The colors. That's all Nikos could process for the first moments upon entering the arena. Haphazardly strewn about the stadium, it seemed, the rainbow of streamers and banners and ribbons cried out to his eyes. Those captivating colors. The chariots were adorned with them, the horses and riders proudly representing their respective Houses.
That's how it always was for the games.
Of course, supporting one's House in the races was always more of a formality. Hell, even racing was one. House Mikaelidas had reigned over the races since the blessed Zacharias became a competitor, and this year would be no different. It never had been; of course, Mikaelidas had to rule both Taengea and the rink.
Nikos bristled at the thought.
With a charming smile painted on his face, Nikos chose to use what little time remained before the races commenced to inspect his chariot and team. Four fine Andalusian horses, his father's best, were harnessed and ready, all of them youthful and strong, none of them imported from House Leventi. The chariot itself was ornate, embellished with grapevines and the Condos colors.
Nikos reached out, gently stroking one of his horses' flanks, as he always did before a race. The scars up his left arm were clearly visible now as he moved. He had just been trying to impress his father, as he had never shown a knack for chariot handling, but one ill-positioned stone had nearly cost him his life. Out of respect for the man he adored, Nikos reminded himself to not let his emotions get tangled in the races today, as they had twenty years ago. His mission here was not to win, no matter how badly he wanted to grind House Mikaelidas into dust. No, he was here to put on a good show, and hopefully ensure some new business arrangements for Father.
Yes, he was here to entertain, and until then, he would stand with his horses, allowing the adrenaline to prepare his body for the race.
Thea had thought to move along before getting involved in the featherlight social conversation, though with such as stiff and stern traveling companion - and a crown prince to boot - she should have known better. Nethis thrived in these situations and for the briefest of moments, she wished her sister were at her side, if only to help her navigate through these things -all cunning and charm, always knowing just the thing to say. Granted, these were simple pleasantries, so it would not kill her.
As the crown prince spoke, Thea coaxed her face into a cordial expression, her eyes sizing up each person as she was certain the riders had when choosing their horses. There was no doubt that Selene was an exceptional beauty, and the way she carried herself along side her father made it known. Thea could not help but wonder if she were indeed simply another ornament in a case, but only time would tell. With an appropriate curtsey, cautious as always to keep the wine level and undisturbed.
"A pleasure, My Lord, My Lady," she replied, trying to think of something further to say, before making the ultimate decision to fall back behind the shield of apparent shyness, lifting her wine closer to her chest and ducking her head a bit, "I am not of many words. I was not as blessed in that way as my sisters."
These situations were always filled with awkwardness, trying to find something just pleasant and curious enough to say without prying too deeply, as she often did, or saying something too false and vapid, as she despised seeing others do. As the pleasantries passed and Lady Selene began to speak with her escort, her eyes began to drift to the other chariots, and she raised a brow as a chariot that could have been built by Dionysus himself distracted her. As she was prone to do, Thea silently drifted from the conversation, slowly drawn toward the stranger's chariot as a moth to a flame, reaching out to delicately to trace a grapevine along the chariot.
"May Dionysus keep you through the race," she said, looking up to him and raising the wine to her lips without losing eye contact as she took a few steps away and turning back towards the others as they went to find their seats.
After his talk with Dorothea, Iason went to lie down to nurse a headache that he did not want present at the time of the race. Although not planned, he has drifted off into a deep sleep and was suddenly awoken by his sister with not much time left to get himself and her to the circus and at the starting line. Despite just having woken up, Iason had adrenaline coursing through his veins and he, after having said a few words to the attendants who failed to realize he had somewhere else to be, was off towards the arena along with Dorothea.
Alexa, although she wanted to attend more than anything, was forced to stay behind by their father and attend to different matters. Iason did not exactly agree with his father’s methods in taming his younger sister, but he had no desire to disrespect the man and go against his wishes, especially not at that moment when he was already running late to an event many, many other Houses were probably already gathered and at the ready for. This was very unlike him, and he had no doubt that he would never hear the end of it from one or two people.
