The fate of Cygnus.

It was well that they held this meeting in the holy bathhouse.

The comfortably-hot waters had much to wash away, for this was the dawn of a new age, as everyone was well aware.

The people felt it the moment this stranger came in and saved everyone.

Much had been lost, there were countless dead.

Yet there were still people to grieve.

To remember, and put the dead to rest. To rebuild, and put things in order. And then to move on and grow anew from the ashes. Not to forget, but for the sake of friends and family gone. It’s what they would want.

Birth, ****, birth, ****. As long as there’s life, the cycle must continue.

What happens to people when they die?

For once, the voice was taciturn. “Even if I knew, I could not tell you. And you could not tell them. It’s just how it is.”

He wasn’t going to accept that kind of rote answer forever.

He was, however, ready to take it easy today, reclining against the edge of the bath. Soaking to his rock-hard torso in the cleansing waters and heating them as a byproduct. He leaned back, staring up at the artistic murals on the high ceiling.

“Not bad,” Brigid sighed, laying her head down against the edge of the bath, giving a great view of her own admittedly-rippling muscular back. A back that bore scarring, of the kind given by whips. “I’ve been hero and villain, in the eyes of misguided people in the latter case, of course.”

“Of course,” Adrienne echoed, doing her best not to stare, and failing.

“I much prefer a heroic demeanor!”

“I should hope so,” Noriko giggled, as she fetched them all another bottle of wine from the side of the bathhouse. Normally a job for lesser priestesses, but they were all still firmly fucked insensible. “If you’re going to be our Champion, then you will have an entire religious faith built up around you. I weep for the poor, innocent girls of the future.”

“Don’t weep too hard,” Brigid shot back, hooking a thumb towards the priestess-pile. “They won’t be innocent for long.”

Giselle giggled, which did spectacular things for her enormous chest. She splashed another bucket of water on herself, having to expend more effort to clean off than any of the others due to her sheer, overwhelming plump figure.

So many places to wash. She’d happily enlisted strong, firm hands for that purpose.

Multiple times, since they kept getting diverted while Adrienne pouted.

Truly, Giselle’s breasts were like nothing else. Their sheer heft displaced a great amount of water around her, and the slightest movement demonstrated endless jiggling. She was the living embodiment of a pillow.

What would it be like to sleep atop her...?

The townsfolk outside waited, but the women in here were also waiting.

On his decision.

It was difficult to see the traveler's mind, thanks to his calm demeanor. Similarly, for him, the hearts of both Adrienne and Giselle were cloudy with doubt and concern. It obscured deeper insights. Noriko’s heart was steadfast in faith and love, but those two were obviously worried.

Their eyes looked past him, to the future he promised to bring.

A return to divine rule for Cygnus. The city had been independent. Not just bereft of a god, but after their last one faded, actively refusing others. Making a go of it in the harshness of the eternal night, blanketed by endless snow and the freezing cold of the north, without even a bonfire to huddle around.

It had ended up like this, so the experiment of a godless city was obviously over.

The reaction to this truth was not entirely relief, though. Not by a long shot.

Curiously, perhaps because stormclouds were not ahead of her, but behind, Brigid Wallace wasn’t worried at all. Worries never seemed to touch her, even when she was in the grip of a hopeless situation. Much less now that she’d brought back their salvation, and enjoyed the rich adoration of the village girls for it.

This bath was just one of many ways the citizens were trying to curry as much favor as they could, before judgment was rendered on Cygnus’ future.

“Everyone’s just being silly,” the voice whispered to him. “There was no future for Cygnus until roughly twenty hours ago!”

If he was here to bring comfortable, long lives for the Ten Tribes of Autumn, then he obviously had to make whatever choice would lead best to that. Just because he’d averted a bad end, wouldn’t justify any end he chose to give them.

If he blew up the city in a fit of godly pique, nobody would give him credit for the intervening time between now and then.

“Pfui! Gods don’t do that, we’re above such base mortal failings. Uh, mostly. After a fashion. Look, see here, you brick! Independence was fool’s gold. As I said before, mortals need freedom, but not too much. Even if it wasn’t suicide against the dark hordes, they’d fall apart. It’s our duty to guide them.”

To rule over them, in other words.

“Well… yes! Somebody has to call the shots, and it can’t just be ‘everybody’.”

Why not?

“Are you really asking me that question? Because some are born better! Mortals and the divine will never be on the same level. Come now, this is getting much too rich for my purely-metaphorical blood. The task before you now is simplicity itself.

We need Cygnus and Luxor both, to rebuild Riviera. Cygnus needs you to recover. After which, they can be made to back us and compel Luxor to cooperate. Forget all the pleasures ahead that will be yours, as rightful owner of not one city, but three… actually, don’t forget them!

Consider it. Thousands of women. At any time, in any place, in any way you desire.”

Quite a point. The sample he’d just received was persuasive enough.

“I’ve made my decision.”

All eyes went to him, and he felt a spike of anxiety from the Leonhart women particularly. That, and a swell of excitement from Noriko. All of them, including the priestess-pile, knew what was coming. It was so blatantly obvious, even somebody born three days ago could figure it out.

“I came here not for conquest, but for your help. Let us forge an alliance, between the city of Cygnus, and my newly-formed faith. The Mutual Prosperity Guild.”

Everyone stared at him for a while.

Giselle let out a huff.

“I’m sorry for underestimating you so badly, my Lord. Of course, we accept.”

Brigid grinned ear-to-ear. “If we’re going to be drawing up treaties, we really need to figure out something to call you, friend. This also seems the fit time to mention that I can’t read. It stands to reason that I also can’t write.”

“If my Lord desires this, I have no right to object,” Noriko nodded. “... I’ll sign in your place, oh noble Star Paladin of Cygnus.”

“I can always rely on you, Nori!”

“Never call me that.”

The Mutual Prosperity Guild, founded that day from a bathhouse rendezvous, would go down in history forever. To pass into legend and myth across Autumn and her people, down through the ages, to the stars and beyond.

This was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end.