"We are not forbidden to kill him."

"We are forbidden to Maledict him, so it amounts to giving him to Abadar and thence to Osirion, and we can't keep him prisoner here either."

"Whatever game is occurring, Asmodeus has not allowed us any easy lesser victories in it."

"Oh."

" - well, Abadar doesn't want the world reduced to fire and ash either.

Right?"

"Nethys might."

"Cayden Cailean probably doesn't."

If this were an eroLARP, which god got their preferred outcome would depend on which romantic interest Keltham ended up most favoring.

It's probably for the best that Keltham hasn't thought to mention that to anyone yet.

"Can we kill Nethys."

"We can't even Maledict Ione, and if she revives in Nethys's grand temple in Sothis, knowing what she already knows of Law and Keltham -"

"Maybe the Most High would contradict my interpretation, in fact I rather suspect she would, it is not the place of 7th-circle priestesses to set their wits against those of gods.  But to me it feels as if we are being told, maybe even by tropes, to submit and play the game that was set for us."

"Win Keltham by playing fair and possessing that which appeals most to him."

"Playing fair would be taking it much too far.  Keltham does not seem to think that particularly Lawful, and I'm quite sure it's not Evil."

(Civilization's hypothetical policy toward things that really really want to minimize your utility function unless you pay them $5, and which totally didn't get there by strategic self-modification no really, is in fact to pay any costs required to remove them from reality.

You could rationalize it by saying that you expect most of those entities did get there by strategic self-modification even if they say otherwise, or via some error that their ancestors are less likely to make if it's obvious that's how most of the potential victims will respond.

But that's only part of the reason.  The other part is that if you're finding yourself inside horrible broken counterfactuals that shouldn't exist in the first place and some bastards went and fucked up actual reality, well, even the Keepers did start out as human at one point, so fuck all those aforesaid bastards.)

PL-timestamp:  Day 8-9 (7) / Late Night

(yes, still)

Usually when Security suddenly comes for you in the middle of the night while you're catching up on your Project's paperwork, the scenario in which this happens is a lot more scary than the one Carissa Sevar is confronting right now.

The Security usually isn't kneeling to you with their head bowed, for one thing.

- no actually that is stressful because he must have fucked up something badly enough he's not sure if the low-punishment rules still apply. 

" - what."

"My name is Olegario, 5th-circle, conjuration specialist.  I was the Security who watched over Subirachs's office while you spoke to her of your thoughts on creating a place for dath ilani in Hell."

"I fear Hell.  If it is not heresy to do so, and offends not Queen nor Church nor Hell, I would offer my allegiance to you in hopes of receiving whatever place in Hell there may be for the vassals of dath ilani who are not dath ilani themselves."

Oh. 

Well, there's going to be a lot of that, if she really does build something that's able to use more of people than the rest of Hell is building. 

(Or even if she doesn't, but people hold out hope that she might.)

She feels dizzy. It feels like somehow even though the stakes were plainly high enough for a godwar they just keep getting higher. She has to win Keltham or he'll set up a Civilization built off one that would destroy them if it could. She has to fix Hell or - possibly billions of people - will go there and get weaker, because no one knows how to use them - caring about other people is pathetic but it's sort of allowed if they belong to you, which is precisely what he's offering -

- or it could be a test. But if it's a test she's not sure what it's testing. It isn't heretical to make agreements that explicitly specify themselves to hold as long as they displease none of the Church or the Queen or Hell itself; it approximately can't be. 

(It could be Abrogail! volunteers the part of her brain that seems to have assigned itself the role of declaring that everything and everyone could be Abrogail.)

She takes a moment to think. That's probably terrifying, to him, but you're supposed to take a moment to think if you're doing anything actually serious, and this is incredibly serious. 

"If it offends not Church nor Queen nor Hell, I accept your allegiance," she says, "though I'll have to build Evil dath ilan before I can even begin to guess the use it will have for its vassals. I - don't predict that it would have none."

He remains kneeling.  "Have you any different orders for me, or requests of me?"

" - I'm going to go check if this does, in fact, offend Church or Queen or Hell, and then revisit that question. You're dismissed for now." Does her voice sound childish and incompetent to anyone except her.

Olegario thought somehow that the Chosen of Asmodeus would already know what wouldn't offend Church nor Queen nor Hell.  There is in his stomach the sickening feeling of having taken the wrong risk, a foolish risk, a doomed risk.  Should he have waited?  But the Chosen will have half of Cheliax wanting to swear to her, if the opportunity becomes known and less risky, and she would have less use for a 5th-circle then.

He rises.  "I go then to watch over you, as is my duty this night," he says, and steps through her door to put back on his Invisibility ring.

The Chosen of Asmodeus really really wishes she knew what would offend Church or Queen or Hell but you see actually she's just fourth-circle herself and holding all this together through the sheer conviction that a Fly spell can't expire if you aren't looking at your watch. 

Okay, maybe she knows some things. Abrogail's not going to object. Abrogail would pay attention to Carissa amassing an independent power base but Carissa's pretty sure at this point Abrogail's correctly assessed Carissa as not at all a threat on that front, and also fifth-circle conjuration specialists aren't even dangerous in that evaluation, especially. Hell...presumably owns the wizard's soul, and if she makes it known she wants to buy it the price will spike wildly....she wishes she could tell Keltham about this, he'd be a delightful accomplice in trying to solve problems like that -

So that's just Church, to check. She goes to Maillol's office; this feels like a thing that has to do with Carissa's fairly inadequate tyranny.

Maillol's office is empty.  He is dead and Raised, and his own Ring of Sustenance won't kick until tomorrow night.

Right, that. She's gotten accustomed to thinking of him as just fixed in that chair for her to visit whenever it occurs to her. 

Subirachs hasn't died recently, she should be up.

She is always ready, if perhaps a bit nervous at this point, to receive the Chosen of Asmodeus again.

Carissa recounts what happened. "I - expect it might come up again. My not alarming Her Majestrix is between us, I understand, but would anything I might do inspire concern from the Church?"

"Yes."

"Quite a lot of concern actually."

"I think this is a matter for the Most High, period."

" - understood. I - regret my error in underestimating its seriousness. Should I write to her or should you."

Jacint sighs.  What was she thinking.  What was he thinking.  WAS ANYONE INCLUDING HERSELF ACTUALLY THINKING AT ANY POINT.

"I shall permit you the privilege," Jacint says.