It has been two months since the cultists known as the Creed attacked the Great Circus of Vasiliadon, murdered King Zenon I and left the new lord of the land Stephanos would brother or monarch. Instead, the second son of the king has stepped up to accept the burden which he was born to though never expected to receive.
In a recent court session - his first as monarch of the lands of Serenn - King Stephanos confirmed before all that his allowances of the Drowned Ones taking up habitation outside of the city was due to no cowardice or lacklustre desire to see them removed from Taengean soil. But a lesson in choosing the right moment, the right tactic. His background as a commander in the armies of his father are revealed to show the man beneath the rumour-followed lover and now the King leads his men as their monarch; not only as their General. For now is the time to prepare and to approach the three mile long stretch of broken landscape that has become the Gorge in which the Creed have enclaved themselves.
Event Timeline
- King Stephanos calls his men to arms on the far side of the city - out of sight of the Gorge, in order to allow his enemy the least amount of time to prepare. Cavalry was a rare thing during this time (specific most often to Colchis, as their terrain does not allow for chariot driven warfare), so Stephanos leads a unit of charioteers, aboard which are swordsmen and archers ready fight from the back of their carts or from the ground upon arrival. The unit is made up of Stephanos' old military unit which he has yet to hand over authority to anyone else, and his cousin's military forces. What is left of the Order of Vasiliadon also stands with him.
- The military unit will travel to the Enclave and engage the enemy as King Stephanos commands and instructs.
Event Participants
- Anyone who is a commander or militant in Taengea. All members of the Order of Vasiliadon.
- Women may be a part of this thread strictly prior to the attack. They must leave the thread after their men in questions have left the city to fight.
- All participation in this thread is to follow the orders of King Stephanos. It is unlikely that any soldier will go on an independent crusade in attacking the Gorge instead of following King Stephanos or their immediate commanders, in battle.
The protestations that she should not risk it were thick around her but Pia ignored the clucking of the various midwives who were attending her now daily. With the assistance of a few of her maids that kept giving her nervous glances, the queen remained stoic and silent as she met their eyes with a raised brow that signaled the should continue. If things went poorly today it wouldn’t matter what her health or that of her child was. If Stephanos was correct in his fears, his death meant that her own would not be far behind and she refused to let him leave without saying goodbye.
It was perhaps an overdone show, the crisp white chiton nearly sheer over the swell of her stomach was embroidered with red and gold at all of the borders, a chlamys draped over her shoulder in deep crimson stood as a contrast to the white of the undergown and the pale milkiness of her skin. With golden lions of Mikaelidas embroidered along it she made no secret of who she was and what she represented. Her black curls had been done in a pulled back knot of intricate braid work piled up and allowed to cascade free down her back. Golden bands were placed around her arms, a heavy golden necklace wrought with an intertwined lion and peacock to symbolize Mikaelidas and Taengea had been a commission she’d asked for when first given that power, and she had fitted her coronation crown into the woven style of her hair.
Rouge had been applied to her lips and cheeks to help her appear the picture of health as she left her chambers, walking cautiously with bare feet still peeking from beneath the hem of her skirts every once in a while. Her maids and ladies in attendance had all been decked out in a similar manner with everyone looking their best, a show of as much strength and support as she could manage for the men who were going off to battle the scourge that had wrought so much misery on their land. Dowager Queen Elise was ready to join her at her request, and she took the older woman’s hand with a smile. Only Elise could know anything akin to the fears that she was feeling in this moment. Olympia waited for a moment to take a breath before rounding the corner where doors opened before her, leading out to where Stephanos and his men were mustering for their battles to come.
Fully aware of eyes upon her as she moved, Pia kept her head upright, her gaze even and her gait steady, a hand always resting on the curve of the baby within to remind everyone that the line was still continuing strong. If she had her way, no one would forget this moment. She was embracing everything she had learned in her life and the short time of being queen to project a regal and powerful matriarch of the country, leading the women of the palace to see off their king and give them their full support and blessing.
She stopped on a step that would give her a vantage to the men in the courtyard below, spotting Stephanos easily. Her eye was always drawn to him first, and it remained on him even though she knew out there were other faces she knew, other men and members of families who would be put to the test just as much as she. Other women of the court that had not walked out with her and Elise had also gathered, and she saw many interspersed with their husbands and fathers and brothers, bidding them farewell and goodluck.
”Your Majesty. Will you say goodbye to your queen and accept your wife’s blessing?” Projecting her voice as much as it could, Pia intended for eyes to turn to focus on them, wanting the world to know that for all they knew the royal couple was a strong and united front. She lifted her hands from her stomach, holding them out to Stephanos with a look she hoped told those who saw her that she was proud and felt only confidence to hide the shaking fear she felt within.
He’d been up since just before dawn, making final preparations. For as important a mission as this, and for as much as was riding on its outcome, he was calm. All plans were in place. Only the critical people knew the plan and he’d ensured his uncle was not one of them. Neither were either of his cousins. They did not take up a place of hatred within him, like Irakles did, but they were Irakles’s sons. And from his conversation with Achilleas a few days prior, he did not feel as easy in his cousin’s loyalty as he once had.
It was easy not to focus on anything but the task at hand. He was surrounded by his soldiers, chariots, horses, and any number of slaves, servants, and women. Along with the rest of the men, he was armored in the heavy bronze chestplate that covered the whole of his torso to his hips, and bronze greaves on his legs. His shield was already resting in the chariot that would be pulled by two horses where his driver waited and his short sword was strapped to his waist. .
Each chariot driver stood either in or beside the chariot, waiting for their rider and for the order to go. The teams of horses stood alert and ready but none antsy. They were well trained and knew when to move and when to be still. His hand gripped the shaft of his spear tight as he surveyed those around him. This would end in success or a gorey death in the attempt. There would be no coming back without his prey. It was that simple.
The retinue at the top of the stairs did not draw his attention. There were too many people coming and going. Kicked up dust floated in the air and looked like gold reflected in the blazing sunlight. It was still early and the heat of the day had not yet set in but already the men were starting to sweat. Today would be torture in the 70 pounds of armor they wore.
”Your Majesty. Will you say goodbye to your queen and accept your wife’s blessing?”
His head jerked in her direction and for the briefest second, he frowned. But seconds later the expression was replaced by a brilliant smile. Handing his spear to his driver, he glanced at Vangelis before ascending the stairs where his wife waited. He stepped into her arms and drew her to him in what looked to be a tender embrace. His clean shaven cheek was pressed against hers and with his lips against her ear, the smile still fixed in place, and his eyes on Aikaterine behind her, he said, “How came you to be here? You shouldn't be so far from your rooms.”
The words were for her alone. They were even and full of meaning: she should have been more careful.
After a moment, the muscles of his arms relaxed around her and he hugged her in truth, rather than show. Pulling away, he gave her temple a quick kiss, placed one hand on her stomach, and waited for just a second to see if the baby would move. He did not. That wasn’t unexpected.
“I will see you when I return,” he said. His gaze slid behind her to Aikaterine but other than that, he did not acknowledge her presence. Turning around, he went back down the stairs toward the chariot, avoiding Vangelis’s gaze. The last thing he wanted right now was for the Blood General to have told him he should have shoved his wife back inside and slammed the door. Men don’t need women. Or whatever it was Colchians believed.
In truth, her sleep had been restless as she found herself alone thinking about what the next day and the following days would bring. Aikaterine knew that what Stephanos was doing was the right choice. She would have done the same given the right opportunity. The poison hidden in a safe spot in the stables back in Meganea. She had thought about what kind of revenge she could get for the sake of her sanity. That was barely as strong as the revenge for his father and his brother’s lives. Though, a just cause didn’t make it any less dangerous.
She paused to splash cold water on to her face, hoping that it would help make it look like she hadn’t spent the whole night awake. It wasn’t that she love Stephanos, but she did appreciate him. Aikaterine didn’t want to see it end so quickly, before she could even learn all there was to learn. Her palms pressed hard against her face. Olympia had required them all to look their best. It was a moment to be remembered, a moment for people to look and admire what Taengea could do. She slipped into the stark white chiton with delicate digits pressing together the clasps that held the luxurious dress against her body. There weren’t as many embellishments as what the Queen’s had offered, but it had that touch of simple elegance anyhow.
