Kairos 34: Themiscyra

Themiscyra appeared before Kairos’ eyes, and the [Hero] had to stop for a moment to admire it.

Protected by an illusory veil making it undetectable to the outside world, Achlys’ capital was built into a verdant canyon. The river that once created the rock formation had transformed into a closed lake, which probably saved it from the Argo’s depredations. Its waters were as clear as crystal, and nourished vertical fruit gardens at the canyon’s bottom.

Houses and buildings were dug into the cliffs, from groups of houses, to temples as large as Lissala’s; open, paved tunnels served as the city’s streets, most large enough to allow horsewomen to travel through them. An enormous, natural stone bridge linked both halves of the canyon together, and split the city in two. A stalactite-like building the size of a palace hung from below it, shielded by a brigade of amazons riding pegasi.

Kairos couldn’t see any men; only women of all ages, and animals. Which of the latter were transformed human males, he couldn’t say. He noticed that the streets were divided into stratas, though; and the deeper into the canyon, the poorer they looked. The highest streets were home to temples protected by the veiled Daughters of Circe, priestesses, or noblewomen with rich dresses and dyed hair. Weeds and other invasive plants overwhelmed the lower levels, and the denizens wore dirty clothes.

No society could escape inequality and stratification.

Chloris served as Kairos’ guide, as they traveled through the upper streets and towards the stone bridge. “This is Themiscyra, the greatest city in Achlys.”

“It’s smaller than I expected,” Cass said, sounding a little disappointed. Kairos had to agree with her. While Themiscyra was far larger than Lissala, it was little more than a district of Lyce in size. “I have seen cities that make this one look like a small town.”

“We are small?” Chloris asked in surprise.

“You never left the island?” Cass asked, surprised.

“No, I must have level 20 first,” the amazon replied with a bright smile. “Then I will go find a good husband to bring home.”

“Aw, she won’t have to look for long!” Nessus the ram said, amused. “She can grab me anytime!”

“Where are the husbands or men?” Kairos asked. Though his escort put some distance between him and the locals, many of Themiscyra’s citizens looked at the Travian captain as if he were a rare bird. Not just young women, but older ones long past childbearing age as well.

“Blessed men stay at home, and are not allowed outside,” Chloris explained. “Or sisters and daughters will be tempted to steal them. Instead, they must receive permission to lay with a male, or capture their own husband.”

“Look, Kairos!” Rook took flight to explore the canyon by the air, flying above brilliant symbols carved into the stone. “Shinies!”

“Don’t approach too closely,” Kairos warned his pet, noticing an empusa surveying the runes. A group of veiled witches repaired the symbol, which seemed damaged by wind, rain, and time.

Kairos noticed many shining symbols carved in the stone cliffs. Far more, however, had lost their luster. His [Magical Knack] Skill informed him that the symbols served as wards, with some of them created by [Demigods] and [Heroes].

“There is something else at work here,” Kairos whispered to Cass, as he analyzed the city’s sorcerous defenses. His [Magical Knack] provided him with some worrying information, though he needed more time to confirm it.

“Yes,” Cass whispered back, before looking at Chloris. “Is there a temple to Persephone here?”

Queen Thalestris, who walked a few meters away, exploded in laughter, while the witch-queen Medea’s beautiful visage harshened. “There was one!” Thalestris said, before pointing her sword at a destroyed temple on the canyon’s right side.

A great fire seemed to have consumed the building, melting down stone pillars. Whatever plants that grew on the canyon’s stone walls had rotten around the structure, as if the specter of death Thanatos had claimed their lives as his due.

“What happened here?” The Foresight’s first mate frowned, surprised. “I thought the witches of Achlys were famed for their necromancers, second only to those in the Cyclopean Islands? Why don’t you deploy them against the undead?”

“The gods abandoned us.” To Kairos’ surprise, Medea herself deigned to answer the question. She sneered at the temple, her eyes bitter and wrathful. “Persephone has no love left in her heart, especially for the living.”

“And whose fault is that?” Thalestris replied with a scowl, echoed by others. Even the good-natured Chloris frowned at the witch-queen. “You brought Queen Persephone’s wrath on us when you slew her high priestess!”

“Because the Underworld Queen sent the Argo to torment us!” the witch argued, her eyes flaring with fury. Medea and her co-ruler started arguing in their own native tongue, which Kairos couldn’t understand.