Iason did have complete faith in his team and had no doubt that upon his arrival his horses would be safely and securely strapped in and the chariot would be ready. He would of course not be using Artax for the race, since the stallion did not yet get along well with others, but he has a fine four lined up and they were of the best the Dimitrou house bred. He, along with those who trained the horses, made sure of it. They focused on speed rather than strength, but was not lacking in either department, and could easily rival that of the Leventi’s. For once Iason hoped that the race would not involve any extreme bets and that he would be able to go all out against Zacharias, Stephanos and Achilleas. However, it rarely ever turned out that way.
Iason was more thankful than ever to have Dorothea by his side since she quickly helped him get ready once they arrived and so they headed out towards the chariot that was already waiting. Iason walked past the horses and stroked the one on the far left’s nose “Good girl.” He whispered to calm the mare a bit more than she already was and looked toward the side at those next to him. It was, of course, the Prince Stephanos who seemed to be quite popular with the women. He immediately recognized Sanasa of House Antonis but struggled to place the other. He then turned his attention towards the others and then to his sister “What do you think? Do I stand a chance?” He said with a playful grin.
Vangelis was finding it a little difficult to remove his gaze from the lovely Lady Selene. Not only was she beautiful in symmetry but her face was complimentary to itself. Her eyes and brows balanced out a wider mouth, a straight nose complimented thinner lips and shape of her face was more angular than many would consider beautiful, but it was constructed in a way that gave the entire visage an overwhelmingly alluring quality. He took the strange phenomenon to be the results of the blessings she and her family were rumoured to have received from the Goddess of Love herself, and turned with a start at Lord Georgios' comments regarding his wife's marital ambitions for his daughter.
Vangelis considered his words carefully, unsure how to proceed on a topic that was so delicate - especially when spoken of around one of the daughters in question.
"I understand well the desire to have your own House's inheritance assured." He commented in return with a nod. "Legacy is a powerful thing and, provided that all of the sons and daughters who are tasked with securing it are content in their part I see no reason why I, or any other noble, should not be encouraged to meet with your fine daughters." Vangelis gave another low bow to accompany his words and then nodded personally to Selene, in the hopes that he had not unintentionally offended her while trying to be compliant with her father. He had chosen his words carefully but sometimes women saw meaning in language that men were entirely ignorant to. He had seen his mother read people and words with such accuracy that it was as if she were reading the future.
As the Lady Thea naturally drifted away from the conversation - a behaviour Vangelis had seen her do several times on the ship journey they had shared from Colchis, even when it was only to the other side of the deck - he paid it little mind. She was not particularly social - as he had discovered - not unlike himself, but was not limited in the way he was to how people would perceive his lack of interpersonal skills. A liberty indeed...
As the Lord Georgios invited Vangelis and his retinue to join the House in the upper levels of the spectators, Vangelis glanced at his bodyguards and Nike, who made no comment and then offered a "why not" hand gesture.
"By all means," He told the man, conscious that the Lady Thea had also been concerned for finding good seats up in the stands, and he hadn't at all reserved any ahead of time. "I'm sure we'd be delighted."
As the Thanasi daughter wandered back over from whatever she had been doing to the Condos chariot (if that thing lost a wheel half way around the track he would be having words with the woman), the noble group - Lord Georgios, his daughter, Vangelis, his retinue and Lady Thea, all bid Lord Achilleas adieu - Vangelis nodded and gave him a good luck also - and headed towards the nearest stairs up into the stands.
It was as they reached the bottom of those stairs that a war bugle could be heard, giving two short blasts and then a third longer one, summoning all those who were not due to race out of the rink and into the safety of the stadium.
The noise encouraged all racers to step up into their chariots, their final checks performed and all those still on the sandy ground to head out towards the external stands. Vangelis watched with a frown as he noted the second Mikaelidas chariot - the one rode by Prince Zacharias - being backed up and removed from the starting line by a handful of servants.
Vangelis looked around the circus, half expecting the prince to come striding in, late but calm as ever and correct the withdrawal, but no such thing occurred... He frowned. It was true that he did not know the prince that well, but his reputation in charioteering was well known across the three kingdoms. He felt it severely unlikely that the man would miss the biggest race of the year.
Then again... Vangelis knew too well the responsibilities of a crown prince and how they could intrude on one's personal leisures. Mayhaps the prince had simple been called to attend to issues in the palace and would be unable to race. He was sure the other competitors would be pleased. The only man in today's line up who had been supposedly blessed by the Gods in charioteering was now withdrawn from play. Whoever won the race today would be open for battle.
