War of Gods

"You are a goddess Scribe – you are aware of that, aren't you?"

If I would be – I would at least be able to shield my office from intruding first Tributes, who snooped around inside far too often for my liking and seemed to always be able to get past the locks I inserted into the door: obviously I suspected Fark to give her my codes. If anyone in on board had truly subverted the crystal systems and knew just which ones to copy and pass, then the Quartermaster – or the captain, but the later didn't really have any reason to keep tabs on me, or? For now, I went back to my favourite approach to this: ignoring her. Brushing the reading stone over the tablet and seeing the letters ripple and shift between the Egyptian Hieroglyphs we were using and the script that easily reminded one of old Chinese if one spend enough staring at it, I tried to concentrate myself on the numbers of humans workers we were taking on board. Wasn't that a euphemism: workers – they were merely nearly ten thousand terrified peasants that were being shoved and prodded into the holds of our ship with the use of cattle prods -something the Rods of Anguish were, only far more painfully and able to make your eyes and mouth glow. While the scribe of the Legion didn't have to oversee the whole procedure aside from morning roll calls, it still fell to me to delete the identification numbers of the slaves from our rolls. No names, no families, no home village – just a single number depending on how far in the line they did stand when getting pushed into the ship. Of course, I couldn't stay sinking into my own pit of self-loathing - I could imagine just why already a dozen slaves had to be taken of the rolls in just two days - as the uninvited first tribune took my silence as her sign to poke me – quite literally as she tapped the end of her wooden training Ma'Tok against my nose. Having perfect control over your body is quite useful in situations when you -as normal human- would have stumbled backwards and maybe even falling of your chair out of surprise. Instead I was able to keep perfectly still even as I felt the poke and slowly pushed the wooden tip away from my nose, giving Cydippe merely an annoyed glance as I replied easily:

"And you are still soaked from training – why don't you go and clean yourself up, or find a few other young stupid tribunes to trash in your training fights. I'm sure that would be far more entertaining than…"

…well the rest of my room as I gestured around it once, at the various scrolls, books and now reading tablets that were littered through it together with a pair of scales and the local weights next to it. Truly I had an idea why I was of importance as potential ally, or at least a source for the best pieces of loot. But did that really warrant her spending this much time poking and prodding me? It was really hard to say if she wanted to pursue closer ties – or was just showing how easy it would be for her to terminate me as the lock on the door wouldn't stop her. If I had learned one thing in the days of travel towards the planet we were currently orbiting – a rather boring planet called Yinxu, which was today littered with ruins and ghost cities as it had once belonged to a rather important subordinate of Lord Yu, but he later tried to backstab the system lord and was consequently punished, with his lands being cast out by Lord Yu and soon falling to all other System lords who tore the pieces they liked out of the region and each took their turn in torturing the traitor called Yin- then it was that she truly enjoyed combat: to an degree that even astonished some of the professional Jaffa. I think at this time she was more or less alone at the training grounds with her century of Jaffa and others that willingly joined her gruesome training regime, while the younger tribunes had quickly given up on it after getting their pride thoroughly rattled after having their asses kicked by her in staff to staff combat. Obviously they declared the whole thing for meaningless as the hand devices would stop move of such attacks by the virtue of allowing them to throw any attacker closing in, around with just a gesture. I think currently Cydippe had truly beaten every other officer in our Legion except for the legate himself in combat like this – and our glorious leader was surely quite unlikely going to risk even a training confrontation with his second in command, in which he could lose face if he lost. Of course, a lack of opponents only meant that she was badgering me even more now, and the smirk on her lips showed that she was here and wanted to be amused – and would get her amusement one way or another:

"As long as you don't volunteer to try the training with me – I hardly have anyone left to beat in combat. Well I'm sure the naval Quartermaster knows a few things more than he lets on, but the last time I tried to talk him into a training fight, he drowned himself in wine and his muses till I gave up."

"And I guess I can't decide to choose the same excuse to get out of your clutches? I'm sure I have another small collection of wines underneath the filling cabinet over there."

A certain collection that mostly consisted out of what Fark would usually call plain grape juice and make fun off, before pulling out some of his more exotic and expensive mixtures. At least with my wine I could be sure that I wasn't drinking tar or fermented oxen testicles inside of it – but to each their own I guessed and didn't stop him from pouring that stuff into him. I was sure even a symbiont would have to start fighting with constant lead poisoning sooner or later, but that's what hosts are for, or?

