Though Argrave had been captivated by the discovery of [Blood Infusion], the Alchemist’s suggestion of robbing Erlebnis of knowledge drew his attention unlike anything else before.

Argrave and Anneliese walked into the Alchemist’s temporary abode constructed by his Pawns, where the giant waited for them with stacks of books laid out without much reason. He seemed to take issue with this, for he scooped up the books with many hands conjured from his body and placed them inside the wall. Argrave was baffled at what, exactly, this place was constructed of. Was this obsidian, or something more?

“Was that idea of yours more than just that?” Argrave decided to ask bluntly.

The Alchemist did not look back as he said, “Mortals have stolen from gods before.”

“Those tales generally end in smiting the mortal in question,” Argrave rebutted, recalling well the stories of gods and their wrath.

Whether in his world or in Heroes of Berendar, some poor sap would steal the Super Sandals, the Awesome Armor, or the Magic Mantle. Afterward, the thief would suffer a curse ten thousand times worse than whatever meager benefit the items actually offered. It was a bad deal.

“These tales spread only because people don’t like to think they are responsible for their mediocrity.” The Alchemist turned around. “But we can steal from Erlebnis. And whatever knowledge he holds will undoubtedly be of more use than this upstart, Mozzahr.”

“How do you know we can steal from a god?” Argrave gestured toward him.

“Personal experience,” the Alchemist said coldly.

Silence followed after that declaration. As Argrave exchanged glances with Anneliese, the Alchemist extended his hand to the ground. He clenched his fingers as if molding clay, and then a table rose up to occupy the once-empty room.

hubris lies in the forces behind it.” The Alchemist waved his hand across this newly-formed

statue: it depicted a malformed lump of meat vaguely resembling a head with a mouth possessing far too many teeth. It had two eyes but they were not in alignment, as though its face was melting and drooping away. It represented Erlebnis. The

you did in the Bloodwoods,”

“Divine politics,” Anneliese repeated.

of all water, Kirel Qircassia’s

the fate of Vasquer.” Argrave stepped to the table and grabbed one

an unintelligent decision. You would be best served abandoning that idea,” the Alchemist’s voice retaliated sharply, cracking like a whip. “This is not about your kingdom. This involves the world itself.

go of this idea. ‘No gods, no masters’ was a good slogan, but the reality remained that Argrave was one man. Even with a kingdom

in. The snow

you must speak for the divine,” the Alchemist continued. “Not all are like those elven gods. Some are so far removed from mortality that

by Veid,” the Alchemist pointed Galamon out, sliding a king piece closer. When it neared, it morphed into an elaborate idol depicting a woman clothed in fur—Veid herself. “I doubt she could

looked shocked, and examined the crafted statue

the world permitted it, they would stalk you every second, propositioning you. But they are bound to their shrines, and this is a relatively godless continent. There are

like that, but he didn’t have much rebuttal. It was true—he

“Shouldn’t

as likely an outcome as ostracization. And the key point of your conflict is this: you dealt Kirel a

but she seemed to be in agreement with the Alchemist on first glance. Galamon was simply awed and touched by the idea that Veid was watching him, and he stared at the statue the Alchemist

Argrave looked back. “And what about you? Why

indicator he was somewhat angry, Argrave suspected.

Argrave held his hand out. “I get

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