The Problem of Peace

It'd been a long day; the pair had only just managed to finish their half-quarterly reports. The day was made that much longer by the absolute bender they went on to celebrate. It was well past midnight as they staggered homeward, each leaning on the other. Eventually, Ramku spoke up:

"'Ere, Šikaru, lissen'ta this; so, right, obviously, we know Khorne is Mighty, right? Nothing is beyond Him."

"Yeah tis' obvious; and... and... and I'd kill anyone who said otherwise!"

(Both logisticians stumbled as, to emphasise his seriousness, Šikaru tried to pound his chest. Somehow he missed.)

"Yeah! So so so we also, right, we also know He's the supreme Warmaster, His campaigns are all tactical and brilliant, right?"

"Yep they certainly are."

"Right; and, also we know Khorne 'ates all, so His boundless rage is for everything and everyone without exception."

In saying that last phrase Ramku's voice became sing-songy, reciting the well known passage from sermons.

"O'course -- why you goin' over all this obvious stuff?"

"Right, so, good. Great. But, if... if all that is true, how comes there's any corners of peace in the galaxy?"

"... What're you on about, mate; what's peace gotta do with all that other stuff?"

"Well, so, the way I see it, right, seems to me anyway, well, right - so surely Khorne wants war everywhere for everyone for everywhen, right? There's none He'd see spared His rage. And tis not like anyone could thwart Him once He set His mind to it, could they? Cos He's too Mighty and anyway He's such a good general He'd always win. So, like... why hasn't He already spread war everywhere already? 'Guess what I'm saying is -- why'd we gotta do any of this stuff anyway, shouldn't He have already got it all sorted?"

"Huh. I... I guess I see what you mean, Ramku."

A moment of contemplative silence passed between them, punctuated only by faltering footsteps and flatulence. Eventually, Šikaru hazarded a thought:

"Do you reckon it's maybe cossa 'ow the cowards and the weaklings reject His warcry? Like, He wants us Mighty to earn our place don't He? But if we're gonna earn our place stands to reason that... that ain't... that thems that ain't Mighty like what we is, stands to reason is gotta be possible for them to fail? Maybe that's wot causes peace?"

Ramku pondered this. Something about it didn't quite seem right, but his thoughts were somewhat jumbled.

"I ain't sure 'bout that one, Šikaru. Somefin' funny 'bout it I reckon.... tellya what, you're droppin' me off 'ere anyway; how 'bout tomorrow on the way to work we think this one through proper?"

Unfortunately, both logisticians were far too hungover the next day to remember ever having had the conversation. So, rather than continue their debate, the budding theologians instead sheepishly made their separate ways to the Office, doing their best to avoid direct sunlight or loud noises.

Nobody in the Sanguinary Utnapishtim ever wondered about this again.