As Vangelis and his group made their way up the stairs towards one of the top boxes in the stadium - Vangelis played the gentleman and held a hand out to the Lady Selene for balance as she would surely have difficulty with her gown. He prompted Nike to do the same for the Lady Thea, highly amused at the match up...
Once the group were arranging their seating, Vangelis stood back, determined to be on the aisle seat in order to stretch out his legs to full-length (he was not someone who enjoyed sitting for long periods of time) and his guards shifted themselves into several seats behind the nobles.
It was at this point that Vangelis overheard a man speaking sharply and he glanced towards a large and ungroomed gentleman yelling harshly under his breath at a young, blonde slave girl. The man kept pointing at a jug of water she had clearly been forced to set down - it was ridiculously large for a young maid of her height - and then waved a hand at the crowd over and over. Vangelis got the gist fairly quickly.
Jogging down the few steps separating him from the slave and her master, he placed a hand on the slaver's shoulder and smiled coldly.
"Be not offended, Sir." He told him. "I asked the girl to place the jug down so that my guards could monopolise it. Such a hot day for armour is it not?"
And before the man could sputter any kind of retort, Vangelis took the jug up from the ground and, with a momentary wink at the slave girl - a moment of gaiety had stolen over him that he couldn't seem to shift - he headed back up the stairs to place the jug beside their row - indeed monopolising it for himself and his retinue as he had claimed.
It was as Vangelis was coming back to sit down in his chosen seat - closest to the stairs - that another horn was sounded - this one was to announced that all riders prepare themselves. The spectators had clearly drifted from the rink and it was time to begin the race.
At the start line, high above the competitors were four bronze dolphins, speared on a horizontal bar that ran across the invisible line that was both their start and finish. As the racers completed a circuit the dolphins would be nudged by a pulley system instead the bar and their noses would swing from pointing to the sky, to down at the ground. After the fourth dolphin had turned its nose to the earth it was all bets were off and the racers would be entering the final lap. Five laps of mayhem, noise and chaos.
The energy around him made it perfectly clear that the spectators were on the edge of their seats. This was what most of them had waited for over the last three days. This was what many had been waiting for all year.
The power, the glory and the chaos of the rink and the combatant's determination to lead their Houses to victory.
Vangelis leaned forward, his knees spread and his elbows braced upon them, as he shrugged out of his cloak, the material pooling around the middle of his back. He was in no way ashamed or embarrassed that he was not competing - Colchis was far from heralded for it's charioteering skills. But put him on a boat or in a hand to hand fight and he would be down on that front line with everyone else...
"Let's see what you're made of Taengea..." He muttered under his breath as that bugle started up.
First short blast...
Horses snorted and people started to cheer...
Second short blast...
Reins were pulled in tight, horses danced, and the feet of spectators stomped out a rhythm in the stands.
This event is 5 laps of the circus (that is 10 tight turns at either end of the long oval shaped track) and will be raced to its conclusion.
Posts from racers are welcome to be shorter than normal (minimum of a short paragraph) in order to keep the action and pace moving forward.
Posts are made on a first come first serve basis. You may write as often and as frequently as you like. If someone is not responding - your chariot has passed theirs and you may carry on forward in the race.
Spectators may post at any time.
No-one is permitted to write or plot further than the final turn of the event.
Nikos had always thought Aicides was a beautiful stallion. With his shining gray coat and long, luscious mane, it's no surprise that he was the personal favorite of the team. Proudly brandished colorful ribbons and cords braided through his thick mane and tail, his hindquarters emblazoned with the Condos crest, the horse was a gorgeous sight, as was the rest of the team. The team and chariot's image had been ornately crafted, for if House Condos wouldn't be crowned champion, the Circus was the perfect opportunity for advertisement and endorsement of all House Condos had to offer.
Nikos was always inspired by his father's ability to envision some way for success, even when failure was eminent.
It was in this moment that Nikos was aroused from his innermost thoughts, awoken by the words of a woman.
Before him stood the mysterious Lady Thea, admiring the craftsmanship his chariot displayed. Nikos was at once uneasy to be in the presence of a witch, but her words and piercing gaze stirred some part deep within himself. It was at once as if he could feel a blessing of Dionysus himself as she walked away, those enchanting blue eyes channeling power into him. It was inciting.
