Mathew couldn't move a muscle.
He was completely at the mercy of the woman above him, who was wearing a grin that would make the devil appear to be a saint.
"It appears to have functioned perfectly," Ophelia said, as if she had just executed a well-laid scheme, "All that is left for us to do is to form a binding contract. Argus, give me the rest of our platinum."
"My lady…" Argus said, his voice apprehensive, "We won't be able to forge any Curses nor make any other Century-tier contracts if we use this."
"I know what I am doing," she snapped, "Now relinquish it to me."
Argus sighed in resignation, and his full armor faded. He was now dressed in simple garb. He reached into a pouch hanging from his neck and withdrew a chunk of glossy metal, a few shades darker than silver.
He set the platinum on the ground between Mathew and Ophelia, who each still held one end of the rod.
"Now monster, tell me your name." She demanded.
A strange pressure was exerted over Mathew, compelling him to answer the question. However, he realized that he could somewhat manipulate the answer.
Even though the question was directed at him directly, it could also be directed at the body of Mathias. He paused for a moment before deciding on an answer
"Dread." He finally stated.
"Hm." Ophelia nodded her assent. "Dread… a fitting name for a creature such as you."
She made a motion towards herself, and a new item began to phase into reality on top of her head.
It appeared to be an ivory crown, made from a strange, reflective white material. Something shifted in the air, and Mathew felt that her presence carried much more weight, like she had an actual gravitational pull.
Ophelia took a breath and spoke in a practiced tone:
"I, Ophelia, daughter of Polonius, heir to the house of Valor, offer this contract to you. For the next three hundred years, you will follow my every order. Do you accept?" She then said, "Dread, tell me 'under the eyes of the gods, and by the power of the Covenant, I accept this contract.'"
Compelled by the strange rod, Mathew was forced to repeat those words, and the moment he finished speaking, the mound of platinum between them faded from existence.
"You can let go of the rod now." Ophelia said, looking down at him with a smug expression: "Congratulations, Dread: from now on you are MY monster."
…..
Mathew was miserable.
Whatever Ophelia had done to him had reduced him to a mere slave. Any time she ordered him to do something, he was compelled by a powerful force to comply.
He had activated his Truesight to inspect the situation in the Divine Realm, and saw that a thin thread made of prismatic crystal was now connecting him to her.
He didn't know what to do about it or how to break it.
He had even waved his hand through it a few times, but of course it phased harmlessly through. His hand was still in the physical realm after all.
They had left the temple immediately after Mathew had been forced to form that strange contract, and they seemed to be in a rush to continue on with whatever journey they were on before attacking the followers of Dread.
Mathew had assumed that, once they were on the road, Ophelia would be ordering him around non-stop to do ridiculous tasks, but to his surprise, that wasn't the case. In fact, for the first few days traveling with them, Ophelia mostly just left him alone, as if she were content to let him mope around.
Mathew was glad to do just that.
The most she had asked him to do was pick up loose sticks for a fire, but she had watched him the entire time with her arms crossed, not letting him out of her sight.
After five days of traveling in near complete silence with his captors, Mathew decided to try to get some information out of them.
They had found a small river that at the deepest point came up to Mathew's chest. Ophelia had declared that she wanted to take a bath in the river, which would have made Mathew laugh if the situation were different.
Argus and Mathew were only about 15 meters from her while she splashed around, as apparently they needed to be within earshot of her in case she needed them for something.
They were sitting on a patch of relatively soft ground, which was rare with the rocky terrain of the land.
Naturally, their backs were turned to her, and she had even ordered Mathew not to look, which resulted in him being magically compelled to look away from her at all times.
The command was so potent that Mathew could barely turn his head a few centimeters in either direction. It was very uncomfortable.
"So… Argus…" Mathew said, trying to crane his neck to see the giant sitting next to him, even if it was only in his peripheral vision. "Who are you guys?"
"You wish to know our identities, monster?" Argus said.
If he was suspicious of Mathew, his even tone didn't reveal it.
"Yes." Mathew said honestly, "If I'm going to be forced to follow you guys around forever, I would like to at least know who I'm cooking and cleaning for."
Argus spoke slowly: "You serve Lady Ophelia, a daughter of Valor. Though I suppose, these days, you can call her a follower of Order."
"Order?" Mathew questioned, remembering the Followers of Dread talk about their goddess, "Like the goddess of order?"
"Correct," Argus affirmed.
"So… doesn't that mean that Ophelia and the people of my temple follow the same goddess? Didn't my followers follow Order?" Out of the corner of his eye, Mathew could see Argus raising an eyebrow.
"You would know better than me. They were your own followers, were they not?"
"I… suppose they were… huh." Mathew said.
"And?" Argus pressed, "What god did you have your followers revere?"
"I wish I could tell you." Mathew said, "I don't know myself." There was a pause in conversation.
"If I understand your words, you are the leader of a religious organization that you began, and you had your followers revere a goddess you chose… and you do not even know which goddess that is?"
"That… that about sums it up, yeah," Mathew said, realizing the insanity of the situation.
"So… how would I know which goddess your followers worshiped, when you, their leader, doesn't even know himself." This was the most exasperated Argus had been in the short time Mathew had been around him. He found it quite amusing to see the stoic man crack a little.
"But you saw the statue in the temple, didn't you? Was that not the goddess of Order?" Mathew asked.
"If you are asking me that in sincerity, I suppose I could admit that the statue that held the Rod of Submission did not appear like any depiction of Order that I am familiar with. Normally, she looks much more human and is often holding a set of scales. It also did not resemble any other goddess I am familiar with."
"So you don't know?" Mathew finished. Argus shook his head.
"I can only surmise that it is some false goddess that you conjured up in order to give rise to a cult. Though how such a powerful Blessing fell into your grasp, I can not even imagine."
Well, he didn't have a cult anymore.
Bitterness seeped into Mathew's demeanor, but he tried to keep the venom out of his voice as he continued to converse with Argus.
"I would like to know how we got that thing, too." Mathew said, his tone as neutral as he could manage, "What did you call it again? A Blessing? What is that?"
"Magical items that are imbued with the power of the gods are called 'Blessed Numens' or simply 'Blessings'. Argus responded:
"The Rod of Submission is a particularly powerful blessing created by the Lord of Love himself, or 'Lust' as He is sometimes called. The rod forces any who grasp it to be compelled to follow its wielder. It is so powerful that it can compel powerful creatures, demigods, perhaps even a god."
"That sounds pretty powerful," Mathew mused. Compelling a god to do your bidding was a crazy concept for him to swallow. He did get a little curious about the demigods and other powerful creatures Argus had mentioned, though.
"It is quite powerful," Argus continued, "It is one of only 3 Millennium Tier Items that I have ever laid eyes upon."