Breakfast’s as lovely as it always is whenever Opalina’s in charge of the kitchen. The kind, motherly woman left me a deliciously seasoned omelet, buttered toast, crisp, spiced sausages, and a damn good cup of coffee. Unfortunately, none of the girls had the same courtesy as the Doctor, so I have to wash up all the remaining dishes scattered about the place.

However, it sounds like I might not be the only one who cleans up around here for much longer. Thank the Gods for that.

Finally, the Breeding Tribe has arrived in Dewhurst after weeks of waiting. I’m ecstatic, and not just because it means I’ll be able to offset the chores to someone else.

Getting some actual cleaning staff will be the gateway to lots of improvements. Once this disgusting place is free of dust, cobwebs, and spiders, we’ll be able to hire Gwin’s family to make renovations... at least, that was the plan before this whole cold war against the Duke of Dewhurst began.

I have to focus on the positive. There’s no time to waste dwelling on negativity. The important thing is that there’s very little chance the Breeding Tribe is in the Duke’s pocket. Beastfolk are sincere people, and even if they weren’t, they aren’t Dewhurstians, so I’d doubt they’d refuse me service just because some local thugs pressured them not to.

The strength of the Beastfolk is not to be trifled with. They could likely handle any sort of thugs that the Duke could throw at them.

After cleaning up the dishes, I head into my office and take a long, unsteady breath of dirty Guild air. There’s no use denying it, I’m beyond nervous, and the cause of it is sitting right there on my desk. The sparkling bottle of beautiful, golden ambrosia looms over me, beckoning me closer to its unearthly brilliance.

According to Nikita, when I make an offering to the Goddess, then I’ll have an audience with her. She didn’t give me any details about how it’d go down or whether the Goddess would come here, or if I would go somewhere else to meet her... so there’s really no way of knowing how this will go. I’d imagine it works differently from God to God, but I really should have asked the Grekkan more about what to expect.

Needless to say, I’m very skeptical of my mysterious benefactor’s intentions. I need to approach the oncoming situation like a psychological battle between myself and her. Thankfully, such battles are the only kinds I have any chance of winning.

I have three weapons I plan to use against her during our meeting, and each weapon is sharper than the last.

My first weapon is a very small shot glass that I brought from my collection. When I say it’s small, I mean it’s outright tiny. It’s only to be used for ridiculously powerful shots of the most potent spirits known across the Realms, which seems fitting enough for the godly offering.

My second weapon is powered by the first, though that’ll make sense later on. It’s a list of questions that I wrote after thinking long and hard. From my interactions with the Goddess thus far, I feel that she’s an insufferable brat and that she’ll be far from cooperative with me throughout our meeting. Even if less than half of the questions on the list end up getting answered, that’s still much more info than I’d have started the conversation with.

As for the third, well, I need to test it before I know if it works or not. But if all the context clues point to what I think they point to, then it’s my greatest bargaining chip against the Goddess if I manage to get on her wrong side.

After gathering my courage and pushing down the anxiety brought on by my oncoming first meeting with the divine, I approach my desk with a heavy heart.

I’ve never been very religious, but I’m far from a heathen.

I recognize that the twin Goddesses of Karnalle exist because it would be naive of me not to. They’ve both directly affected the ebb and flow of the realm’s history more times than I could count... but I’ve never had too much to be thankful for, so... I’m not sure how to make this offering.

I guess I’ll just go with my gut.

Reaching out to the heavy bottle of magical liquid, I pop the top off and smell a heavenly scent waft out from the opening, cleansing the Guild of its rank air. All at once, every sweet smell that’s ever existed pours into my nostrils simultaneously. Never before have I been overtaken by the desire to guzzle down an entire bottle of spirits all in one go. As somewhat of a self-admitted alcoholic, that’s saying a lot about the quality of this drink here. It takes all of my willpower to fight back and force myself not to drink it.

The ambrosia isn’t for me, no matter how badly I’d love a sip. Besides, if I drank it, I’m almost sure I’d end up in one of those situations where I’d spend the rest of my life knowing every other beverage I drink would taste like piss in comparison to my one taste of ambrosia. I’m not about to ruin my simple, mortal taste buds over a whim like that, but the pressing desire is definitely there.