His house worshiped Dionysus, relied on him for their lush fields and famous wine. His father worshiped the god, and he would even ride for Dionysus today, carted around the track on his chariot of grapevines.
And then the warhorn filled the stadium. It was nearly time to ride.
The next few minutes were a blur: Nikos quickly checked his armor, performed a once-over on the chariot and horses, climbed into position, shook and stretched his body in preparation for the ride.
The countdown began.
One.
He held tightly to the promise he had made his father, as it had almost slipped his mind. The adrenaline, the emotion, it came dangerously close to ushering the thought from his head completely.
Two.
And Lady Thea's words, too. She was powerful, invigorating, he almost believed Dionysus would be racing alongside him.
Three!
Nikos pushed the team hard at the start. They were strong, powerful horses, and he needed to get their blood pumping in preparation for the rest of the race. He would need to gain ground at the beginning of the race now, so he wouldn't end up too far behind in later races. His plan in place, he ran the horses hard to reach the front of the pack.
Stephanos barely glanced Sanasa’s way after she introduced herself. He could almost feel weight of her gaze as he spoke to Princess Emilia. The princess herself was pleasing enough. She didn’t hide her admiration but with the race about to start, she politely bowed out of the conversation. He inclined his head to her as she curtsied. The air around them tensed with excitement. With them gone, Stephanos glanced around for his brother, Crown Prince Zacharias only to find that his team was being backed out of the starting area.
Twisting around, Stephanos stood on the balls of his feet, looking around for any sign as to the reason but the bugle sounded, keeping him where he was. What did catch his eye was Olympia, just visible for a few seconds as she rounded a corner and was gone back up into the stands. Even the sight of her did nothing to ease his concern. Zacharias was the best. There was no one better. First, he’d given up trade talks with Prince Vangelis. Next he had left the Leventi party early with their father and now he was nowhere to be found?
His horses stamped, impatient to begin. Pushing a sigh through his nose, he scowled and turned back around. Alright. Whatever was going on with Zacharias, he hadn’t seen fit to confide in him. It grated on his nerves as only a sibling’s snub could do. To his left was Iason and Achilleas, to his right, Nikos and Alakios. He rolled his shoulders. The odds were in his favor. Next to Zacharias? There was no one in the kingdom better than himself.
The bugle resounded. Keeping his stance firm and the muscles of his body relaxed, he flicked the reins. His team did not need a whip. They were trained to move as one, like a phalanx across a battlefield. Nikos’s team burst out in an explosion of energy and while Stephanos did not encourage his horses into a lazy pace, he did restrain them. They needed speed but they needed reserves. He was unconcerned that he was in Nikos’s wake for the moment.
Alek scrambled up from the depths of the hippodrome, dusting off his hands with a quick clap. On his face he wore a rather smug smile, as if he'd just laid with the goddess of love herself. It hadn't been quite such a feat, but he'd rank it pretty close. After all, he'd just talked some overeager noble boy into buying some herbs from the Far East, ones that would endow his horses with extra quickness for the duration of the race.
The bard subconsciously reached into the depths of his satchel then, running his fingers over the gold coin he'd managed to wrest from the poor sap in exchange for said herbs. Or, as others would call them, some weeds he'd pulled from the roadside on his way here.
His smile sharpened, even as he fought off the other rabble to secure himself a seat. Not exactly his kind of people but he didn't want to be anywhere near the upper classes in case the lordling had friends, even despite the fact that he didn't think the lad bright enough to discover his ruse.
Funnily enough, Alekos now found himself rooting for his poor mark. The idiot didn't stand a chance but, hey, there was always the off chance that he'd stumbled onto a miracle weed by sheer dumb luck.
That didn't appear to be the case when his eyes finally locked upon the boy's team once more. As expected, the lordling was bringing up the rear. Beyond that, however, Alek noticed that his horses were what he would call highly agitated, not being an expert equestrian or anything.
The grin immediately bled from his face.
It was now obvious to all the spectators that something was wrong with the poor sap's horses. They were frenzied, and charging forward with reckless speed.
So in a way, the kid had gotten exactly what he'd paid for.
Nike had followed the way as Vangelis instructed, as per her duties as the guard. There were no complaints from her at the offer of the noble for the crown prince and his entourage to join the upper levels. Why would they? A chance to view the race from a splendid vantage point was not something Nike would complain, and as such, she fell into step behind Vangelis as they made their way together with the rest of the new people who had joined them.