Cass quickly connected the dots. “That elder whom Medea slew, she was the priestess in question?” she whispered to Chloris, who answered with a nod. “Ah, and since necromancers need a magical connection to the Underworld to make their spells work…”

“We can no longer ask the shades of the dead for questions,” the younger amazon replied. “Queen Persephone has no happiness for us anymore. Witch-queen asked for purification to atone, but the goddess will not listen. Only the temple in Moros stands.”

Not only had Medea failed to protect her people from the Argo, but she infuriated the only entity that might have helped with the undead plague. No wonder the island struggled against the undead if Persephone had withdrawn her favor.

Kairos wasn’t sure what to think of this. On one hand, the Underworld Queen had a valid reason to punish Medea; a true goddess protected her followers, and though Persephone predated the Anthropomachia, Euryale herself considered Hades’ widow a just deity. However, the loss of protection didn’t hurt Achlys’ ruler, but its people. Couldn’t Persephone smite Medea, and leave the amazons alone?

Unless the old goddess wished for the Achlysians to take a stand against their ruler? Medea murdered a powerful priestess, an elder of her own people, and her subjects didn’t drag her off her throne. Queen Persephone might consider the population guilty by inaction.

“Still the same after all these years...” Nessus whispered while looking at Medea with a contemptuous gaze. “Thinking she can solve all her problems by murdering them.”

Kairos raised an eyebrow at his ally. “You met her?”

“Yes, I had the displeasure of crossing paths with her in Athens. She was no one’s idea of a queen even then, grasping, bitter, and gnawing at her grudges like a dog with a bone. She tried to poison Theseus to put her son Medus on the throne, did you know that? When her husband King Aegeus learned that, he banished them both east to create a new nation.”

A new nation, he said? Could it be...

In any case, he had to tread carefully around Medea. If she was willing to kill her own people over being told something she didn’t wish to hear, then she was capable of anything.

The group finally reached the stone bridge, so wide that one could hold a horse race on it or let multiple wagons pass at once. Two identical stone towers stood on each side, with high fortified walls and portcullis. Stairs led below the bridge, into the cocoon-palace beneath. Arriving at the left tower, Kairos and his group were forced to wait as Medea and Thalestris walked down the stairs. The golden dragon that carried the witch-queen flew above the canyon with a screech, scaring Rook into returning to his partner.

“Kairos,” the griffin said, landing at the Travian side with a worried gaze. “You won’t abandon me, right?”

“Of course not!” Kairos protested. “Why would you think that?”

“What if you find a winged serpent like that purple jerk?” Rook glared at the golden dragon with jealousy, the beast entering the cocoon palace through a hole near its bottom. “It has scales, and you put a snake on your flag…”

Kairos reassured his friend by scratching him behind the wings. “Rook, you’re my truest companion,” he argued. “I am only two levels away from boosting my [Charisma] and getting that [Beastmaster] Specialization. And when I do…”

“I will finally grow?” Rook beamed in happiness. “Bigger than the winged snakes?”

“Perhaps not,” Kairos admitted, though his smile didn’t falter. “But big enough for me to ride you.”

“That’s big enough,” the bird decided with a nod. “Together, we will be unstoppable! Just cover my back, and I will do the rest!”

His griffin’s infectious optimism only made Kairos’ grin larger, and the sight amused his other companions. Amazon guards soon approached Chloris to exchange a few words with her. The Achlysians had selected her as the Travians’ interpreter.

“You will be given an audience with the two queens and the council of elders at twilight,” Chloris told the Travians in a broken dialect. “Lady Petra will demand questions too.”

“The amazon in charge of Moros?” Cass asked. “She’s in Themiscyra?”

“To ask the queens for reinforcements,” Chloris answered with a nod, her jaw straining. “But I don’t think she will get them. Until then, you will be guests in the palace.”

“Do you have a library?” Cassandra asked, a hand on her chin.

“Of course, we have many books,” the amazon said with a happy nod. “But you cannot get the magic ones.”

“What are you looking for?” Kairos asked his first mate. He could recognize her expression anywhere; she had an idea in mind.

“A genealogical tree,” Cass said, though she didn’t elaborate. “Something else has also been bothering me for a while. The undead always recover the corpses of their victims, if they can. But if they have preyed on the island for months, then they probably killed far more people than they would need to staff the Argo. And yet…”

“We have only fought a small crew,” Kairos finished her sentence. A powerful one, yes, but no more than a few dozens. “Where are the other corpses?”