Her tongue did a quick pass over the rouge to her lips that had been applied. She had never bothered before. However, she had never been in this position before. Tailing the queen and in front of so many soldiers. You know that any one of these handsome men could be your next husband. The words held truth, if they managed to come back from the campaign they were attempting. Many were already spoken for, but there were just as many that could possibly be the next to take care of her. The makeup and the way her hair was weaved together was enough to turn heads, yet just enough let down to be one rung below the queen. No one could outshine Olympia, or at least that was the rule as she had assumed.
Aikaterine bowed when it was needed when more joined the procession to were the men were preparing for battle. She followed a few paces behind the queen and dowager queen beside some of the other ladies in waiting of both the important women. This was her place silently instep as they walked out.
She took a breath in of the air. It was different. It was like the flowers of the summer. Instead, she could smell the metal of the armor, leather straps on the men and horses, the dirt kicked into the air by the horses, and the horses themselves. This was real. They were going and they might not come back. All of them ready to stand behind their king and take back what was theirs against the Creed.
That enticing, charming smile of Stephanos put on a show as he walked to Olympia with what could only appear to all those on the outside as genuine. Her own emerald eyes watching his lips, she couldn’t help herself as she tried to make out what he had said into the ear of his wife. Not all the words were clear and it didn’t matter. Kat had never been a nosy person before, she scolded herself inside to not begin now. Her attention only caught again when she connected eye contact with the king. Kat wanted to nod. She wanted to reassure that she believed he would be back. She wanted to believe that he was speaking to her, but she couldn’t be selfish like that.
But, she stood still. There was no need to bring suspicions upon herself, no need to give those who stood around them paranoia before she was stuck behind with no protection while he was away. Her red lips didn’t even smile as she began to get better at keeping her emotions hidden - the way of the court. It was only her green eyes that could reply and attempt to show some sort of wish of safety on the King. Besides that she was stoic and silent.
It would be logical to assume that many in the courtyard that day had had limited sleep the night before. The younger soldiers, the women and wives, the older men in the forces - the ones who knew their bodies were running low on strength and might be seeing their last battle this day... each and all would likely have tossed and turned in the night, unable to shake the feelings of dread that stole away slumber.
Vangelis was not like any of just such men or ladies. He was still young, reliant on his body and his capabilities (despite recent injuries) but experienced enough in war and combat to have little concerns or fears. Such a morning, high with adrenaline and low with a feeling of doom was an atmosphere he had become entirely numb to over the years. He gave no attention to the grim set in the jaws of the eldest of the fighters. He paid no heed to the swallowing throats, fluttering fingers and glassy eyes of the wives and lovers. What he did spot and offer his time to were the young men who looked frightened. For they were the ones that courage would be the greatest difference for.
The crown prince of Colchis frowned from his perch, leaning against the arched walls of the open space, as he made final adjustments to his armour, his gaze seeking out those of too think wrist and too slim neck to be fully counted as men. They were few and far between – Stephanos had a strong and powerful unit at his side. But there were always newcomers. The new generation who would have to survive if they wanted to remain in the military for enough years to give their families and names the honour that came with victory.
Pushing weight into his shoulders to shift his weight back onto his feet, Vangelis headed towards the middle of the courtyard where a circular fountain broke the elegant paving. He didn't clank or sound off as intensely as the men around him for his armour was slimmer, leaner and more useful for immediate hand to hand combat. He was a man unused to fighting from the back of the chariot and had therefore dressed to his own preferred set of skills.
His tunic was leather, laced by both the back and front and stretching down to his waist where it was cinched to offer rectangular pieces down the front and sides of his thighs. Such pieces sported the thinnest plates of iron - enough to deflect glancing blows or catches of weapons. His arms were bare beneath a double pauldron piece, slats of metal over his shoulders making them appear still larger than their already broad standing. The buckles of the items were fastened tight over his back and chest. Bare biceps led down to wrapped forearms, the soft white material braided around each from wrist to elbow were the end of the ties had been knotted and cut short. Like his fellow soldiers Vangelis went into battle in a pteruges, the straps riding longer to his knees. Greaves were then wrapped around a thin set of riding boots that rose up and over his kneecaps. Each section of both legs supported leather straps that help multiple sheathed knives.
Vangelis had not been expecting war upon leaving Colchis and arriving in their neighbouring kingdom. But this was not his reason for not carrying his armour and weaponry with him across the seas. Vangelis did not travel with his full military equipment because there was no need. A crown prince did not often get involved in the skirmishes of other lords or kings. It was foolish to put one's life in danger for the cause of another, when one's life meant so much to so many. But Vangelis had never been raised to believe that doing what he thought was right was ever foolish or wasteful. And so, he was here. In borrowed armour. The pauldrons, the tunic, the greaves and the bracers that were tied by their strings to his belt were all belonging to the royal armoury. There were no colours on the pieces, no insignia or markings. Most likely the pieces were designed for protection during practice sparring. But Vangelis had chosen them regardless. He had not needed pomp and showmanship when he had been selecting his borrowed protection. Visage and impact were important when you lead or were intent on using psychological warfare upon your enemy... or were determined to show the glory of your kingdom. None of such eventualities were Vangelis' intention or right. He was not here to show the might of Colchis. He was here to defend the people of Taengea. And that required ease of movement and flexibility of strike. Not excessive amounts of metal plating.
As such, when Vangelis had arrived at the Palati where everyone was gathering before heading out and around the north of the city, Vangelis appeared little different to the lower-class fighters around him. He was taller, broader and he wore his armour like a second skin, his steps languid and comfortable. But besides his stature and ease in the moment, he was far removed from the image of "prince".
Still, it didn't stop eyes following him as he moved to the centre of the courtyard, ensuring his presence was noticed by a small group of six young Taengean soldiers who looked to have yet grown into their swords. While the king was busy speaking with an advisor, Vangelis detached the bracers from his belt and slid them onto his arms, over the soft lining of the fabric already banded into place. He looked over at the boys whilst fastening the first of the two, smiled as one caught his eye and then pulled the strings tight in a tug of confidence and certainty, his back straightening and his shoulders moving to appear still broader. His lip curled with arrogance and he shifted his weight to seem nonchalant. He watched from his peripheral as the young men glanced at one another and then moved to check the ties on their own bracers, with a little more energy than the dread that had permeated their beings a moment before.
Sometimes, all one needed was the show that another held no fear to start feeling brave.
Amused, Vangelis turned his attention to securing the leather cylinders into place and then curled his fingers into two fists and flexed and twisted his wrists to ensure the freedom of muscle movement in both arms.
The rest of his armour there was no need to check. His daggers were in place up and down his legs, his dual blades were fastened at his hips on the several belts latched around his middle. A quiver of arrows was strapped to his back, fastened into placed with several buckles over his chest so that the piece would remain fixed during high speed chariot travel. His bow, and a borrowed halberd and set of spears were being taken care of by Nike. Being secured into place on the chariot they would both be riding into battle. All of said chariots and the dual horses a piece to drive them were already set up north of the city. Those that amalgamated here would have a walk towards the north in order to them set up and head on towards the fight. Nike was the only one he would have allowed to be in such a location in his stead, tending to the chariot and to his larger weaponry force; for the armour was borrowed, but the weapons were his.
It was as Vangelis was tying off the laces of his bracers with his teeth that he looked up to notice the King bidding farewell to his wife. His jaw tightening, Vangelis looked away, turning his attentions elsewhere as the two appeared to share a quiet moment together in a courtyard full of spectators that they clearly wanted to be seen by.
In looking away, Vangelis noted several other women who had come to attend to the men in their moment of departure. Some carried rags and small buckets of oil ready to offer additional aid in checking armour and ensuring leather remained supple after being fastened into place. Some offered tokens or shared moments with men who did or did not appear to be their husbands. Slave boys ran in every direction, fetching men particular items of equipment or relaying messages between commanders.