The war bugle made Nike twitch, too used to hearing that sound in an entirely different setting. Internally reminding herself that this was a festival and she was the acting guard, she gripped her fingers tightly, and then raised a brow at the prompt of her crown prince and friend. Really? her eyes asked, picking up on his mild amusement. Their trip on the boats had been... eventful, to put it mildly, between herself and Lady Thea.
Doing as she was told however, Nike gallantly offered a hand, palm turning upwards to Lady Thea, giving the most suave smile she's learned (and she's learnt to be quite the gentleman over the past 8 years by Vangelis's side), assisted Lady Thea to her seat, before taking a step back to join the rest of her comrades in their row at the back.
Her eyes roamed, taking in the surroundings as it was rare for her to be seated in such a prime seat. Upon the loud angry yellings drifting to her audibles, Nike had turned sharply, ready to stand and help when Vangelis got there before her. With a half-standing position, she returned to her seat as the prince placed the jug near to them. Catching the chance, the female gave a smirk at her friend, hissing under her breathe. "Don't get too obvious. You were staring." Nike motioned at the back of Lady Selene's head to indicate who she noticed Vangelis had been staring at, and then sat back down as he left back to his seat, letting her eyes roam again.
It was then that a sudden flash of a familiar sign made her spine straighten, sitting up in alert, her eyes trailing the male that had just entered the arena. It was the briefest of flash, but trained in the art of battle in the fast-paced enviroment of a warzone, Nike knew to trust her instincts even if it was just a flash of an image. She could swear she knew that face, even if she hadn't seen him in nigh over five years, or more.
With a surreptious look at Vangelis (whom she hoped was intent in watching the race), Nike made her excuses of checking on the perimeter to her other fellow guards, before slipping out the back. She intentionally dodged heading down the main stairwell, and instead chose the back stairwell to hurry down with as quick a step as she could manage without causing too much of a ruckus, looking for a specific sandy-haired male friend of hers that had gone missing for far too long.
She was used men looking at her, unable to glance away for the sake of her beauty. After all, she was said to have the grace and beauty of Aphrodite herself. And while Selene was content with simply being blessed by the goddess, even that felt like a hope. She did her best to give offerings to the deity, to be as gentle and sweet as the goddess would want her to be. So it wasn't odd that men stared at her, for her face truly was well made. But to have caught the eye of a prince? That was exactly what she had hoped to do.
But now that she had his eye, would she be able to keep it?
Her father didn't seem to think too much about the words of the prince. "My wife lacks a bit of tact when it comes seeing to the happiness of her daughters. She loves them dearly and wishes them to be well matched. As do it. And you are most kind." Selene's sigh was gentle, close to silent. If only her mother didn't appear a bit intimating. She wished that she wouldn't have made her ambitions for lands and titles for her daughters so obvious. But a mother's biggest concern was to see her daughters happy, right? Even if it felt so... ambitious. Their goals were the same, but she thought she would be a bit less forward with her hopes. And a part of her wishes were wholly on making her family proud.
As they made their way up to their upper box, her eyes were focused on the racers. Why were they removing the crown prince's chariot? He should have been racing? It would certainly make for a more interesting race this way, if nothing else. At first, she thought her father would hand her into the box, but when the prince offered his hand, she couldn't refuse. It was warm in her own, her cheeks flushing a bit as she made her way to her seat. She was busy whispering with her father about the chances of the racers, not seeing the prince returning to the box until he had a water jug in hand. Her eyebrow raised, but she said nothing, since the horns were sounding.
"With the crown prince out of the race, it will be most interesting indeed!" She said over the noise, eyes meeting Vangelis's briefly before focusing on the race, the chariot's taking off and the action beginning.
From his position behind his own team of recently purchased horses harnessed to his chariot, Achilleas frowned as he saw the servants removing his cousin’s from the starting line. Where was Zacharias?He lives for racing. Achilleas thought, so his absence today was odd to say the least. He took a long look around expecting what he didn’t know but something.
When the bugles sounded the first time, he snapped his attention back to where it was supposed to be, on the race and his team of horses. He rolled his shoulders when the second call sounded, the reins secure in his hands.
