“I don’t think that I do,” said Morgunov, though that wasn’t entirely true. “You’re tryin’ to tell me that there’s some grand, invisible force that’s been creating great geniuses throughout history? And that only one can exist at a time? Why would that be true? Seems pretty inefficient to me. If the goal is to create Order, then the more brilliant minds there are, the better. Limiting it all to just one, singular dude sounds stupid as hell.”
“I never said Order was smart, now did I?”
“Oh, c’mon, that’s the best you’ve got? You’re supposed to be the greatest liar in the world, aren’t you? Come up with something more convincing!”
“What could be more convincing than the simple truth?”
“Eheh, oh, please. The best liars are able use the truth as if it were a lie--and vice versa. Think I’m not aware of that? Gotta say, you’re really leavin’ me quite unimpressed with your abilities so far, fella. Fumblin’ the bag, as the youngins like to say!”
“Well, I did tell you from the beginning that you were overestimating me.”
“Aha! True enough!”
“But alright. I cannot claim to know what Order is thinking--or if it even thinks anything at all, for that matter--but I do feel that you are misconceiving something. A true Fury is able to take inspiration from their contemporaries, as well. Not just from those in the past. So your idea that more would be better is rather moot.”
“Hmm.”
“Additionally, would more actually be better? They do say that too many cooks spoil the broth, no? Perhaps Order believes something similar.”
Dang it, that was actually a good point.
Morgunov still had more to follow up on, though. “Okay, so the Furies are, what, the greatest minds of their eras? And yet you also told me that I’m not one of ‘em? How can I not qualify, huh? After all I’ve done! That hardly seems fair!”
“‘Tis not a matter of intellect alone.” A beat passed. “Though I’m sure you would be found wanting there, as well.”
“Eheh, ouch! So what else factors in, then, hmm?”
“Personality, of course. Temperament. Desires of the heart and soul.”
“You sayin’ I’m not pure of heart?”
“Not at all. Your heart is perhaps the purest black I’ve ever seen.”
“Really? Ever? You’ve known some real mean buggers from across all the Ages, haven’t you? And yet you honestly think I’m the worst?”
“Yes. I do.”
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.
Monday, April 29, 2024
Sunday, April 28, 2024
Page 3576
“How did you get your hands on the Vessel, anyway?” said Germal. “It should have been guarded by a cluster of feldeaths.”
“Oh, you knew that, huh?” And a thought struck him. “Wait a minute! Don’t tell me! You went and tried to grab it yourself, didn’t you?! Only to find it missing after putting yourself in so much danger! Ahaha! That’s what happened, isn’t it?!”
Germal said no response, which prompted Morgunov to just keep laughing.
“That’s excellent!” said the Mad Demon. “Wish I’d been there to see you scurrying about like a scared mouse!”
“Tell me how you snuck it out,” said Germal.
“Curious, eh? Alright, fine. I lured a clew of worms over to distract the big fellas for me while I made off with the spoils. Which involved more than just the Vessel, by the way. In fact, I’d nearly forgotten about that old thing until you brought it up.”
“Ah...”
“So there. Satisfied yet?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good! Then we can be done with this whole thing and get back to the real world!”
“You have no further questions for me?” said Germal.
Morgunov paused. Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to get back to ripping this guy in half as soon as possible, but he supposed he shouldn’t waste this opportunity while he had it. Plus, something else was occurring to him. “If you’re saying that, then you must have additional things to ask, mm?”
“Perhaps so. You are a font of knowledge, Demon. I should like to make use of you while I still can.”
“Ooh. A threat and flattery. What a charming devil you are, Germy. In that case, I’ll indulge you a bit longer. Tell me. What are the Furies, exactly? How do you define them?”
“I’m surprised you do not already know that.”
“Mayhaps I do. But I still want to know what your twisted and stupid perspective is.”
“Kehe. The Furies, dear Demon, are the great agents of Order. They are a troublesome collective that span the breadth of history, often linked together unwittingly. They are one--and also many.”
“Hmm. One and many, huh?”
“The collective supports the one. The emergent head of a given era. Only one exists at a time. It becomes the focal point to which flows all the troublesome toils of the others. And when the head is slain, another inevitably emerges. A hydra, of sorts. I am certain that you know exactly what I speak of. And that I am not lying, yes?”
“Oh, you knew that, huh?” And a thought struck him. “Wait a minute! Don’t tell me! You went and tried to grab it yourself, didn’t you?! Only to find it missing after putting yourself in so much danger! Ahaha! That’s what happened, isn’t it?!”
Germal said no response, which prompted Morgunov to just keep laughing.
“That’s excellent!” said the Mad Demon. “Wish I’d been there to see you scurrying about like a scared mouse!”
“Tell me how you snuck it out,” said Germal.
“Curious, eh? Alright, fine. I lured a clew of worms over to distract the big fellas for me while I made off with the spoils. Which involved more than just the Vessel, by the way. In fact, I’d nearly forgotten about that old thing until you brought it up.”
“Ah...”
“So there. Satisfied yet?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good! Then we can be done with this whole thing and get back to the real world!”
“You have no further questions for me?” said Germal.
Morgunov paused. Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to get back to ripping this guy in half as soon as possible, but he supposed he shouldn’t waste this opportunity while he had it. Plus, something else was occurring to him. “If you’re saying that, then you must have additional things to ask, mm?”
“Perhaps so. You are a font of knowledge, Demon. I should like to make use of you while I still can.”