Geared up and ready to go, Vangelis caught eye contact with the new king but gave no expression. Had he known what the man was thinking, he would have contradicted such a ridiculous notion. No man who had ever met Queen Yanni would ever believe her son to have such a firm hand with the female of the species. Women were made in their manner for the tasks they most suited, of course. But they were also to be listened to, respected and heralded for supporting their counterpart. And a woman with child was the last person you told what to do. Forget the wrath of Artemis for such an incitement; mortal fury would be fearsome enough to confront...
When Selene had heard the plan to hunt down the rest of the Creed and put an end to their threat, she was torn. On one hand, she was looking forward to the sense of relief that would come with this whole thing coming to an end. They would be gone and perhaps the sense of security she had once felt would return and the rest of the city could sleep easier at night. On the other, it meant that people she cared for were going to ride off and see the threat head-on. There were people who would be injured, and death was also a very distinct possibility.
As she looked at the gathered party in the courtyard, she wondered just how many faces she would never see again.
She shook the morbid thought from her mind, instead focusing on most of the reason why she was here. A large basket in her arms, she weaved in between the soldiers as she helped load the wrapped loaves into the chariots of those who would ride them into battle. The others, she gave the men to stuff in their loaded packs they would carry. The offering wasn’t much, but it was a sign of support for her brother in law, and it was uplifting to the men who had no one to see a pretty face with a wish of safety before they headed out.
Unlike the last time she’d entertained, today she was in a far less revealing outfit. The plum colored peplos was so dark it was almost black, the hem decorated with white and gold horses finely stitched on the deep silks. The belt on her waist was heavy gold, accenting her thin frame. Her sandals were simple leather, but still of the finest quality. Her only jewelry was the small gold chain on her neck and her Leventi crested cuff. Because of the crowd, she opted for a white epiblema across her shoulders, its own plum accents matching the peplos perfectly. She didn’t cover her hair, the thick braids pulled back into a low bun in a look most modest.
She made her way through the crowds, offering kind words or a caring embrace to those she knew personally. Many of the men were known to her, some even close enough to be friends. And she fully believed in making the extra effort towards those who mattered to her. So she was here for them, slowly giving them her well wishes. She offered comfort to the woman staying behind but focused on those leaving.
Vangelis was hard to miss, not as powerful and menacing as he looked in his full armor. She hadn’t known that he was going to go along, but the relationship with Stephanos should have made that obvious to her. Of course, he would support his friend in this action. He had been there the day of the Circus, so in a way, this was his fight, too. Glancing at him as she moved, she tried not to stare. He had yet to notice her, and she was certain that he didn’t want to be bothered. So she continued through the crowd.
As much as she thought to avoid him, she found herself in his direct line of sight. But instead of moving away, leaving him to his preparations, she found herself moving towards him. Cheeks flushed, Selene gave him a smile. There was no avoiding him now, not when it was obvious she was there. Pulling the last two loaves from her basket, she smiled and handed them over to Nike. ”A piece of goodwill from the Leventi table.” Facing Vang, she bowed her head slightly to him, pulling out a pomegranate from the bottom of her basket. Jo took the basket from her, disappearing back into the crowd as she did. She offered him the fruit, cut in half. ”My morning prayers were spent divided between the temples of Aphrodite and Ares in hopes they would bless your task. Since Aphrodite is said to be partial to both pomegranates and Ares, I thought my offering appropriate. Half is in his temple, and I hoped you would take this with you, so they may keep you in their blessings?”
She wore a grin, knowing that he most likely wouldn’t chance offending the Gods by refusing her small gift.
Unlike Vangelis, Nike had travelled with her armor, even if it is lighter weight then most and easier to wear. She was on duty, a duty quite different from that of the crown prince. In fact, Nike could barely note of a time when she was not on alert this whole journey. Between accompanying Vangelis when necessary and ensuring the safety of the Princess and her cousin, the only time Nike had found for herself was at night in the House of Leventi, quite a stark difference from the last time they had been here to attend the Dionysus festival. Where it had previously been joyous and raucous, there was now a hint of sombriety and seriousness to the trademark Taengean laissez-faire attitude.
Odd how Nike seemed more at home in this sort of attitude, considering she was Taengean by birth.
With the task at hand of assisting the King in this task relating to the Creed however, Nike had scarcely the time to think of the likelihood of running into her birth sire, not like the last affair which had her looking over her shoulder at every turn. Up earlier then the crown prince herself, Nike's own outfit was made entirely by leather and laced up in spots where necessary, with metal sewn in between the pieces of leather which would serve to deflect arrows and sharp weapons. Her hair was bound up in a tight bun atop her head, and her two daggers were slipped in her heavy combat boots. Eschewing her claymore (as she was yet to be well used to it to properly wield it in battle), instead Nike had her usual longsword strapped to her side, and the various throwing knives slipped into the weapon belt she had on. She had no bow, still not well versed in them yet, and the woman was loathe to fight with weapons she was unfamiliar with. It would simply make her a burden.
Arriving at the courtyard just before the rest of the men, she had been quick to instruct the ones under her tutelage, reminding them once again that in times of great distress, regardless of what was happening to the Taengean troops, it was the safety of the Colchian crown prince that mattered to them most.
It was after that, and only then did she moved to the chariots that Vangelis was supposed to take. Watching from the corner of her eye as her general approached the younger of the troops ready to take on the Creed, she did a quick, thorough check of Vangelis's weapons and chariots, strapping the spears and halberd in places that he could easily access whilst in the chariot, before checking on the chariot itself. Nike was uneasy with it - she knew Vangelis's modus operandi, and that he fought better on horseback, as she did. Colchian's had no use for chariots, but she guessed the Taengeans were much better used to them, and Vangelis was not about to go against the order of King Stephanos. So the woman checked all the riggings and the reins, thorough as she was. She was not about to see her general thrown off the chariot because of her ineptitude.
As she finished, the Queen made an arrival, as did the other women, almost as if there was a send-off party. Something that made Nike chomp at the bit, really. She had never needed anything of the sort, being one who preferred jumping straight into the action rather then lingering with the women, ironically. That being said, she was thankful as a woman approached Nike with some oil and rags, items which the Commander took with a murmured thanks and a smile, turning to polish the buckles and reins to further secure the vehicle.
A sudden voice by her side made Nike turn, and then her honeyed eyes registered surprise when she was met with the smile and blonde locks of Selene of Leventi, a woman she knew Vangelis had personally visited upon his arrival in Taengea, and if she was not mistaken (she still had her womanly intuition, even if she was living as a male), had more then just goodwill to impart to her general. A part of Nike wore an amused smile as she accepted the wrapped loaf with a smile and a murmured thank you. Placing the loaf gently within the chariot Vangelis would ride, the Commander watched the interaction of the two from the corner of her eye, making a mental note to just prod her general about that half pomegranate he got later when they were further away from prying eyes.
She wasn’t sure exactly what sort of reaction she had been expecting, but the frozen smile on his face didn’t seem to fit. The embrace was wrong too, different than the night before when he had come to her room again after what had felt like ages. Her arms wrapped around him and she closed her eyes so those looking on wouldn’t see the confusion there, nor the hurt as he whispered in her ear not sweet farewells but a reprimand. He wasn’t glad to see her, he was only worried about overexertion and what it might do to his child.
Pia felt a hollowness in her chest until a shift in the mood between them finally clicked after what felt like ages. As soon as he relaxed she curled her fingers against his armor, clinging to him as long as he would allow her without a thought for propriety for once, just sending up more silent prayers that had been occupying her thoughts in the hopes he would come home to her. The kiss to her temple was matched by one of her own to his cheek, and the young queen smiled down at her stomach as her husband rested his hand against their child. As if sensing the importance of the situation, he was quiet and still within unlike the twists and kicks he had been giving the night before due to her anxiety.
”Of course. Gods bless you, my lord. You have all of our love.”
The smile she managed was not at all what she was feeling as he stepped away, noting how his eyes lingered behind her briefly and swallowing hard to prevent any tears. Now was not the time, for all she knew he could have been looking to his mother as Elise offered up her own blessings and love. Keeping her hands over her stomach, Olympia spotted her sister’s blonde head in the crowd moving toward Vangelis, and her smile took on a softer edge before returning to the retreating back of her husband. It was all in his hands now. If he won, they would be free at last until the next threat. If he lost, she would die.
