Kairos 47: The Doorway to Hades

It took hours to get the Nemean Lion’s body out of the water, and until twilight to bring it back to Histria.

Julia, ever the crafty queen, had met with the hunting party halfway to the city with Andromache, Cassandra, Aglaonice, and a contingent of warriors. That relief force would have intervened if the battle had gone wrong, but though it took some casualties, the mission ended with a great victory.

The hunters had lost around fifteen soldiers, mostly among the lancers who couldn’t escape the Nemean Lion’s charge. The survivors of that battle had taken heavy wounds, some losing legs and arms. Julia, ever mindful of rewarding veterans, granted them a lifelong pension and promised that they would be taken care of.

And of course, she didn’t miss an opportunity for propaganda. “A triumph?” Kairos asked with a frown.

“It is a custom in Lyce, to reward our [Heroes] and great generals,” his wife explained. “A victorious commander parades before the population with their army and spoils of war, before throwing a feast. Our people will love it, especially with the arrival of winter.”

“I suppose you already arranged everything?” her husband asked. Julia answered with a smile. “This seems a bit… arrogant.”

“You wished to build a cult, husband,” she reminded him. “Though Thales and all those who participated in this hunt will get the glory they deserve, you must never lose an opportunity to impress our subjects. Awe them.”

“I agree,” Cassandra said. “Impressed people tell tales, and tales have power. If you wish to overcome Teuta’s and Mithridates’ influence, then you must win the battle of reputations.”

“Where will you put me, though?” Aglaonice asked, wagging her tail. If she felt sad about her late mate’s demise, she didn’t show it. “The spoils, or the victors?”

Andromache sneered at the sphinx, clearly disappointed she hadn’t broken the agreement. It would have given the Scylla an excuse to kill her, if the Furies didn’t do it first. “The spoils.”

“I suppose I can always turn invisible then,” Aglaonice replied dryly.

“You will parade at my husband’s side, as an honored ally,” Julia declared with a tone that allowed no contestation. “You have proven true to your oath so far, and our subjects will be less likely to attack you by mistake if you receive a place of honor. My husband will look more impressive with a tamed sphinx at his side.”

“Tamed, me?” The sphinx scoffed. “You presume much, wolfling.”

“What is someone in need of a protector,” Julia replied with a vicious smile, “if not a subject?”

“A friend,” Aglaonice insisted. “And a public appearance might reach the ears of my other employer.”

“A true friend wouldn’t be afraid to show her true allegiances,” Julia said with an affectionate tone that sounded almost genuine. “You have nothing to fear. We will shield you from all harm, remember?”

Kairos could read between the lines. His wife wanted the sphinx to commit publicly to the alliance, so she wouldn’t have the opportunity to turn her coat again. Refusing to appear would be an open admission that Aglaonice wouldn’t mind turning on them, and Julia understood that the key to managing a treacherous ally was to isolate them.

Both the sphinx and the queen exchanged smiles that showed the teeth behind them. They looked so much alike in that moment that Kairos could have mistaken them for sisters exchanging a private joke.

In any case, Kairos ended up agreeing to the plan, and the hunters entered Histria triumphant at twilight. Thousands gathered in the streets to acclaim them, as they paraded the Nemean pride’s remains for all to see. By then Kairos had recovered his spear, as did Petra. It took four chariots to drag the Nemean Lion’s corpse, due to the beast’s weight.

Kairos himself flew at the front on Rook’s back, with Aglaonice at his side. The sphinx looked bemused as children pointing fingers at her, fascinated. “Look at me!” Rook shouted, basking in the attention. “I am a feathered god of war!”

Thales received the place of honor, riding a chariot in front of those dragging the lion, and Kairos thought that the automaton would die from anxiety. Facing all of Histria’s population must have been a nerve-wracking experience to the scientist. But midway through the parade, Thales grew used to the cheers and started shyly waving back at Histria’s population with his multiple hands.

Agron, Petra, and Nessus followed, and then their troops. Petra acted with quiet dignity, Nessus happily saluted the crowd, and Agron sang a war song in a last-ditch attempt to unlock the [Skald] subclass. He had psyched up his men with music before the fight, but forgot to do the same in the heat of battle.

Afterward, Julia threw a banquet for the city’s population, with Kairos’ retinue and the hunters receiving a more luxurious one in his fortress’ hall. Tables were set for a hundred, the wine flowed, and a peculiar dish was served.

