He was good, this young king: smooth and well trained. Gwythr watched his face closely as he displayed the images of the rogue gods, searching for a flicker of anger or anguish which might betray loyalty. There was none. Tristan studied the pictures with equal time and impassivity, his face betraying no hidden feelings – if, indeed, there were any hidden feelings. Gwythr’s own investigations on the matter had found that the king had spoken only truth before: Mallos had barely been to Shaman since the fall of Arthur and apparently had lost contact with his family there. Some ambivalence towards him was only to be expected on Tristan’s part, given the former’s absence during the latter’s time of greatest need.

If Tristan was anything like Arthur, he wouldn’t buy Gwythr’s story for a second – but Gwythr didn’t need him to. They both knew this dance of thinly veiled deceit and friendly smiles. All Gwythr actually needed was for Tristan to not meddle. A combination of incentives – both the threatening and the rewarding kind – and Tristan’s own disillusionment with the gods would achieve that just as well as indoctrination into propaganda. Part of the purpose of this visit was to ascertain how likely Shaman’s new ruler was to interfere with Gwythr’s plans, and whether he needed to be quietly removed from his post now before that could happen.

“Continuing Aura’s legacy, I see,” he noted, allowing a very slight edge to his voice to make it clear that Aura was not one of the deities in favour at the moment. “I have no intention of impeding upon Shaman’s position as a sanctuary. Obviously, such sanctuary cannot be given to dangerous criminals.” He rested his elbows on the table and placed his fingertips lightly together to form an angled pyramid with his hands. “I would expect that if any of these rogue deities came to Shaman with false asylum claims, they would be extradited to Earth immediately. It would certainly threaten the safety and well-being of the people of Shaman if they were permitted to stay.”

He didn’t elaborate on how it would threaten them, leaving it open-ended as to whether it was the rogue gods themselves who posted the danger, or Gwythr’s displeasure.

“On that vein, I must ask for your cooperation to the mutually beneficial end of seeing these criminals safely locked away,” he continued, turning to the second reason for his visit. He pressed his fingers together, causing four neatly-stacked piles of papers to appear from nowhere on the table in front of him. Each one sported a name and picture of the wanted deity, a list of his or her crimes, a staggering reward for information leading to capture and a method of contacting Gwythr’s people directly. It would make more diplomatic sense to have Tristan as the point of contact, but Gwythr wasn’t quite ready to trust him with that responsibility yet. “The criminals in question know this world and there is a chance they may come here to sow disorder. I would like to personally fund and supply resources for your efforts in promoting awareness of the dangers they pose, and for ensuring the safety of our kingdoms by aiding in their capture.”