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Description
The gray, vermilion-striated stones were cold and hard beneath Riedahn’s knees, and the sweet scent of insense and dusty old textile clogged his nostrils. Pulling a purse from s pocket in his mantel, he tipped the contents into a bowl at the feet of the statue. Gold coins reflected flickering candle light across the skillfully smitten body of the bronze goddess as they rattled into the bowl and came to reast in a matte glistening heap.

“Hear me, oh mighty Xanervia.” Riedahn did his best to mimic the humility he had seen in others. Yet, there was little reason and less practice for a highborn Cenrithian noble to be truly humble. “I bring you this offering, and more to come. Please grant me your power as a leader and orator, that I may humiliate Lady Araniobra on the council floor tomorrow, and ensure my control of the road through the Wild Forest, leading to the desserts of the south.”

There seemed little point in lying about his purpose to either a god or a statue. Any god of Cenrithius must know what business preoccupied the council of the Cenrithian nobility, and no statue would hear or care. They were after all just figments of stone and bronze, decorative enough but with little meaning than to be the center points of rituals.

“I can grant what you ask.” The voice was rich, booming and so unexpected that it made almost Riedahn flinch. He had seen the gods grant power, but never before had one deemed fit to speak to him. None of the temple’s attendants were looking his way, they were busy with theirs and only he had heard the voice.
“Thank you, oh glory.” He smiled and bowed low. “I will bring you more offerings once I have-”

“I will not grant this power for your petty cause.” Xanervia’s voice cut through his thoughts like the blade of a scyte. “But I have need of a voice in the council. Turn your efforts to stoking war with Orbranikon, and I will make you a mighty orator, a leader among your people.”

Blank faced, Riedahn considered his options. He had no desire for war, whether as a leader of a follower. It was a waste of talent and time. But if he was careful, he might well get what he wanted from this.
“Or course, oh great one.” He bowed more deeply. “Grant me your power, and I will prove your greatness on the council floor.”
“Worm!” The voice was a hammer pounding in his brain. He pressed his head against the cold stones, hoping to find some relief from the agony. “You seek to trick me with your slippery words! Implying obedience to my will, while committing to no path but your own. You think I am a fool?”

“That is not what I meant.” Even with his brain feeling like it might spill out through his ears, Riedahn could still see a way forward. “I will use your power to make the case for war.”
“Very well.” The goddess’s voice become gentle, washing away the pain. “My power is yours.”

A taste like warm honey flowed across Riedahn’s tongue and down his throat. Poetic turns of phrase sprang unbidden into his mind. There now was a rumbling richness to his voice as he spoke.
“Thank you, oh great one.” Even he found his new tone charming. “I will do as you ask.”

Rising and turning to leave the temple, he finally allowed himself a sly grin. It was not the first time he had lied to get what he wanted. By the time Xanervia knew, his work would be done, his argument won with her power. After that, he would make do with attending on the other gods. It would be worth it for the riches at stake.

“Riedahn.” Her voice caught him as he reached the doorway and he halted his steps. “I have other servants. Remember, it will not go well for you if you betray me.”

A temple attendant looked his way as he stood blinking at the sunlit street, a tall and leather clad woman with her frissy har in a hard bum at the top of her head and her strong hand on the knife in her belt. Her gray eyes gleamed like an iron blade as she regarded him with something like a blend between dispice and curiosity. Riedahn hesitated, contemplating the possibilities ahead of him. Lead a war he didn’t want, or spend months looking over his shoulder for angry priests who were fast with their blades. Maybe next time he wouldn’t try lying to a god.

Or maybe next time he would just do it better.

Description
The gray, vermilion-striated stones were cold and hard beneath Riedahn’s knees, and the sweet scent of insense and dusty old textile clogged his nostrils. Pulling a purse from s pocket in his mantel, he tipped the contents into a bowl at the feet of the statue. Gold coins reflected flickering candle light across the skillfully smitten body of the bronze goddess as they rattled into the bowl and came to reast in a matte glistening heap.

“Hear me, oh mighty Xanervia.” Riedahn did his best to mimic the humility he had seen in others. Yet, there was little reason and less practice for a highborn Cenrithian noble to be truly humble. “I bring you this offering, and more to come. Please grant me your power as a leader and orator, that I may humiliate Lady Araniobra on the council floor tomorrow, and ensure my control of the road through the Wild Forest, leading to the desserts of the south.”

There seemed little point in lying about his purpose to either a god or a statue. Any god of Cenrithius must know what business preoccupied the council of the Cenrithian nobility, and no statue would hear or care. They were after all just figments of stone and bronze, decorative enough but with little meaning than to be the center points of rituals.

“I can grant what you ask.” The voice was rich, booming and so unexpected that it made almost Riedahn flinch. He had seen the gods grant power, but never before had one deemed fit to speak to him. None of the temple’s attendants were looking his way, they were busy with theirs and only he had heard the voice.
“Thank you, oh glory.” He smiled and bowed low. “I will bring you more offerings once I have-”

“I will not grant this power for your petty cause.” Xanervia’s voice cut through his thoughts like the blade of a scyte. “But I have need of a voice in the council. Turn your efforts to stoking war with Orbranikon, and I will make you a mighty orator, a leader among your people.”

Blank faced, Riedahn considered his options. He had no desire for war, whether as a leader of a follower. It was a waste of talent and time. But if he was careful, he might well get what he wanted from this.
“Or course, oh great one.” He bowed more deeply. “Grant me your power, and I will prove your greatness on the council floor.”
“Worm!” The voice was a hammer pounding in his brain. He pressed his head against the cold stones, hoping to find some relief from the agony. “You seek to trick me with your slippery words! Implying obedience to my will, while committing to no path but your own. You think I am a fool?”

“That is not what I meant.” Even with his brain feeling like it might spill out through his ears, Riedahn could still see a way forward. “I will use your power to make the case for war.”
“Very well.” The goddess’s voice become gentle, washing away the pain. “My power is yours.”

A taste like warm honey flowed across Riedahn’s tongue and down his throat. Poetic turns of phrase sprang unbidden into his mind. There now was a rumbling richness to his voice as he spoke.
“Thank you, oh great one.” Even he found his new tone charming. “I will do as you ask.”

Rising and turning to leave the temple, he finally allowed himself a sly grin. It was not the first time he had lied to get what he wanted. By the time Xanervia knew, his work would be done, his argument won with her power. After that, he would make do with attending on the other gods. It would be worth it for the riches at stake.

“Riedahn.” Her voice caught him as he reached the doorway and he halted his steps. “I have other servants. Remember, it will not go well for you if you betray me.”

A temple attendant looked his way as he stood blinking at the sunlit street, a tall and leather clad woman with her frissy har in a hard bum at the top of her head and her strong hand on the knife in her belt. Her gray eyes gleamed like an iron blade as she regarded him with something like a blend between dispice and curiosity. Riedahn hesitated, contemplating the possibilities ahead of him. Lead a war he didn’t want, or spend months looking over his shoulder for angry priests who were fast with their blades. Maybe next time he wouldn’t try lying to a god.

Or maybe next time he would just do it better.