A Nemean Lion’s hide could resist almost anything, with one exception: its own claws. Much like Heracles before him, Kairos’ men turned the dead creature’s own weapons against itself and skinned it.

The flesh was then cooked, and served.

“We could prepare you another meal,” Kairos informed Aglaonice. The pirate king oversaw the festivities from a small dais, with his wife and the treacherous sphinx on one side, and Thales and Cassandra on the other. Kairos would have wished for Andromache and his mother Aurelia to join them, but the Scylla had politely refused to participate in the feast, and Aurelia was abroad in Travia, working to convert cities to her son’s cause.

Kairos didn’t need to guess why his concubine had opted out. The witch was solitary by nature, and the sight of Julia filled her with anguish.

Below them, the soldiers feasted while Caenis and servants brought them plates. The lion’s pelt had been put in the middle of the room as a carpet, while Rook slouched on it as if he had slain the beast himself. Agron and Nessus were already drunk and singing ribald songs, while the amazons looked on with amusement. As for Thales, though he came to the banquet out of courtesy, he spent his time tinkering with a clay pot and other tools.

“How do you manlings say it? Till death do us part?” After this jape, Aglaonice took a bite out of her former mate. Though her face was human, the scene reminded Kairos of her true, monstrous nature.

The pirate king looked at his plate without enthusiasm. It was an arrangement of lion steak, honeyed manticore stingers, and stuffed chimera horns. Eventually, Kairos found the bravery to try the dish, and was pleasantly surprised. The meat’s taste was so strong that the cooks had to sweeten the taste with heavy doses of spices though.

It was a passable dish, but it tasted like victory all the same.

“What will you do with the lion’s pelt, husband?” Julia asked, a cup of water in hand. She alone didn’t drink wine at the table, besides Thales himself. “I heard your minotaur wanted to make a cloak out of it, as Heracles once did.”

“This lion is four times the normal size,” Kairos replied, having thought it over. “I thought we could set aside most of the skin to craft armors for our strongest warriors, and feed the bones and whatever remains to the Foresight.”

“The lion also has thirty fangs, and eighteen claws,” Cassandra said at Kairos’ side. “Each as sharp as adamantine.”

“Not as sharp,” Aglaonice replied. “They are made of adamantine.”

“Truly?” Cassandra blinked. “I thought adamantine was a metal?”

“It is,” the sphinx replied with a smug smile, happy to showcase her knowledge. “But Nemean Lions with [Hero] Rank and above can improve their natural weapons through racial Skills.”

Thales briefly paused from his work to offer his own insight. “Adamantine is nigh-indestructible, sir. I could rework the fangs and claws into spear tips and daggers, but not fragment them.”

“Truth be told, I am more interested in that device of yours,” Kairos said, as he examined it. Thales had filled a pot with a cylinder of rolled copper sheets holding an iron rod at its center. The pirate noticed traces of asphalt here and there, and smelled vinegar. “What is it?”

“I received the Legendary Skill [Electrical Intuition], sir,” the [Crafter] explained. “From what I understand, it gives me a natural understanding of the [Lightning] element and everything associated with it. Thunderstorms, spells, electrical fish… and this. Touch the tip.”

Kairos did so, and a faint electric shock raced through his fingers when he touched the rod’s tip. It was barely noticeable, but a shock all the same. “See?” Thales asked with pride. “The vinegar and metal create a weak lightning that travels through the rod.”

“What do you call this device?” Kairos asked his chief engineer.

“I am leaning on giving it the name of ‘battery,’ sir.”

“And what will you use it for?” It wasn’t powerful enough to be a weapon.

“I do not know yet,” Thales admitted, his fingers fidgeting in excitement. “But I am sure I will figure something out.”

Frankly, Kairos was dubious that this curious invention would see much use, but his wife thought otherwise. “Some healers in Lyce use electrical fish to soothe muscle pain in a patient,” Julia said. “Perhaps your device could make for a good substitute?”

“I could try to explore this subject,” Thales said. “If… if Your Grace wishes it.”

“Of course,” Julia replied with a charming smile. “I am certain you will create something groundbreaking.”

Though energized by the queen’s encouragement, the automaton appeared a bit divided. “If possible, Your Grace, I… I would like to have some free time to work on my personal Quest.”

