"I don't actually know much about the goddess at the heart of the jungle," Odysseus explains over dinner. "I do, however, know that she's some sort of sun goddess. And, obviously, that she's Aztec. The building style of her temple confirms that."
"Hm. That leaves us with five possibilities," I observe, beginning to count things off on my fingers. "The first would be Tezcatlipoca, who I'd consider the most likely candidate, in light of Jaguarman's presence. The second would be Quetzalcoatl, who's easily the least likely of all the candidates, simply because I can't imagine him working with a servant of his sworn enemy. Third would be a rain god I can't remember the name of for the life of me, and the fourth would be said forgettable rain god's wife, Mixan- Mixanshi- Mixancootie- Misty. I'm calling her Misty, because I don't have nearly enough practice to actually pronounce her name. Fifth would be the Aztecs' primary god, Huitzilopochtli."
"Why on earth would anyone need five sun gods?" Cu asks, looking bewildered. "You'd think that one would be enough."
Odysseus actually laughs at that one. "Eh. I can see it. Gods tend to multiply. I had to give offerings to fourteen different gods of marriage, childbirth, and fertility just to make sure I didn't offend anybody when I was marrying off Telemachus."
Georgios smirks, but doesn't say anything, and I discreetly fist-bump him.
"Well, in any case," I say, after my brief moment of basking in the financial perks of monotheism. "That's not exactly what happened. Basically, the Aztecs believed that there were five ages of the world, and that they lived in the fifth age. In each of those ages, there was a different god in charge of being the sun. In the previous four ages, humanity was completely exterminated by the gods, purposefully or otherwise, and had to be brought back by Quetzalcoatl."
There's a moment of dead silence around the table.
"What?" Siegfried asks, looking slightly nauseous.
"The Aztecs weren't a cheerful people," I say, in what might be history's greatest understatement. "In any case, I'd say that we're most likely facing off against Texcatlipoca, the god of darkness, jaguars, and sorcery. He was the first sun, and, seeing as he played a part in all four of the times humanity was wiped out, I can easily see him as part of the Alliance. Also, Jaguarman was one of his servants, so that would definitely seem to confirm his presence."
"Hm. So. How do we kill him?" Odysseus asks, cutting straight to the important questions.
"Now that is the million-dollar question," I say, leaning back in my seat. "And, quite frankly, I don't want to jump into this too early. We have the advantage of surprise, at the moment. We should take our time and figure out our enemy's weak points." I pause. "I'll also want a second opinion on this whole mess, so once we finish our meal, I'm calling in Caesar."
"True. I suppose we should decide our strategy in a proper conference."
After dinner's over, we send Siegfried back to Chaldea (which he's a good sport about) and call in Caesar. Frankly, I would've preferred to bench Holmes, as he's been fairly secretive and unhelpful for most of the Singularity thus far, but he's still off working undercover, so that's a wash.
And now, after we've cleared the table, we settle around it, ready to come up with a plan.
"Alright. Before we go into how to kill Tezcatlipoca, I think we should take a step back, and determine whether we should."
"What?" Odysseus asks, looking confused. "He's the enemy, Flynn."
"He's not speaking of moral concerns," Caesar interjects, looking at me. "He's referring to the bigger picture, and the broader war. Isn't that right, Flynn?"
"Exactly." I say with a grin. "Teacher, could you provide us with a map?"
Medea nods, and, in a wave of purple, the table's surface is transmuted into a map of the region.
Cu groans. "All right, I'm out. Strategy is not my thing. I'll be standing guard outside if you need me."
Kinda saw that one coming.
"So. As Caesar said, let's look at the bigger picture. I've screwed up by killing a sun-affiliated demigod before, I don't want to see the fallout if I rush into killing a full-on sun deity." I tap on Uruk. "This, as far as we can tell, is the Three Goddess Alliance's primary objective. They destroy Uruk and kill Gilgamesh, and they win. Humanity's destroyed, or re-enslaved, or what-have-you. Bad news all around." I look at my audience, and then smile. "So, the question presents itself: Why hasn't that happened already? Gilgamesh is badly outnumbered, and two-thirds god or not, he's still just a mortal. If they really wanted to, they could just kill him in his sleep, or coordinate an attack from both sides on the ADF."
"You're saying that their alliance isn't as clear-cut as it seems," Odysseus summarizes. "Because they aren't working together or aiding each other in any way."
"Exactly. They may outnumber us, but they're clearly a house divided." I smirk. "It actually brings to mind your old Triumvirate, Caesar."
"I suppose that the parallels are fairly clear," Caesar says with a sigh. "And why do you bring this up?"
"Because it also reminded me of Plutarch's Life of Pompey." That gets a few blank stares. "More specifically, this one line: 'Before, they had stood like three wrestlers, each unwilling to engage another, for fear that, should he triumph, the third wrestler would overcome him, tired from his exertions as he was. But now, Crassus was dead, and the fresh wrestler had fallen, and the two that remained circled about one another, ready to engage.'"
"I don't think that was entirely accurate," Galahad observes.
"Yeah, I probably mangled it. It's been a while since I've read Plutarch. But the sentiment remains."
"So." Caesar gives me an appraising look. "How do you propose to take advantage of this?"
"Our adversaries think that they're the only three wrestlers in the ring. But they're wrong. We are the fourth wrestler. This war will be decided not by who wins the most fights, but by who fights the least. To win, we have to pit our foes against each other, to the greatest extent we possibly can."
"Well put, Flynn," Odysseus says with a nod of acknowledgement. "Now, what do you propose that we do?"
I manfully contain my urge to squeal like a little girl, and continue in a calm, professional tone. "If we're going to pit them against one another, we'll need more information. To that end, I move that we wait and observe, try to get an idea of the personalities in play, and the weaknesses they have. No jumping in headfirst. Anyone have any objections?"
I get smiles and nods from my audience. "Good. Then we start by observing Tezcatlipoca, and then we pull what threads we find."