“Kept in reserve, perhaps.” Even though she voiced the possibility, Cass sounded skeptical. “But why? Perhaps because the Argo cannot raise more than a certain number of undead? And if the dead can’t walk on land, then how did they recover the corpses on the shores? I thought the necromancers and priestesses of Persephone might have answers, but if she withdrew her favor...”

Kairos crossed his arms. Medea had said that Persephone sent Jason to torment Achlys; it sounded like paranoid rambling, but could it hide a kernel of truth? Did the witch-queen slight Persephone somehow, and her priestess’ murder was only the last straw?

Also, why did Medea look so similar to Mithridates? Why did Achlys give him a dragon, especially at a moment when its people needed all the firepower they could get? To form an alliance?

He had the feeling all the mystery’s pieces were before him, and now he had to assemble them the correct way.

------------------------------------------

The council of Achlys summoned the Travians at nightfall.

Kairos and Cass had each been granted a small room, with no amenities but a bed; though Kairos’ had enough space to accommodate Nessus and Rook too. He wasn’t truly surprised upon finding six guards keeping his door locked, or his windows barred.

The Travian captain spent his time looking at Themiscyra through it, and the powerful magical wards that ‘protected’ it. By the time Chloris summoned him to the Achlysian council room, Kairos’ suspicions had turned into a certainty. He understood why Medea was so eager to abandon Moros now.

Did her allies know? Probably not. Her grip on the island would weaken otherwise. Achlys had plenty of magical power, but its foundations faltered.

In the end, Chloris and the guards led the Travians to a massive hexagonal hall, at the heart of the Achlysian palace. Twin thrones of dragon bones sat at its center, while twelve smaller seats of wood formed a half a circle at their sides, like a bird’s wings. A waterfall fell behind the thrones, nourishing a vast basin occupied by schools of glowing fish. Two lines of armored amazons in heavy black armor stood motionless, forming a path to the twin thrones. Six empusa torchbearers provided the light, each of them standing at a side of the hexagon.

Medea sat on the left throne, slightly larger than its twin, and Thalestris on the right. The other seats were occupied by older women, with the youngest looking to be in her fifties. All of them carried weapons.

Cassandra had arrived first and carried only a scroll, but Kairos came with his spear. He knew it wouldn’t help, considering the numbers arrayed against him, but he refused to let his magical items out of sight. His hosts might get tempted to steal them.

“You come into my hall bearing a weapon?” Medea hissed in Greek, glaring at Kairos. Her black eyes oozed cold malevolence, and the Travian could tell that she had hated him at first sight. She would seize any pretext to have his head served to her on a platter.

Kairos had to be careful. He walked on thin ice there. “Like everyone else,” the Travian answered in Greek. “Do you think so little of your guards that you think they wouldn’t stop me?”

Thalestris laughed, as did some of the elders. “It has been a while since anyone tried to assassinate us,” the amazon queen said, amused. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to try, or else our swords might grow rusty.”

“I hoped we would fight with words, rather than steel,” Kairos mused. “Both are sharp.”

“Perhaps I should have had your tongue ripped out then,” Medea replied sternly, though she didn’t give the order. Instead, Kairos, Cassandra, and their animal companions were led before the thrones by guards, with Chloris left behind.

Another amazon had also been waiting for an audience, a pale woman in her thirties with long, wild dark green hair, and unyielding purple eyes. She wore armor made of blackened scales yet leaving the head exposed, and there was an austere beauty to her. She reeked of blood, battle, and fury.

“General Petra, elders of Achlys,” Thalestris introduced the Travians. “This male is Kairos Marius Remus, a Travian [Hero], and the woman is Cassandra Bato, his second-in-command. The latter has come to hunt the Argo. We shall hold this meeting in the old tongue, so we might all understand each other.”

“I heard that you survived a tussle with the undead,” the green-haired woman, Petra, stated with interest. Unlike most elders, who gazed at Cassandra alone, the general observed both Travians. “I want a detailed report on your battle.”

“You don’t waste time,” Kairos answered with a smile.

“I protect the city of Moros, which the undead assault each night.” The general answered the Travian’s smile with a savage smirk. “I do not have the luxury of waiting. In fact, I have come to ask Your Majesties for reinforcements.”

“You will have them,” Thalestris said, before frowning at her co-ruler. “Unless you put forth your veto again.”

“No,” Medea replied, to the amazon queen’s surprise. “In fact, general, your reinforcements are right in front of you.”

Cassandra blinked in surprise. “Us?”

“You are guests,” Medea replied with a thin, cruel smile. “It is the duty of guests to defend their hosts from outsiders who would do them harm.”