“Ooh. A threat and flattery. What a charming devil you are, Germy. In that case, I’ll indulge you a bit longer. Tell me. What are the Furies, exactly? How do you define them?”
“I’m surprised you do not already know that.”
“Mayhaps I do. But I still want to know what your twisted and stupid perspective is.”
“Kehe. The Furies, dear Demon, are the great agents of Order. They are a troublesome collective that span the breadth of history, often linked together unwittingly. They are one--and also many.”
“Hmm. One and many, huh?”
“The collective supports the one. The emergent head of a given era. Only one exists at a time. It becomes the focal point to which flows all the troublesome toils of the others. And when the head is slain, another inevitably emerges. A hydra, of sorts. I am certain that you know exactly what I speak of. And that I am not lying, yes?”
Saturday, April 27, 2024
Page 3575
“You conflate the two when you should not,” said Germal. “Chaos may be an aspect of the Void, but that does not mean they have the same desires. Does your stomach always want what you do?”
“I mean, usually. I’ve never been big on dieting.”
“Even so, that is the essence of it. The Void believes that it knows best. It often tries, foolishly, to ignore its many competing instincts.”
“Interesting. So what does that make you, then? A stomach virus?”
Germal laughed outright. “From your perspective, perhaps so! But you’ll have to forgive me if I do not measure my self-worth by the judgments of a gleeful, mass murdering psychopath.”
“Mmhmm. You say that, but if you’re really a Primordial, then the odds are quite good that you’ve dabbled in a bit of mass murder and/or psychopathy yourself.”
“A fair statement. Incorrect, but fair.”
“Oh? Which Primordial do you claim to be, then?”
“Ah-ah. It is still my turn. And you have yet to answer my question. The Vessel. Where is it located?”
“Fine, fine. I have it, actually. Locked up tight in one of my warehouses.”
“Which warehouse?”
“Lemme go, and I’ll take you there!”
“How kind of you to offer. But I shall make do with just the location, if you please.”
“Hmph. It’s in Luugh. Outside a little town called Ragayo. That specific enough for you?”
“No. What is the exact address?”
Tch. “Doesn’t have one. No road nearby. Won’t show up on a map, either.”
“Landmarks?”
“It’s surrounded by trees. Squirreled away, out of sight. I like my hidden things to remain hidden, y’know?”
“Security?”
“None at all.”
“You’re lying. I can tell. How much security is there?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing a tough guy like you can’t handle.”
“Specifics, Demon. Answering to my satisfaction was your rule, remember?”
“Ugh, so dull! Can’t you just appreciate a good surprise, every now and then?”
“No.”
“Alright, alright. Lemme think. Umm. There were... twelve automatic turrets along the perimeter. Programmed to stun, not kill. Thirty-seven mines dotted the outer walls. Oh, and a small platoon of Roberts.”
“Roberts?”
“My tin soldiers. That’s what I call ‘em.”
“...How small is this platoon, precisely?”
“Oh, I, mm... sixty-eight.”
“Sixty-eight of those monstrosities?”
Morgunov could not help feeling immensely pleased by the bastard’s worried tone. “You and your boys made short work of them back at my workshop. And without me there to feed them orders, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble.” Assuming Germal actually brought all his buddies along to help, which seemed unlikely.
Eheh.
“I mean, usually. I’ve never been big on dieting.”
“Even so, that is the essence of it. The Void believes that it knows best. It often tries, foolishly, to ignore its many competing instincts.”
“Interesting. So what does that make you, then? A stomach virus?”
Germal laughed outright. “From your perspective, perhaps so! But you’ll have to forgive me if I do not measure my self-worth by the judgments of a gleeful, mass murdering psychopath.”
“Mmhmm. You say that, but if you’re really a Primordial, then the odds are quite good that you’ve dabbled in a bit of mass murder and/or psychopathy yourself.”
“A fair statement. Incorrect, but fair.”
“Oh? Which Primordial do you claim to be, then?”
“Ah-ah. It is still my turn. And you have yet to answer my question. The Vessel. Where is it located?”
“Fine, fine. I have it, actually. Locked up tight in one of my warehouses.”
“Which warehouse?”
“Lemme go, and I’ll take you there!”
“How kind of you to offer. But I shall make do with just the location, if you please.”
“Hmph. It’s in Luugh. Outside a little town called Ragayo. That specific enough for you?”
“No. What is the exact address?”
Tch. “Doesn’t have one. No road nearby. Won’t show up on a map, either.”
“Landmarks?”
“It’s surrounded by trees. Squirreled away, out of sight. I like my hidden things to remain hidden, y’know?”
“Security?”
“None at all.”
“You’re lying. I can tell. How much security is there?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing a tough guy like you can’t handle.”
“Specifics, Demon. Answering to my satisfaction was your rule, remember?”
“Ugh, so dull! Can’t you just appreciate a good surprise, every now and then?”
“No.”
“Alright, alright. Lemme think. Umm. There were... twelve automatic turrets along the perimeter. Programmed to stun, not kill. Thirty-seven mines dotted the outer walls. Oh, and a small platoon of Roberts.”
“Roberts?”
“My tin soldiers. That’s what I call ‘em.”
“...How small is this platoon, precisely?”
“Oh, I, mm... sixty-eight.”
“Sixty-eight of those monstrosities?”
Morgunov could not help feeling immensely pleased by the bastard’s worried tone. “You and your boys made short work of them back at my workshop. And without me there to feed them orders, I’m sure you won’t have any trouble.” Assuming Germal actually brought all his buddies along to help, which seemed unlikely.
Eheh.
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