Chapter 3: The Echo of Hope and the First Recruits
The single, pure note from Homerus's Whispering Lyre resonated through the desolation of the city, cutting through the heavy silence like a golden arrow. It was a sound that spoke not of despair, but of something deeper, something ancient and resilient.
Lykos watched as the few haggard figures huddled in doorways slowly lifted their heads, their vacant eyes searching for the source of the unexpected melody.
Homerus, walking beside Lykos, began to play in earnest. His fingers danced over the strings, weaving a tapestry of sound. It wasn't just music; it was a narrative without words. Lykos, even with his modern sensibilities, felt it in his bones—a surge of pride, a pang of longing for a glorious past he'd only read about.
He could almost see the Parthenon in its prime, hear the clamor of a thriving Agora, feel the strength of hoplites marching to war. The melody swelled, then softened, painting pictures of ancient heroes, of intellectual triumphs, of the very birth of civilization.
More people emerged from the shadows of dilapidated buildings. They were gaunt, their clothes tattered, their faces etched with years of hardship and neglect. Men, women, and even a few wide-eyed children, their expressions a mix of suspicion and a flicker of forgotten wonder. They didn't approach immediately, instead forming a ragged semicircle at a cautious distance, drawn by the irresistible pull of the music.
Lykos swallowed, his throat dry. This was his moment. He was Prince Lykos now, and these were his people. He had to lead. He took a deep breath, trying to project an authority he didn't yet feel.
"Citizens of our proud city!" Lykos's voice, though still thin, carried over the lyre's soft notes. He wasn't accustomed to public speaking, but he remembered a few motivational speeches from strategy game campaigns. "Look around you! We have fallen, yes! Our city is broken, our glory faded!"
A low murmur rippled through the small crowd. A few scoffed openly. Lykos ignored them, focusing on the eyes that still held a spark of curiosity.
"But we are Greeks!" he continued, drawing on his history knowledge. "Descendants of heroes, thinkers, and builders! Do we let our legacy crumble to dust? Do we allow despair to claim us?!"
Homerus subtly shifted his melody, adding a deeper, more defiant rhythm to the song.
"I know what you see," Lykos pressed on, stepping forward. "A lazy prince who cared for nothing but his own comforts. I know this city has suffered under my negligence." He saw a flicker of surprise in some faces. An admission of fault was not what they expected. "But no more! The era of apathy is over! The Forgotten Flame has rekindled, and with it, a new path forward!"
He pointed to the sky, then swept his arm across the desolate streets. "I swear to you, by the very stones of our ancestors, that this city will rise again! But I cannot do it alone. I need your strength, your wisdom, your hands! We need food! We need shelter! We need to rebuild!"
A grizzled old man in the front of the crowd, his face weathered like ancient stone, finally spoke, his voice raspy. "Words, Prince. We have heard many words. Our bellies are empty. Our children cry from hunger. What will you do that is different?"
Lykos met his gaze. "I will work alongside you. And I have... a way. A way to bring back the strength of our past. But first, we secure our survival. If you trust me, if you give me your hands, I promise you, by the end of today, we will have food. Not much, perhaps, but enough to begin."
He looked directly at the crowd. "Who among you still remembers how to farm? Who knows the land around this city? Who is willing to wield a shovel, or gather what little sustenance remains?"
The silence stretched, broken only by Homerus's lyre. Then, slowly, hesitantly, a woman stepped forward. She was thin, but her eyes held a spark of intelligence. "My name is Elara," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "My family once tended the olive groves outside the western gate. They are dead now, but I remember the land."
Lykos's heart leaped. A potential recruit! And someone with a vital skill.
"Elara!" Lykos said, his voice ringing with genuine relief. "Will you help us?"
"If there is truly food to be found, Prince," Elara replied, "I will try."
Then, a burly man, who looked like he might have been a laborer or a guard in better times, grunted. "I know these streets, Prince. And I know where some of the old well-springs might still run clear, if they haven't dried up."
"And I," said a younger man, his shoulders slumped but his eyes still sharp, "I used to hunt rabbits and birds in the hills before… before the famine took them all."
Lykos felt a wave of relief. Three. Three people with actual, practical skills. This was a start. He needed ten for the mission, but these were vital.
"Excellent!" Lykos exclaimed, his voice gaining genuine enthusiasm. "Elara, you will lead us to the olive groves and any edible plants you know. Myron," he pointed to the burly man, "you will guide us to any reliable water sources. And Kydon," to the younger man, "your hunting skills will be crucial if we find any game."
He turned back to the remaining crowd. "These brave souls are the first! Who else will join us? Who will reclaim their dignity and work for the future of our city?"
Homerus's music swelled again, this time with a note of challenge and resolution. Slowly, a few more figures shuffled forward. An older woman who claimed knowledge of medicinal herbs, a young man who knew how to repair simple tools, another who remembered where some of the city's few remaining fishing nets were stored.
By the time the sun began its descent towards the horizon, Lykos had gathered eight individuals, including Elara, Myron, and Kydon. Not quite ten, but incredibly valuable. He could use System Points to 'recruit' basic citizens, but getting skilled individuals through natural means felt like a huge win.
"System," Lykos thought, focusing on the interface that still shimmered before his eyes.
"Update."
The translucent screen updated instantly:
[OLYMPIAN SUMMONING SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Host: Prince Lykos
Status: Critical (City morale: D-, Resources: F, Military: F)
System Points: 0
First Mission: Restore Basic City Functionality.
Objective 1: Secure a Stable Food Source. (Progress: Initial reconnaissance underway)
Objective 2: Recruit 10 Basic Citizens/Laborers. (Progress: 8/10)
Reward: 100 System Points, Unlocked: Basic Summoning Pool
Almost there, Lykos thought. Just two more people to recruit for the objective. He knew he could just summon two basic laborers, but he wanted to push these natural recruitments as far as possible. These were his people, and earning their trust was paramount.
"Alright, everyone," Lykos announced to his small, motley crew. "We don't have much time before nightfall. Elara, Myron, Kydon, lead the way. We split into small groups. Elara, you and Homerus will assess the olive groves and search for wild edibles. Homerus, inspire them as you go.
Myron, gather anyone who knows about wells. Kydon, try to scout for any small game trails near the city's outskirts. The rest of you, help with whatever they need, or clear paths as we go. We meet back at the main gate at sunset. Any food or water we find, we share."
A small spark of determination, however faint, flickered in the eyes of his new recruits. They were still skeptical, still hungry, but the music, the prince's unexpected humility, and the promise of immediate action had stirred something within them.
As they moved through the marketplace—a desolate square of overturned stalls and broken pottery—Lykos realized the magnitude of the task ahead. It wasn't just about food; it was about hope. And that, he knew, was something Homerus could truly provide. This was a game of real lives, and Lykos, the gamer prince, was starting to feel the weight of it. He just hoped his strategy guides had covered this level of desperation.