his crushed dream through another.
That had always been the core of the problem: the fact that his father was projecting his own feelings onto him, even when they made him uneasy. Wepwawet had pushed those feelings aside in an attempt to make Set proud of him, but now that he had seen what being a god was truly about and the duties expected of him… he couldn’t simply sit and sulk anymore.
“It is not, Father,” Wepwawet replied, his voice far calmer than he would have expected. For the first time in a very long time, he knew he was in the right. “What I want is to fulfill my duties as a god and protect the worlds of mortals from the Titans’ cruelty.”
“And that is exactly what ruling the Egyptian Pantheon is about!” Set snapped back, his previous good mood steadily worsening. “You will oversee the prosperity and safety of thousands, no, millions of worlds!”
“Reopening an old feud will threaten that prosperity, Dad,” Wepwawet replied. He had seen just how deadly and pointless disputes for power among gods were when facing the likes of Hastur or Whiro. “Divisions only weaken us and play into the Titans’ hands.”
“Which is why every pantheon needs a strong leader at the helm–”
“I’m taking the role of leader on Elphion because I have to, Dad, not because I want to,” Wepwawet cut in, his hands clenching into fists. He suddenly felt a surge of fear when Set glared at him for the interruption, but he couldn’t stop himself. “My classmates elected me, that is true, but the Egyptian Pantheon voted for Horus to inherit the throne, too. Reopening old wounds would only weaken us, serve Apep’s goals, and put our mortals in danger–”
“Mortals? Is that what this is about? You’re putting their well-being above yours?” Set glared at his son. “You think the gratitude of mortals has any value? It is a fickle thing, so easily forgotten when necessity has passed!”
Wepwawet scowled. “I’m not fighting for gratitude’s sake.”
“Only because you haven’t yet felt the bitter sting of their ingratitude.” Set’s expression darkened. “I was like you once, son.”
Astarte bit her lip. “Husband–”
“I was always fighting the Titans on the frontlines back in Ancient Egypt, while Osiris stayed at home to sit on his ass!” Set all but exploded, his jaw clenching with cold resentment. “Do you know how many nights I spent defending their sun from Apep’s depredations?! Who was the one who constantly defended their puny universe from annihilation since the dawn of time?!”
Wepwawet winced. He could almost taste the resentment in his father’s words; hatred and envy that had festered over eons.
“It was me!” Set raised a thumb at his chest. “I was the one fighting for their very right to exist while my brother frolicked at home, and yet they venerated him more than me! They praised him for good rain and harvests, forgetting who was the one who kept their sun in the sky! Yes, they feared me, but how quick they were to praise my brother for showering them with gifts while he didn’t do anything to fight the Titans! Work division, he dared call it!”
“Horus is not his father,” Astarte interjected.
“They’re the same!” Set snapped back. “He’s a bastard fathered with a treacherous whore by a self-righteous asshole, and only because I didn’t castrate the latter well enough! The throne is rightfully ours!”
“Who cares about the throne, Dad?!” Wepwawet snapped back, his finger pointing at Set’s hall of trophies. “Look at what you’ve accomplished! You’re the best B&C player in our entire Pantheon, a respected member of the Storm Gods Alliance, wealthy, and influential! The only warrior who can stand up to Apep himself!”
“And married to a beautiful goddess,” Astarte added, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
It failed.
“So what?!” Set snapped back. “It didn’t prevent your mother from cheating on me, or my family choosing a bird barely out of his diapers who couldn’t even defeat a mid-list Titan on his first outing to inherit Grandpa Ra’s throne! I deserved it more than any of them, and yet they still snubbed me! Not a single one of our family has ever shown me proper respect!”
Wepwawet marked a short pause before answering with all of his sincerity. “I respect you.”
That took the wind out of Set’s sails, and for a brief second, he seemed at a loss for words.
Wepwawet spoke true. Yes, he didn’t agree with his dad’s attempt to put him on the throne… but he admired him nonetheless for his achievements against Apep and the Titans. Whether or not his father had become ruler of the Egyptian Pantheon, or wouldn’t have changed that.
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Wepwawet hoped he had gotten through to Set… but a few words could do little against an iceberg built over ages of cold resentment.
