Alter’s bemusement and pleasure at the fact that a god seemed willing to engage in casual conversation with him was short lived. The immediate snag he had hit was where to go from there. How do you converse with a deity whose wants, desires and expectations are hidden from you, or at least presented in such an alien manner that they become illegible. The next logical step for this interaction would be to ask him how he was doing, but that was a human conversation, with participants of suitably equal standing. Where did he stand in relation to a god? Old world religions stated that he should show deference, a level of reverence befitting Kalaton’s lofty, symbolic stature. Yet he had never demanded such enforced respect, in their handful of encounters there had never been a need for prostration or worship. Kalaton was alien to him, their scales were just too different to properly mesh. But Alter knew he was trying to make himself understandable by providing information in a recognisable format, that of a mission briefing from the game that had landed them here. Surely, he would be able to find a way to convey such feelings, if they existed at all.

  The other problem was the way that Kalaton’s attention, and the unique side effects that brings, had changed after responding to the greeting. To be under his incorporeal eyes was an intense feeling already, however once the initial wave had passed the god tended to settle into a more comfortable separation. Not anymore, this time the intensity did not waver, though it did adjust. If the initial contact was like being thrown from a high cliff, this was more akin to flying on the back of a great bird, or at least being grasped in its talons. He was perfectly still, but the wider world whipped past him at incredible, dizzying speed. The ground beneath him was solid and motionless to touch, yet he could sense how it spun and hurtled through space on its unstoppable orbit. In the clutches and under the gaze of an outside force, he found himself caught in between the two. A quite disconcerting feeling, but he found himself able to compartmentalise the stranger sensations, allowing him to better focus on what was real and tangible. Alter steadied himself for his next, potentially foolish question.

  “How are you?” The words tumbled from his mouth. There was a fleeting moment of regret, but the stomach-sickening plunge he fearfully expected never arrived.

  STATUS // SATISFACTORY / CONTINUOUS / SEPARATE

  “Oh, good, that’s good.” Alter stammered, there were a couple of things to unpack mixed up in that statement but he wasn’t going to get caught up in that now.

  “What’s going on? I swear I just felt an earthquake or something.” Pavejack asked in a hissed whisper.

  “Hell if I know, I’m honestly not sure if it actually happened or whether I imagined it.” Vangroover murmured in response, the gentle sound of rustling clothes indicating he was looking around.

  “Will you two be quiet? I'm trying to talk to a god.” Alter growled at the pair of them.

  The vague shape of Pavejack’s face in his peripheral vision told him that the young man’s mouth was hanging wide open as he stared at him. Vangroover had immediately stopped moving, his head leaning slightly downward as if dozing off. Still, this was the first time that a squad member not in the command team had felt Kalaton’s presence, another factoid to be examined later. He pursed his lips gently as he pondered his next move, he had hoped that perhaps Kalaton would’ve asked him the same question in turn, or perhaps something different. But then again, why would a god need or even want to know how he was feeling? Besides, he had plucked him from his world and catapulted him through a breach between realities, granted him skills and equipment out of thin air, and gave him a haircut while he was at it. If he wanted to know how Alter was feeling, there would likely not be any need to actually ask.

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  Suddenly, there was an abrupt shift in Kalaton’s previously curious facade. Like storm clouds suddenly surging over the horizon across a dry and desolate landscape, the once hoped for rains transformed to a life-ending flood. Alter withered, squirming under the weight of a god’s unbridled rage. His mind raced, what could possibly have caused this? Was it something he had done? Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, it vanished. Kalaton retreated, the connection severed as if it were a single stalk of dried grass trying to hold back a train. All was silent, until an unexpected creaking noise disturbed the scene. The temple door swung open, and the sound of footfalls, armoured footfalls, filled the space. Out of the corners of his eyes, Alter saw the others spin around and slowly climb to their feet, their hands tentatively reaching for their sidearms hidden within their shirts. These were no friends, then. He resisted the urge to act in a similar manner, choosing instead to remain motionless on the floor. A moment later the thudding of boots halted, but for a synchronised slam of objects striking the ground. So, these newcomers are carrying weapons as well, likely polearms of some kind. Then came a much softer set of footsteps, accompanied by a sharp, rhythmic tapping of wood on stone. The sound continued further into the temple chamber than the others had, before stopping perhaps half way to the altar.

  “I must say, it has been quite the ordeal trying to arrange this meeting. Followers of He who gazes beyond? How unique, yet strangely befitting of such intriguing individuals such as yourselves.” An unknown voice purred with a rich tone, slathered in honey and precision.

  “Nevertheless.” It continued as Alter unfolded his legs and stood, turning slowly. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Alterfate.”

  Alter’s suspicions were immediately confirmed as his body completed its rotation. Standing before him, coated in pomp and power, flanked by a quartet of yellow-accented soldiers, was one Lord Bertrand Masserlind. The man looked up at him with an unnerving smile, that of a smug cat with a mouse trapped in its paws. Alter fought the urge to snort disparagingly at the man’s show of power, he would not dance to the enemy’s tune.

  “To openly carry weapons of war into such a holy place, do you not fear retribution?” He asked slowly, allowing his ghost of a threat to register in the man he faced.

  Bertrand responded with a short, barking laugh. “My dear fellow, you wound me. My companions' only concern is my safety, especially when I insist on meeting such dangerous and equally well-armed professionals.” The smile returned, with a knowing nod towards the subtle bulge of their pistol holsters.

  Alter mirrored the smile. “Perhaps I could be informed, then, of why the great Lord Bertrand Masserlind has come all this way, with such subterfuge, just to meet with me?”

  Betrand didn’t answer immediately, instead he turned to the side and took a couple of steps towards the wall, his eyes gazing upward towards one of the small windows high above them. “If there is one trait I admire the most in men, it is efficiency. The ability to bend the world to your will, to sweep aside all obstacles, and to do so with minimal disruption or losses. I make a habit of seeking out those with such a skill, that I might polish them as one polishes a gemstone, and give them an environment in which they can truly shine. I see it in you, Captain, and in your men. I want to give you a chance to shine.” He turned back to them, his smile blossoming like the dawn on a spotless day.

  Alter allowed the frown that had been steadily fighting its way to the surface to emerge. The man clearly liked the sound of his voice a little too much. “What are you implying?” He asked bluntly.

  “My dear, misguided nephew is quite fond of you. To have only been in his service a matter of weeks, yet you are already held in such high esteem.” Bertrand answered airily. “Just imagine how much more you could achieve if you joined the correct side.”