“I wouldn’t advise waiting on that front either,” Cassandra replied grimly. “Putting my Quest on the backburner had unforeseen consequences.”

Kairos didn’t need a reminder. “Did your Quest change?” he asked Thales.

“I am no longer promised an [Legend] on success, only additional Skill Points,” the automaton admitted. “I thought I could be promised a Rank-up to [Demigod], but my Quest isn’t hard enough to deserve such a high reward.”

It didn’t surprise Kairos. Thales’ Quest was to create another, fully functional automaton, something that the [Demigod] Talos did routinely. The System wouldn’t consider the feat as worthy of ascension to a higher Rank than [Hero].

That was partly why Kairos had insisted so much on engineering a scenario where the System would recognize Thales as the lion’s slayer. In his experience, killing someone of higher Rank and stealing their [Legend] also came with a promotion. Kairos himself gained a [Legend] and ascended from [Common] to [Elite] after slaying a [Hero]. Meanwhile, Cassandra, who earned her [Legend] through non-violent means, had to complete a Quest to become a [Hero] herself.

Truthfully, Kairos thought the real benefit of Thales’ new [Hero] Rank wasn’t his dubious new understanding of electricity, but the fact he could improve his existing Skills. If the pirate king could trust his own experience with [Poison Brewer], the automaton would find his options multiplied exponentially.

In any case, Julia didn’t see any reason to deny Thales’ wish, so long as he finished the other projects that he had already started.

“Now that the lion is dealt with,” Cassandra said, “the path to the Necromanteion should be open.”

“I would like to march on it tomorrow,” Kairos replied, before glancing at Aglaonice. “Will the woods be traversable with your former mate’s death?”

“The Mint Woods are protected by powerful magic, independent from my lion,” the sphinx said lazily. “Only a few people are granted entrance by the spell, and though my lion could extend his invitation to tributary monsters, I cannot do so myself. But there is a workaround for the wise, my manling. ”

“My manling?” Kairos asked with a scoff, while Julia raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you have slain my lion and claimed me before your entire city,” the sphinx replied coyly. “You are welcome to take your rights anytime... though I do not guarantee your manhood will survive.”

“How would it even work?” Unlike Andromache, Julia responded to the provocation with a mix of amusement and curiosity rather than wrath. “Men and cats do not fit well together.”

“Sphinxes have their ways,” Aglaonice replied with the same tone, slightly surprised by the werewolf’s response. Kairos guessed the sphinx thought her flirting would rile up the Lycean, but Julia showed more self-restraint than Andromache. “In any case, I shall offer you a hint. How many seconds are there in a year?”

Kairos opened his mouth to answer, but Julia beat him to it. “Twelve,” she said. “A second day for each month.”

Aglaonice squinted at Julia. “You’ve heard it before.”

“Sphinxes tend to cycle through the same riddles. Did you ever ask the one about single people dying on a boat, while married couples survive? I love that one.”

Aglaonice’s expression turned from smug to vexed. Indeed, she had asked that question to Kairos a few days ago. “Where did you meet one of my kindred?”

“My brother has baby sphinxes in our menagerie, as do many Senex households in Lyce,” Julia replied. “When they turn into adults, the obedient ones are kept as tutors for gifted children. One androsphinx was my favorite teacher. A true polymath that one, I’m sure you would love him.”

“Certainly,” Aglaonice replied with a tone that implied otherwise. “And what happens to the disobedient ones?”

“Oh, they have their tongues and wings cut, and we forcefully breed them with manticores to create hybrids,” Julia said these terrible words with the same passion as someone discussing the weather. “But don’t worry, you are a loyal friend, and we do not have a manticore stock yet.”

“About hybrids, sir, when will the basilisk-hydra eggs hatch?” Thales asked with innocent curiosity, the conversation’s subtext flying over him.

“With next spring, from what I understood,” Kairos replied. Warbeasts always hatched in times of conflicts, that was known.

“In any case,” Aglaonice said, trying to regain the spotlight. “This is the fourth riddle I challenged you with, and you shall get no other hint.”

Kairos frowned, but quickly realized that the sphinx challenged him with another riddle, one subtler than the previous ones. A hint in the fourth question? About seconds or twelve?

It clicked.

“Four riddles,” Kairos guessed. “A lion had thirty fangs, and eighteen claws. Forty-eight. Four times twelve. We can bring forty-eight people in total, each carrying either a fang or a claw, but the skin will not help us cross the woods.”

