Kyra and Albert walked along the dusty Spartan path, the sun beating down on their backs. Albert was already breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead, while Kyra moved with the ease of someone who could walk for days without tiring.
"How long have we been walking? Are you sure you're not trying to kill me by making me walk this much?" Albert asked between ragged breaths.
"Oh, come on. It's only been five hours. That's not that long," Kyra replied with a huff, brushing her hair back.
Albert stared at her, dumbfounded. "Not that long? Are you insane? Geez..." He sighed, hardly believing how far he had come.
"With stamina like this, you really think you can win trial by combat? Pathetic," Kyra rolled her eyes. Then she added sharply, "Besides, stop whining. We're here anyway."
She led Albert to a lone house standing in isolation, far from the Spartan training camps. With no choice, Albert followed, still panting.
"Uh… shouldn't we knock?" he asked, but Kyra ignored him and stepped straight inside.
As soon as they entered, Albert's eyes widened. The walls were lined with weapons of every kind—spears, shields, and swords of all shapes and sizes.
"Is this… some kind of weapon shop?" Albert asked curiously. He found it strange that there was a house here at all, so far from any settlement. Why would anyone build a forge in the middle of nowhere?
Before Kyra could answer, a figure darted out from within and launched a sudden kick at them. Kyra dodged effortlessly, but the blow landed squarely on Albert, sending him flying out the door.
"Ouch, hey!" Albert coughed, clutching his stomach as he sat up. A man around his age—clearly well-trained, his physique sculpted by years of combat—stood before him, looking sheepish.
"Uh… sorry about that. I thought you were Kyra," the man said with an awkward laugh.
"You thought I'd be hit by something like that? How foolish of you," Kyra replied coldly, glaring at him.
Albert, still rubbing his ribs, looked between the two. "Do you guys know each other?" he asked curiously.
"Unfortunately, yes… She used to bully me in childhood," the man admitted with a sigh.
"Yeah, and because of that you've become strong now," Kyra shot back with a huff.
The man rolled his eyes. "You have a strange way of getting things done… but anyway, why are you here? Don't tell me you broke your sword again. I just made one for you last week."
"No, idiot… This boy needs a weapon suitable for him," Kyra said, pointing at Albert, who was still sprawled on the ground.
"Huh? But I've never seen him in any soldier unit…" the man frowned, glancing from Kyra to Albert.
"You guessed right. He's one of the outsiders, and I'm here because he needs a sword," Kyra said with a smirk.
The man leaned down until his face was inches from Albert's, studying him closely. Albert just blinked in confusion.
"So, you're one of the outsiders, huh? You look fragile and timid… but you've got balls of steel to demand trial by combat," the man chuckled before turning to Kyra. "Sure, I'll make him a fine sword."
"Come inside, both of you," the man said at last.
Kyra easily pulled Albert to his feet. "H-hey, I can walk…" Albert protested, but Kyra ignored him.
"Shut up. You couldn't even block a simple kick," she muttered as they stepped inside.
The man finally straightened, his confidence filling the room. "So… I didn't introduce myself, did I? My name is Aurther, and I make the best weapons in all of Sparta," he declared dramatically.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just make it quick. How many days will it take?" Kyra asked, already annoyed by his theatrics.
"Um… let's say seven days…" Aurther muttered thoughtfully.
"Then get to work. I don't have time to listen to all your dramatic nonsense," Kyra said with another huff.
"You never change…" Aurther muttered under his breath, then turned to Albert with a smirk. "Take off your clothes."
Meanwhile at Athens,
The grand hall of Athens shimmered with golden light, the braziers burning with fragrant oils. Guards lined the marble pillars, their spears upright, their faces stern. The king of Athens sat high upon his throne, his expression unreadable, though his eyes glinted with the weight of judgment.
"I see the matter clearly. You threatened one of our civilians and dared to use force against the messenger of Olympus… which is unacceptable." The king's voice carried through the chamber, steady and commanding. Richard, Leo, and Princess Damaris stood by as Prince Aeschylus of Corinth was brought before him.
Aeschylus bowed slightly, his posture elegant yet composed. "I understand my actions, Your Highness. But I was eager to meet the messenger of Olympus. Perhaps my eagerness blinded my judgment. My deepest apologies." His faint smile was polite, almost charming, as his eyes flickered between the king and Richard.
"To make things right, how about a trade offer, my king?" Aeschylus continued, his tone smooth, almost rehearsed.
"A trade offer, you say?" The king leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, curiosity in his gaze.
"Yes, my king. A trade will strengthen the bonds of friendship between Corinth and Athens. Let not my mistake ruin the alliance that has lasted for years." Aeschylus smiled again, his words measured and diplomatic.
Damaris, however, could no longer contain her anger. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, her voice sharp with disgust. "Oh, stop with your charming talk! You harassed one of our civilians and attacked my husband as well. You are nothing but an arrogant man hiding behind a facade of goodness."
