Kairos 52: Hook, Line, and Sinker

The fish kept them anchored for half a day.

Andromache looked on from the Foresight’s deck with disdain, as the crowd of merfolk gathered to see the ship grew ever larger. The soldiers had led the crew to underwater docks built along a coral reef, divided between ten floors. Fortress whales and seashell chariots waited, bound to the coral by mucous chains, while merfolk merchants used tubes of pressurized water to quickly send cargo to the city.

However, news of the Foresight’s arrival had spread like wildfire, bringing thousands of curious locals. So many had come to observe the living ship that they disrupted the port’s activities. The guards had to bring in reinforcements to repel them.

Separated from them by the Foresight’s dome, Andromache suppressed the urge to disperse the rabble with a spell. She hated the way they looked at her, as if she were an animal in some king’s menagerie. The worst among them were the families, couples of merfolks with tadpole children pointing their fingers at the witch.

Andromache resisted the urge to put a hand on her belly. The seed is fertile, but the soil is barren, she thought with resentment. Even dead for centuries, Circe still held Andromache under her thumb. Denying her the right to dispose of her own body, constantly demeaning her.

Even her shapeshifting magic offered the witch little reprieve. She sensed her tentacles wriggling inside her human legs, the silent howl of her hound-heads chained beneath her skin; Andromache might have looked human, but the monstrous nature beneath struggled to reassert itself. She couldn’t turn her fangs into teeth, no matter how hard she tried.

Even Kairos didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. The instinct was always there, simmering beneath the surface. Whenever Andromache kissed her lover’s neck, she felt the urge to tear out his throat and feed on his warm blood. Their couplings were as exhausting as they were rapturous.

And the nightmares… sometimes she dreamt of Kairos thrusting his manhood in her, only for a tentacled wolf to tear its way out of her belly. The witch usually woke up shaking afterward, the picture haunting her all day long.

Andromache’s existence was one of constant torment, and she had enough.

“It’s pretty annoying, isn’t it?” Andromache looked at the speaker, as Cassandra Bato joined her next to the deck’s edge. “I thought we would get a kinder welcome.”

Andromache had few friends, but she had come to consider Cassandra one of them. They had bled together on many adventures, and grown to respect each other. Only her mother-in-law Aurelia and her teacher Euryale occupied a higher place in the Scylla’s heart.

“They look down on us,” the witch replied with a snort. She could see it in the soldiers’ harsh gaze. “These fish see us as backward savages.”

“Can’t blame them,” Cassandra said, glancing at the coral docks. Carved pearl statues representing dead divinities such as Poseidon, Oceanus, or Nereus gave even this utilitarian place a quaint charm. “I haven’t seen anything so beautiful on land, nor a city as populated. I wonder how many merfolk live here.”

“Over a million,” Andromache replied.

“How do you know that?”

“A fish told me, once.” Though she had never visited Orichalcos, Andromache had often traded with merfolk while she remained bound to the island of Scheria, exchanging magical items for arcane tablets. She had a better understanding of these people than the entire crew combined, even Cassandra.

“So their capital is more populated than all of Travia,” Cassandra said, looking up as a whale left the docks and passed just over the Foresight. The beast’s shadow covered the deck, before moving on. “Were cities from before the Anthropomachia as beautiful?”

“Some were.” Though Andromache was a creature of nature, of forests and springs, she had witnessed the walls of Troy and the glory that was Atlantis. “I have seen fortifications so tall that even giants could not peek over them. The kingdom of Colchis was so rich that they raised their house from gold, and carved their canals with silver.”

“I can barely imagine it.”

“This city is but a glimpse of the previous age’s glory,” the witch replied with a snort.

“Do you still regret it?” Cassandra asked. “The Old World?”

Andromache gave the question some thought. She had spent centuries regretting the past, and once she would have answered yes without hesitation. She could only see the ruins, and lament the gods’ past glory.

But time in Histria had shown her another vision of the world. One where the gods were few and left the mortals to their own device, free to build as they wished. Free to live, away from the pettiness of immortals.

“No,” the witch said after a long reflection. “Once I did. The Old World was grander, more beautiful than this current age.”

“But it was an era where gods could curse people for the crime of being born beautiful?”