When the last call came, he shouted to the horses, snapping the reins, his whip in his right hand with the reins. He might need it later but for now the team reacted as he expected, leaping forward with the other competitors.
With his cousin out of the race, he actually felt that he could actually win this time so while the horses ran, he didn't push them to their top speed, just yet. He had more laps to go before urging them to their utmost.
A broad grin spread over his face, his curls blowing in the wind of his passing, thrilled by the speed. He was never happier than when he was in the middle of action. This may not have been training with his men, or sparring with someone but it would do.
The instruction for the racers to get into position had come, and Alkaios was forced to offer his apologies to the woman with which he'd been speaking, giving her a polite smile and bow. Of course, he would have preferred to stand and converse a while longer as opposed to racing but there was a reason he was here, and Alkaios had plans to show off his skill. Especially as he saw no sign of the Crown Prince, who he'd seen as one of his main competitors. Without his presence, there was a higher chance of success for the others, and that gave him an added surge of confidence as he the countdown began.
And then they were off. Well, everyone else was off and Alkaios's team of horses was going far too slowly for him to be gaining any traction. They were moving, Podarge and Melanichthus were leading his chariot's effort with few issues, moving to catch up with the chariot ahead of his easily, though he held his whip tightly in case they required the additional motivation. There were only ten turns. That was manageable.
Nikos risked a quick glance behind him - he was a good distance from the rest of the pack. The first turn quickly approaching, he tugged at the reins, allowing the horses to slow to a comfortable gallop. The horses were compact and strong, the high-speed start shouldn't have tired them too much. They were not built for stamina as much as power, so he wouldn't be able to push them again until after the final turn. Hopefully the distance between him and the other chariot teams would sufficiently buffer his inability to speed up his pace throughout the rest of the race.
The horses were well-trained as he entered the first turn. With no one within the immediate vicinity to eye, the team hugged the inner circle as they rounded the curve. The team was able to complete the curve with little change in speed, as Nikos would prefer the chariot to bow out into the lane a little if it meant the team wouldn't need to alter their speed. He didn't want to stress them until he was back within the other charioteers, where they were likely to face serious danger and would need to be at their peak performance if they wanted to escape relatively unscathed. He unconciously gripped his whip a bit tighter at the thought as the team raced on through the straightaway towards the second turn.
The war bugle was deafening as it urged those loitering among the chariots to clear the track. Time seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments as Thea watched a single droplet of wine separate itself from the rim of her chalice and land silently on the step. For half a moment, she wondered if it were a sign of blood to be spilled in the sands below. Then again, there was always blood to be shed when men challenged men. Even as she stepped forward, she noted the small spot out of the corner of her eye, before turning to see a hand extended toward her.
Ah, Commander Nike. One of the most curious members of their retinue - far more interesting, she thought, than the commanding General. Thea always had a love of the unknown, whether it be mysticism surrounding the will of the gods or simply someone she could not quite put her finger on. Rarely was Thea truly intrigued by someone, but in the most recent weeks, she found herself watching the Knight Commander out of the corner of her eye. He was gallant and quite a charming mystery. Of modest height and with striking features, Thea found her her mind pondering him, like an eye-catching decorative figurine that does not quite fit the decor of the room. Oh, she had tried, of course, to pry at the Commander with questions. They shared an interest in rare and unique horticulture, but apart from a handful of sentences and a few moments brushing past one another in the close quarters below decks, not much had passed between the two of them. Perhaps that could change, though. Anything could happen during the festival.
With a wry grin crinkling the gentle arch of khol at the corner of her eye, Thea accepted his hand. As he assisted her to her seat, she again noticed how close they were in height - Thea was certain that had it not been for the armor, she may have him by an inch or so. It only furthered perplexed her.
"Thank you, Commander Nike," she purred, letting her hand linger a moment longer in his before taking her seat. Lifting the chalice of wine to her lips, her eyes followed the armored man as he rejoined his retinue, snapping forward only as the first blast called attention to the starting line. As the second blast sounded, she glanced out the corner of her eye at her escort, leaning forward as if deciding the next move in a game of strategy. Nethis bore the same glance as she toyed with the outcomes of conversations held at court. This, she supposed, was quite similar, only with less ilde chatter and more....horses.