Pouring it out into the tiny shot glass doesn’t make it any easier, but I manage to resist, and I take the cup in my hand. Glancing upwards into the unknown, I raise the glass and clear my throat. “I present to you, my patron deity, a small taste of the offerings I have to give. Let us have an audience and discuss what must be discussed.”

At first, there’s nothing- not a word from the heavens or otherwise.

Then, suddenly there’s incessant laughter ringing out from within my heart. ‘That was lame as hell! Seriously? I know you pride yourself on acting like one of those stuffy butler types but dude, c’mon. Chill a little and gimme a few. I’m doing my hair.’

Gods still have to do their hair? Maybe it’s a hobby. I raise my eyebrow and shake my head. “I do have other things to do today, you know. Please, finish up within five minutes.”

‘...Excuse me? I’m sorry, but my divine ears seem to have betrayed me. I could have SWORN you just ordered me around like some sort of common serving wench. Surely you didn’t just make a demand of me? A Goddess?’

“I did, and I’m waiting.”

‘...Wait just a moment longer, then.’ The Goddess takes on a fierce, defiant tone, like an uppity child.

Sure enough, five minutes pass by while I continue to hold the cup skyward. Just as my poor arm starts to get tired, the world around me phases out of existence in a warm, holy light. Rather than blinding me, it actually feels comforting. Almost as if the light is the collective physical manifestation of everything good and right. Like sugar, puppy dogs, and the laughter of children all rolled into one. I feel safe within it... calm, collected, and totally at peace.

When the light fades, I realize I’m no longer in my office. I don’t even think I’m in Karnalle anymore... or any of the mortal realms, for that matter.

I find myself on what looks like a spacious gazebo high in the sky. The structure is wondrous, floors made of the purest and most white material I’ve ever seen. The pillars and the roof look as if they’re made entirely of light, but if light were somehow solid. I’ve never seen anything like this before— particles of mystical illumination float about, bending and reflecting the world like a million tiny crystals. As far as I can see, fluffy clouds spread across the bright blue sky in all directions.

Further off on the horizon, there’s a city styled in the same magnificent styling and manner of the gazebo. Looking around, I see that this city stretches in a complete circle around my current position. This makes me think that this single gazebo in the sky is actually the centerpiece of the entire floating city, perhaps where the Goddess typically holds her meetings?

I may not be religious, but I know damn well where I am. This mystical realm of splendor and shininess can only be the Supernal Skies of Serenity, where the devout and pious of Lux Ultima’s worshippers are laid to their eternal rest. Or rather, they live in that big city in the sky for all eternity, I guess. 

That verifies the identity of my mysterious benefactor. There’s no longer any shred of doubt. My magical pimp-slash-wingman has been the better half of Karnalle’s creator deities this entire time. Then...

If she really was Lux Ultima this entire time, why in the hell couldn’t she have just said so? If she were more honest and just told me she was the Goddess of the Last Light, I would have likely been much more receptive to her particular brand of aid. But no, she had to drag this mystery out and make it vastly more complicated than it had to be.

I suppose that’s the divine, for you... just another reason I’m not very fond of their ilk. Much too spontaneous for my tastes.

Before I can linger on these thoughts for even a second more, a brilliant column of regal light shines down onto the center of the gazebo upon which I stand. This shining ray somehow outdoes the one I arrived on, looking even more fantastic in its sparkling beauty.

Even just a slight glance at the beam compels me to bend my knee, cast aside all my numerous sins, and beg for forgiveness for every wrong I’ve ever committed. My knees buckle in the wake of this divine ray, and I fall to the marble floor while carefully clutching the bottle of precious ambrosia to my breast. It takes all my willpower not to suddenly spill the shot glass held aloft in my hand.

The circle ceiling of the roof begins lowering itself down as if triggered by the light, becoming a raised platform and carrying upon it a single shrouded figure. The white shroud, glimmering with beauty and almost incessant sparkles, is held aloft by two beautiful doves. They swirl about their heavenly mistress, flapping their wings and scattering splendid feathers about the place before the figure snaps her finger. At once, the two white birds let drop the flowing cloth and reveal to me a vision of pure magnificence, entirely unlike any other woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

So this is what a Goddess looks like, huh?