“What is duty worth without its rewards! Why should we be the ones bearing all the responsibilities while others reap the benefits?! We’re the ones doing the heavy lifting!” Set glared at his son. “Do you even realize how many strings I pulled to give you the best possible future?! You would spit on all of that?! All of your father’s good work?!”
Wepwawet winced, but held his ground. “I won’t make a bid for the throne, Dad. I am sorry, but that I will not do.”
Set’s cold silence was ten times more threatening than his outbursts. His cup cracked in his hand, and Wepwawet could hear the sound of thunder in the distance. The temperature dropped until the ambrosia turned to ice.
“Betrayed by my own son… that is a new one,” Set muttered to himself, his voice frighteningly quiet. “First my brother and sister, then my wife, and now this.”
“Your son is not betraying you, husband,” Astarte argued calmly. “He is carving out his own path.”
“A path to foolishness and ingratitude.” Set’s teeth clenched so deeply that Wepwawet could hear them across the table, until they opened to say two fateful words. “Get out.”
Even though he had expected that, Wepwawet couldn’t help but freeze. “Dad–”
“You want to be your own man and make your own mistakes, my son? Then leave, and live to regret it!” Set showed him the door. “Pack your things and find your own pyramid! Get. Out.”
“Husband, are you mad?!” Astarte argued in outrage. “He’s your son!”
“I have spoken!” Set crossed his arms. “I have coddled him too long, and this is the thanks I get!”
Wepwawet met his father’s stern gaze for a while, glanced at his distraught stepmother, then took a deep breath and rose up. It hurt. It hurt, and yet… and yet he had no wish to do otherwise. To back down now would be to live his life in his father’s shadow, never being happy; it would be a surrender.
Wepwawet had fought gods and titans alike. He would not back away from any fight, even one with his own father.
“Son,” Set called out to him while he was on his way to the door.
Wepwawet froze, but didn’t turn.
“Your mortals will disappoint you.” Set’s voice oozed bitterness. “They seem to love you now because they feel they need you, but they will come to take you for granted the moment the threat has passed, and then they will forget your contributions. You will learn that soon, to your sorrow.”
Wepwawet scowled, and then left his ancestral home without a word.
The trumpets thundered inside Castle Neigebleue’s temple as Filou walked in.
Victoire observed him from the Altar in silence, holding a silver sword. Normally, only knights were invited to witness a knighting ceremony, but the Glarmes Order had yet to truly recover from its previous losses. Instead, all of Lord Wepwawet’s Champions had gathered under this roof, forming two lines facing each other in respectful silence. Fire Sultana Alexandrite, Goreville, Gaspar… Champions from all across the continent had gathered for the ceremony under the aegis of Lord Wepwawet, whose spirit floated behind Victoire. None spoke a word as Filou walked towards the altar. Even the likes of Insupportable and Glatisant were unusually quiet, mostly because they had been bribed into silence.
Victoire recalled her own knighting ceremony. She had to take a bath of salts, to symbolize washing away her squire days, then swear an oath to restore the Valentinian monarchy at the Sacred Source before standing vigil for a full night before the actual ceremony. It sounded absurd after learning the truth about her own parentage and the stupid reason why the royal family even existed, but she recalled that ceremony quite fondly. Even if founded on foolish reasons, it had weight to it.
Filou instead had to pray to Lord Wepwawet and swear to defend Elphion from the Titans as part of his nightly vigil. He walked up to the Altar and knelt at its feet, his entire body radiating both resolve and nervousness.
He’s grown so much, Victoire thought as she raised the sword. From a scared young wererabbit to a true Champion.
“Filou of Verglane,” she said, her voice echoing through the hall and the light of candles reflecting on her crown. “Slayer of many foes, hero of the Titan Incursions, magebane, you stand in these hallowed halls by the grace of your high deeds. Do you solemnly swear to be brave in the face of danger?”
“I-I swear,” Filou said, his voice trembling slightly.
“Do you solemnly swear to be just and loyal in the service of your liege?”
“I swear,” Filou said, his hands joined in prayer.
“Do you swear to defend this land from the Titans and those who would do the innocents harm?”
Filou gulped, but remained resolute. “I swear.”
“Then in the name of Lord Wepwawet and the Glarmes Order, I dub thee a knight,” Victoire said, placing her blade on Filou’s left shoulder and then his right. “You may now stand among the brave, Ser Filou, for you have earned the right to rise as a knight.”