"Not at all Scribe, I'm fairly determined to follow you down to the planet and get you to have some fun when you run your completely private errand."

The way she said it, with a grin tugging on the sides of her lips was already warning enough to tell me that she knew something that she shouldn't know: the question was merely what? For now feigning ignorance was my best bet as I looked down and opened another scroll, looking at the total amount of shovels and mining picks that had been delivered to us in anticipation of having to siege a strong point or two, while also taking care of more organisational issues: latrines for example. Even with their improved metabolism, Jaffa still had to go and shit from time to time. Still…

"What do you mean follow me down? I'm sure we already went through the worst that delusional goddess with delusion of grandeur organised for us – I don't think I can stomach another two hours of ballades about the time she saved Yu's life from Yin's treachery and was rewarded a wide spanning fief. That must have been around the Age Fark was a new-born and today she rules nothing but that little rice growing planet – no matter how she comes from the same Queen that spawned Yu."

Where Zipacna's parties were at least entertaining in a way that left you with a weird crab taste in your mouth and the general inability to point out just what had happened and when…the parties of Lady Wa were stifling in a completely planned and unchanging etiquette that was attempting to imitate the court of the System Lord Yu as it had been the last time Lady Wa visited it – which must have been a few hundred years ago. Her attempts were completely forced and many of the other officers that were part of those taxing affairs tended to agree on that point and soon only the Captain and the Legate were unable to excuse themselves from attending one ceremony or another. After all she was the Goddess of a planet, one whose agricultural products and human workforce were use in quite many of Lord Apophis prior plans and with her domain lying close to the borders to what had once been the fiefs of Ra, she might benefit quite a bit from the war if our lord was generous. Not that I would ever want to set a foot into her court again – even if the rice was lovely.

"Well I did intercept a little Jaffa of yours and guess what I found~."

She sing-songed in a manner that must clearly have come from her host or a past one, why would a goddess have a need for knowing what sing-songing is anyway? Those thoughts didn't stop me from flushing angrily as I recognized the slip of ceramic she was holding up before me, informing the goddess Anai that her order had been finished in the local metal working shop and the artists that had been hired to take care of it were paid out, with their colour dried and polished. Quickly snatching the former piece of pottery that was being reused as note from her hands, I pushed it into my bag and then gave her annoyed look as I tried:

"And what if I…"

"You won't scribe – after all this is the last day before our departure towards the first world we need to reclaim in the name of our Lord Apophis, you can hardly leave things here in the case you should ever return here, or?"

While I'm sure the great-grandson of the artisan I hired for my little side project would still hold onto the case in a century or two – or would have if there weren't some galaxy wide catastrophes coming in the near future- I wasn't so sure about coming back here ever again, especially as…

…the planet had no Chappa'ai. Something that became already apparent when you stepped out of the ring transport and into the palace proper. Cydipple trailing next to me with two armed Jaffa as patrol and sign of our authority – something that at least quickly made all local Jaffa bow their heads reverently as we walked towards the city as honoured guests of the Lady Wa. Most of the planets in Goa'uld territory had changed rulers often, not only the "thematic" Systemlords, but also their subordinates, who sometimes started out shaped by other cultural backgrounds before changing overlords. As such they were most often bearing an eclectic design when it came to their cites, houses or merely their interior design. Chulak had been a rather good example with the planet having large "Greek" buildings from Chronos, Egyptian Palace Elements from Apophis, Local Architecture fit to the climate and some more varied elements like the Murals from Zipacna. This planet had no differences that came to one's eye, the palace was built in a vaguely pagoda-style with multiple floors stacked on top of another and the buildings connected or divided through slanted walls and fortified lower floors that could as well resist an attacking army as an earth quake. It was a rather good imitation of what the architecture on Tian, the capital world of Lord Yu might have looked like – only that the craftsman involved with this building simply had neither the experience nor the material to build an equally splendour-filled building.