Andromache smiled bitterly, showing the fangs beneath. The fact that she once praised the gods and thought her curse was a just punishment filled her with hateful loathing. “Indeed,” she said. “I would not throw everything away though. Knowledge can die as easily as any mortal.”

Although she would have followed her companion anyway, Andromache hoped to use the expedition for archeological purposes. The witch had developed a keen interest in studying ancient secrets, perhaps because she found herself more at home among ruins than modern cities. The Scylla had lived centuries almost alone on an island, and it would take her decades before she grew accustomed to the presence of others.

Though Andromache had found that human nature hadn’t changed much even after the cataclysm, she didn’t recognize herself in this era’s customs.

“Andromache, Andromache!” Rook leaped at the duo, wagging his tail.

“What is it, brave bird?” the Scylla asked, while petting the griffin behind the ears. The animal was a kind and loyal friend, enough to make the witch wonder if she should adopt a pet of her own… if only to have company. “Did you receive a word from my other half?”

The royal magicians had cast spells on Kairos and other envoys, including [Water Resistance], [Water Breathing], and translation spells. Though Andromache had insisted on accompanying them, the soldiers rebuked her out of fear and distrust.

They would have bowed, if I had come to them a nymph rather than a monster, Andromache thought bitterly. Though born a Naiad rather than a Nereid, she was a daughter of the waters all the same.

“He contacted me through our link,” the griffin said with a nod. Though Andromache and her companion had formed a [Blood Pact], it was but a pale shadow of the link between a [Beastmaster] and his [Animal Companion]. “He said that the kingfish agreed to meet with us.”

“King of the fish, not kingfish,” Andromache corrected the bird.

“The name tastes better that way!” The bird looked at the merfolk with hunger. “They all look so appetizing!”

“I would not recommend eating the king,” the Scylla replied with amusement. “Inbred meat tastes poorly. I can tell from experience.”

“Inbred?” Cassandra asked with a smile. Lacking [Beast Tongue 3], she couldn’t understand Rook’s side of the conversation. “Now that’s a bit harsh.”

“The blood of Orichalcos must remain pure,” Andromache explained to the human while ruffling Rook’s feathers. “The royal family descends from Gaia and Oceanos, revered ones among the immortals. To join the divine ichor with lesser blood would be to taint it.”

Cassandra paled in disgust, as she put the two and two together. “Their royal family practices incest?”

“Parents with children, and brother to sister,” Andromache replied with a cruel smile. Somehow, she found the mental image of inbred fish mating laughable. “Which causes them many problems, from what I heard. A fourth of them goes mad, and a third dies from illness.”

Divine blood lessened the effects of consanguinity, but only so far.

“What about the other envoys?” Cassandra asked. “Any news?”

“You are worried for the child, Tiberius?” Andromache asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A bit,” she admitted. “He has made… overtures.”

Good for her. Cassandra had shown interest in Kairos for a while, before politely backing out when Andromache entered his life. This act of kindness had earned her the Scylla’s sympathy. “My other half has only good things to say about him,” the witch said with honesty. “He is young and naive, but loyal and dutiful. He would make a passable mate.”

“I thought I could at least give him a chance,” Cassandra replied with a hand on her waist. “But I’m not sure if his father would give his consent, even if we hit it off. Dispater is the richest man in Lyce, and might want something else than a dirt poor pirate captain for his son.”

“You are a [Hero],” Andromache pointed out with a snort. “Never forget that, Cassandra. Power absolves everything, even birth.”

The merfolk crowd spread in half, as a guard escort brought the surface-dweller envoys back to the ship. Her Kairos was swimming alongside Tiberius and Chloris, a bubble of air around their head, and the rest of their body shielded by the blue hue of a [Water Resistance] spell. Andromache’s hands tightened around her staff, as the trio crossed the Foresight’s air dome and landed on the deck.

“They’re back, they’re back!” Rook rejoiced, as he leaped at his owner’s feet. “Did you get any shinies? They’re everywhere!”

“Maybe later, Rook,” Kairos said with a charming smile. “I wouldn’t recommend swimming out of this bubble though. The pressure feels uncomfortable, even with a protection spell.”

“So?” Andromache asked her other half, slightly worried. She didn’t trust these cold-blooded scions of Poseidon.