The assembly erupted into claps and cheers as Filou rose to his feet. “Milady… though I now bear spurs and bear the blade… I shall always…” he covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, the tears won’t stop…”
“There is no shame in letting them flow, Filou,” Victoire reassured him. “I am proud of you, and I know that one day you shall feel the same when your own squire climbs these same steps.”
Filou sobbed, and then hugged her on impulse. Victoire welcomed it to the cheers and emotion of the audience.
“Oh my…” Soumis struggled to hold back tears himself. “Soumis is feeling so happy he could cry.”
“I have to admit, I am touched too,” Insupportable said with a strangely solemn tone. “No matter how many times I see it, I always feel something whenever a minion takes the Oath of Chief of Staff.”
“I know.” Glatisant nodded in approval. “Seeing how the manlings adapted it over the centuries makes my heart flutter with pride.”
Victoire froze in place. Most of the audience dismissed the dragons’ comments as their unusual nonsense, and few Champions had spent enough time with Glatisant to learn the awful truth behind Valentine’s origin, but the implications… the implications…
“Did you start this?” she asked Glatisant.
“The early days were rough,” Glatisant replied, confirming Victoire’s fears. “I even had to enchant the Crown of Valentine with anti-depression enchantments, since their kings kept trying to throw themselves off cliffs once they learned I had created their line of Chief of Staffs for the sole duty of fathering more princesses. As if it was something to be ashamed of.”
Lord Raymond, who had been silent so far, suddenly snapped his head in the dragon’s direction. “What did she say?”
“Nothing!” Victoire quickly replied before those dragons could ruin the best day of Filou’s life with awful truths. “Nothing at all!”
“Everyone, the feast is ready!” Alpine shouted, thankfully distracting the wyrms and everyone else. “I have drinks and boars and everything!”
The Champions of Elphion erupted into cheers, for on this day only could they celebrate their victories together. The crowd left for the feast hall, with Victoire lingering behind.
“Don’t make them wait,” she told Filou. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”
She had noticed that Lord Wepwawet hadn’t said a word during the entire ceremony, and seemed troubled.
Perhaps even gods needed a sympathetic ear now and then.
The notification appeared in front of him, the result of a full life of growth.
Filou, Brave Heart’sSquire Class has evolved into Knight! +12 STR, +6 AGI, +6 VIT, +6 SKI, +6 LCK!
Warrior Student II has been upgraded into Weaponmaster II: All Weapon Artifacts equipped inflict +5 Damage.
Rider Apprentice II has been upgraded to Rider II: You can ride a monstrous creature or animal of lower Rank without splitting your attention, allowing you to attack at the same time, and you cannot be dismounted by force.
Wepwawet had heard that classes could often evolve into stronger ones, but it was his first time seeing it happen on Elphion. He felt proud of Filou, and thankful for his progress, but his mind remained cloudy and heavy.
He knew his father’s words had been spoken in rage and bitterness, and that he shouldn’t let them get to him, but he couldn’t get them out of his mind. Was Set the end result of what he’d experience after centuries of being unfairly treated? Was he setting himself up for disappointment by following his godly duty? The future felt so cloudy.
A text message appeared, one sent from outside Elphion. Wepwawet already knew who sent it before he even opened the chat.
ASTARTE: So… I hear you moved in with little Artemis?
WEPWAWET: I have. How is father?
ASTARTE: He broke all of our furniture and called you many names that would probably get censored here. He isn’t taking it well.
WEPWAWET: Yeah… I figure I’m not welcome home for a while.
ASTARTE: Do not worry. Your father’s anger is like a thunderstorm. Terrible when the lightning strikes, but fading away with the morning winds. He will get over it eventually, and he will become a better person for it.
WEPWAWET: I doubt that.
ASTARTE: Your father is not as bad as you think. He will never admit it, but I think he likes that you had the courage to stand up to him, and I will argue your case until he relents.
WEPWAWET: Thanks. That means the world to me.
As much as he intended to stand his ground, Wepwawet didn’t want to cut ties with his father. He hoped they could mend that rift, however long it took.
Wepwawet closed the message and turned to Victoire, who had been observing him for a while. Castle Neigebleue’s temple was empty except for the two of them.
“What’s going on?” she asked him immediately, cutting to the chase. “You look worried.”