Aglaonice glared at him with a mix of respect, frustration, and hunger; though Kairos couldn’t tell the kind. “One day you will fail to answer my questions, and you shall rue that time,” she swore. “Even if it takes me decades.”

“I also have a riddle for you, oh great and wise sphinx,” Julia said with an innocent face. “One I doubt you can answer.”

Aglaonice scoffed arrogantly. “Go ahead and disappoint me.”

The queen’s smirk grew wider. “What goes on four feet in the morning, two feet at noon, and three feet—”

“For the sake of our friendship,” Aglaonice interrupted the werewolf with a false smile, her claws sinking into the table, “do not finish that sentence.”

“As you wish. Then again, a man answered it before.”

To Kairos’ surprise, who had expected a bloodbath, Aglaonice responded to the provocation with genuine amusement. “You know, I am growing strangely fond of you, wolfling,” the sphinx told Julia. “We might end up killing each other, but I will feel sad about it.”

“You are quite the entertaining guest yourself,” Julia replied. “Must you truly return to that dreary dungeon?”

“I am afraid so,” the sphinx replied, wagging her tail. “But I could visit, if you make it worth my time.”

“I will have guest quarters set for you, next to mine. Do you play strategy games, perhaps?”

And Kairos watched on, as the two women started discussing popular foreign strategy games, such as the Alexandrian Senet, the popular Lycean Latrunculi, and the ever-popular Board & Conquest with the easy familiarity of lifelong friends. Thales even moved his seat closer to them to participate in the debate.

“What just happened?” Cassandra whispered to Kairos, dumbfounded by this turn of events.

“Sphinxes assert their social hierarchy through mind games and witty banter,” Kairos replied with a low voice, having consulted Julia on how to deal with Aglaonice after the hunt. “Threats of physical force only make them more arrogant, as they see you as a barbarian, but they respect poisoned subtleties and intellectual jousts.”

Unlike Andromache, whose threats of bodily harm only encouraged the sphinx to taunt her, Julia’s more subtle response had earned Aglaonice’s cautious respect. By now, Kairos knew his wife well, and he could tell that unlike her genuine kindness towards Thales, her friendly banter with the sphinx was only a shrewish power game. Even the offer of guest quarters was a way to tighten the treacherous creature’s leash.

“Is that why she alternates between flirting and challenging you to riddles?” Cass replied with amusement. “It’s her way to establish intellectual dominance?”

“Over me, and my entourage.” In a way, the sphinx treated her new allies like her previous pride. She was trying to figure out where she fit, and opportunistically work her way up. The pirate king would never trust Aglaonice—he was in no hurry to end up like the Nemean Lion—but he could manage her until a better option presented itself.

Kairos would have to explain these subtleties to Andromache too, before she lost patience with the wily sphinx; though he doubted she would meet Julia’s success. By now, the werewolf even went as far as scratching the sphinx’s back, as if she were a kitten.

Somehow, Kairos found the innocent gesture deeply ominous.

“The limited number of locks to bypass the Mint Woods greatly complicates matters,” he said to Cassandra, changing the subject. “Only forty-eight ‘keys’ will make it difficult to march on the dungeon with a vast force.”

“We could always feed a few to the Foresight, and see what happens,” Cassandra suggested. “One or two losses won’t make much of a difference, and if the ship gains the ability to walk through the forest, then it would solve the issue.”

“We will try, but I am not so sure it will work,” Kairos replied. “The spell protecting the woods was cast by a [God]. It probably has protections against such loopholes.”

“We cannot know until we try,” his second-in-command replied. “And if it fails, the low number of keys still make it possible to establish a small garrison to at least survey the dungeon and supply exploration parties.”

Kairos nodded, before considering his approach. “We will travel light and move fast, so we can seize the dungeon’s entrance before other monsters learn of the Nemean Lion’s demise and do the same,” he said. “Bring your best warriors, Cass.”

“With pleasure,” his second-in-command replied with a smirk. “I’ve never raided a dungeon before.”

Kairos chuckled. “First time for everything.”

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Kairos left at dawn with a force of thirty, including the mounts.

Only his highest-level soldiers were invited to join in, with the exception of his personal aide Tiberius. Cassandra, Agron, Nessus, Chloris… what the raiding party lacked in numbers, it more than made up for in experience.