”I will wait in my chambers.” With a motion of her hand, Pia turned away from the assembled soldiers and their well wishers, reaching out to her mother in law and twining their arms as they faded back through their retinue. She managed to keep herself together until they were out of sight and the doors had been closed, but as soon as the corner had been turned a sob broke from her throat as the last of her composure drained away into the ever lingering fear. Elise’s arms kept her upright as they wrapped her in a motherly hug, and the two queens made the slow trek back to their rooms to await the news of the coming battle and departure.
A pang of regret built in her chest and she had to stop herself from running back outside to say the words she hadn’t been brave enough to say to him before he left. ‘I love you’ had been impossible to manage without breaking into tears before the gathered armies, and now she had to wait until he returned to try to say it again.
Frustrated and annoyed does not even begin to explain Irakles's dark mood the moment he had woke before dawn. The sun still had yet to make its appearance, Apollo just beginning his chariot pull across the skies, when his eyes had snapped open. The conversation he had with Stephanos just days before rankled his thoughts, and had been since the past few days. Irakles had no wish to join this death wish to purge the Creed, as his nephew had stupidly promised the public nobility of Taengea the day of his coronation. He did not see why he had to participate in the farce of his nephew's doing, and even more then that, the retired general had no wish to take commands from a green upstart who barely had half the experience Irakles had.
But Stephanos had left him with no choice.
To deny or to reject his order to come with, would be akin to defying the King, and like it or not, even if he was the uncle, even if he had the ear of the Queen Mother, even if he was the more experienced one, he was still bound by the laws of the land. And Irakles would be damned before he allowed Stephanos to have any reason to go against his plans, not when he was so close to completion. Death to Stephanos would be too obvious, that much Fotios had managed to point out when Irakles wanted to just murder his nephew in his sleep and be done with it. To have his nephew dead would mean eyes would turn to him, for he was the next in line. The same suspicions that he had managed to stir and incite to discredit Stephanos would fall on him.
Patience is the key. He had to wait. So despite his ire and irritation, Irakles had to get up and get dressed, annoyed as he is. No matter what he tried to do, any plans on what Stephanos had planned to perform for the day at the gorge was out of his hands. He had attempted to figure out why exactly Stephanos had order chariots - Irakles had been incensed when he realized that chariots were being prepared the day before in the courtyard. Why, he had asked in a tone that clearly spoke of frustration, would one ride chariots to a gorge which would require careful steps? Would horses not be a better choice?
Yet no one had answers for him. Ujarak had tried and failed, as well as any of the advisors he could ask. And Irakles hated nothing more then feeling as if he was in the dark. As a general of many troops, winning many battles by gaining as much information as he could on his enemies and the lay of the land and using it to his advantage, being kept in the dark made Irakles antsy. Because a lack of knowledge would mean he was leaving himself open to being blindsided and snuck up on.
Not that he was given a choice.
It was in a quiet, tensed mood that servants and slaves entered to dress the prince once he was done with his morning ablutions. Climbing out of his bath, he allowed the slaves to dry him off, before beginning his dressing. His outfit was laid out before him, simple tunic and his various armor that he had personally saw to its polishing just the evening before. His greying hair was combed, a simple white tunic laced on to his skin before they began fitting him with armor, the very same armor that had seen him through many battles. It had been a few years since he had put on his full, formal armor as a Taengean general and former Master of War, before he retired to take on the position as the Head of the Mikaelidas House. It was a familiar, yet unfamiliar feeling whilst the bronze plates were laced in. Leather wristguards were laced up, before the light muscle cuirass was placed upon. Below his waist, the greaves made of the same bronze as his breastplates were properly fitted, before the prince slipped his feet into the pair of heavy combat boots. His bronzed Illyrian helmet was tucked under his arms, polished until they gleamed in the light of the emerging sun.
As a final touch, two short swords were strapped around his waist, before Ujarak brought up his trusty bronze battle axe. The moment Irakles gripped its handle, his frustrations melted away into a satisfied smile as he felt the familiar weight of his weapon in his hands. It was a battle weapon made of two materials - bronzed for the axe head, carved with details of great battles by great heroes. Heavy and deadly, Irakles sharpened it on a weekly basis, even if he did not use it as often any longer. The handle however, was made of iron and reinforced with copper to make it harder and difficult to break. It was something Irakles had specially commissioned in his second year serving as a general to the Taengean armies, not willing to let a weak weapon sully his reputation. The axe itself had followed Irakles to every battle, without fail. And he had appeared victorious in every one, unless his brother decided to intervene, which happened too often for his liking. But with Zenon gone, and the heritage to the throne now being brought to question with Stephanos's ways and reputation, he had his chance now.
Like it or not, he would appear victorious.
Battleax in hand, only then did Irakles make his way to Aeneus awaiting him in the courtyard of the Mikaelidas household. The spirited gelding carried him all the way to the Mikaelidas palati, a short ride away. The moment the prince's eyes fell upon the rows of chariots again, however, his brows furrowed in annoyance once again at the reminder. Handing off his gelding to the hands of a trusted hoplite of his troop (for even if he was forced to ride upon a chariot, Irakles wanted his warhorse available should it become necessary), before heading over to deposit his shield and spears within the chariot another had murmured to be his.
The driver of his chariot was an old cavalry soldier Irakles had trained in the days, and the general greeted the soldier with a gruff morning greeting, as he personally went through the buckles, belts and wheel spokes of his chariot. His quiver of arrows and bows was slipped to his left of the chariot, whilst the few spears he had deemed to bring was to the right. On top of the two short swords already strapped to his waist, and his battle axe and shield on his back, Irakles had also brought along two extra long swords that were now sheathed in the back end of the chariots, an extra safety precaution. The two horses that would draw his chariot was a handsome black and bay pair, not as fast nor as ferocious as Aeneus, but they were hardy and strong, not likely to shy even if an arrow was flying in their direction unless they felt direct pain.
As someone who paid a great deal of attention to detail, he was leaving nothing to chance, and it wasn't till the entrance of the Queen and her very obvious, very public call to her husband, did the prince finally emerge from his thorough checks. He was standing at the nose of the two horses being hooked up to his chariots, slowly rubbing their satiny nose when Olympia made her entrance. From where he stood, Irakles merely observed as the King greeted his pregnant wife. He had heard of Olympia being ordered on bedrest. From what he's been told, the stress and happenings ever since their marriage had got to her pregnancy, and that she was only allowed for a limited amount of time for walks, and was otherwise confined to the bed. Of course, for the baby to be miscarried would solve all of Irakles problems, but the elder male doubted his nephew would be so stupid as to put his wife and heir at risk, so Irakles was quick to dispense with that line of thought.
Leaving his nephew and the Queen, his gaze slid to the arriving Crown Prince of Colchis, amusement glittering in his wizened gaze. Of all, perhaps Irakles was most surprised at the friendship Stephanos had managed to strike between himself and Vangelis of Kotas. To have such a prestigious friendship seemed beyond what he knew his nephew of doing, but then again, Irakles guessed it was hard to miss since they both ran in the same circles. Vangelis of Kotas had a personality a mile different from Stephanos, and yet here the Colchian prince stood, apparently eager to help and having brought his own Commander and troop along to assist the Taengean kingdom. Amusing. A little frustrating yes, but nothing Irakles could not deal with.
When Selene of Leventi arrived and somehow made her way directly to the Crown Prince, Irakles resisted the urge to smirk. It would seem that his friend has been doing quite some matchmaking of his own. Making a mental note to drop a question to Fotios on what exactly seems to be the plan he had for his eldest niece between her and the crown prince, Irakles turned back to the Queen as she moved to return to her chambers, her expression somehow appearing a little more downtrodden before. Ah, it would seem all was not well within the marital affairs of his nephew. Interesting.... something he would task Meena to investigate further on.
For now, he had a task at hand.