“So we came at a bad time,” her lover said with a frown. “Their previous ruler, King Triton the VIIIth, died only a few weeks ago.”

“How so?” Cassandra asked.

“Slain in battle by a Cetus war party, from what we understood,” Tiberius explained. “The new king is eight, and married to a sister thrice his age.”

“The fishfolk did not appreciate the gold, but they loved Thales’ inventions,” Chloris said with more enthusiasm. Andromache had noticed that the amazon remained cheerful and optimistic in all circumstances. “Especially the sparkler and the clock.”

“The battery and the compass, Chloris,” Cassandra corrected her. “That’s what he called them.”

“In any case, the royal couple agreed to receive us and offer us Xenia in return,” Tiberius said. “However, only unarmed [Heroes] will be allowed in. The royal family will take the presence of anyone of lesser Rank as an insult.”

This didn’t please Andromache, nor Cassandra. “It could be a trap to slay us and steal our [Legends],” the human said. “I heard some cultures do that. You should at least stay behind, Kairos. The Foresight only listens to you, and if you perish, our crew will be stranded in this city.”

“I doubt the royal family will look kindly on us, if I send a representative rather than meeting them myself,” Kairos replied. “Besides, I have diplomatic Skills. I’m confident I can at least talk my way out.”

“Then I will come,” Andromache decided firmly. She was a [Hero] first and a Scylla second, so the merfolk could hardly turn her away. “I do not need a wand or staff to cast some of my spells, and none of these creatures can harm me.”

“My thoughts exactly,” her Kairos replied with a sly smile. “Though our odds of escaping alive will be slim in any case, if the royal family calls for our heads.”

“Slim is not none, my other half. Slim is not none.” And if the fish slew her love by some miracle, then her fury would know no bounds. Andromache would let the monster inside come out roaring, and make a grave out of the merfolk’s shiny palace.

“I will come as well,” Cassandra said. “Even if I can’t wield a weapon, I can still help defend you.”

“Could you bring me a pearl, Kairos?” Rook asked with innocence. “Doesn’t matter the color, as long as I can see myself in it!”

“I will do what I can, my friend.”

And so, the crew’s three [Heroes] left the Foresight behind. Even though she could breathe underwater in her Scylla form, Andromache retained her human disguise and let the merfolk mages cast the [Water Breathing] spell on her. The waters felt warm to the skin, perhaps heated by volcanic activity… though they weren’t as warm as Kairos’ fingers, when he took her hand into his own. This helped soothe her suspicious mood. Cassandra followed after them, the magical bubble around her head pushing against an invisible current. The [Water Resistance] spells protected their clothes from the sea, but only partly.

The merfolk guards led them to a large chariot made from an oyster’s shell, and carried by four seahorses. The animals grew agitated at Andromache’s presence, sensing her true nature, but Kairos calmed them with kind words. Her lover had a way with animals.

“I never thought I would carry a Scylla to Her Grace,” their mermaid chariot driver said in ancient Greek, the words carrying through the water like the air above. She must have been chosen as the driver because she knew a surface language. “Perhaps you should replace the seahorses.”

This made the witch see red, and she felt her hound-heads wake up beneath her skin. But Andromache sensed Kairos’ hand squeezing her own, and fought the urge to tear that mermaid’s head off her shoulders. “Just drive,” the witch said.

The oyster shell contained a bed of comfortable algae, allowing Kairos, Andromache, and Cassandra to sit on it. No sooner did they do so that the mermaid driver whistled to the seahorses, making them swim upward. The chariot drove into a powerful current, escorted by two dozen guards with obsidian spears and half as many great white sharks.

Andromache noticed a transparent window into the oyster shell, allowing her to see the world outside. The Foresight became smaller and smaller as the chariot moved away from the docks and passed over seagrass gardens, before approaching the palace from the left.

The structure was even more impressive up close than from afar. Coral made up the foundations of the structure, supplemented with iridescent walls of nacre and pillars of fossilized salt. Its shadow stretched on as far as Andromache’s eyes could see, and she lost count of the floors.

The chariot drove to the palace’s left, before a circular, transparent door of mucus protected by two sea spiders the size of elephants, and four merfolk guards. The Scylla expected to climb down at this point, but the gate vanished before her eyes and their driver had their vehicle enter the palace. Only a token escort followed the chariot inside, while the transparent door reformed behind them.

