Ch.5 - The Unbidden Truths

Ozma tensed. Salah's hostility to the Crimsonites had always been obvious, but this was the first time he had ever suggested outright attacking them. Needless to say, this was an escalation he had no desire of. His mouth formed a grim line as Salah came to a stop before him. The Grand Commander made no sign of obeisance, whether as befitting to Ozma's royal personage or his divine status. Normally, Ozma would have welcomed such a lax attitude toward protocol.

Right now, it only emphasized his weakness.

He kept his voice level as he responded to his close friend. "We cannot. If we did so, we would be condemning the kingdom to civil war. Salem will not allow any attack on them to go unanswered."

Salah swept an arm across from him. "Then so be it! We have indulged their foolishness long enough! I was not here when the Herald came, but have learned much in the past month and have made sure the knowledge is true. We live under the threat of the Gods' judgment, do we not? Did the God of Light not demand that you unify our world? Then is not the greatest threat to your success this Usurper and his fools? Not only do they undermine your mission, but they risk bringing judgment down upon us all with this Usurper's challenge."

This wasn't the first time Ozma had heard this argument. It was one he privately struggled with a great deal of the time. If this Crimson failed in his mission to kill the Brothers, there was a real possibility the Brothers might return far before Ozma had completed his mission. Their world might be determined to be forfeit for supporting Crimson's war. There was one condition that prevented it from inflicting true panic upon him.

Ozma held up an open palm. "Peace, Salah. Until our kingdom extends across the world, it is a moot point."

The older man clenched a fist in front of him. "It may be far too late by then, Ozma! The Crimsonites will not be idle during that time. The Queen will not be idle in that time. I am not blind to her allegiance. If she has her way, then she will water the roots of this rot deep into the kingdom. Already, she's moving against me." He crossed his arms with a scowl. "I've been ordered to take the army and subdue the Northern barbarians."

"That was what was planned," Ozma countered, trying to persuade himself that the gesture was as innocent as that.

"It was," Salah was forced to admit. "But you and I both know that the command serves dual purposes. Not only does it continue your mission, but it also removes my influence from the court. None of the other Faithful possess my rank and wisdom."

Ozma had been king long enough to know to not quibble about the claim to wisdom. The rank, however, was completely true. The only other man who could match Salah's position was the Vizier, and he had chosen the path of total neutrality by declaring he only served the god and goddess he knew personally. Since that was himself and Salem, he had essentially stated he would not choose sides. It enabled him to handle his duties without running afoul of either faction, but neither was of any assistance to Ozma's cause.

"The Northern barbarians will not be a match for you," Ozma soothed. "The campaign should only take a few years. The situation here will not change so much in so little time."

"They already have," Salah protested. "The last thing I expected upon my return from conquering Jada was to hear about this Herald and this false god. What if this happens again? No, Ozma, I have a different proposal." He gestured beyond the walls. "I will have to gather my warriors before we set off for campaign. With your blessing, instead of marching North, I can bring them into the keep! In a single day, I could shatter the Crimsonites!"

Ozma tried and utterly failed to keep the alarm off of his face. "This would plunge the kingdom into civil war, my friend!"

Salah patted his hip where his sword normally sat. "A civil war where we would have the first blow! Perhaps the Crimsonites could rally but only after I've secured the castle. With you at the fore, we could prevent any hope of them threatening the kingdom or the planet."

"Salem would never stand for this!" Ozma furiously whispered. "Her magic alone is worth your entire army."

"Which is why I will need your leadership, my friend. I fear the queen with good reason, but you could counter her! With her strength met, the rest I can handle. All I need is your oath, my-"

"No!" Ozma snapped.

"Ozma, pleas-"

"No!" He repeated. "I will not go to war with my own wife!"

"You will not have to threaten her life," Salah suggested. "Only keep her at bay for my warriors to overwhe-"

"No more." There was no request but only the steel of command. "I will hear no more of this. I love my wife, and this path is foolhardy. Time and words will be our battlefield. I am confident this can be resolved without bloodshed."

Salah stared at him for a long, intense moment. "I pray that you are right, my king. If not, our world may pay the price for your mistake."

One of Light's golden, draconic whiskers reached over to his brother. It reached in-between the crook between wing and body and pulled out a single crimson feather. The whisker curled around it as Light showed it to Darkness.

Darkness scoffed. "Clever fool."

In a flash of silver light, the crimson feather disintegrated.