With a final whispered word to both horses, and patting them on their strong necks, he returned to the gleaming chariots, awaiting there till Stephanos approached. His expression was neutral, but perhaps only those standing close by could see the milling frustration that swirled within the elder male's chocolate gaze. He was uneasy, that was clear. He already was very clear with the fact that he had no love over Stephanos's choice to take chariots to the gorge. While Irakles did enjoy charioteering as a sport, he preferred to be on horseback in battle and in a fight, where one could easily maneuver the beast beneath them to turn this way and that. A chariot was clunkier, harder to handle, and when the place in question was a gorge, it made the Prince doubt his nephew's choice even more.
"You better have it all well planned, Stephanos. Or you risk the lives of many, and the safety of your home and our Kingdom, by bringing them into a death trap with these chariots." It was a thinly veiled threat, made in a tone that only he and Stephanos was privy to. It was also, perhaps, the very first sign Stephanos would ever see of Irakles's loosening of emotions, where previously it had all been a controlled ploy, all within his hands. To walk into this blind, and been more or less commanded to stay by Stephanos side, irked Irakles beyond measure.
As he stood toe to toe with Stephanos, in the eyes of others, it may seem as if the uncle was merely giving the final advice and precautionary words to his nephew. Irakles had done much in order to ensure that outwardly, that was their guise to many. He had openly expressed his concern to many about his nephew's healthy, waxing on about how worried he was for his family. The feud between uncle and nephew remained between them, but the threat was clear in the leveled, pointed glare that Irakles sent Stephanos.
Do not mess with him. And do not mess with the safety and grandeur that was the Kingdom of Taengea. Nothing was worth more to Irakles then the kingdom he had grown up being educated to protect all his life, and nothing else was more important. And if anyone stood in the way of that, if anyone at all threatened or was a threat to Taengea's worth, well Irakles would annihilate that threat, or die trying. Stephanos wanted to play the game.
Distracted from his bracers as he finished tying them off, one strand in the opposing hand, the other in his teeth, Vangelis turned to noticed the lady Selene approaching Nike and handing her a small loaf, wrapped and bound up ready to be placed inside the chariot for good luck. The corner of his mouth, tilted upward a little softly at the kindness the woman showed.
There were few women who had the fortification to continue to offer aid, support and blessings those who were about to step into the jaws of death. And then do so again the next time. And again, for a third... Taengea was a kingdom in turmoil the last few months. And the women would have suffered that upheaval alongside their men.
Vangelis had learnt from his mother that sometimes the trials on a woman were harder. For it meant fearing the worst without having the power to combat it, personally. As Vangelis would feel were he to send his troops off for a battle without his presence. Confidence in his men wouldn't negate the concerns he would feel regarding their success. And to be told to feel such emotions without the power to go and aid them on the battlefield. To be forced to stay behind and wait for news.
Such patience required a very different but no weaker from of courage.
When the eldest Leventi came to approach him personally, Vangelis felt several pairs of eyes shoot his way - not the least probing of which were that of her sister, Queen of Taengea.
Feeling a little self-conscious and unsure (for wars in Colchis were kept far away from their women - Vangelis had never had one come to bid him farewell before) - the crown prince turned to face her when she produced for him half a fruit.
Frowning initially at being presented with - apparently - a semi-eaten snack, it was only when Selene explained that she had made an offering of the other half between the temple of Aphrodite and Ares, Vangelis felt his chest tighten.
Reaching up, he took the piece from her hand, his signet ring shining in the sunlight - for he never removed his rings, even in war - Vangelis took the fruit and considered it for a moment.
"As good a means as any to assure it travels with me..." He commented, before glancing skyward and then biting into the fruit. By chance of checking to see that she was not offended by his actions, Vangelis kept eye contact with Selene as he then finished his bite, the red of the pomegranate running down his thin. He licked at his teeth, the column of his throat moving as he swallowed, before his tongue came out to sweep over his lips. The juice was sweet but a tad bitter and sticky to boot as it ran over his fingers.
Rubbing the back of his hand over his chin, Vangelis smiled at Selene and nodded his gratitude, before glancing at the sky again.
"We'll have to see if the Gods are listening this day, won't we?"
Setting the fruit aside on the edge of the fountain's low wall and then dropping his hand into its waters to remove the glistening red, Vangelis then wiped over his face, the front locks of his hair dampening and his eyes brightening at the cold sensation.
Licking his lips again, Vangelis took a step back from the woman before him, sketched a polite bow to her for her kindness, one arm across his middle, and then reached to touch her hand, the water running from his fingers to herself.
"Thank-you." He told her, and then his lips formed her name. The term too informal to speak aloud. Selene...
After having only recently returned home from years of fighting on battlefields far from here, Killie certainly hadn't excepted to be thrust into another fight so soon, especially not in his home lands. He had slept fairly decently the night before, after all, this wasn't the first time war loomed on the horizon, but when he woke up that morning, his thoughts became plagued with what this would mean for him and Theo.
Killie knew she understood why he was going, why the King had made such commands and promises after the vast Creed attacks months earlier. Killie's concern was more with the idea that they weren't even married yet, and here he was carting off to battle once more. How many time would he have to leave her, during their marriage? For how long at a time? He feared she would be lonely in his absence, or sick with worry about his well being and her constitution would suffer.
The thoughts flew about in his head like sticky flies as he dressed and prepared for what was ahead. Slaves came to dress him, a deep red tunic first, followed by his bronze breastplate, bronze plated leather bracers and greaves. His armor was well worn and well maintained, and fit him like a glove. Once dressed, he tested his movements for anything of the ordinary, for any looseness of snags. Satisfied, he wordlessly nodded to let the slave know he was ready to leave.
Achilleas arrived at the Palati to a somber atmosphere. Wives and family had come to see them off to war. There was no chatter, not even nervous excitement, only the voices of a few who were bidding one another farewell for everyone and the Gods to witness. Walking to meet his own men, who diligently waited where they were instructed, he gave himself a few moments to observe. Stephanos, strangely, had ordered the attack by chariots, which made little sense in Killie's mind. He knew his father would have had something to say about the King's questionable military tactics, no doubt, and when his eyes scanned the front line of men and horses in front of the Palati, his eyes fell on his father. Tall, overbearing, serious and even from here Achilleas could feel the fire he knew burned in his eyes as he watched the King farewell his wife.
Achilleas turned his back to nod silently to a few men in his front ranks. He would have time to talk to them soon, to encourage them, to lead them. For now, he just needed them to know, he was here and they together were going to be a force to be reckoned with.
He turned again, this time his gaze searching the crowd of women and non-combatants at the Palati, searching for his beloved Theo. Spotting her in the crowd, and waiting for her to spot him looking in turn, he smiled, reassuring courage filling his bones at just the sight of her far away face. He started walking out, hoping she would do the same to meet him, to say farewell.
Reaching her, he cupped his hand to her face, holding her there a long moment. "No matter what happens, I will come back to you, Theo."
For over a month she’d been screaming at the Gods to stop her wedding; to find some way to put a halt to marrying the brother of the man she loved. She’d begged, pleaded, bargained to no avail. And in the final hours, when she’d given up hope, the Gods sought to grant her reprieve.
But her respite came with a heavy price. Because the relief she may have felt days ago now felt like a bitter vice; reminding her what couldn’t be hers. What she no longer wanted. Days before her wedding to Achilleas was scheduled to take place she’d been harshly informed by her family that the love of her life.. The man she’d sworn fealty and fidelity to at all cost had, at the first opportunity, trounced that oath and bedded a woman hours before declaring himself to her again. Or two, she really couldn’t be sure and truthfully it mattered not. One was more than enough. Weeks of guilt weighing on her shoulders in being engaged to his brother against her desire were now replaced with bitterness and anger. She’d pined. She’d shed hours of tears. Tears she’d never get back. All for a man who, at the first opportunity, sought comfort in the arms of someone else when her own arms were ever willing and able to fulfill any request he had.
No more.
All the love she felt for him.. The need to be near him was replaced with a furious loathing she could tell no one about. No one save Olympia who was the only one who was aware of her feelings.. And only because she’d gone to her to seek the truth. It burned in her core; seeped into her muscles until she shook with it. Until it warmed her with its fire. She had no desire to see him. No desire to speak to him. She considered how close she was to marrying him. How she would have given up everything for him. Her ambitions and goals to run away with him. When in all likelihood his faelty would last only so long as she was in his favor.