The third blast was followed by a deafening cheer from the crowd as a cloud of dust obscured the action for a moment. Then, one team emerged from the golden cloud, and Thea caught herself leaning forward to see the sun glint off the chariot laced with golden grapevines.
For Dionysus, she thought silently, almost smugly, lifting the wine to her lips as an 'amen' to her silent prayer.
While everyone had been speaking with or considering the five main competitors in the race - the sons of great Taengean Houses both royal and noble - they were not the only carts and teams racing in the circus that day. Nearly a dozen carts with four-horse teams kicked off from the starting line, causing a huge cloud of dust and sand to balloon into the air.
The crowd cheered and roared, the people of Taengea stamping their feet and calling names - some of the drivers, some of the Houses... some even of the horses themselves if there was a particularly favourite team racing.
As the racers came out of the curtain of beige, more cheers were added to the din as favourites appeared unharmed from initial potential collisions back on the start line.
House Condos was the first to appear, the young Lord Nikos taking a clear and obvious lead with his gold cart of grapes and his Houses colours emblazoned on the horses flanks.
Second to appear was a young Lord from the north - according to his crest of blue and white. His four white horses were a bright light against the shallow dunes of the circus floor. He heard the name Lord Yullas shouted from one side of the stadium and assumed the name to belong to the driver.
Several yards behind the Lord Yullas came Prince Stephanos and his cousin Lord Achilleas. The prince had the lead but only by a few feet. They were far enough apart, however, that collision was unlikely, unless one tried to take the first corner too sharply...
What was more concerning was what Vangelis saw emerging from the dust cloud next...
"They're going to crash." He muttered under his breath, unaware that he already had the Lady Selene's attention with her muttered comment about the race.
His focus was on the race as he noted a green chariot approaching the King's son and nephew. He was another Lord that Vangelis wasn't familiar with, and his horses were racing at a speed unwise so early in the race. What was more concerning was how the horses weren't keeping pace. The lines of the backs were rising and falling out of sync, a detail lost on many but not on Vangelis' military trained gaze.
Those horses were going to bolt any second...
Clearly unaware of the danger, their driver was angling for a take over, intending on cutting Lord Achilleas up from the inside on the first corner, the hooves of his wild horses getting closer to the back of Prince Stephanos' cart.
As Lord Nikos and Lord Yullas sailed around the first corner unhindered, the next three competitors were not going to be so lucky - of that, Vangelis was certain - as all three approached the first turn in a pack, those four unpredictable horses right in the centre of it...
Dust blew in his face and the roar of the crowd in his ears. Stephanos squinted through the sand and dirt kicked up by the other teams. He was aware of Achilleas behind him but not of the danger. Flicking the reins down onto the backs of his team, he spurred them on with a shot. The horses responded, picking up their pace and charging forward. He was much closer to the other racers now.
His heart beat fast in his chest. Under his feet, the chariot bounced, always one breath of misfortune away from either rolling on the curve or perhaps a wheel breaking off. It was the danger of the sport; that was why he loved it.
Damn him! Achilleas thought as the driver just before him, though still to one side urged his team onward, beginning to encroach upon Achilleas’ path. There’s not enough room! you fool Not wishing to allow any injury to his new team of horses Achilleas was forced to rein them in.
He just hoped that he would be able to make the time up during the other laps that stood between where he was now and the finish line. The leather straps bit into the skin of his arms as he pulled against his team.
Achilleas had been injured before and while he enjoyed a good race, he hated being laid up for months while healing up from a broken bone or a severe wound. He didn't want anything to delay his marriage to the girl he’d loved for years.
Alekos was on his feet. The majority of the chariots had moved to the other side of the arena and he could no longer discern what was happening down on the track. It was clear by the rampant gasping emanating from the crowd, however, that he'd missed quite the spectacle.
Whispers soon filled his vicinity, each one a version of events that differed from the next. One woman clamored that the prince had died rather tragically, impaled on the shaft of his own cart. The man beside her argued vehemently against such nonsense, claiming that it was instead the prince's cousin, done in after being dragged from his cart when his team of horses went wild. This immediately brought an interjection from another man in turn, who - rather disappointedly - remarked that it was just "some minor lord" and not a royal. All conjecture no doubt. The grapevine could not have possibly reached them so quickly from the far recesses of the hippodrome.