The palace’s interior was somehow even more impressive than the outside. The corridors, large enough to let an army through, were chiseled from pearl, ivory, and white substances Andromache couldn’t recognize. She could see engraved pictures everywhere she looked, each more splendid than the last. Some represented the many lovers of Poseidon, or merfolk heroes fighting against colossal squids and sea serpents. Many others showed sea animals, from angelfish to hermit crabs.

Still, one scene made Andromache wince: a fresco representing Poseidon ‘seducing’ the priestess Medusa, her subsequent transformation into a gorgon, and her eventual demise at Perseus’ hand. The Scylla, having heard the true, horrendous story from her teacher Euryale’s mouth, couldn’t help but sneer in disgust.

They glorified a rape and the unjust suffering of an innocent, Andromache thought with disdain, just as I considered Circe’s curse the order of things, rather than a pointless cruelty. Even now, that story hit her too close to home.

Her Kairos noticed her anger, and his fingers brushed against her arm. Though she appreciated the contact, it did little to soothe the Scylla’s bitterness. All the murals celebrated the Olympians, glossing over their crimes.

But though she was angry at the merfolk, Andromache was furious with herself most of all. She loathed to remember how she once praised the gods like these fish did, and the sight of these murals made her curse her naivete.

The fact he could make her forget her hate even for a second was one of the reasons Andromache loved Kairos so much.

As the chariot made twists and turns, the witch started to notice something odd. Andromache’s A-Ranked [Magic] stat allowed her to sense magic in the air, to smell the stench of warlocks. The entire palace reeked of sorcery, of ancient spells as ancient as the world itself.

A familiar sorcery.

“The trident is here, my other half,” she whispered to Kairos in Travian. “This place is its sheath.”

“What do you mean?” He whispered back, careful not to be overheard by the chariot’s driver. Cassandra leaned on to listen.

“This is not a palace. Not only.” Andromache recognized the spells woven in the walls, the subtle way the rooms formed a magical array. “This is an amplifier, especially of [Water] magic. The energy suffusing these walls belongs to Poseidon’s weapon.”

“So that’s how they could sink an island with only a shard?” Cassandra asked. “By multiplying its power?”

“Yes,” Andromache confirmed. “The Poison King must know it too. Some of Medea’s apprentices still work for him, and they have knowledge of the Old World. They will have reached the same conclusion.”

“So that’s what Mithridates is secretly building?” Kairos asked with a scowl. “An amplifier?”

“Perhaps,” Andromache replied. “This fortress is built atop a nexus of oceanic leylines. To achieve the same results, he must find a similar location.”

“Let us observe and memorize this place carefully then,” Kairos decided. “We might need that knowledge later.”

Andromache and Cassandra nodded at once, only for the chariot to slow down. Transparent gates vanished before them, until their race ended in a shining hall of natural, multicolored crystal. Seven pillars of a stainless, blue-green metal supported the audience chamber’s ceiling, and surrounded a colossal throne.

The seat reminded Andromache of an oak tree, but carved out of bright, shining coral rather than wood. Two lines of golden merfolk soldiers kept watch over the hall, wielding magical spears carved from Cetae bones and shell-shields, while a herald wielding a conch shell welcomed the surfacers with a cold gaze.

A mermaid sat on the throne, a creature of splendid red scales, milky white skin, and ruby hair. Her exquisitely carved obsidian crown put Kairos’ own to shame, its spikes ending in serpent heads with gemstone eyes. She wore a wealth of pearl rings, nacre bracelets, and crystal earrings that could bankrupt a lesser kingdom.

However, beneath the radiant surface, her jaw was abnormally long, one of her eyes was white and the other green, and her nose was as flat as a board. Andromache also noticed a missing finger on her left hand.

A merfolk child no older than seven sat on her lap, and no jewel could hide his deformities. His red hair turned pale at some point, and an elaborate headdress covered his jaw. His pale fishtail bifurcated at the end, and his left arm appeared shorter than the right; his tiny hands played with a Thales-made lodestone compass adapted for undersea environments, a gift to the royal family.

Andromache could almost taste the rot festering beneath the wealth.

Somehow, the water pressure and pushback had lessened in this room, enough that the group could walk on the floor without being repelled upward. Andromache suspected that the inbred child couldn’t survive outside.