She scowled.
It took her but a day for her thoughts to run to the fervent conclusion that she should like nothing better than to marry Achilleas of Mikaelidas. He was a solid match. Titled with a large barony and a notoriety that was incomparable in Taengea and even beyond. For the first time, she saw him for what she was. If she could not rely on love, she would rely on that which she knew: Ambition.
It was like a cool glass of water, coming home to roost. Third in line for the throne. If she hadn’t lost sight, she may be standing where Olympia was.. Or even Selene with her relationship with Vangelis now. ...But she would consider the minor bump down penance for taking her eye off the ball for a year. In the end, it was still a good match. And if Selene was successful with Vangelis, then there would be a Leventi queen on two of the three thrones in Greece one day. It was a worthy fall from grace. One she would accept for herself. Her father and admittedly, her uncle were right.
For a day she poured herself into wedding preparations; finally an eager bride willing to help her mother with what would be needed in the days to come for the ceremonies.. For the feasts and for the myriad of traditions that would take place over the three day wedding period. She was unprepared for Achilleas to come and inform her that there would be a delay in their plans until his return from rooting out The Creed and she was angered that the Gods would choose such timing. A week and she would be married; settled in her barony seat and on her way to forgetting the name Emilios of Mikaelidas. Now she would have to wait until the Gods only knew when.
But she would prove an eager bride now. No longer intent on avoiding Achilleas, she welcomed his visits and came to the royal Palati to see him off along with the king. To stand with the queen and the wives, daughters, mothers, and sisters of court in solemn yearning that the men of their kingdom stay or return swiftly and without harm.
The people were quiet as the men readied themselves; arriving and sorting themselves into their units they were familiar with. Lines of chariots waited at the front with anxious steeds pawing at the earth; ready to run. She stood just behind Pia as was her place; resplendent in gold and white. Her dark hair curled atop her head and threaded with golden cords and her shoulders bared and kissed by the sun. Her waist was cinched tightly and her skin glowed with fragrant oils. There was no bloom lost on her. She’d refused to cry; refused to allow one more tear to shed for Emilios.
The men seemed anxious; ready to go, though quiet for the most part. A few strayed to say goodbye’s to loved ones and Theo spotted Emilios near his father; his gaze on her. Ice and fury settled in her core and her jaw tensed as she glared at him; willing him to feel her hatred. But to look on him only made her blood run cold and so she turned to look for the person she should be searching for. ...His brother. Her fiance, as Pia greeted her king.
He was easier enough to find with his tall, bold frame and after he spoke with his men, his own eyes began to search the crowd; finding her just as easily. He stepped forward; intending to speak to her and Theo moved around her sister; descending the stairs to the courtyard so she could meet him halfway. All of the reluctance and avoidance of him was gone. She would no longer allow herself to feel guilty when speaking to him.
She met her fiance and stared up at him boldly as he cupped her cheek. She pressed her hand over his with a self-assurance that was always her own, just stifled until recently. “Yes. You will. For I will accept nothing less than your swift and triumphant return.” She pulled his hand from her cheek and entwined her fingers in his as she stepped closer; her head falling back to compensate for his height. She focused on him; almost forgetting anyone that could be watching and her cheeks flushed. She remembered their kiss the night after the temple tours.. How she’d lost herself in it.. Forgotten about Emilios if only briefly. How she’d played with fire by picturing the younger brother only to have been so thoroughly thrown off balance by the older in his passion. A thrill rolled down on her spine… and she welcomed it.
She lifted her other hand and tangled it with theirs; bending his wrist so she could brush her lips over the back of his hand in a moment of intimacy that would likely have the entire court buzzing later. It would have to be enough.. Though she would send him off with more were they alone. “Remember that you have something to return for.” She stated softly; for no one’s ears but his own.
She lowered his hand as the breeze lifted; catching a few tendrils around her face and pushing the flowing fabric of her gown against the curves of her body. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles and she kept her eyes locked on his as she stepped back; letting go with one and then the other hand. Reluctant words exchanged and a promise for more when he returned.. It was all she could offer. ...But it was more than she’d ever done before. Would it be enough that he would return to her and make her his bride.
She prayed to Aphrodite and Ares to heed her request.
Theo came to meet him eagerly, and a smile filled his face as he looked down into her dark eyes. In that moment, Achilleas forgot where they were, who was watching. It was only him and Theo. In that moment, that was all the mattered, and he never wanted to leave it. He lost himself in her eyes, in her touch. her words were like silk, pulling gently at him, begging him not to leave, to stay and marry her and leave the fighting to other men. A big part of him wanted to listen, wanted to let her silken words keep him here - but what would that make him? A coward? What would his men think of him? Granted, if he didn't go, they wouldn't either. Maybe they could avoid casualties that way. His father's face barreled into his thoughts then, and he was quickly reminded of his duty. Yes, he had a duty to Theo, but he also had a duty to his men, to his country, to his King, and to the Order. They were all promises he made before his engagement to Theo, and so he must follow through on them.
Theo's delicate lips on his hand brought him back to the moment, and she reminded him that he had something to come back for. He didn't need reminding, but it was incredible to hear the sentiment from her. She began to untangle their intertwined hands, gently turning to walk away, to leave him to his men and his King, but in an uncontrollable moment of panic, for he had no other words to describe it, he grabbed her again. He closed the space between them once more, and without a care in the world for who was watching them, he turned her to face him, weaved a hand through he hair and kissed her with such desperate ferocity, he was breathless within seconds.
He had no sense of how long they sank themselves into the kiss, but her reminded himself again of where they were and what they were preparing for. Reluctantly, he pulled out from the heat of the moment, held her face before him to stare intently into those same dark eyes that haunted his dreams, and said a final goodbye. "No matter what..."
And with that, he stepped back, finally letting her go, giving her a deep bow, before turning sharply and walking back toward his men, before the panic of losing her took hold of him again.
He hung on her words; on her lips and her eyes like a dying man in need of water. She’d seen the look before; her appearance had that effect on some men. She’d never considered it a particular blessing, though most in Taengea would disagree. But she could no more help her appearance than she could change her eye color. She could, hower ...emphasize what she wanted to be known for. Her sharp wit. Her skill with horses and in archery. Her ability to listen and her empathy. Her drive to succeed.. ...And her loyalty. Even now… even as she bade farewell to her fiance the nagging frisson of guilt corded in her stomach save now she pushed it down; intent on ignoring it. It would go away in time. It wasn’t worth acknowledging. He seemed to feel no guilt when he’d met her less than 24 hours (and declared how direly he needed her and how it pained his heart and soul to lose her) from when he’d bedded another woman. She would afford him the same courtesy.
She had every intention of turning back to rejoin the queen; follow her back to her chambers to care for her as she’d only just almost lost her child. She needed to rest; to keep the baby.. Surely a boy, inside for as long as possible. For her sake.. For Stephanos.. And for the Leventi name. She released her fiance hesitantly; letting her fingers fall away until only the tips tangled together. But with a speed and ferocity she’d never expected, he stepped forward and pulled her back to him. This was not the soft kisses of exploration that he’d conducted.. It didn’t grow with time and build in intensity; it started off demanding; unyielding and needy. She gasped against his mouth in surprise but with the persuasion of his arm, bent against his large frame; sinking into his embrace as he gave her something to remember him by.. As he took something to remember. Her hand pressed against his chest to find some distance.. Some equilibrium but he wouldn’t budge.. So her fingers curled and fisted in his tunic; holding him close until he finally pulled back.
The world spun on its axis and she drew in a ragged breath and released a comical whimper as he relaxed his arms about her; clinging to him lest her knees give out. His hand slid from her hair; taking all of the pins and ties she wore with it and it fell haphazardly around her shoulders in a riot of curls. Her cheeks flushed at the public display… but at the same time, she couldn’t think clearly because of it. His gaze remained locked on her’s; fingers on her cheek as he promised to return. And then, as if knowing she needed a moment to carry her own weight, he stepped back from her when she was steady. Bowing formally, he turned and went back to his command.