The Dark wood that graced the façade of the buildings was clearly only painted with some kind of colour or another, everywhere tears were showing in the wood, or where the lacquer had peeled off, the lighter and duller looking local wood shined through, at least for most of the upper regions of the palace. The older floors seemed to be worked out of a dark lasting wood that must have been imported to the planet in its prosperous days when it served as a fleet outpost and shipyard for various Lords. Today the palace did seem to be built from the same materials as the city below it and its ornaments were clumsy and meaningless – just a set of images that were copied on and on around the same building.

If the palace was a clumsy imitation of an imitation, the city wasn't much better. Some of the man and woman who bowed before us as the street seemed to part before the two of us and our escorts, were quite clearly well off if their silken clothes and ornate jewellery was any indication. But once again it was "just" local make or at least local style. None of them were trying to emphasize their status by adorning themselves with more foreign imported jewellery and many of them seemed to wear the best pieces in the second or third generation with the silver – that seemed to be the most well liked precious metal on Yinxu- being from better days. The structure of the city itself told the same language of a slow decay – it wasn't called Ruins of Yin for nothing. The streets under our feet were paved with large slabs of stone – precisely cut and laid out for an ease of walking and transporting goods, but even this work seemed to have fallen prey to adventurous house builders, as sometimes whole parts of the streets were missing the stones, which were just a few steps further propped up as the lower part of the façade of newly build houses.

Over all the city had the feel of a ghost town to it, sometimes you only needed to take a turn left or right to find yourself before a barricade of sorts, with stones from the street having been torn out to form it and behind you could see whole districts empty of any live and decaying as the wood rotted away. Cydippe didn't found this as interesting as me, but she most likely never had tried to make head or tails out of city planning in the late antiquity – this was giving interesting parallels to say the least. With the palace at the centre the city had drawn into itself – but not in an "orderly" fashion that first gives up the outer districts and then slowly pulls inwards in a circle, but in rough patches of still living areas mixed and sprinkled into given up streets that had been sealed up. Weirdly fitting if you compared it to the empty floating shipyards on the fills above the streets, with two of them already having collapsed in themselves and falling over in disrepair.

"Scribe Anai – do you happen to know what that is?"

Cydippe called out strangely formal, the echo of her symbiont voice sending the people around us to the floor on their knees again, pressing their heads down into the dirt as we passed by them – that was making me feel even more uncomfortable than the worship the Jaffa showed on Chulak. The unintended – or intended- side effect was that the whole street was busy throwing themselves into the dust before our feet once more -and with our small walk having brought us closer to one of the craftsman districts of the city, the clothing that was on these people had the same colour as the ground anyway- opening the view on a tiny little building that was wedged in between two larger workshops and spilled onto the street with wooden walls and a cloth-roof that was keeping the area before it shady. In this area three rows of small stools had been laid out and the people that had been sitting on it till a moment before were busy kowtowing before us, one kneel and two times touching the ground with their head "only" as we were visiting gods, with the third time being the moment they stayed in that position till we moved away. Only that Cydippe didn't seem intent on stepping away, instead she went under the awning and stalked past the stools, stepping over the prostrating locals with her heavily armoured boots, surprisingly not hitting anyone's hands. Following her more carefully and pushing a few stools to the side as I gave our two accompanying Jaffa's a small glance as they took position to both sides of the shop…. well not shop: theatre.

Cydippe was already busy tapping against the finely woven scrim that was illuminated by a light somewhere behind it, with a palatial architecture being thrown against the screen from behind – and this time it was truly strange as it was also quite heavily inspired or copied from the pagoda style around us, but there were…columns? It was a shadow play! Something that seemed to stump Cydippe for a small moment – after all if her Queen had been one of Cronus, she might not have many information on customs and activities in regions being culturally more affiliated with Lord Yu and his "Chinese" theme.

"It is a theatre. A Shadow play – they are depicting scenes with the help of cut-out figures that throw a shadow against the screen before us: like the palace you are seeing right now."

"And what are they playing?"

Looking up at the wax tablet that was hanging next to the screen, I read out fluently – something the first Tribune could have easily done herself:

"The heritage of Ra."

"Well – why aren't they playing then? I would like to see a scene."