Still, that last accounting of events seemed close enough to what he knew of the facts that Alek took it for the truth. A pang of regret was the result.
His eyes were now frantically scanning for signs of confirmation, finding only a golden cart bearing a grapevine motif streaking into view. It was quickly followed by a flash of blue and white and a crescendo call of intertwined horror and exhilaration.
At the roar of the crowd Stephanos glanced around. There wasn't much to see although he was gaining on the other racers. The faces of the crowd were tight with anticipation but also excitement and apprehension. He chanced a look over his shoulder and immediately jerked back around. Cracking his whip over the backs of his team, he pulled farther ahead of the horses careening between him and Achilleas. His chariot lurched forward and he braced himself, holding on as the speed increased a little too abruptly.
Still, he was ahead of the jittery horses, though he considered reining his own team aside and behind so that the other could pass. Yet he did not. Instead, he kept going, trusting his cousin to take care of himself.
Vangelis was lent forward in his seat, using the impressive height of his torso to try and see around the crowds below as they made to stand. This was common in chariot races. As the racers headed for the other side of the oval track, the pillars in the centre of the rink gave you only fleeting glances of the drivers and their steeds - even less so when the view was clouded in plumes of dust and sand. So, in alternating waves the crowds would get to their feet, intent on leaning and staring as hard as they could at the opposite side of the track.
As Nikos of Condos came safely around the second corner, with the second Lord tight on his wheels, heading back to the start line to complete the first lap there was gasps and shifts in the audience on the other side of the stadium hinted at dangers but none as serious as the whispers in the audience pertained. Had there been any serious collision yet, the roar from the opposing side of the circus would have been ear-splitting. Now, it was just tense, with moments of drawing breath and others of holding it. Cheers speckled here and there as drivers made particular decisions or moves.
In another moment, the Prince Stephanos came racing around the corner - taking the turn a little too fast, and his chariot rising onto one wheel. Vangelis gritted his teeth and held his breath but the man seemed to have it under control. Why he had been taking the corner so fast Vangelis didn't-
And then the two who drove not far behind came around and Vangelis realised what Stephanos had been trying to do. His speed was his answer to gaining distance between himself and the near collision that was happening between Lord Achilleas and the driver with the spooked horses.
Cheers went up around the crowd as they watched two drivers handling themselves at impressive speeds while trying to turn a corner but Vangelis recognised that the horses controlled by the other lord had still not fallen into step and were still on the brink of bolting.
Then, in a moment that had Vangelis's head swivelling to try and catch the action on both sides, two accidents happened at once!
Those wild stallions that the inexperienced Lord couldn't seem to get a handle on finally bolted, their steps going completely out of sync, their movements tugging the reins from the grip of their driver and their sudden step change sending the cart they were leading bouncing angrily over the sand. There was an ugly sound and then suddenly the cart stopped thrashing. With the dust plumes everywhere, Vangelis couldn't quite tell but it looked as if the right-hand wheel of the Lord's cart had becomes caught on the axis of Lord Achilleas'. All eight horses were running together now, four out of control, and the other four in danger of being injured by one of them. The carts were dragged along behind, one of two wheels the other only on one and while Lord Achilleas desperately tried to keep control of his steeds, the other scrambled over the front of his cart in dismay, attempting to crash the reins that flung about in the wind.
At almost the same time, as the Lord in white and blue - Yullas, Vangelis remembered his name to be - shook out his reins and employed the whip to move his horses faster but suddenly seemed to lose control!
Vangelis didn't know if the man had hit his horses too hard and spooked them, or if his wheels had clipped a stone at the wrong angle, but suddenly his cart was swinging from left to right and back again. He was shifting at high speeds and very dangerously behind his team and before the Lord could get it under control, one of his wheels was taken under.
In a matter of moments, Lord Yullas's cart flipped entirely, the man was flung into the sand and his team of white stallions continued to race forward in fright, dragging the upside-down chariot cart behind them. The rough cargo being pulled through the sand sent up damning and blinding clouds of dust and Vangelis looked back towards both Prince Stephanos - who was approaching the prone driver on the ground and the driverless carriage at great speed, and then at the two chariots behind him who would be in even greater danger if they couldn't detach themselves before they reached the same point.
"You ladies might want to look away..." Vangelis warned the Lady Selene, her sister Olympia and the Lady Thea.