Jigano raised an apologetic hand at the snort, lips twisted in a wry smile of understanding. The gods as a whole had been particularly unkind to Remi, and it was hard to imagine that more deities in the young man's life would do anything but complicate it further. Fascinating as he found the pantheon of Caido, the last thing he wanted to do was drag the alchemist deeper into it when he was already in over his head with Ludo.
A white-haired head tilted at the question, but he barely had to consider it before he shrugged. "A government of mortals? Not at all. But I'm not really sure the gods even have what might be considered a 'government.'" He tapped the edge of the glass with a fingernail thoughtfully. "They live in such a different scale than we do, we must hardly seem more than mayflies to the Older Gods. To the heralds we might be more like... oh, I don't know. Mice?" He smiled ruefully. "Not the best analogy, but bear with it. They seem to treat us like we do our called animals. Before we could compel them, when we still had to ask them for help. I still try to do that when the need isn't urgent. First, ask nicely. Reward good service. Let them go on their way when you're done with them. Compel those that threaten or try to balk you." A slight shrug lifted his shoulders. "In the end, though, if the task fails it's the Attuned's fault for not providing better instructions or recognizing the limitations of the animals they called. So it might be with the gods... or perhaps not. Amalia or Ashetta might know better, having met the Old Ones." Guesswork and fairy tales, spinning gold out of straw and stories out of air. It was what bards did, after all.
A white-haired head tilted at the question, but he barely had to consider it before he shrugged. "A government of mortals? Not at all. But I'm not really sure the gods even have what might be considered a 'government.'" He tapped the edge of the glass with a fingernail thoughtfully. "They live in such a different scale than we do, we must hardly seem more than mayflies to the Older Gods. To the heralds we might be more like... oh, I don't know. Mice?" He smiled ruefully. "Not the best analogy, but bear with it. They seem to treat us like we do our called animals. Before we could compel them, when we still had to ask them for help. I still try to do that when the need isn't urgent. First, ask nicely. Reward good service. Let them go on their way when you're done with them. Compel those that threaten or try to balk you." A slight shrug lifted his shoulders. "In the end, though, if the task fails it's the Attuned's fault for not providing better instructions or recognizing the limitations of the animals they called. So it might be with the gods... or perhaps not. Amalia or Ashetta might know better, having met the Old Ones." Guesswork and fairy tales, spinning gold out of straw and stories out of air. It was what bards did, after all.
