Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG-Chapter 317

"What do I owe the pleasure, Matthias?" Hastur was clad in simple blue overalls and a button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he tended what appeared to be garden. The garden—a fresh addition since my last visit—seemed to be a better-kept version of the same overgrown vines and greenery emerging from his desiccated corpse. There was a thick layer of dirt now covering the stone floor, complete with plots and various familiar and unfamiliar plants, and the vines had been landscaped into a braided fence that surrounded and protected the garden. The creeping outcrops were greener than before, more than a few sprouting flowers and other growths.

Naturally, there were many questions. But only one that mattered. "I need the necromancer."

Hastur paused in the midst of a cut, tending an air-seeking shoot in the same manner one might prune a bonsai tree. "Today?"

"Yes." It had to be today.

"Quite the departure from schedule." Hastur mused, trimming the vine and moving on to a bag of something he sprinkled over the crops. The stench was rank. "Is there a reason?"

I rolled my eyes, going to great effort to stop my foot from tapping. "Did you already see what happened? Because that would save us a lot of time."

"I'm aware of your recent victory in the tower, and that said victory has piqued the interest of certain allies. Yet the question remains. Why are you diverting from the plan?"

"Because my control of the situation was already tenuous." I admitted, already annoyed with the way he was dragging this out. "The smartest thing Miles can do is keep me away from the Overworld until he's decided. From the way things are going, he's planning to do exactly that. Can't risk leaving Vernon with the Order in Aaron's clutches when I'm not sure if I'm coming back."

Hastur reached into his pouch and tossed outward, sprinkling dark seeds over the treated plots. "It seems this constable poses an existential threat to your existence, and by extension, our plans."

I blew out air in frustration. "He's... well positioned to inflict pain on both me and the people I care about. That reality isn't lost on me."

"Which begs the question." Hastur carried on, seemingly completely unbothered. "Why is he still breathing?"

The comment, and the direction of thought it implied, caught me flat-footed. "Thought you were supposed to be the god of the people."

"It's true that my needs differ from the others." Hastur grunted, uprooting the first of several weeds. "And while I lack the mewling neediness of those who desire to be worshipped above all else, I am not so enlightened to ignore a greater threat to my plans and followers when one arises." He wiped his brow and looked up at me. "And neither are you. You've eliminated others who, comparatively, were far less of a danger simply for the future threat they might pose. But now, with a sword at your throat, you shy from the obvious. Why?"

My brow furrowed. "Because I don't think Miles' really wants to kill anyone. Or even expose me for that matter. He's done a lot of good, protecting civilians from various nightmares the system brought into being. His intentions are in the right place. If we build enough trust for him to be confident I'm on his side, that'll be the end of it."

"If you give him a reason, he will." Hastur warned, with enough confidence to make me wonder if he'd foresaw something he was holding back.

"So I won't. I'll keep it clean and buttoned up. Avoid anything he might consider damning."

"You misunderstand. The threat this constable poses is far greater than a question of binary mortality." Hastur straightened, hands on the small of his back as he stretched.

"Referencing his patron." I filled in, my mouth tight.

"Oh yes. And while the constable might indeed be tight-lipped enough to keep an Ordinator's identity to himself, his patron almost certainly won't. And that is, in many ways, the greater threat."

"They already know who I am." I thought of Nychta, and Nychta's nameless colleague who assigned my second class. Then the god who contacted me while we paid Miles’ penance. "Maybe not all of them, but the rumor has to be circulating to some extent."

"There's a considerable difference between an open secret shared between individuals, and an outstanding issue that everyone collectively understands requires address."

"That's the second part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Hastur prompted.

I hesitated. "This is a safe place to talk, right? No one other than the two of us will hear what I'm about to say?"

"Approaching zero." Hastur tilted his head, holding out a hand, fingers up. My ears popped, and a dull hum throbbed beneath the silence of the room. "And now that chance is nil." He grinned deviously. "Though if any god or goddess had been daring enough to trespass on my domain, they'd find themselves dreadfully curious of what you were about to say."

I drew a deep breath. "What I need is information on the gods themselves. The powerhouses who hold sway."

Hastur regarded me quizzically. "If you're searching for weaknesses, you will be disappointed."

"It's not like that." I shook my head. "First, I should ask, how possessive are the gods when it comes to their servants?"

"As with all things, that depends." Hastur answered slowly, searching for the meaning behind my words. "If Nicholas were to approach the Goddess of Luck with an offering to her taste, he'd likely find himself devoid of both the luck he sought and the boons of his patron."

"So they are possessive," I concluded, not bothering to hide my disappointment.

"With caveats. I care little for who my chosen worship so long as they retain their loyalty to the greater plan. And there are others who feel similarly."