With this she sat down in the first row, claiming a stool for herself and crossing her arms as she sat down in nearly complete armour, observing the screen stoically as movement was audible from behind. With a small sigh, I took a seat next to her – the sounds of the puppeteers behind the screen standing up and quickly pulling out their tools- waiting for the show to begin and trying to ignore all those kneeling humans around us that weren't going to stand up till we left: most likely this etiquette was far more bearable when your gods didn't leave their palace like Lady Wa and her servants did. Thankfully music soon started to drift into the audience "room" from the back of the little theatre, some kind of string instrument and a little set of bells ringing in a slow mournful melody as the middle of the palatial scene was filled out with a sarcophagus. Only that this one was for one quite decidedly done in the typical Egyptian look that Telchak favoured when he first created them and judging from the music it wasn't going to serve as a tool of miraculous healing and revival, but as an object in a funeral and judging from the large stylized eye that was shining on its centre, this play seemed to be quite aware of the politics of the day. Most likely they would have been playing another take on the loyalty of their Lady Wa, if our arrival wouldn't have given them some juicier news to play with and thus the narrator began:

"Slain was the Mighty and Just Ra – consumed in a blaze of light matching his glory.

Hidden and Abstracted from mortal eyes for all time to come.

He leaves a realm of ten times ten times ten times ten – worlds that bloomed under his wise rulership.

He leaves the family of the gods raptured as they lost brother, father and protector.

But he, Ra the victorious, Ra the merciful, Ra the mightiest of the System Lords, Ra Supreme Lord,

Did not die in the glory of combat – but with an assassin's weapon pointed at his very divine essence.

He leaves us – a universe that prospered under his aegis and never faltering watchful gaze,

He leaves our gods, his children and siblings without his guidance.

But the Great Ra did elevate himself from our mortal world in the knowledge that his work was safe,

Our gods are plentiful and each of them infallible and all powerful."

The elegy sung by the mournful choir subsided as other figures slowly but steadily entered the scene on the screen, arriving from both sides half a dozen figures slowly but steadily stepped to the sarcophagus, their limbs held by small sticks and wires that lead to the unseen hands of their puppeteers and each of them recognizable in a way. Then while all of them were wearing clothes that wouldn't look too strange at the court of Lady Wa -long flowing robes with ornate patterns cut into them to play with the light- each of them was also marked with the insignia of one System Lord or the other. The first to step forward was a heavily stylized figure of no one other but Heur'ur, his chest adorned by the diving falcon and his shoulder armoured with pointy pauldrons that fit quite well to the overly large sword that was stripped to his back: a fitting depiction for the most warlike of the Goa'uld, even if the long flowing hair on his head was most decidedly artistic freedom. The choir began again as he stepped forward, his paper arms flailing wildly and the music entered a boastful tone:

"Thus stepped forward Heru'ur, named Horus. Son of the Mighty Ran and beautiful Hathor, son of the father and mother of gods.

Claiming the stars as his, his war proven arm stretched out towards the jewels of his father, the might of his ferocious armies at his back.

For Heru'ur is a warrior without peer, unable to be beat in mortal combat!"

The figure of Heru'ur on the screen seemed to bluster up in self-importance at these words, his arms raised for a moment as if he show of his prowess, grasping the large sword and stepping towards the sarcophagus and reaching for the Eye on its mist with red hands. But in that moment the next figure stepped out of the circle of system lords, a long bearded and wise looking Apophis with the tall and formal headwear of an Imperial Lord or Magistrate. He merely raised his hands and a lesser Goa'uld, with a trio of lesser Jaffa went forward, covering the seal with the heads of their staff weapons and once again the music changed, this time towards a sense of danger, with long dark strings as she choir seemed to shift its pitch:

"But as Heru'ur stepped forward to claim what he deemed his by might, the shining Apophis, his uncle, claimed by right – for he was the brother and peer of Ra, while Heru'ur was barely given planets and ships to prove his worth.

A masterful tactician, a generous and just Lord is Apophis,

He set out for nothing more than to secure the heritage of his brother, to secure peace and stability through the domains of the gods.

Far goes Lord Apophis reach and many follow his commands – for many stand against him with the ambitious Horos.

Bastet the goddess of woman, rewarded for her loyalty for Ra is defending her followers from the other gods and the death bringing Kali stands at her side.

The Lord of Time and the heavenly Emperor watch the war that is brewing up with worry and muster their own troops. For we life in interesting times, when the gods go to war."

