Coming Shadow

Written by Douglysium

The beautiful day felt as if it was in direct opposition with the large dark warship that sailed through it, railgun pointing to the heavens(aimed at dragons that had yet to appear). While the seabirds sang and glided through the air all the knights and staff on the ship chattered discordantly and bustled from place to place. Well, until Morien walked within eyeshot. Then they would often fall silent and give a salute or prayer until she waved them off or said “at ease.”
She had since made her way to the war room and gazed upon a map of Terra displayed on a large screen as calls and reports about dragon attacks, natural disasters, requests for aid, and other such goings on came in. There was much talk and suspicion. Rumors of a war against the very gods themselves waged by the dragons. But Morien was not going to take any brash actions until she heard from a concrete source. As if on cue a faint smell wafted in the room from somewhere. It smelled like a bounty of fish. Then came the thumping of footsteps as heavy as stone making their way to her room. The door opened as Sir Doyle entered the room. Despite the fact that his body was that of stone and his eyes glowed like two pieces of burning coal, there was always a softness about him and his mannerisms. He even held the papers he carried with caution and care. “Ryoma’s on the deck, sir.” Morien did not want to waste any time and as the dog god made her way up to the deck along with Sir Doyle the sound of loud prayers and offerings made the tuna god’s presence apparent long before he entered Morien’s field of vision. There was something almost hilariously mundane looking about the man in the center of all the praising and prayers. If it wasn’t for the crowd and Morien’s ability as a god to see essence Ryoma could have easily been mistaken for any other mortal. He did not look grand like John de Luminarie or as overpowering as Ferventi. Morien always liked that about Ryoma. It made him feel more approachable and frankly seeing a god that wasn't always so awe-inspiring or far beyond her made Morien feel just a little bit less like she wasn’t living up to what a god should be. Ryoma’s current form was that of a pale man wearing a black sweater under a light jacket that was mostly white in color, with the exception of a yellow collar and blue on its shoulders, sleeve cuffs, and the tips of its coat tails. Ryoma was in the middle of passing out some food as a gift to some of the knights and squires when he noticed Morien. She responded by giving Ryoma a salute to which the tuna god returned. Even if it was probably just out of politeness it did make a small amount of pride blossom in her chest. Ryoma was no Ferventi. But then again who was? To have such an experienced god and soldier actually acknowledge her always felt unreal to Morien. All the soldiers and staff made way for the tuna god as he made his way toward her. “Let us make our way to the war room,” he said. There was no extra fanfare needed between the two, plus the Dogged Knights had probably given enough of a warm welcome. Morien took a couple of steps before she remembered Sir Doyle behind her. “Sir Ryoma, is it okay with thou if I bring my high priest Sir Doyle with us? He is not only one of the best fighters in the entire Dog Cult but one of the world’s best detectives too.” Morien was afraid she might have overstepped by asking this, since this was probably a divine matter. “Of course, it is best we warn anyone who will listen,” said Ryoma. Warn? Morien didn’t want to make any assumptions but now she couldn’t help but begin to worry. Ryoma probably noticed. “Let us continue,” he said as the three began to move in unison. Ryoma led the way and sometimes she wondered if he knew the layout of the ship better than even she did. If he didn’t it wouldn’t be that unsurprising given his knowledge of military history.
When they arrived at the war room they were greeted by two knights sitting outside of it. They were set apart from most of the other knights on the ship because of the decorative fin-like protrusions on top of their helmets. Members of the Knights of Ryoma Regiment, a part of the Dogged Knight’s Water Army and also followers of Ryoma. They both kneeled in response to the presence of the two gods and did so until said gods and Doyle entered the room and closed the door behind them. Morien’s sensitive hearing was able to makeout the sound of them standing up when the door closed and their heartbeat slowing down after recovering from the excitement of seeing two of the gods they worshiped. Ryoma immediately began to walk around the room, towards the large map of Terra, and said “I want to put in a request for some more knights.” “Is the regiment we supplied thee with not enough?” Morien had meant to question if her cult had failed or done something wrong but she quickly realized that it might have sounded like she was calling Ryoma ungrateful and shame washed over her. Ryoma turned towards her “I’m afraid that there are only two options right now, war or massacre and you are one of the few younger gods that I think will take these warnings seriously.” Ryoma did not seem offended or disappointed so Morien waited attentively while Doyle drank in every word and scribbled some notes down on paper. “I also assumed you would join us because some of your knights are already well aware and preparing for battle.” He must have been talking about the Dogged Knight regiment known as the Knights of Ferventi. Morien had heard reports from them and accounts that the Pack of Ferventi had begun to shave the fur of their wolves in preparation for a big war. “Your cult also has a rich history of fighting dragons.” Someone so well versed in history could have probably rattled off countless battles(both big and small), the Cape Town’s Witching Hour, the Great London Stall, and many more. But Morien did not share most of this great history. She had only been a god for about 300 years. But Ryoma was much wiser, and if he thought she was helpful then there was no questioning it. “Is Ferventi really not enough?” she asked. Another question that might have come off as insulting but Ryoma understood the grave undertone. If Ferventi, the god of wolves and one of the most powerful minor gods to ever exist, was gathering help like this then this battle was probably something the likes of which Morien had yet to witness. It could spill out across Terra, dragging in countless gods and mortals into its bloodshed. With the exception of Sir Doyle writing down some notes, the room was silent for a brief moment, as if Ryoma was giving her a chance to think. “I am sorry for asking thee such an obvious question, but I must make sure everything is clear lest I make a bigger fool of myself later. Who will our enemies be?” “The mother of magic and her Lunar Dragonflight along with aid from the Solar Dragonflight” responded Ryoma. Something about hearing about Neia Lun De Draco and Aien Sol De Draco right now made her blood boil. They were everything she hated. Violent and power-hungry. Trying to usurp the gods attempting to protect this very world’s balance. Morien had heard about what the dragons did before most of the gods showed up, she had seen some of the things the likes of the Lunar Dragonflight did firsthand, and she feared what they would do if the gods ever left, or worse. All the gods were gods for a reason, or at least that’s what Morien told herself. “We have no other choice then, what does thoust need me to do?” Ryoma handed her a flash drive and said “Unfortunately, I have other gods I need to warn and I do not have time to give you every detail, but this should answer all your questions, and if it doesn’t you can ask someone later.” Morien politely escorted Ryoma to the deck while Sir Doyle followed before seeing him off. Ryoma vanished into the ocean, as quickly as he arrived and with just as much cheering, praying, and fanfare. Morien turned to Doyle “Send out a report and get all the knights ready. I will need a moment to get my war paint ready just in case.”