And Theo?
Theo stood in the middle of the courtyard to watch him leave; heart racing and her legs refusing to move. Only when it became obvious that she was quite alone here did she square her shoulders and turn to walk back; remembering that his brother was there. Realizing that he’d probably seen. Again that nagging frisson of guilt threaded through her stomach. ..But she pushed it aside and raised her chin; climbing the stairs to find Pia who had already left. Her feet quickened to catch up; to find her.. But not before she blended in with the crowd and risked looking back.. For Achilleas, yes… but for his brother as well. Out of the sight of those who may see, she searched him out.. To ensure he was fit and ready to fight. To glance on him one last time before he left and remember him how he was in that moment in case she never saw him again.
In the time since Imeeya arrived in Taengea she had mostly been trying to recover from the ocean voyage. Traveling by sea did not agree with her, and this voyage had been many times longer than any other voyage she had made previously. To make matters worse, the boat had been battered with storms for the last leg of their voyage, meaning that Imeeya got into port she had to take some time to rest after the journey. But Imeeya wasn’t one to enjoy having to take time to rest. That’s why when she had heard of King Stephanos’s call to take their revenge on the Creed, Imeeya felt like she needed to go and see what was going on herself, instead of hearing about it later second hand. She needed to get out and see what was going on with her own eyes. Besides, both Vangelis and Nike were going out to help with the cause, and she had to see them off and put in an appearance herself.
Imeeya had dressed carefully for the occasion, as always her appearance mattered, to convey her status, especially amongst these many people who she had not previously met. At the same time, she needed to maintain a certain gravitas that was necessary when sending the men off to fight. Imeeya dressed in a deep blue peplos, that brought out the blue shades of her blue-grey eyes. For her jewelry, she chose a few delicate pieces. Her gold necklace had many finely worked flower links while the bracelets at either wrist were formed from several twisted strands of gold. Her hair was secured upon her head, tucked around a deep blue ribbon that matched her dress and peaked out from between strands of her hair.
Imeeya approached the group of men and women who had gathered to prepare for the attack. She refused to let herself feel nervous in spite of the fact that most of the people present were strangers to her, or known to her only by name. Still, there seemed to be little opportunity to join in a conversation with those who had gathered. They mostly appeared to have paired off, with the women wishing their men good luck in the battle to come. Imeeya pushed aside a pang of jealousy that she had no one to wish well herself. Internally, she scolded herself. She knew what she wanted out of her life, and finding herself beholden to a man would not allow her to accomplish these goals. She was willing to deal with the jealousy if it meant that she could have the freedom to rule her own lands.
Imeeya found herself searching for a familiar face to talk to. Imeeya spotted Vangelis through the group of people who were gathering and started to make her way towards him. However, as she grew closer, Imeeya found that Vangelis was engaged in conversation with Selene. Not wanting to disturb what conversation was going on between those two, Imeeya again scanned the crowd, looking for someone she might be able to talk to. Not very far away, Nike was also preparing for the upcoming battle. At least he was a familiar face. Imeeya walked up beside him and waited to speak until she wouldn’t be interrupting her preparations. ”Hello Nike, I wished to come wish you and Vangelis good luck and the favor of the gods.” Imeeya wasn’t sure what one normally said in situations like this, but she wasn’t about to let Nike know that.
Selene knew it was bold for an unmarried woman to see an unmarried man off before battle. Usually, it was frowned upon, but she felt comfortable in making her friendship known with the Prince. Many in the courtyard had already heard the rumors, this would just give more fuel to the fire. But even then, she wouldn’t care. Rumors had never affected her, as they circled around her constantly. Her looks had caused jealousy, and that caused people to whisper behind her back.
For her, the opportunity to wish him well far outweighed the potential for backlash. And from what she’d learned from him, his opinions on rumors were much like hers. Neither had time for them.
This was her first real brush with this sort of event, at least on a personal level. Her father had always pressed them to see the men off if they were in town, so that the men would remember what they had to come home to. So to have a vested interest, between her brother in law and king, future brother in law, and friends from Colchis, was different. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But, as they continued to wed and add family into the fold, it would be something they would come to learn to deal with. Perhaps she would speak to her mother, as for advice on how best to handle it.
Offering him anything had been a bit of a risk. There was a chance that he would find the idea of a token from her to be more than just an offering. But she had proven herself to be an honest person, so there was little else for do but take it. His next action, however, caught her off guard.
He brought the fruit to his lips, taking a bite of the sweetly seeded pomegranate. All while locking eyes with her. Cheeks flushed, she had a hard time looking away from his intense stare. Selene was sure that her ears were pink, but instead of shifting her gaze downward, she let her eyebrow raise a bit. Her lips followed, but her eyes seemed to track the bright juice as it ran down his lips. Her chest tightened a bit, and she shifted the white material, trying to create a little more space.
When he stepped away to wash his hands, looking away from her, she quickly shook her head as if she was scolding herself. Eyes darting around to see who was looking, Selene was at least pleased to see that people moved on and were focusing on other things besides her and Vang. She didn’t seem to mind that the fruit was discarded, not when he had made such a display in simplifying the process by consuming the fruit.
Dear Gods, she was being tested.
”And hope they find as much humor in your tactics as I do.” She let out a little laugh, but it was quiet as soon as his hand reached out for hers. There was no hesitation as her hand gently, brushed against his, pinky curling into briefly. ”Safe journey, Prince Vangelis. I look forward to our ride once you return.” She kept her hand where it was, for a moment, before she stepped back, giving him a smile. Selene made her way back towards the palati, basket empty. Unable to stop herself, she turned at the steps, looking back at the prince to give him once last smile before retreating into the home of her sister.
Perhaps they could effectively distract each other.
The man wholly supported his cousin, wholly believed that this was the right course of action. Not only was it a show of power and action after a tragedy, it was a decisive move that came with calculated risk. The youngest Mikaelidas son didn’t know much of politics, and even though Stephanos wasn’t as trained as Zacharias had been, but he was a military man. And this took military action. So what better way to prove he was a fit king than to strike while the pain was fresh?
The whispers of doubt rarely met his ears, and he wasn’t sure he would have listened to them anyway.
The memory of the crowning was fresh in his mind, the feel of Theo pressed up against him so lovingly had tormented him at night. Their silence wasn’t a surprise, because he had made it known that there was not much they could do about the marriage. But he had hoped that she would continue their relationship once she was married. And they had left things as if they would. He woke early that morning, a request of his father, to prepare. Bathing and shaving were habitual before battle, something he did because it was mindless. As an archer, his armor was far lighter than that of his brother. A thick metal breast plate was abandoned for a thinner, lighter leather one. High leather boots with thin metal bracers on the front were laced to his knee. The sword at his side was just as well maintained as his bow, but not as familiar to him.
His bow and the arrow he preferred were sent ahead to the palati with the chariot he would be using. To be frank, a chariot and an archer were not the best combination for battle. Hiding behind the metal in a crouch did not allow for the full extent of the power and distance with a bow. But as he stood next to his father, lacing up the leather beavers on his hand, he knew he would have to make due. Because of the potential for closer range, he brought both his tradition bow and his recurved half bow.
Both would serve him well.
His eyes took in the crowd, avoiding the glances of the girls who had entertained the pair the night before the coronation. Emilios was quick to take in the King and his wife, along with the Prince of Colchis and the lady Selene. He wondered exactly how that came to be, but didn’t have much chance to think on it as his eyes stopped on Theo and Achilleas.
He tried not to stare at the pair. But he felt the heat of someone’s eyes on him, only to find Theo’s glare on him. The heat in her eyes was a far different burn than she had given him in the past. Instead of the flames of passion, this seemed to be a death stare.
What the hell had transpired between the coronation and today?
There would be no way to pull her aside to question her about it. Instead he had to just watch as her focus shifted to his brother. Was that affection he saw in her eyes? Was she playing up her emotions to save face? Or was she actually starting to care for his brother? He didn’t know what to make of any of this.
Nor could he stop the jealousy that boiled within him as his brother pulled the woman Emilios loved in for a passionate kiss.
That moment should have been his.