The music had taken a small crescendo and ended on a deeper darker note at its end, my eyes going from one side to another: neither Yinxu nor its people had any stake in this war – at least till our ship had arrived and taken their people to work for us in this war, to serve as camp followers and colonists should it be needed. The only other person whose face I could see wasn't sharing the same worries in anyway, quite to the contrary – the grin that seemed to split apart the face of the first tribune reminded me once again that the Goa'uld were a prideful, parasitic and violent species, especially if challenged. None of the Lords named in this little scene were going to back down, none of them were going to talk as long as they were only expanding ships and Jaffa without setting their own lives on the line. Many of them were old enough to remember the last rebellion against their Supreme ruler and the one before that – but this time there was no clear leader, none that was powerful than the other as Ra had kept all of them at a similar strength to stop them from thinking of rebellion: and now this left the Goa'uld System Lords without any Hegemon to take charge. And oh deus…they were going to enjoy it, to let loose after so long and give their ambition a chance to fulfil itself to its fullest. Even Cydippe wasn't so different, she couldn't imagine how this war was really going to turn out: not in riches and glory, but in the utter destruction of everything they know and think of as natural – leaving the last of us hiding on the furthest and darkest planets of this galaxy to evade being hunted down by the many people that would love nothing more than to destroy us utterly. I can't even remember much about how we stood up, the first tribune threw two of her rings through the screen of all things and then accompanied me to the shop, where I paid for their work and let the two Jaffa that accompanied us carry the carefully carved wooden box I had gotten.

She stayed silent for most of the trip and I only absently answered a question or two of her as we went back to the ship and into my chambers, quickly pouring myself and her of course too some of the grape wine. I'm not sure if Goa'uld should even know what panic is or were generally too far invested in their own sense of superiority and invincibility. As I nursed another drink from my glass, the first Tribune gestured lightly towards the red lacquered box and after I gave her a small nod in return she opened and…paused surprised for a moment as she reached down gingerly and pulled out a tiny miniature: one that was cast in white metal and coloured with oil-rich enamel paint that gave the whole thing a glossy and shiny surface, following the contours of the single armour plates and the single rings of chainmail the Jaffa wore beneath. The staff weapon in his tiny hands was held on hip height in a way the Jaffa would take when moving forward with his comrades and the black sign of Apophis was painted on his tiny forehead, while his face was contorted in a silent war cry. Putting it to the side the older Goa'uld slowly asked:

"Toys? For your Ward?"

Her voice neither disapproving nor particular encouraging – simply a bit stunned. After all a god usually didn't take the time to prepare toys for his believers, well except if the later were going to be part of the show. If any Goa'uld ever got the idea to create a zombie movie, they would most likely just create a real zombie outbreak to make it more entertaining. Taking another breath and banishing my doubts about our future into the back of my mind, where the faint, unborn ideas on how to deal with it were also waiting – except for the one that was currently getting unpacked before me. Looking into those dark intelligent eyes as they mustered me in return and thinking of how little time we still had…I finally reached to the side, taking another sip from my glass, feeling the bitter fluid running down my neck as I handed her a small tablet with the rules I had been working on. Her eyebrows rose after a moment and her eyes went from the rules I had drawn partly out of my memory and partly from my own ideas, her hands searching in the box and slowly pulling out other miniatures: a Horus guard, a Serpent guard and a team of Jaffa lugging around a staff cannon. Helpfully I grasped the small side compartment and opened it to show off maybe two dozen dice made out of bone that went from six to ten sided.

"A game to teach him tactics and war. After all I promised his family to educate him in all matters that are of importance to a Jaffa like him – and this might be the medium for him to learn quite well. Do you want to give this a try?"

The question seemed to catch her a bit off guard, after all games between Goa'uld tended to be more along the lines of cards, dice, draughts or some faintly chess-like game. This was a bit more complex and maybe simply not abstracted enough from what it was going to depict – but knowing the range, effect and other technical data of all weapons involved, made designing a game quite a bit easier as soon as you found out how to translate the various length units into smaller ones for the game. Soon my office table had been clearer of papers, one of the battle maps had been chosen and two centuries of Jaffa without any other support were standing across over a river and I was already looking through the box to find the range finger and the ranged combat rules for staff weapons, when Cydippe asked two seemingly innocent questions. The first directed at a more peculiar model of a staff weapon, which was fixed on a carriage of all things and the other about the rules that had simply been labelled "Entrenching Options". Still a bit distracted I answered her fully…