And with those ultra-hard, ultra-tough implements Tedric mauled and chopped the image of the god.
Devann, Sarpedion's high priest, was desperate. He believed thoroughly in his god. Equally thoroughly, however, he believed in the actuality and in the power of Tedric's new god. He had to, for the miracle he had performed spoke for itself.
While Sarpedion had not appeared personally in Devann's lifetime, he had so appeared many times in the past; and by a sufficiently attractive sacrifice he could be persuaded to appear again, particularly since this appearance would be in self-defense.
No slave, or any number of slaves, would do. Nor criminals. No ordinary virgin of the common people. This sacrifice must be of supreme quality. The king himself? Too old and tough and sinful. Ah ... the king's daughter....
At the thought the pit of his stomach turned cold. However, desperate situations require desperate remedies. He called in his henchmen and issued orders.
Thus it came about that a towering figure clad in flashing golden armor—the king himself, with a few courtiers scrambling far in his wake—dashed up the last few steps just as Tedric was wrenching out Sarpedion's liver.
"Tedric, attend!" the monarch panted. "The priests have taken Rhoann and are about to give her to Sarpedion!"
"They can't, sire. I've just killed Sarpedion, right here."