“She isn’t wrong,” Thalestris replied, though with a neutral expression. “If you are here to confront the Argo and truly wish to cooperate with us against it, then you will have the chance to do so.”

Kairos cursed the witch under his breath. He couldn’t refuse to help, as it would mean violating Xenia. In which case, the customs and laws that protected his crew from the witches would fall.

“Half of my crew has been transformed into animals,” the Foresight’s captain pointed out. “You will need to transform them back, if you want warriors.”

If the [Hero] couldn’t avoid paying the blood price, he would instead make the best of the situation.

Medea glanced at the transformed Nessus. “Beasts have claws and horns. These are the only weapons your warriors need.”

“Can rams wield bows?” Kairos asked Nessus mirthfully.

“No,” the ram replied with a deadpan voice. “I can try to shoot the Argonauts with my member, though. Wouldn’t that intimidate them?”

Only a few elders present had [Beast Tongue], but those who understood the satyr coughed in amusement. All but Medea, who glared at Nessus. “Be silent,” she said, “or a ram you shall remain, and a gelded one at that.”

“Knives will probably break on my sausage,” Nessus replied. “It hardens on its own at the most inappropriate times.”

“You men all think with your cocks,” the witch-queen said dismissively. “Perhaps you will find a use for your brains again without it.”

“My men have learned to fight with weapons, not with claws and horns,” Kairos argued. “Come to think of it, how many of the beasts in your city could wield a bow or a spear in their natural form? If you are so short on soldiers, why not add them to your troops?”

To his surprise, Lady Petra nodded at his proposal. “That is not a bad suggestion,” she said. “If you cannot spare more sisters, Your Majesty, then let us recruit the men. Those who prove loyal and helpful shall be granted back their freedom.”

Her proposal was met with reluctance from many elders. While Thalestris seemed cautiously tempted, Medea answered with a glare. “You would send men to do a woman’s job?”

The general frowned. “Do I have women to fight with?”

“No,” Medea said firmly, her response met with a glare from Thalestris and a few elders. The rest responded with thoughtful silence. “We have lost too many troops already, and we must protect our larger cities in case Lyce tries to invade our shores.”

“Then with what am I supposed to fight the dead with?” Lady Petra asked with a frustrated scowl. “Your Majesty, Heracles throws boulders at the walls each night; the other Argonauts, fire and steel. My forces are dwindling, and while men are worth half an amazon at best, I have to replenish our numbers up somehow.”

“All men are pigs,” Medea replied with a sneer. “Half will flee upon seeing the dead, and the other will rape our citizens while their blood is up. Beasts they are, beasts they shall remain.”

The casual sexism made Kairos frown. “Your opinion of my gender leaves much to be desired, Your Majesty.”

“I know your kind, Kairos of Travia. You, who only survived to reach this place through treachery and cowardice.” The witch-queen looked down at the Travian as if he were a worm, causing Rook to glare right back in defense of his friend. “I see too much of my dead husband in you.”

Ah, here was the source of the problem. The witch-queen had seen Kairos with Andromache, and quickly reached conclusions of her own. She mistook him for another Jason.

“At least I went on to fight the Argo, leading my crew from the front,” Kairos pointed out. “While you hide behind your own citizens, and still do. Tell me, how many people perished because you couldn’t manage your divorce?”

A powerful, electrical tension filled the air. The guards’ hands tightened around their axes and their spears, while a few elders looked at Medea with dread.

The witch-queen’s fingers dug into her throne’s armrests, and her baleful gaze reminded Kairos of Euryale’s. “Are you courting death, halfbreed?” she asked. “If you push your luck, I shall oblige. You owe me courtesy as a guest, and I have smote many for less.”

Her remark drew a glare from Thalestris and from others in the audience, much to Kairos’ secret joy. “He isn’t wrong though,” an elder said, a wizened crone so old Kairos could see her bones beneath the skin. “How many of our daughters must die for you, Your Majesty?”

Cass was right, command was a social contract with mutual obligations. Medea was Kairos’ declared enemy, and an ally of Mithridates; he had to discredit her in front of her people, by showing how little she cared for them.

Medea glared at the elder. “Hold your tongue, Esira. The few who perished to the undead are nothing compared to the slaughter ahead should I perish. Without my magic, nothing will protect this island from foreign armies.”

“Yours, or your aunt Circe?” Kairos asked, to test the waters. Though a few of the elders looked surprised, they seemed more concerned by his knowledge than Medea’s identity.

