Geb looked at the paintings in the gallery. All of them were in place where they should be, perfect. It seemed like his staff had done a decent job while he was away. He locked the door behind him, as the moon shined through the windows of the gallery. Geb would sit at one of the tables of the gallery. He had come a long way now, and he had touched the hearts of many people, in either good or bad ways. He had dabbed in front of a statue. He had won fishing games, he had lost in a tournament, he had become a guildmaster, and he had died once, and was reborn once as well. He had really lived quite the life from here on.
Geb would sit up from the table, wondering if he should go to bed as he looked at a picture of his favorite painting, a frog. Many people said the frog was racist, and protested that Geb not hang it in his gallery. He thought otherwise. He wanted this frog in the gallery, because he knew that only through overcoming controversy could one become a god. And he knew that one day, this frog would become a god. He had a feeling that maybe it would even shift the entire political tide of Fiore. One day...