Perseus was a prophet living in Mycenae.
In Mycenae, he was considered somewhat famous.
Unlike those charlatans who made a living by pretending to commune with gods, his predictions had never gone wrong, whether it was foretelling someone's fate, divining their fortunes, or helping them find lost objects.
It was precisely this accuracy that set him apart from frauds, granting him the respected status he now enjoyed.
He even had his own divination hall.
In Mycenae, he was a guest welcomed by merchants, generals, nobles, and even members of the royal family.
Though he was a commoner with no official rank, nearly everyone treated him with respect.
Even the arrogant city guards, who usually strutted about with impunity, would take a detour rather than pass directly in front of his hall.
Only Perseus himself knew the truth about his abilities, how his accurate prophecies and current status had come to be.
He had once been a student at the legendary, mysterious magical academy on the island of Colchis: the Academy of Mystra.
More than twenty years ago, when he was just a child, a strange and strikingly beautiful woman had appeared at his home.
She told his merchant parents that their son possessed a rare and extraordinary gift, one that ordinary people could scarcely imagine.
The gift of magic.
At that time, magic and sorcery were nothing more than rumors spreading across Greece. His parents half-believed, half-doubted her words.
But when the woman transformed a vase into a sheep before their very eyes, they were convinced.
So they entrusted their son to her care. Perseus, together with many other children, passed through a wondrous gateway and arrived at the island of Colchis, entering that fabled academy.
For Perseus, it was as if the door to an entirely new world had opened. He had never seen buildings so magnificent, so much so that even the king's palace seemed crude in comparison.
Within that splendid castle, he encountered countless marvels.
Staircases that moved on their own. Doors that opened without a touch. Portraits that could speak and even converse with them…
He saw maids dressed in garments finer than any queen's robes, each more captivating than any beauty he had known. Such maids were everywhere in that place.
And most unforgettable of all, their food. Dishes of such exquisite taste that even now, though he dined regularly at banquets hosted by kings, merchants, and nobles, those delicacies of his youth made all "rarest of rare" feasts in Mycenae feel bland and tasteless.
He often regretted that the maids were not true servants, otherwise, he might have tried to take one home, no matter the cost.
That time in the academy became the most cherished memory of his life.
Though the studies were grueling, he had to study late into the night just to keep up, he thought it all worth it.
If given the chance to relive those days, he would gladly endure the hardships of study again.
But alas, he could never return.
Because he had failed to master fourth-circle spells before graduation, he had no opportunity for advanced study. He had to leave the academy once his basic education was complete.
Relying on the divination spells he had learned and the help of a senior alumnus serving as court mage in Mycenae, he quickly established himself as a prophet in the city-state.
Since then, he had continued his tireless efforts to learn spells he had not mastered at the academy, hoping to advance further.
For an ordinary mage with mediocre aptitude, such progress was difficult.
To achieve it, he had purchased magical materials and books on fourth-circle divination spells from the academy multiple times, and eventually succeeded in advancing.
Now, as a specialized fourth-circle divination mage, he thrived in Mycenae. Yet no one knew that he still yearned for the Academy of Mystra, dreaming of one day returning.
The academy's unparalleled environment, and above all, the possibility of advancing to the fifth circle, those were what he longed for.
But that chance never came.
No student who graduated and left Mystra had ever returned to continue their studies, not once in history.
For graduates, the academy represented everything they desired. But for the academy, most graduates were "second-rate goods," not worth keeping.
The true elites had long been retained by Mystra as "advanced scholars" or "professors."
And so, for Perseus, returning to the academy remained a dream buried deep in his heart.
Until today.
A raven, faintly glowing with violet light, landed on his windowsill.
Perseus, who had just awoken and was drowsily breakfasting with his wife and children, suddenly sat bolt upright.
Ravens were common enough in Greece.
But ravens shimmering with violet light existed in only one place: the Academy of Mystra.
These magical birds were the academy's standard familiars for delivering messages. It was said that the headmaster had invented them casually.
Unlike ordinary ravens, they could not be killed by normal means and possessed various magical abilities.
The arrival of such a raven could mean only one thing: a message from the academy.
It was the first time the Academy of Mystra had ever contacted him directly.
Overjoyed, Perseus rose at once, under the astonished gaze of his wife and children, and extended his hand to the raven.
The intelligent bird hopped onto his palm. He carried it into his study and shut the door tightly.
For his family, the study had always been forbidden ground, and though they were curious, they dared not question him.
By now, they were long accustomed to their prophet father's mysterious ways.
Inside the study, the raven dipped its head toward him, then opened its beak and spat out a scroll.
Incidentally, one of these artificial ravens' abilities was to carry items in a small storage space, its beak serving as the opening.
Perseus unrolled the scroll and read it carefully. A smile of delight spread across his face.
Without hesitation, he signed his name at the bottom.
The instant he finished, a flash of magical light rippled across the parchment, the sign of a binding contract taking hold.
The scroll was both letter and pact.
Its contents were simple: Perseus was to secretly bury a magical artifact carried by the raven into the leylines beneath the city. He must keep this matter absolutely confidential.
If he succeeded, he would be granted the opportunity to return to the academy for five years of advanced study, or an equivalent reward of equal value.
For Perseus, this was a blessing beyond compare. And the task itself was hardly difficult.
After all, though leylines were crucial to mages, to ordinary people they were intangible and unknowable.
Some believed children born near them grew stronger and more gifted, which was why cities often arose along leylines.
But kings would never station troops to guard them, they did not even know their exact locations, only vague areas.
Thus, for Perseus, fulfilling this contract was practically effortless.
In that moment, he could not help but want to shout aloud:
"What incredible fortune! Mystra Academy, I'm coming back!"
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