“I’ve been…” Wepwawet sighed after failing to find a nice way to say it. “Disowned.”
“Disowned?” Victoire blinked. “By whom?”
“My father. He wanted to become something I didn’t wish to become, and he didn’t take it well when I refused to go along.” Wepwawet crossed his arms. “It won’t have any impact on Elphion, but… It’s getting to me.”
“I see…” Victoire put a hand on her waist. “Well, that means you have become your own man, and that anything that comes forward will be your own achievement.”
Wepwawet scoffed. “I suppose that is the silver lining…”
“When I left the Glarmes, I felt a great emptiness take hold of my heart,” Victoire confessed. “I had lost my home, teacher, and friends… yet at no point did I regret standing up for what I felt was right. It might take some time for you to process it, but you will one day.”
Wepwawet gazed at his Champion for a moment before speaking up again, “Victoire.”
“Yes?”
“There will come a time when all Titans have been defeated and Elphion will at last know peace, however long that takes.” Wepwawet met his greatest Champion’s gaze. “When that time comes… Do you think our relationship will change?”
Victoire scoffed. “Do you even need to ask? Of course it won’t. We’re stuck with each other, for better or worse.”
She hadn’t even hesitated, and that lessened Wepwawet’s woes. “No regrets?”
“Never.” Victoire smiled at him. “Now come on, everyone is waiting for us.”
“Sure.” Wepwawet chuckled. “Also, not all knightly orders derive from dragons. I hope that helps.”
Victoire scowled. “That implies most are.”
“Many, but not all,” Wepwawet consoled. “It doesn’t matter all that much where vows and duties come from, so long as we live up to their spirit. Even a lie can become beautiful if it inspires greatness.”
“Quite the bit of divine wisdom you’ve just delivered.” Victoire smiled back at him. “Let us live up to our oaths then.”
It was up to them to prove his father wrong.
Beelzebub knew things were about to change when his so-called ‘masters’ summoned him to Titanspace early.
The Titans besieging Elphion had hoped that Hastur would wipe out at least half of the remaining gods. On paper, everything pointed to a knockout victory for their side. Beelzebub had carefully sown the seeds of distrust between nations and stoked the embers of conflict; Tiamat had exhausted three gods’ armies and ensured monsters would continue to bleed them out; and Hastur’s own strategy had been tailor-made to at least take out the first round of foes facing him through surprise alone.
The results of the operation had proven very much underwhelming. Hastur only managed to defeat two gods, and Beelzebub’s spies indicated that the gods had begun to take steps to solve their disputes peacefully. Even the fate of Stalheim and Timberan appeared likely to be settled around a roundtable rather than a battlefield. A new local deity rising in Valentine was only the cherry on top of the cake.
But that suited Beelzebub just fine, because the worse his patrons’ position, the more favors he could extract for them, and he could tell his moment was fast approaching.
“You fool!” Tiamat chided Hastur, who was sulking in a corner in defeat and disgrace. “I set the board for you, and you wasted it!”
Apep himself didn’t sound impressed by his ally’s performance either. “I am disappointed in you, Hastur… deeply disappointed. You should have brought Sun Wukong with you once victory had become impossible. Instead, your pride and greed allowed another god to keep bedeviling us in future rounds.”
“It was a mistake, we will not deny it,” Hastur rasped. “They were strong… stronger than expected.”
“Yes indeed.” Apep’s reptilian eyes flickered in the darkness. “I had hoped they would continue to tear each other apart, yet it seems that young Wepwawet and Horus have managed to do what their fathers could not and set their differences aside. This generation of young gods is most formidable indeed.”
“Bah, they are still no match for me!” Kronos replied with contempt. “We know all of their decks and tactics now, and none of their civilizations can match my army! I will steamroll them all into the ground when my turn comes!”
“Perhaps… if Elphion survives until your Incursion begins,” Apep replied. “We are here to destroy this planet and sterilize it. Winning an Incursion is one way for us to achieve this, but not the only one available. Since subversion has failed, brute force now has some renewed appeal.”
Beelzebub buzzed with excitement. His time had come. “Do I have your authorization then?”
“Yes. You may proceed with your ‘Lunar Cry’ plan.” Apep’s eyes shone with all the strength of his malevolence. “Bring down the sky.”
End of Book II