Thales, Petra, and others were left behind in Histria with what remained of the ‘Nemean Keys’, as Kairos’ men began to call the fangs and claws of the late lion. To the pirate king’s immense disappointment, feeding one of each to the Foresight didn’t change much. The ship couldn’t walk through the Mint Woods, nor did it gain special abilities besides sharper fins.

Perhaps there were other hidden conditions to bypass the barrier, and the Foresight didn’t fulfill them yet.

The Travian [Hero] hoped he would find more success after feeding the lion’s fur and bones to the ship. Thales still wished to craft whatever cloaks and weapons he could beforehand, and his superior gave the automaton free rein on that front.

Each member of the raiding party wore a tooth or claw on themselves, even Rook and the horses. Any living beings who didn’t wear these lucky charms were teleported back to the entrance. Kairos tried tricks such as giving fang necklaces to horses or to riders, but not both. Each time the magic protecting the woods targeted those without a key.

“Annoying,” Kairos said, as he rode Rook above the Mint Woods, while his landed troops walked beneath. Andromache sat at his back, her arms around his waist, while Aglaonice scouted a few meters ahead. “Simply annoying.”

“But at least we aren’t turning back this time!” Rook said, always positive. “This forest is so weird!”

“Once, there was a fair nymph called Minthe, beloved of grim Hades,” Andromache said. “When Hades spurned her after marrying Persephone, she started denigrating her new rival with biting words. Eventually, Persephone’s mother Demeter turned her into the first mint plant. Unable to reverse the spell but still feeling sorry for his first love, grim Hades granted her a sweet smell.”

“You think that is the origin of this forest?” Kairos asked with a frown.

“I believe so,” the Scylla replied, observing the countryside. “We are clearly close to the Underworld, my love.”

Indeed. The lands beyond the forest were less fertile than those in the south, made of vast expanses of wilderness and lakes fueled by the central river flowing across the entire island. Kairos thought winter was to blame for the harsh terrain, before getting a better look.

An ominous mountain of blackened stone overshadowed the northern half of the landmass, from which sprang three rivers. The central one, made of water, was certainly the river Acheron and flowed to the south; the other two, however, were clearly supernatural. A constant stream of lava descended from the mountain and towards the northeast, devastating the region before reaching cliffs and falling into the sea. No grass survived there, leaving only soot, ash, and sulfuric pits.

The third and northwestern river was the complete opposite, a frozen stream surrounded by snowy plains. Instead of falling into the sea, this ‘waterway’ finished its course in a gaping, icy pit wider than all of Histria.

“Phlegethon, and Cocytus,” Andromache explained. “The rivers of the underworld. Two others remain below ground.”

The Styx and the Lethe rivers. “I don’t see any monsters,” Kairos said. “I would have expected a welcome party.”

“My hungry lion chased most of them into hiding,” Aglaonice said while intruding in on the conversation, flying next to Rook. “They will trouble you in spring though.”

Which made establishing a base all the more pressing. “Show us the way, sphinx,” Andromache said with a snort, as the soldiers on the ground finally crossed the woods unharmed. “You stretch my patience.”

“But certainly,” Aglaonice replied with false submission, before pointing at the mountain. “If you would kindly follow me.”

She flew straight towards the north, Rook and his riders giving chase while the men on the ground accelerated the pace.

The flyers reached the mountain first, and Kairos marveled at the sight. The rock reminded him of a smooth dagger pointing at the sky, too steep to climb. However, following the river led the flyers to its source.

The Acheron flowed out of the mountain through an artificial entrance carved into the stone itself. A cyclopean archway more than one hundred meters tall overshadowed the waterway, protected by two statues of obsidian; one represented a grim queen with a crown of flowers, the other a fearsome man wielding a bident. Hades and Persephone. Above the entrance, the pirate noticed windows and cavities dug into the stone, alongside an ancient Greek temple which he recognized as an ancient, primitive observatory.

Though two paved walkways allowed one to follow the river on foot and cross the archway, a barrier of purple mist prevented Kairos from seeing what waited beyond. Yet he glimpsed the images of grinning skulls and the faint lament of the wailing dead inside the miasma, leaving no doubt to this place’s true nature.

Though both Rook and Kairos gave the monument the grim respect it deserved, Andromache smirked with anticipation.

They had finally reached the dungeon, and were one step closer to breaking her curse.

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A/N: chapter made possible by you. Next time, some Greek-style dungeon crawl.