With shaky hands, he put his two palms together, in a gesture that he hadn't performed in decades. A man of such logic, such strategy, such intelligence, and he was forced to resort to the methods of mere peasants, who prayed that the weather would be good for their crops. 'But what other choice do I have?' Varn thought, smiling self-deprecatingly on himself. It was a God that empowered Vol, and it was a Goddess that had given Varn his strength, enough to call himself a man of the Fourth Boundary. Perhaps she would be benevolent enough to give him more, if he would only ask…
"Varsharn, Goddess of War, and Victory, I ask for your blessings," Varn said. He was forced to say it aloud, even as his men looked his way, their eyes wide, as if they had never seen anything stranger.
