We work with what we have.
It was true for Myrken, but it was true for everywhere, wasn't it? The only difference was this: In other places, they had more. In Myrken,they had less. It wasn't a matter of relative truth, but of relative importance.
It was true for Kylerryth as well, it that had so, so much. Even it, however, in the end, only had what it had.
The being spoke, more words in a row than any creature had ever spoken in this office with Burnie in the room. Today, however, here, at this key moment, he did not interrupt. He listened, and he worked. The only deviation would be the slight addition of a mark between Darkenhold and the River. It was there that Glenn would place the crane from before.
"Yes." Just like that. Simply put. He knew.
Moving on then, or perhaps moving back. The once-mapmaker looked young, relaxed. He was not smiling, however. "I hate you. Since arriving here, I've such reason to hate so many beings, creatures, people, hard truths. I've had such reason over the years, but I can say with some certainty that I hate you more than any of them. Congratulations."
He continued, not breathing, not hesitating. He had time enough to think this through. He had tabled this until now and for good reason. "You know, I was almost certain I would say this thing, I would rise, and I would vow to destroy you til my dying breath. I would make your last question about what you fear." He let that word linger for a moment, but he did not ask the question. Instead, he explained. "For using us as your playthings. For treating us with scorn. With no care, with no respect, as if we were toys, worthless, all because you can, all because you're bored.
"And you would get a certain level of satisfaction. A certain end to boredom. It may not have been your initial intent, but it would achieve that end you claim to desire." There was a hint of a smile but it was not realized. A seedling squashed underfoot. "So no, I've decided that I will not hate you for all of that. No, I hate you for just how pathetic you are. All of this power. All of this promise. All of this weight behind you, and what do you do with it? You torment us. Myrken. No wonder you're bored, you pathetic wretch. You're an moron. You just happen to be a vaguely omnipotent one. You have the imagination of a worm. I pity you, but more than that, I am offended by you. I don't know how long you've lived. I don't know what grand acts of beauty and serenity you've created in your existence and honestly, I don't care. What I know is that anyone worth anything, no matter how long they lived, would be able to continue to create something worthwhile with power like yours; thus, you are worth nothing at all. Thereby, you are wasting my time, so take your gift and leave."
The map would be pushed forward across the table. On it was marked Myrken, but also Razasan and the whole of Thessilane, beautifully, albeit quickly, sketched out. The crane tumbled over as he pushed. "Go be bored elsewhere, somewhere that they are more suited for your ilk. We know that they have far too much time on their hands in Thessilane, something I do not have the luxury of. In Razasan, they have too much of everything. Go, menace them, give their women the pox, be merry. My gift to you to help guide your way.
"We will deal with the Dreamwaker. We will deal with whatever follows. We will endure. It's what we do. But we'll do so in the way least satisfying to you. So take your gift, take your final question about the secrets of the universe and shove it up your ass, and leave. You needen't mind how you go. Just go."
And Burnie would push the map just a little further before looking down to scattered papers upon his desk. Surely he had something important to sign, something to do with a poorly placed fence or a bard wanting to put on a show in the commons. Something actually worth his time. Could the god in the room with the youthful Governor smite him? Very likely, but what would that prove, save for Burnie's entire point. A dearth of everything meaningful, this Kylerryth.