The three surfacers emerged from the chariot, their feet sinking on the floor’s surface. They took a few steps in between the two lines of golden soldiers, while the herald sounded his conch shell. The booming sound reverberated across the hall, and the guards stopped the trio with their spears as they came within ten meters of the coral throne.

“Surface-dwellers,” the herald addressed them in ancient Greek, after finishing his song. “You are in the presence of Their Royal Majesties, King Triton the IXth and Queen Pallas the VIIth, co-rulers of the Orichalcos Kingdom, heirs of Oceanus, sovereigns of the merfolk, lords of the seas, and protector of the deep.”

Kairos knelt, followed by his companions.

Though the little king couldn’t care less, the queen appraised the visitors silently, her gaze lingering on Andromache the longest. The Scylla kept a neutral face, focusing instead on the fish’s coral throne. She could sense great and powerful magic coming from within it, the crux of the palace’s system.

There you are, Andromache thought. The merfolk had embedded their trident shard into the very heart of their civilization.

After a long, tense silence, Queen Pallas addressed her visitors in Greek. “Kairos of Travia,” she said, her voice as sweet as a bird’s song. “Cassandra of Travia, Andromache of Scheria. It has been a very long time since a surface-dweller visited our kingdom, let alone a group of them. What brings you to our doors?”

“We come as friends, bearing gifts,” Kairos replied. “All we ask is your permission to establish an embassy in your kingdom, to foster trade and friendship between our nations.”

“Your gifts are appreciated,” the mermaid queen said with a smile, before glancing at her ‘co-ruler.’ “As you can see, my brother has taken a fancy to this ‘compass’ of yours.”

The child paid them no mind, completely focused on the device. Andromache wondered if he could even speak with his strange headdress.

Not that his words would matter. He might reign, but his sister-wife ruled.

“We shall examine your petition with great interest,” the queen continued. “However, if you wish to win our friendship, we require more.”

This caused Andromache to scowl, as she immediately noticed something unsaid. Namely, that the merfolk wouldn’t return the surfacer-dwellers’ gifts with some of their own, and demanded more. This could only mean one thing.

The mermaid queen didn’t consider the gifts as a gesture of friendship, but as a tribute.

Most importantly, the exchange of gifts was a key part of Xenia. By refusing to return kindness with kindness, the merfolk royals flatly denied the surface-dwellers the protection of hospitality.

“What do you require?” Cassandra asked the queen, while Kairos listened with a calculating gaze. No doubt he had noticed the hidden message, and its alarming implications.

“The Abysseans have grown more aggressive in the past years. My previous husband’s death in battle was only the culmination of a long, long conflict, one that bleeds our population and empties our coffers.” Queen Pallas joined her hands together in a pose that reminded Andromache of a common merchant. “We have vast armies, many brave [Heroes], and even a handful of [Demigods], but nothing like your ship. If you fight on our behalf, you will be duly rewarded.”

Kairos exchanged a brief glance with his allies, before denying the fish queen’s wish as politely as he could. “Unfortunately, Your Majesty, this kingdom is but the first step on our journey,” he explained. “Any help we can provide will be short-lived.”

“The task I have in mind will not require much time, only strength and bravery,” Queen Pallas said, as implacable as a glacier.

Realizing that they would have to either leave empty-handed or accept the deal, Kairos reluctantly decided to entertain it. “We are listening.”

“The sunken realm of Atlantis has always been our dominion by divine right,” Queen Pallas explained. “But the Abysseans have maintained an outpost there for centuries. A temple dedicated to one of their [Demigods], Hybris the Cunning. From it, they launch raids into the very heart of our territories.”

“Why couldn’t you dislodge them?” Cassandra asked with skepticism.

“The temple is protected by a dome of air, not unlike your ship’s. Our soldiers are unmatched in the water, but the temple’s guardians can fight as well on land as under the sea.”

Just like us, Andromache thought. And since the temple belonged to a [Demigod], even the strongest of their spellcasters would struggle to lift the dome.

“Destroy this temple or disrupt the dome protecting it, and your nation will win our friendship,” the fish queen said. “Three [Heroes] of your caliber should prove adequate for this task, don’t you think? To each tool a task.”