Crimson hadn't sacrificed any Doors to replenish after the last fight. Although its outer form remained guarded and wary, in its mind, it opened the Metaliteral Hallway. The gap between permanent and temporary power was narrowing. Soon, there would be no need for more Offerings. Until then, Crimson sacrificed the 'Local Omniscience' Door. That one Door alone nearly restored the missing strength.

Only a little more power was needed. There were plenty more Doors of Power, minor ones that could be sacrificed for the exact energy needed, but the Doors of Knowledge seemed easier to lose. With the loss of the last Doors of Omniscience, the remaining Doors of Knowledge were divided by era. Well, by the would-be lives of Ozma. Skipping over the first three lives of Ozma, Crimson was willing to gamble that he would not have as much need of the Doors between the modern and ancient ages. Each Door did not provide much power, but, in aggregate, they served. Soon, Crimson enjoyed complete restoration at the cost of a dozen white Doors of Knowledge.

It was uneasy with the Brothers' absence. Although lacking omniscience, they should have arrived by now. That might have some threatening implications but what kind? Their powers, for all of their awesomeness, were rather straightforward.

Perhaps this is an opportunity in disguise? Crimson's eagle eyes fell upon Griff. The cost of victory seemed all the more painful as Griff met the gaze. Griff may have been alive for less than an hour, however Crimson found it difficult to push such a sacrifice on the created companion. Yet, I have been Commanded. Therefore, I have no other choice. With a sigh, the reluctant words spilled forth. "Griff, I have been Commanded to spare the Brothers."

Griff's twin, eagle head tilted to one side in amusement. "We're not that good at naming things, are we?" There was a chuckle before it nodded. "That limits our options. In fact…" The words came slower as realization dawned. "...ah. You're asking me to sacrifice myself?"

Although Griff's quick deduction spared Crimson from further explanation, there was no relief to be had. Instead, Crimson found the challenge staring in open mockery all the sooner. "If I had another choice…"

Griff bowed his long head. "I understand. I am you, after all. We both committed to this battle, ready to die."

"It was easier when it was me making that decision for myself alone."

"Indeed." Again, mild amusement, though tinged bittersweet. "And coming in with victory so likely." It sighed. "Ah, well, it does give me some relief that a part of us will survive the battle. If you intend to channel their power into me, do we even need to open the Contract again?"

"We do," Crimson admitted. "I can match one Brother but not both. I will need some time to drain one to you. I'll be exposed to attack. Given the power the Cosigners are giving us, I imagine we'll need one, two at the most, more times to access the Contract."

"Makes sense." There was an awkward pause as the creator and the clone regarded each other. "I confess, only one thing bothers me about this. What will become of me? I am you, but absorbing the majority of Light's and Darkeness' essence will change who I am. What if I become hostile to you?"

"All the more reason for us to wait, until I can match their combined strength. At which point, even if you become more like them than you are me, it won't matter."

"Right, right," Griff said quietly. Another unhappy break in conversation. "...if I die like that, what will become of my soul? Will I try to rejoin yours? Will I be judged for what I have become or what I was?"

"Your ploy is foiled."

The two griffins turned in mirroring motions as the two dragons approached. As before, Griff hopped behind Crimson.

"And such a trick will not work twice!" Darkness declared as he began to glow with dark power.

"So be it," Crimson replied as flames encased its wings.

"Please, must we fight again?" Light slowed his approach, even as he gathered silver energy down his mane. "What do you even hope to accomplish? You might have had a chance to stand against one of us, but you can not prevail against both. Surrender, it is in your best interest."

"Or don't," Darkness added with a draconic grin. "I will happily enact justice for your attempted murder of my brother."

"I am willing to forgive such an act," Light insisted as the four beings stared off against each other. Three of them increasing the power ready to be unleashed against each other. "Will you not choose peace?"

"I apologize," Crimson offered. Then it teleported in front of the Brothers. The sudden act triggered both dragons to blast their gathered energies forward. They were learning, but they weren't masters of combat yet. The griffin teleported again to above them. A portal back to the physical world opened beneath them. Crimson detonated a conflagration at the Brothers with enough force to force them back into the Materium. "But I made my choice. Victory or death."

Crimson did its best to stifle an agonized groan as it and Griff returned to the spirit realm. Half of its left wing was missing, only an ugly purple wound cutting where it had once been whole. Griff, while coated with stellar dust from a destroyed planet, looked on with concern. "That didn't go well."

"A small price to pay, especially in light of what I will demand of you." Crimson shuddered in pain. "So close. Let's see if this will be the last time I will have to open the Contract."

There were fewer Observations than the last time but still a good amount. Once again, no change among Cheers and Flags. Crimson grew antsy as he approached the threshold of survival. Would the Commands grant triumph, here and now?

This Command carries the full story of what the Brothers have inflicted on Salem, which Griff is to privately relay to Ozma before your new followers are slaughtered; he, in turn, is to verify all these things with his wife, or with the Lamp of Knowledge if she is unavailable or unwilling. (This Command also belays the impossible conditions of HT's previous one since the Contract commanded you to kill the Brothers.)

Crimson addressed Griff. "Go. The Command is that you speak privately with Ozma about the Brothers' curse on Salem."

"I will obey, though I'm not sure this is wise. I will return as soon as I can." In spite of the doubt, Griff vanished from the spirit realm.

Crimson shared that anxiety. It hated to involve Remnant at all. If the Brothers ever got too curious… Well, the second Command within the message was defunct. The Contract was to be victorious over the Brothers, not necessarily to slay them. Crimson simply did not have a good option, a safe option, when dealing with them. Death was inevitable.

There was also concern about this part of the message about followers being slaughtered. Had things deteriorated in their absence? Although Crimson wanted the cult to die out, that was a peaceful death of non-interest, not the wanton slaughter of the people it had resurrected. I cannot go, lest I risk the Brothers' attention turning on them. Maybe Griff could intervene to protect, if necessary?

It really hoped the Cosigner was being overly dramatic. This was a new fear, an unfamiliar one, and one that was not desired at all.

Ozma rocked little Judith as her cries quieted down, while he paced back and forth across his bedchambers. Although he had midwives who would be more than happy to serve, this was one duty Ozma hated to surrender. Godhood. Kingship. These mantles remained awkward burdens to him, and he could never shake the feeling he was a fool masquerading as a king that no one dared correct. After this many years, even his old title of Hero felt old and eroded. Too long away from the field, too much life in court.

But fatherhood? That was a mantle that grew only more comfortable with time and new children. He adored his daughters and reveled in their love. There was no question he made mistakes and perhaps too eager to spoil them. Yet, the follies only refreshed him instead of weighing him down.

It was the middle of the night, and he was exhausted. Looking down with baggy eyes, he could only smile as his youngest bundle returned to sleep. If only Salem and I could return to her little cabin in the woods. No gods or kings, only kin.

His smile wavered as he patted over and returned Judith to her crib. Another boon his daughters provided him: reminding him that he did love his wife. It was a fact that grew harder to remember each year. When was the last time they had enjoyed each other's company as husband and wife? He feared the answer was when Judith was conceived. Had it been that long?

Damn Crimson and his Herald, he thought as he gazed down at the slumbering babe. My marriage was well before their appearance.

Our arrival does not change the truth that you and Salem hid truths from each other.

The god-king stiffened before slowly rotating. Sitting between the four-poster bed and the entrance was the Herald. Or perhaps Crimson himself? Supposedly, they were identical in form. The griffin gave its head a little shake. I am the Herald.

"Stay out of my mind," Ozma whispered angrily.

The Herald cocked his head to the side. After all that effort you went through to put Judith to sleep? Is this not safer to speak without voices? If you are concerned about your secrets, fear not. They do not interest me.

Ozma did not know if he was more annoyed or relieved by the Herald's disinterest. What was true was that he did not want to disturb Judith's sleep. Very well, why are you here?

To reveal secrets.

Save your endangered followers, and tell Ozma what the Brothers did to his wife by sending Griff to do these, if you must, but ensure he is properly informed; Remnant's fate hangs in the balance.

Oh, how this Command was bittersweet! Speed would be the key. Any lingering could draw the Brothers.

Crimson departed from the spirit realm in an instant. The crimson griffin reappeared above the dark skies of Remnant, about two miles above Ozma's and Salem's castle. He could sense Griff handling his duty with Ozma at this moment. That may help, but was that the danger?

The strange thing about its omniscience was that it did and did not know all things at the same instant. It was like instant recall. If a question was posed to Crimson, the answer would come immediately. So, to complete the Command, it became necessary to know what threatened the followers.

The Crimsonites.

Griff had a point about the names, didn't he? Anyway, there were many threats. Since Griff's initial visitation, there had been threats of thoughts, threats of words, and threats of actions. Things had deteriorated. The battle of words had led to physical violence. A beating here, a beating there.

Yet, by far, the greatest threat to the Crimsonites was in a man named Salah, who was now marching back to the kingdom capital at the head of a blooded host. War danced in his mind. He flirted with the idea of striking at Crimson's followers. He was not yet committed, but it would take so little for that decision to change. The worst part was that Crimson couldn't argue with the man's fears and reasoning. Salah simply wanted to protect his home, his people. The war had simply placed him on the opposing side to Crimson.

It mattered not. The Command had to be executed. That did not mean an execution was necessary.

With a thought, Crimson appeared before Salah and the army, hovering above the gathering of men by about two dozen feet. Crimson always had glowed with power, but never before had that mattered much in his battles with the Brothers. Here, floating in the night sky, Crimson stood out like a beacon. It even illuminated Salah since he rode at the head of the host in his chariot. Needless to say, alarm quickly spread through the ranks of warriors as the army came to a dismayed halt. The fact that they marched at night did not suggest good things. The darkness could not hide Salah's reaction from Crimson. The lord of war's eyes went wide before he shouted, "USURPER!"

"Perhaps, but I can't allow your threat to go unanswered. Fear not, you will not be harmed, simply removed."

Another thought and Salah, his chariot, and his charioteer vanished. Now the army was nearing panic. Not Crimson's intent, and it briefly considered trying to do something to calm them down. But, the damage, if a true panic set in, would be minimal, and far outweighed by the threat of the Brothers.

So, Crimson returned to the spirit realm, while Salah and his charioteer adjusted to being on a different continent.

Addendum: You or Griff should be able to gain magic from the immortals to fuel your own power, with their consent, maybe including their daughters when of the proper age; the solidarity between them and you as a trimurti of sorts will allow Remnant to be more united in their faith, which in turn will also help to bolster your power. (Religion and politics, strange as it may seem, may prove a valuable ally in your battle)

It's an interesting idea, but one that is hardly necessary. Their magic, while providing a small edge, pales in comparison to a god's. Or beings of our caliber. Again, this alliance would require regular trips to Remnant. Something I will avoid, until I must. As it stands, I am as strong as one Brother and a half. Stronger than that, now that I have a few more Commands completed. Just another five or ten, and I'll be done.

That knowledge filled it with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. As victory approached, those feelings escalated. Crimson was eager to begin a new life on Remnant. With so many possibilities to choose from, too! Most of the Doors had survived, except for the most powerful. Although the power lost was substantial, Crimson couldn't regret their passing. Too much power could be as dangerous as too little.

That, and the 'Minor Deity' Door was still here and would likely survive the battle. So, there wasn't that much loss of a powerful ending. Thinking about that door, however, reminded Crimson of the cult forced into reality. It was an awkward thing, even as it wished for no harm to fall upon its followers. What was to be done if the cult didn't just fade away with the battle's conclusion? Could Crimson escape it by jumping forward in time?

How far would I have to go? A few decades? A couple of centuries? A full millennium? How long would my absence need to be before this cult is swallowed by time?

Crimson could jump as far as two thousand years into the future. And… wait, why only two thousand years? Why not three, four, fifteen? Why did the Metaliteral Hallway stop at two? Its omniscience offered no answer. It was an answer guarded by the Contract itself. A limit set by Crimson's past self?

Command Here: When the battle against the Brother gods is over, create a companion—the appearance, personality, and name (but not the state of memories) of which will be decided by the Cosigner of this command and sent through the Contract—who will be with you for wherever you decide to place yourself within Remnant's timeline; keep her safe and, most importantly, alive to the best of your abilities.

Okay, this is getting really uncomfortable. The goat was one thing. It was a simple creature, and possessed no moral agency. I don't even care to check to see if its still alive on Remnant. Now I'm being asked to create a female companion? One that will accompany me to any time period I choose to live out? So, no matter what happens, I will not be alone once the battle is over.

The thought inflicted… confused feelings on the entity. Companionship was wanted, perhaps even craved. There was a soulmate Door, not without reason. Yet, it was one thing to seek out companionship and another to have it commanded. The thought of being bonded to ten others was a strange and intimidating status. It was one of the biggest reasons Crimson was considering avoiding the more advanced age, in spite of its numerous technological conveniences. It was an easy out from the bond situation.

Now that easy option was muddled. There was quite the difference between ten and one, but not as much as the difference between one and zero. Crimson would be bound to someone and charged with the woman's protection, no less. Regardless of what kind of woman she was, Crimson would have to safeguard her, though, thankfully, not to the point of death. Two freedoms sacrificed for the rest of her existence. Perhaps Crimson's too. There was a weight there to be considered. Even if it was, in the end, one woman.

A woman who's personality would be determined by this Cosigner too. Would she be nice? Mean? Compassionate? Cruel? The options were endless. What would she look like? Pretty, ugly? Human, Faunus? This future was hidden by the barriers between the universes. So, it wasn't surprising that curiosity plagued Crimson. Especially during this lull in battle.

The only relief was that Crimson's soul was not truly bonded to this woman's, like it would be with the others. It may have been a technical difference, but it meant something. Its soul would not be shared, so the modern era be avoided.

I reinforce Yip's command and any modifications they make to their command.

Two Cosigners doubling up on one? That's a first. Which one was Yip's Command? The name was familiar only because of perfect recall. Yip was one of the few Cosigners to offer some identity to Crimson. That didn't reveal the appropriate Command since Crimson couldn't distinguish between them and their owners, but the Contract handled this lost bit of knowledge. Power moved, and the answer became clear as the previous Command.

Strange, why does this Cosigner go out of the way to strengthen this female companion Command? Is it curiosity to see how the Command is executed? A bargain of some sort? Will Yip reinforce a Command in return? This is the first time I've seen this level of coordination between Cosigners. It's… interesting, in a morbid kind of way. After all, these people from another dimension are hijacking me and wielding my power on behalf of their agendas. So far, they haven't abused the power too much. The cult might be the worst case, and that is ostensibly for my benefit.

Of course, that could all flip at any moment. Or escalate. Coordination between two Cosigners was ultimately only a small example of what could happen. Or would happen? The battle was nearing its conclusion. Crimson had failed to attract too many Cosigners to the cause, but that was something it didn't mind. Enough power was being provided to enable victory as it was. Who knew that only half a dozen Cosigners, well, "speaking" Cosigners would be enough to provide victory?

Addendum to the Bond command, your soul is now also bound with The Wildling.

Crimson huffed, a strange gesture considering its avian head. It wiggled a bit to add emphasis to its displeasure. It was not enough that I am bound to protect this woman? My soul must be linked to hers as well? I still don't know what being bonded entails, and now there's no hope of escaping it.

"You're becoming predictable."

That was the sole warning before the Brothers returned. That happened much faster this time. Griff hadn't returned from his duty yet, and that caused no small amount of worry from Crimson.

The dragons paused as they searched the area warily. "Where is your shadow?" Darkness demanded. "A new trap?"

"He is no threat to you," Crimson replied, summoning more flames.

Exasperation colored Light's voice. "Not only did you fail to harm us in the last two engagements, my brother took off your wing. Why? Why do you throw yourself against us when you have no hope?"

Was there an opportunity here? So long as their attention was on Crimson in the spirit realm, they would not discover Griff and his presence on Remnant. The timing was also awkward since the Contract had not finished delivering the Commands. Crimson was not recovered from the last fight either. It felt wrong to burn some Doors when there might be enough Commands to grant the last needed power.

Stall them.

Create a third goat and send it to Remnant at a time period of your leisure.

…

Crimson couldn't refuse the Command.

So, in plain view of the Brothers, the red griffin created, not one, but two goats. Why the Cosigner thought there was a second goat when Crimson had only ever created one, it did not know.

The action was so unexpected that both Brothers froze and watched warily.

Cursing the fact that this might ruin the entire strategy of keeping their focus away from Remnant, Crimson teleported both goats to the planet. The time period aspect of the Command was odd. Crimson couldn't manipulate other time periods without existing within them. It wasn't omnipresent. Therefore, Crimson would have to advance time forward by sacrificing a Torch of Time to do so. Decades would jump forward, but there would be no means to reverse it.

So, the goats went to the current time.

The three divine beings waited. Crimson unsure if speech would help or hinder, while the Brothers kept expecting a trap of some kind. Time crept forward. Well, it did and did not. The relationship between time and space and existing was an odd thing in the spiritual realm. The point was, Griff should return at any moment, and Remnant would be safer.

The Commands came to an end. Crimson was not yet strong enough to hold against the Brothers. As soon as Griff returned, it would endure its final defeat.

…

Any time now…

Ozma was shaken.

The revelations from the Herald had bit deep into his being. A tale of judgment inflicted on his wife. Inflicted by the gods he served. He… he didn't know what to feel. Or what to think.

As if to add to his tribulations, two goats manifested in his bedchamber in blooms of red light.

He stared at the goats.

The goats stared at him.

The Herald stared at the goats.

"...again?"

A/N: Getting very close to the end of this phase now. As a reminder, I stream part of the writing process on Mondays at 11 PM EST.