"I understand your anger, Princess Damaris," Aeschylus replied smoothly, bowing slightly toward her. "And again, I extend my deepest apologies. As I said, my eagerness blinded my judgment. But if you remain unsatisfied, then I shall offer something to the messenger of Olympus himself as a gesture of atonement."
Damaris's eyes burned, and she looked ready to draw her blade, but Richard raised a hand to stop her. His voice was calm, though his curiosity was genuine. "What are you offering me?"
Aeschylus's smile deepened. "Oh, anything you ask, messenger of Olympus."
Richard frowned inwardly. Why would Aeschylus make such an open offer? Was it a trap? The weight of the hall pressed on him as all eyes turned in his direction.
"So… what shall it be, messenger of Olympus?" Aeschylus pressed, trying to apply time's weight to Richard's decision.
"If I may…" Leo stepped forward, sensing his friend's hesitation. "I would like to speak on behalf of the messenger, since I am his advisor."
Richard gave him a slight nod of approval, his trust in Leo clear.
"I see," Aeschylus said with a sly grin. "So you are his advisor. Your lord seems to trust you greatly."
"Trust is the foundation of all relationships in the end," Leo replied evenly. His eyes were calm, but sharp with intent. "You said I may ask for anything?"
Aeschylus nodded slowly.
"Then very well. A man of your wit and capability should not be left idling. I request that you join our council here in Athens and serve alongside us." Leo's words cut through the chamber like a blade, surprising everyone present.
The king blinked, and then suddenly laughed. Aeschylus joined in, his laughter echoing through the hall.
"Well," the king said at last, looking at Richard and Leo with approval. "You have passed the test."
Richard frowned, his confusion evident. "What do you mean by that?"
"It was a test," Aeschylus explained smoothly. "To see if you truly came from Olympus. And surprisingly… you passed."
Richard still looked uncertain, but Leo's eyes narrowed in thought. His voice was calm when he spoke. "I see. You wanted to know if we would succumb to greed, wrath, or sloth."
"Exactly," the king said with a nod. "If you had acted in wrath, tension may have led to war between Athens and Corinth. If you had chosen greed, you would have proven yourselves far from divine. And sloth would have shown weakness. But you have shown restraint and wisdom."
"But Father," Damaris interjected, her tone sharp, "they already proved themselves before you once. Why again?"
The king turned to her, his voice lowering slightly. "Because, daughter… there were doubts. Is it clear to you now, Lord Nikandros?"
A shadow moved at the edge of the hall, and the guards stepped aside. From the corridor emerged the search party, escorting a weary figure forward. It was Nikandros, finally found after his mysterious disappearance.
"Yes, my king…" Nikandros said, his voice low, his gaze sharp as it settled on Richard and Damaris. His tone carried something heavier than respect something like suspicion.
Richard's eyes narrowed, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Damaris's expression mirrored his, steel and fire rising together.
Meanwhile at olympus
The throne room of Olympus stretched wide and unyielding, its marble pillars gleaming like frozen lightning, its vaulted dome painted with constellations that shimmered faintly as though the heavens themselves bent to listen. At the center sat Zeus upon his throne of celestial stone, crowned with eagles wrought from living gold. The very air hummed with authority and storm.
Zeus rested his chin upon his hand, his thoughts dark and restless. A sudden ripple of water upon the polished floor broke his silence. Poseidon entered, each strike of his trident ringing like waves crashing upon stone.
"Brother," Zeus began, his voice low yet resonant, "tell me—did you find aught concerning Hades?"
Poseidon's gaze was as deep as the sea. "No trace, no sign, no whisper. Nothing binds him to these attacks upon the champions of our kin. Without proof, we cannot accuse. Why cling so tightly to suspicion?"
Lightning flared faintly in Zeus's eyes as he leaned forward. "Because I know him. Hades despises me and the throne I hold. He would seize any chance to dishonor my name. You have seen his cunning, Poseidon you know he would weave such shadows unseen."
Poseidon shook his head, steady as the tide. "Perhaps. But silence may speak of innocence as well as guilt. Be wary, brother, lest your suspicion blind you."
Before Zeus could reply, the great bronze doors of the hall shuddered, then burst open with a resounding crash. A sudden chill swept through the chamber, dimming its golden light. Shadows spilled across the floor like black smoke, and with them came a biting wind that rattled the torches in their sconces.
A woman staggered into the hall, her dark hair wild, her robes torn, her face wet with tears. Yet with her came the faint scent of pomegranate and the echo of the underworld's stillness. The shadows clung to her like a veil, recoiling from the brilliance of Zeus's throne.
"Kore…" Poseidon breathed, his eyes widening.
Persephone Queen of the Dead, wife of Hades fell to her knees upon the marble, her sobs wracking her frame. Her voice carried through the chamber like a lament.
"You must help me… Hades..Hades is missing!"
The words thundered louder than any storm. Zeus's hand tightened upon his throne, Poseidon's trident struck the floor with a crack. For all their suspicion, for all their doubts neither had imagined this.
The Lord of the Underworld was gone.