Her wording made Andromache clench her fists. Did she consider them mere lackeys who could be brought to heel with vague promises?

“We will need more information about this temple,” Kairos asked with caution, “and see if your friendship is worth the risk.”

The queen exploded into prideful laughter, her voice carrying across the hall. “Would not a shark’s friendship benefit a mere remora on principle?” she asked with the arrogance of a mighty empress.

I hunted a shark yesterday, and the remora escaped me, Andromache thought. She still remembered the taste of its blood on her lips. Cassandra answered with a forced smile, while Kairos responded with a cold gaze. “A remora may accept a shark’s leavings,” he replied with a frosty voice. “But a true friend will demand respect.”

His brazen response caused the merfolk herald to glance at him, while the queen only responded with amusement. “We will see if you deserve that much, manling,” she said, with a hint of contempt.

“My ship fed on two Cetae,” Kairos replied, unimpressed. “It may eat a third, but not for empty promises.”

“I see why your kindred call you the Sellsword King.” The fish queen said with a smile. “Yes, manlings. Though the surface has little to offer us, we keep an eye on what happens there. A single one of our armies would outnumber yours ten to one. Do not forget yourself.”

Queen Pallas put a hand on her child co-ruler’s hair, like an owner with a pet.

“We are not equal.”

Andromache couldn’t take it anymore. “If you are so well-informed, then you know who we are, and what we achieved.”

“Andro—” Kairos started, but didn’t have time to finish.

“I know who you are, Andromache the cursed,” Queen Pallas replied with a voice as icy as the Underworld. “A slave of Circe.”

Andromache let the monster out.

Her transformation tore her wet clothes to shred, the ripples tossed merfolk soldiers backward, and made the infant Triton drop his compass. Colossal tentacles grew where legs used to be, snarling hound-heads showed their fangs at the royal couple, and Andromache’s head reached the ceiling.

The fish queen trembled in shock and surprise, while her cowardly child-husband hid his face between her breasts. Was she arrogant enough to think that Andromache would take the insult without flinching?

To their credit, the guards immediately raised their weapons to defend their liege, while Cassandra rose to her feet with her fists raised. Only her Kairos remained calm in the storm, ignoring the spears pointed at his throat.

“You will not leave this room alive,” Queen Pallas hissed, as she regained a semblance of composure.

“I doubt so.” Andromache snorted, glancing at the soldiers. None of them had dared to attack yet. “I am the disciple of Euryale of the gorgons. I was old when your ancestors were sucking Poseidon’s cock, and I outlived them all. You are correct, youngling. We are not equal.”

“We rule an empire that spans the Sunsea,” the queen replied with arrogance, her co-ruler shaking. “We have sunk islands and made them pleasure palaces. You could collect all your lands’ wealth, and they wouldn’t fill my chamber pot.”

“Yet I could tear through all your soldiers with my bare hands right now, and none could even scratch me,” Andromache replied, unimpressed. “I could devour you and that spawn on your lap, and walk out of this palace unharmed.”

A tense, agonizing silence stretched on, as none dared to take the initiative. Andromache calmly looked down at Kairos, their eyes locking. She didn’t need words to understand his thoughts.

By now, she could all but read his mind.

“But I will not,” Andromache said calmly. “Because we come as friends. Make sure we leave as friends too, and not as foes.”

The fish queen frowned. “Are you threatening me, Scylla?”

“A warning, not a threat,” Kairos said softly, finally rising up to his feet. “Friend or foe. We will either leave this room as one or the other. Insult us again at your peril.”

“All your subjects are at my mercy outside these walls, petty king.“

“A king of monsters,” Kairos replied calmly. “And one that could easily go over to the Abysseans, if friendship and the laws of hospitality do not get in the way.”

The [Hero] let the threat hang in the room, while the mermaid queen held his gaze. Her eyes then turned to Andromache, who responded with a fanged, carnivorous smile.

After a long moment of thoughtfulness, Queen Pallas raised a hand, and the guards lowered their weapons.

“Very well,” the mermaid said with a cold face, pushing her infant brother away from her chest. “We shall discuss terms… as friends and fellow rulers.”

Kairos and Andromache locked eyes. After a short moment, the former nodded, and the latter smiled to herself.

Every velvet glove needed an iron hand sometimes.

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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons.