“How many gods of Oaths are there?” I ask, Ares blew air through his teeth in a thinking sigh.

“A lot, I don’t know.” He answers flippantly, I could tell he wasn’t interested in my own business.

“Any of the gods good on information?” I query and he just laughs.

“There are sometimes lots of gods of the same Divinity, some in the thousands. Minor Deities that would have been killed and harvested for power. There was a war, well it was: The War. Where the positive Divinities bolstered their numbers while the negative Divinities harvested. It lasted Eons.” He sighs. “But the positive Divinities won and instilled the Godly Laws because in the end mortal law is for mortals and Godly Law is for gods.”

“So the number of gods in existence swelled.”

“Yes, but we’re getting off track to your original question. A God of Information, each faction and clique has their own. You never really want more than one in each group because they’ll wage a war on each other or be best buds.” Ares eyed me, “and I don’t know which is worse. Luckily for you, I am the oldest God of War, I have long-established ties for the majority of factions and I can put you in contact with a reputable Information, the only question. What’s in it for me?”

“No doubt you know I have nothing, I am but a weak freshly made god. I will be in your debt, I will owe you two favours.” I answer I knew this is what Ares wanted anyway.

“Why two?” He asks genuinely curious.

“One for ‘mentoring’ me, the other for this.”

“Then we have a deal.” Ares cracks his neck before proceeding. “The Information God I’m going to introduce yourself to is called John, he changes names every ten decades which is annoying, you’ll meet him at the banquet. In the meantime, you need to find yourself a follower.” Ares suggests.

“Why?”

“It’s customary to be escorted by a follower, which is why we’re back where you first appeared.” He explains I looked around and indeed I was, however, the dias was bare and the drapes were gone. “You appeared in this specific place for a reason, this is where the warriors gather before challenging the Tower of Babel. That makes you a warrior, so find someone. I’ve got my own affairs to run for now.” Ares just walks away and I was left alone in the plaza.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath, I had so many questions about this place but Ares didn’t seem interested in answering them which means it's up to myself to find someone and I don’t imagine a God of Information is willing to waste his time answering benign questions for me.

I did the first thing that came naturally to me, got some food. I walked over to a stall on the side street, it was a stall selling bread, fruits, and lean meats.

“M’Lord?” The stall tender said in a panic.

“How much for some bread?”

“T-two coppers M’Lord, but for you, it’s free.” I frown at this but accepted the charity. However, in the middle of it, I felt a connection, a feeling of power flowing from him to me. It certainly was not the power of kindness, no it was a sense of loss albeit it minor I felt my Divinity acknowledge it.

“You have my gratitude.” I felt compelled to say, and in the future, I would repay this. I grabbed a loaf of bread and found a place to sit out of the stream of the crowd and while I ate, I watched. Several people acknowledged me but I waved them along. I closed my eyes and focused on my Divinity. The channeling of my Divinity was a new feeling but altogether intuitive and rather than cleanse and detoxify myself I used it to try and sense.

If I am truly a god then I should be able to sense people closest to my Divinity, right?

And it was overwhelming, the amount of information I got back. People’s dreams they’ve cast aside because it isn’t feasible, and what they’ve given up for others. I felt a throbbing headache forming in my skull as I tried to sort through all the crushed dreams and I was met with a profound sense of loss. I followed the connection, cutting my way through the crowd to the other side of the plaza, beggars, cripples, and the likes grouped together here.

“You.” I addressed, standing over him, he looked up at me and didn’t say a word. I could see it in his eyes, not fear but believing he had finally met his end and was accepting it. He was unshaven for a long time, his brown beard came down to his chest along with his hair. He had a green eye and the other was a milky white. He was dirty, covered in rags, and both his legs were missing above the knee.

The beggars and cripples had gone quiet and shrunk away from me, some peasants on the street stopped to watch.

“I understand the choices you’ve made and the life you have lived.” I looked into his eyes. “I am Levi, a new god. I am in need of a follower, a warrior, and someone loyal. Would you be my right-hand man, my attendant, my Knight-Commander?”

The man trembled, still not fearing but overtaken with emotion.

“I will make your Sacrifice mean something.”

“Yes My Lord.” He stated, trying to blink away the tears forming in his one good eye. I channeled my Divinity, as much as seemed reasonable and pushed the power into him. He was bathed in red, not a passionate hot red, a darker one the colour of venous blood. When the thrumming of power died down, the plaza was silent.

The man who I had chosen was on his back and awake. His milky white eye had gone and he had his legs again. He realised this too but instead of yelling with joy he quickly got onto one knee and bowed his head.

“I am yours to command My Lord.”

“Then lets us move, we have a banquet to attend.”