Vietnamese Gods: Saint Gióng
Stories change, depending on who tells them.
Recap: On the last episode, Desmond arrived at The Snake, named after Princess Liễu Hạnh the God of Wisdom. Before he even gets to meet his aunt, however, he was stopped ran into three assassins from The Left. But let’s leave you hanging on that cliff a little longer, as we now dive into the backstory of Saint Gióng, the God of War.
Yggdrasil The World Tree stood between Chaos and Heaven. Below the tree lived Ginnungagap, a mass of conflicting energies that constantly create and negate themselves into Nothing, The Primordial Void. Above the trees, higher than the eagle whose wings create the winds of the world of men, was Heaven, a plane where the immortal, powerful, all-seeing Gods of the Nine Worlds come to completely cut off their consciousness and take time off from their responsibilities. Heaven is not an impressive place to look at: an expanse of clouds as far as the eyes can see. In other words, the best place for beings who were always more concerned with themselves than their surroundings. Zeus, a frequent visitor, has claimed a section of clouds to recreated the cave in which he was born, filled with sacred bees that fed him their honey, the only place he has ever known motherly love.
In another section was The Heavenly Palace, the home of Ngọc Hoàng, self-proclaimed King of Heaven. Impressive title aside, his duties can be summed up as “administrative” to be polite, and “completely useless” by any other standards.
“Hi guys. What an honor to have you.” The King of Heaven said, shrinking like an innocent squirrel begging for monkey nuts at the sight of his visitors, whom promptly ignored him.
“Thank you, thank you dearly for your presence, dear Saints. Servants, prepare the feast!”
The last time the Four Saints sat down together was before the War between their Mother and Father, one that split the country in two. And now, as History so eagerly resets the chessboard, they are here again.
“Are you going to just sit there, Brother, after summoning us?” Sơn Tinh, the God of Lands and Mountains, jumped on the table, his one mechanical arm pointed at Saint Gióng, his loincloth fluttered dangerously, endangering everyone’s eyes with what underneath.
Sơn Tinh, the eldest, the most powerful, was never much a threat in Gióng’s eyes. As impatient as the ever-shifting sand, as explosive as an active volcano, Sơn never has much use for his brain unless it was hand-to-hand combat, something rarely happens in a war. Still, he is Mother’s chief bodyguard and a wild card. Gióng didn’t like wild cards.
“Well, thunder strikes not where a man is eating, isn’t that right brothers and sister?” - Gióng spoke, his voice richer than Midas, velvetier than the Silk Road, more alluring than warm fire on a winter night. It not only soothes or fizzles the ember of conflict, but extinguishes all emotions.
“I… It’s true” Even the sand stopped shifting.
“What are we doing here, Gióng.” - The voice of Princess Liễu Hạnh, probably the only being dared called his name.
“I’m sorry, Sister, but are my words so unimportant that you would rather send this cheap imitation in your place?” - Gióng turned around to his sister and smiled. Beneath the gentle curl of his raven hair, however, laid eyes that were unamused, angry.
“Time is money, Gióng. I have a multiplanetary city to run instead of worrying about that little kerfuffle between Mom and Dad. And lest you forget, my city is a buffer zone.
Liễu Hạnh Princess, Gióng’s sister, Goddess of Wisdom and Construction, was as naive as she was greedy. Gióng has countlessly been flabbergasted at how someone so intelligent could make decisions his sister made. Impracticality, that’s the best word to describe her.
“What if I pay?” - He has since learned to speak her language.
“500.000 vnđ($25)/minute. If you book me for an hour, you can save 2 mil.” - The puppet of Liễu Hạnh produced a card machine that said “scan here to contribute to the construction of Liễu Hạnh City.” - “And no, I do not accept gems or cash, Sơn, and the money has to be genuine and comes from a legit bank account. I do not want another inflation.”
“Lucky me, I have a rich son.” - Gióng produced a black visa card, with the initials “D.S.” embedded on the back.
“Thank you for your support. The timer will start… now.” - With a beep, Liễu Hạnh appeared above the table, lounging on her crane, her hair long and straight and black as the night sky. In fact, if you look closely, the whole Milky Way seems to be blinking in and out of her hair.
“Sister, Sister!” - Chử Đồng Tử, who has been playing with two human skulls, shriek with excitement. He was the youngest, and he was squatting on the chair, rocking back and forth, clapping.
Of all of them, Tử took it the hardest in the last War, being too attached with the humans. Despite his mental state, he was still given controlled of at least 30% of Father’s forces. And Saint Gióng knew exactly where his little brother will aim his weapons at.
“Well, I suppose my son’s bank account doesn’t have all day. Let’s discuss the reason why I have gathered everyone.” - Gióng scanned his eyes over his siblings, his hands fidgeted and trembled under the table, resisting his urge to move them on the chessboard.
Saint Gióng, before he was Saint, was one in a million. No, not because he was unique, but because he was literally one of the million souls created by Lạc Long Quân, the Dragon, the Father of Vietnam, to become the country’s God of War. In his chamber deep inside The Water Palace, Lạc Long Quân trained and forged and twisted and kneaded these souls from mud, mixing the results with his own blood, then sent them to the surface, where they would find a host and be born. Strategies, techniques, and the art of war were imprinted into their very essence. Day and night, one side of the walls echoed with Long Quân’s roar as he drilled martial arts into his children’s ephemeral bodies, the other side returned with cries and screams.
“Make me proud…” - Lạc Long Quân would say to each of the soul managed to survive the training. The claw marks he put on their right arm said “or else.” But Gióng didn’t know that. Gióng at the time loved his Father. Gióng at the time would do anything to please him. After all, as Long Quân constantly repeated: he was their Creators, and they were forever indebted to him.
Even now, Desmond Sullivan could notice Saint Gióng scratching his right arm, just a bit above the elbow, whenever he talked of Lạc Long Quân. Sullivan and Gióng, like the Saint and his Father, hated each other’s very existence, and when Gióng’s dreams started spilling out, Sullivan embraced each sleep like a birthday party. The more he found out, the more Sullivan understood why his father-god failed to show him any affection. However, understanding and forgiveness are worlds apart.
This is the first half of the fourth episode of this novel. The third episode is here.
If you would like more information on Vietnamese Mythology, you’ve come to the right place.
Want to know how to pronounce the Vietnamese words in the post? I have a Glossary too (although it might take me quite a while to fully update it).