The Beast Of Both Worlds: A Drunk Mythology 6 Mercury Drags

Waking up in Olympus was as different as everything else. It seemed as if time never pa.s.sed, and yet Ginrius felt so renewed, it could have easily been a hundred years later. The cluttered workshop also appeared to have righted itself overnight, with all the tools organized and broken items repaired. Of course there was the nagging thought that someone snuck in while he rested, but then again, he should probably get used to all things weird now that he fell into the category.

Then there was the well of knowledge that had somehow ingrained itself to his consciousness. He was able to recount Hephaestus' memories at the ready, as though he had been the G.o.dsmith's apprentice all this time. Ginrius found that Olympian quality gear were common recipes now, or a flying chariot for that matter, when before, he could hardly picture a crate a.s.sembly.

When three rapid knocks called him to the door, he knew that all these improvements were about to be tested. He opened it to find Hermes, pacing about, seemingly waiting for something that took forever to arrive. "It's high time you answered, G.o.dsmith—I've been here for three whole seconds!"

Impatience was understandable for the fastest being alive; his idea of urgent superseded even that of his fellow G.o.ds. He was also designated postman to the pantheon, and when you have rounds to make for these bunch, antsy was as close as you get to feeling stressed. Olympians vent out a lot. Their emotions were mostly just a pinball round of love, hate, benefaction, and punishment.

Ginrius knew how foolhardy it was to cross these new colleagues, especially one of this stature. But in truth, he was more concerned of the damage from last night's mishap. He looked past Hermes and was able to breathe a sigh of relief: the rumpled sky, much like his workshop, had also been ironed clean.
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"You're not even paying attention, aren't you?" Hermes continued, now folding his arms. He probably also recited the Olympian bill of rights before that, which Ginrius would miss either way. The G.o.d took slurring to a whole new level.

"You talk too fast." Ginrius scratched his head.

"No, you're just slow," Hermes answered. "I have a very busy routine, G.o.dsmith—I suggest you get your bearings on and keep up—After this, I have to visit both Poseidon and Hades in their domains—and that's not even including the tasks I have for the rest of them."

And he was probably right. Ginrius was very new to this whole G.o.d thing and the norms should be expected to be anything but ordinary. This fretful being before him may look leaner and shorter than the rest of his family, but he was a.s.signed the role for a reason. Simply being there said a lot about his contribution to the t.i.tanomachy, in which survival alone merited wors.h.i.+p. He needed to step up his game and catch up. The inauguration festivities were over. Going forward, he should expect the workload to be nothing short of cosmic. "What's the agenda for the day, Master Hermes?" he decided to inquire.

"Hermes is fine enough, G.o.dsmith."

"And so does Ginrius."

"Very well then." Hermes nodded. "I trust you have a.s.similated Hephaestus' memories? His essence, if you prefer to call it that?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Great then—this should be quick."

It was hard to picture being more excitable than he already was, but it appeared Hermes could still be. His sandals began to glow, its tufted attachments flapping like real bird wings. Now aloft, the G.o.d spoke faster than ever before, "As you know—when Hephaestus perished—so did the forges scattered throughout the land—Your first task is to rekindle all of them—take my scepter so we could begin."

The snakes coiled around Hermes' staff caused some reluctance, but in the end, Ginrius resolved to do as he was told. For all intents and purposes, he was still a probationary deity, meaning he could be booted out by possibly anyone in the pantheon, skinny messenger G.o.d included. "When you say land, you meant just Gree—"

As soon as the contact was made, Ginrius felt like his entire being was dragged through his navel. It was a sickening experience, even for his enhanced vitality. When they landed back to solid ground, he couldn't help but give in to the resulting nausea.

"I apologize for that—young Ginrius," said Hermes, patting his back. "Even among us, my warp speed is overwhelming—not as smooth as Lord Hades' I'm afraid."

Ginrius did remember how his father's mist made them jump locales, and though it wasn't as quick, it didn't almost kill him either. "That's quite the understatement, Hermes…"

"Well at least mine is cozier," defended the messenger. "But I digress—on to the task at hand!"

Looking around, Ginrius felt inclined to inquire of their quarry. He knew they were still very high, because wisps of cloud fleeted around them. The land, however, was cracked and dry, almost dead beyond renewal. "Where are we anyway?"

"We are atop the world's highest volcano."

"The world's highest? Why?"

"I just told you—you have to rekindle the forges—otherwise chaos will descend upon mankind like a hammer—ironic given the context," Hermes yet again slurred.

"Why do we have to do it for the whole world? Don't the other countries have their own deities to help them?" Then it struck Ginrius, lagging but absolute: Hephaestus' memory on a.s.suming the role of other divinities, from Egypt to the more exotic, Nordic regions where ice and war defined society. He looked up to see the messenger G.o.d grinning at him. "Whoa…"

"You understand now?"

"We are them. We are all of them…" Ginrius wallowed in the revelation. The pantheons wors.h.i.+pped by the world were one and the same, repackaged and envisioned through different cultures, serving the same roles, if not completely altered here and there. If he thought before that he may be biting off more than he could chew, he was definitely choking now.

"To clear some of the confusion—the roles you a.s.sume are mostly triggered by the territory," Hermes said, "Although—if you really want to, you could gloss at the memories wherever you are—In Nordic traditions for example, lame as you are in Greece, you are the mighty—"

"—I get it, Hermes," Ginrius cut him short. "But it doesn't make it any less overwhelming… especially the part where my daily routine is warding off marauding giants."

"Indeed—we are everywhere and nowhere," Hermes said as he supported the fumbling G.o.dsmith up. "And it's all in the day's job."