So, I Transmigrated Into The Heavenly Realm

29. Advice From the Willow Garden

29

The War Department was filled with people running in every possible direction, many laden down with paperwork, others delivering weapons and armour moving it from one pile to another smaller pile. In the administrative office various deities were discussing/arguing about whether chainmail was going to make a comeback.

Between you and me it's definitely coming back but only in pink.

Noise that was usually a welcome distraction to Elgaldir during the intensely boring work of business administration, was right now making it hard to concentrate on the prayers he was approving.

Weighing heavily on his mind was the unexpected meeting he had with Olris last night.

Elgaldir had prayed so desperately for hundreds if not thousands of years trying to save Dythos. He'd tried his best to hide it from the other deities. No ascended God prayed to anyone other than maybe the Emperor of Heaven or the King of the Underworld.

Praying to another deity, let alone someone who had gained godhood at the same time as you?

Sounds pretty lame.

He had sent his prayers out blindly in the hope that Dythos would hear them, that anyone with any power to help would hear them. Dythos may have been hidden from him, sequestered somewhere amongst the distant cloud mountains of the Heavenly Realm but that didn't mean that the God of War would give up.

Every prayer was vital.

When you almost killed someone the very least you could do was try to keep them alive.

Elgaldir hadn't wanted to do it publicly, he was not embarrassed of his devotion to Dythos' continued existence but he didn't want the citizens of the Heavenly Realm going around thinking he was doing it to improve his image.

Other people really wouldn't appreciate you hanging around trying, in their view, to make yourself look better.

It had only ever been about keeping Dythos alive. An alive Dythos was a Dythos that he could atone to. One he could live to make it up to.

The mission to keep the God of Wheat alive had kept himself alive.

After the horrors of the war, of the battle and the mantle that he had, had thrust upon him, the promise he had made to Dythos there in that valley was more important than his own pain.

That was the long and short of it.

Elgaldir pushed back a stray piece of hair that had fallen into his face, and looked at the immense pile of papers that still lay on the desk untouched. There really wasn't any point being in the office today if he couldn't even sign papers.

War wasn't something you signed off on without actually reading the documents.

It was obvious that he wasn't actually going to get any work done today. He'd spent that last hour reading and re-reading the same four paragraphs of a report not being able to take any of it in. As much as he liked being as useful as an antique glass paperweight in the office, his staff would no doubt feel more comfortable without him being there daydreaming whilst he half heartedly watched them go about their business.

They were busy enough as it was without having to babysit him as well.

Time to make the executive decision to shirk his responsibilities and go for a walk. Maybe that would help him retrieve some of his focus.