He should have been the one kissing her.
The one telling her that he would come back safely.
Turning back to the chariot, he fiddled with the arrows, as if he needed to count their numbers one more time. He knew the exact amount he had, but the menial task was better than watching them. He had to keep it together, had to focus on anything but the rage in the pit of his stomach. And had to remind himself that this was just the beginning. Soon, she would be married to him.
With his recent injury, he could not wear the bronze armor that befitted a soldier. Which meant that he should not obey the king’s command and ride into battle. It was a predicament as embarrassing as it was ridiculous. He was a little surprised to find that Prince Irakles was going back into the fray when he sons were well able to take the retired general’s place. But if anyone could benefit the king, it was Prince Irakles. His personal dislike for the man aside, no one in all of Taengea would call Prince Irakles anything but a war hero.
Rather than wear the heavy bronze armor, he was wearing hard packed, lighter leather armor. His brother Dorotheos would also be with them. He watched his brother step into one of the chariots and speak to the driver, readying his arrows. Like he wanted to be doing. The injuries were not life threatening but they were such that he would be slower than usual. Nor did he have the ability to aim like he’d need to. No. For the king’s benefit and his own, he must stay towards the back and allow archers far more able to aim first. This would give him time to take proper, careful aim.
The thought rankled him but he wasn’t prideful enough to force the issue. He watched the king embrace his wife. It was wonderful that they were such a happy pair. Perhaps his daughters might be so lucky. No one was ignorant of Stephanos’s ways but the way he’d held his wife and whispered in her ear, that couldn’t be false. No. The royal couple were happy and rumors to the contrary were vicious nonsense.
Dorothea and Alexa were wishing Iason well. His brother, Dorotheos would be here but the man was laid up at home with a terrible cold. Ill luck for the older Dimitrou men all around. At last he spied Irakles and made his way over to him. He grasped the older man by the shoulder, his grip hard and his sharp eyed gaze trained on the man.
“We’re counting on you to watch the king,” he said. “I’ve already offered sacrifices to Ares and Athena on your behalf, as well as his majesty’s. It’s kind of you to come out of retirement for him, but, then I suppose you’d want vengeance as much as he does. King Zenon was a good man. And the prince...cut down in his prime…”
The tragedy was barely three months old and with today’s plan, it was fresh in most people’s minds again. Stephanos was back by that point and he left Irakles to catch the king right before he could jump into his chariot. “Your majesty. The gods will be with you. Good hunting.”
The king looked as though he wanted to say something, but smiled instead and nodding before saying some sort of reassurance. It was time to back away.
He moved out of the midst of the chariots and back over to his horse. His eyes sought his brother’s and across the courtyard they exchanged nods. A farewell, of sorts. While he never wished Dorotheos to go in harm’s way, he would have been disappointed if his brother chose not to do his duty and serve.
"You better have it all well planned, Stephanos. Or you risk the lives of many, and the safety of your home and our Kingdom, by bringing them into a death trap with these chariots." Irakles hissed at him. He stared his uncle in the face but there was no goading smile there to rile the old man. Instead, he cocked his head to one side and considered Irakles for a moment before nodding towards the old man’s chariot. Before he could say anything, his shoulder was grasped by Lord Gavriil.
He wanted to pull out of the lord’s grip. It was strong and he hadn’t been expecting it but the words ‘Good Hunt’ struck him as the perfect thing to say. Because that was precisely what he was doing. And it would have been better to have one of Taengea’s best archers with him, but he’d settle for the brother, since the son was still away.
“The gods are with us, my lord,” he forced out a smile to Gavriil before turning to level his uncle with a look. “It’s time to go,” he said and turned away to step up into his own chariot.
With a nod to a guard standing on the top step of the palati where Olympia still should have been, in his opinion, he put on his helm and grasped the chariot’s edge. Taking the signal, the guard lifted the long salpinx trumpet. Two long notes barrelled over the company, sounding the call to go.
It was time for the women to leave the area and get to points of safety, or risk being run over by the chariots and horses. The dust in the air spun around as men took their places and the women exited. His chariot would lead with Irakles nearly beside him. The rest would follow. A few of them had their orders. The rest of them would receive their orders once they were free of the city and there was little chance of the information being passed along channels it shouldn’t.
People had been calling him paranoid lately. They were right to do so. But he didn’t think this was necessarily a bad thing.
He did not need to look back to see if Achilleas or Emilios were ready, or if Vangelis and Commander Nike were in place. The entire company was made up of seasoned warriors who knew how to keep the newer ones in order. This assembly had been chosen with care. All preparations were made. The only thing left to have done was pray. And sacrifices were burning all across the city.
There was nothing left to do but raise his arm and give the signal to go, which he did. The gates opened and the chariot lurched beneath him. These were war chariots, not the ones in the area. They were pulled by teams of two and were much easier to deal with on a battlefield. This also made the whole thing lighter.
The sound of wooden chariot wheels crunching over stone and the scraping of armor and the clopping of horse hooves was deafening. But inside his helm, he was smiling. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was actually setting into motion something that mattered. Whether or not he failed, no one could say that he did not at least attempt.
The route they would take moved the whole company through the city and into the outer flatlands of Vasiliadon. The gorge was not far but it was far enough that they would stop just outside the city limits for last instructions. It almost seemed overkill for the hooded demons but one lord had already been overwhelmed by their number. He was not going to make the same mistake.
People looked down on them from their houses. Some praised them. Some looked stricken. Most people were just glad that a real attempt was being made to destroy the enemy that had burned parts of the city. But he didn’t have long to consider any of the eyes staring down. Vasiliadon’s borders gave way and they were at last running on flat, beautiful grassland. A couple of loose horses stared at them before dipping their noses back in the grass to continue eating.
Once the entire company had stopped, the plan was thus laid out: The story of the gorge was that it was once the back of a giant, cursed into stone by Zeus, who then sent his mighty lightning bolt to strike the rock, splitting it in two. The gorge did look a little like what could have been a huge torso, split straight down the middle with bulging hills that could be arms on either side. From here, the chariots could race straight into the gorge but there was only room for two, side by side.
They'd bottleneck and be easy targets then. Around the back of the gorge was even narrower but men could file out of it on foot. And it could be held for a long time, if need be. The Creed fighting inside could withstand an onslaught for a few days if need be by switching out soldiers. The easiest way to kill them would be to do it outside of the gorge. And that was the plan.
Some would go around to the back of the gorge, cutting off escape that way while he and the rest of the chariots would wait here for the first of the Creed to come spilling out. When asked what could possibly drive men to certain doom, he pointed to the vats of liquid that they'd brought with them.
"Those are to be taken to the top and dumped down into the Creed's midst. Flaming arrows will ignite an unquenchable fire. They can burn in the gorge or die by our swords. It's their choice."
A stoic stance was done the best that she could. Eyes looking from one chariot to another and watching the horses as they stomped feet impatiently. It was the best she could do to focus on other things besides the exchange between Olympia and Stephanos. She knew that it was important. It was the King and Queen of her own kingdom, but there was still this growing tinge as it was placed right in front of her. She slowly began to learn to hold her expressions when she needed to. And right now it was imperative there was nothing telling in the way she looked out at him. So, she looked elsewhere. One by one the men claimed by other ladies of the realm.
When the queen turned with the help of the dowager. They split between the other ladies and herself moving to go back within the safety of the palati for the duration of this purge. The Creed was hopefully trembling and they would hopefully be successful. But, there were never guarantees. Aikaterine knew that all too well. Some of the men might not return. It was obvious in the eyes and touches of the women as they blessed them all. The gods had better be on their side.
She paused a little longer. Aikaterine wanted to watch as Stephanos commanded all those around him. His words she could read on his lips though he was far away. There was very little to stand and just act dumb. The lady turned and took quick steps to catch up to the retinue without looking ridiculous. Feet shuffled until she had caught up to Olympia, Elise, and the others. Maybe they were waiting for the sisters of the queen or maybe she had forgot something. Aikaterine was unsure, but she focused forward. A very stern voice in her head reminded her not to look over her shoulder and instead on the task ahead. She would stay near Olympia and wait for whatever came next.