"Such as?"

Hastur smiled, amusement dancing across his lips. "Well, simply judging from the way things have played out historically, the Allfather of Chaos likely wouldn't approve of the far more subtle methods you've employed to establish yourself, compared to your more reckless predecessors. Yet here you stand, power intact, unmitigated and uncensured. A god on the precipice of absolution is bound to be too caught up with the remarkable effort required to prolong their own existence. Actively meddling in the affairs of mortals is the hobby of those who have far more time on their hands."

"So he won't help me more than he already has, but he won't go out of his way to punish sleights."

"Correct. To collective benefit and detriment, you've obtained the sort of power that would typically require some sort of pledge to the ethos of a deity with none of the strings, albeit with none of the support. In general, the gods are only controlling of those they've bestowed with their own power. Drawing from the earlier example, you could offer the Goddess of Luck a boon one hour, and worship the God of Mortal Bindings the next." He chuckled, as if amused by the idea. "Though they'd be too tickled by the sheer novelty of an Ordinator showing them deference to compare notes closely."

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"And that wouldn't cause friction? When they run into each other in the divine lounge and share the day's spoils?" I asked.

Apparently it wasn't subtle enough, because a shadow of realization flickered across Hastur's expression. "There are... general... guidelines. A minor god should never be shown the same deference as a major deity. If an offering or sacrifice is rendered, the reasonable course of action by one attempting to avoid friction is to provide that offering to the deity's exact preference. If a minor god considers the blood sacrament of a mid-sized animal a worthy offering, offer it. But never provide a second."

It took a moment, but I got it. "Because later on, a major god might question why they were only offered a single dragon's core, with no others to be seen."

"For those pursuing polytheism, one truth is paramount. The gods do not care for the value of what is offered. Only that what is offered conforms to their strictures and preferences."

"And that the offerings are proportional." I finished. It was a monumental pain in the ass, but in a way, it made what I had in mind far easier. No need to go overboard.

Hastur watched as I mulled it all over. "This is entirely unexpected. Kowtowing to the divine to curry favor is a strategy of the political and overly ambitious. And one that often precedes their fall."

"There won't be any kowtowing. Or currying favor. Maybe that was an option before, but because of the way it went with Miles, there's no way they would see it as anything other than desperate and obvious." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "From everything I understand, the past Ordinators had an adversarial relationship with the gods. Obstructed them every step of the way, either out of loyalty to their patron, hunger for power, or spite. Now that it's getting out, becoming an issue they'll eventually need to address, I want a chance to get ahead of it. Show deference to the ones that matter, make sure they know who I am, rather than simply what I am. My motivations. My intentions. That regardless of what every other asshole born in the Allfather's shadow has done, all I want is to stop the bloodshed."

Slowly, Hastur nodded. "It's noble. Performative in a manner many prefer. But you underestimate how harrowing this undertaking could be. They are offered a slew of attention and offerings at any given time. It's how they sustain themselves. But to my knowledge, an Ordinator has never done what you intend. It will draw attention, and in some cases draw eyes that were previously uninterested. Every time you pray, there's a chance you'll hear the listener speaking back. Perhaps even manifesting before you."

The possibility they'd simply pop into existence hadn't occurred to me. Sure, it was possible, but from what Hastur was saying it was more likely than I'd realized. I'd need to keep my efforts discrete, separate from the group. Which either meant working around Miles or looping him in.

"Even better." I shrugged. "Again, this isn't about currying favor. This is about replacing superstition with rapport. Showing my interests and motivation as personal, rather than driven by some unseen divine agenda. Being clear that I'm displaced from my patron."

In a way, it wasn't all that different from what I was trying to do with Miles.

"And thus, a potential resource. One who's already proved himself capable of respect and decorum." Hastur quirked his head, then nodded, as if he'd decided. He clapped his hands, and a cumulus fog swept through the room, coalescing into clouds overhead, pressing against the stone. Another clap and a small section rained, soaking the soil. He reached into the torrent from outside the boundary of the wattle, rinsing the dirt off his hands. "Sybil?"

The seer appeared at his prompting, proffering a scroll, which Hastur passed to me. I partially unrolled it.

And smiled.

Despite the archaic form, the contents were written in a manner I was intimately familiar with. Countless lines of text were squished together in tiny print, the names of various gods bolded and underlined, complete with a bullet point list of their attributes and preferences. If Hastur had given me a tome, it would have taken days to review and take notes on, only to end with several pieces of paper formatted almost exactly like this. Cheat sheets. Starting with this meant I'd have it all memorized, probably before tomorrow.

With no movement on my part, the scroll snapped shut. The incessant humming in the background grew louder. I looked up at Hastur quizzically, playing stupid. But I could clock a hustle from a mile away.

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"There a problem?" I asked.

"Not in so many words." Hastur mused "Despite my misgivings, I've decided to support your endeavors. I'll inform my wayward prophet I've borrowed his necromancer for my own purposes. Aaron will be displeased, of course. But he values his power too highly to do anything stupid. Inevitably, he'll fall into line. I'll also provide you with the information requested."

"On what condition?" I asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hastur approached me and placed his hands on my shoulders. It was a neutral gesture, but they felt heavy, imparting more weight than physically possible. "The timing is nebulous. But sometime between now, and the end of all things, I will ask something of you. Not a favor, but a question. And given how integral I've been to your survival, it is only reasonable to expect you'll answer me honestly."

I swallowed. "If you're expecting me to gather information from the gods, I'm not sure that's doable. If I approach them with the slightest hint of ulterior motives, or hell, even a lack of earnestness—"

"—You'll be dead before you hit the ground, yes. By all means, you are better off avoiding the gods entirely if there is are any underhanded intentions your heart. This is nothing of the sort."

Relief flooded me. There was a pause, before I pointed out the obvious. "Why wait? We're both here. You have the leverage. With your future knowledge it's borderline impossible to hide anything from you, and you're right. I owe you. Just ask and have your answer."

"That would be unwise." Hastur grimaced, lowering his hands. "For several reasons. Ideas that simply asking might plant in your mind, giving any gods who scrutinize your thoughts all the justification they need to quicken your fall. My sight is not as encompassing as you believe. What I have at the moment is a puzzle. I can see the present. How it began. And with nearly the same clarity, the beginning of the end. But the path between present and future is clouded. There is no obvious line that connects them. And while that future suits my purposes..." His troubled eyes snapped back on me. "It's irregular. Most often, the future is the natural progression of the present. Cause and effect. A deviation to this extent implies an unaccounted variable."

"Gee. Wonder what he's on about. Couldn't be—"

Reflexively, I bore down on brutally quashing the voice before it could finish, forcing it into the inner-recesses of my mind. I wasn't sure why it was important, but somehow, I knew it couldn't be allowed to complete whatever pithy insight it was about to make.

"Fine." I said aloud. Even if it left a bad feeling in my gut, terms this good were hard to come by, and I'd be a fool to pass on what he was offering out of stubbornness. "Help me here and I promise to answer your question."

"I'd prefer a vow, if it's all the same to you." Hastur said, his expression completely serious.

I suppressed a sigh and did as he asked. "When the time arrives, I vow to undergo the interrogation of Hastur, The Retainer in Violet, and answer all queries truthfully." My left arm burned. When I loosened my gauntlet to look at it, I found a tattoo in the form of a black diamond on my forearm, smaller than the geass, but with enough similarities to imply it held similar power.

It was one of the few times since we met that Hastur looked surprised. "Few men would utter such a vow so easily. Fewer still with something to hide."

"Not really the time to fuck around." I shrugged, staring at him with growing irritation. "This is unnecessary. Since we met, I've spent plenty of quiet moments trying to visualize how a person could realistically hide something from an omniscient being."

"And your conclusion?" Hastur asked, genuinely curious.

I snorted, partially at the idea I'd just tell him if I had anything, partially at how impossible it was. "Fuck all. The holes in your foresight are the only point of ingress. Even if I worked out some way to predict them, it's impossible to be vigilant forever. All you'd need is the smallest slip at any point in time, and I'd be irredeemably screwed. Our motivations align, and so far at least, you seem to be genuinely trying to help. So if the cost of that is keeping my cards further from the vest, it's easily worth it..." I trailed off, frustrated, as Hastur crossed his arms. "Why do I get the sense you don't believe me?"

"I believe you believe it. And that will suffice for now." Hastur commented impassively. Before I could retort, he snapped his fingers, and the warded entryway to Vernon's lair appeared.

/////

Hastur gave me a few more pieces of advice regarding the tower, while we waited for Vernon. Some general, some oddly specific. I jotted notes on the back half of the scroll, which he seemed to find endlessly amusing.

Meanwhile, the necromancer took an hour to pack up. Less than I'd expected, given the breadth of his research, but his lair was modular, cutting down the time it would have taken to smuggle all his equipment and specimens out of the Order's HQ.

It was approaching dusk when Azure reached out, warning me that Miles was already at the flat and his power was waning. I had a few hours, maybe a little less, subtracting what it would take to drive Vernon across town.

Thankfully, Jackson made good time. And before I knew it, we were pulling into the illusory garage, one of many similar entrances that led to Kinsley's Sanctuary.