“I see your identity is an open secret, Lady Medea,” Cassandra observed.

“You shall be put under a geas, so it remains so,” the witch-queen replied, focusing on Cassandra. “How did you get your [Legend]?

“I was revived by a phoenix sheltered by your aunt, Circe,” Cass answered. “The creature, Sunseed Photia, made its nest on our island.”

The news worried Medea, her fingers crackling with magic. “You received a Quest to destroy the Argo from the Moirae?”

“Yes.” Cassandra nodded, exposing her scroll. “I may have found a lead on how.”

A guard grabbed her scroll and showed it to Thalestris, who frowned upon reading it. “This is a genealogical tree.”

“The late high priestess of Persephone, Elder Antiope, was my great-grandmother’s sister,” Cassandra explained, to Kairos’ surprise. “If I trust your records, then I am the last of her blood.”

One of the younger elders immediately caught on. “You said you were revived by a phoenix?”

“What are the odds that someone who came back from the Underworld is also the last living relative of Persephone’s high priestess?” Cassandra asked. “Just when you face an undead plague? This is the hand of Fate at work.”

“Persephone shuns our island,” Medea replied dismissively. “Even if you purify Achlys in her eyes and regain her favor, she will not help against the Argo.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps not,” Thalestris replied with the same tone. “What do we have to lose? Let her try to purify our city’s temple, and then travel to Moros. If Queen Persephone finds our efforts pleasing, she might forgive your mistake and protect Achlys.”

Medea clearly found the not-so-hidden criticism of her co-ruler infuriating, but kept her self-control. “For a night, and then what?” the witch-queen replied. “Moros is a port, and we have lost too many daughters and sisters protecting it. Better to abandon the city and retreat inland, beyond the undead’s reach.”

Kairos sensed an opportunity and seized it. “You lie.”

His words were met with gasps and shocked silence, while the witch-queen’s body shone with a crimson halo. A dreadful power filled the air, as magic suffused the hall. “You forget yourself again, male,” Medea said. “You shall not disrespect me a third time.”

“So what, you will slay me as you did with your own people?” Kairos replied, standing his ground.

“Kairos,” Cass whispered, worried. The fiery halo around Medea had grown tenser, her gaze murderous.

True, this path might cost Kairos dearly, but he could tell the witch-queen’s power was shaking. With the right push, it would shatter like glass.

“Respect is earned, and you deserve nothing,” Kairos hissed at Medea. “I have seen your witches’ work outside with [Magical Knack 3]. Your allies don’t have a Skill powerful enough to see the truth, but I do.”

“What truth?” Thalestris asked with a frown.

“It’s not that the Argo’s crew can’t walk on land,” Kairos revealed, Medea’s eyes shining brightly. The Travian had guessed the truth indeed. “They can, but the wards that Circe, her niece, and their covens set around the island keep them out. And they’re fail—”

An icy, invisible hand seized Kairos’ throat, and started strangling him.

The grip was strong as steel, lifting him above the ground while Queen Medea watched. Her eyes had turned into two twin suns, her teeth into fangs; her throne shook behind her under the weight of her sheer magical aura.

The elders rose from their thrones in panic, while Cassandra reflexively reached for her belt, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. Rook shrieked and flew straight at Medea to rip her eyes out, while Nessus rushed horns first. The witch-queen sent them flying back with a wave of her hand, while her Empusas teleported around the twin thrones in a burst of smoke.

Kairos’ vision blurred from the lack of air, but he clearly saw three winged shadows appearing on the walls, great and terrible. The waterfall behind the throne turned red, the water changing into blood. An invisible presence invaded the hall, heralding the coming of vengeful [Demigoddesses].

Medea’s power had made the room’s atmosphere tenser, but the newcomers’ was downright overwhelming. One of the elders screamed in fear, some of the guards shaking in place. Even the empusas paled, the flames in their hair flickering as a chilling, ethereal wind swirled around the throne.

General Petra’s unyielding gaze wavered. “The Furies!”

The ancient entities would soon avenge a broken oath with fire and blood.

Thalestris paled upon seeing the three shadows, which were growing darker and starker by the second. “You fool, you will kill us all!”

The amazon queen immediately drew her blade, and pointed it at Medea’s neck before the witch-queen’s empusas could protect their mistress.

Medea showed her teeth in fury. “You will fight me for a man, Thalestris?”

“I will fight you for myself, and this island!” Thalestris snarled, her sword within an inch of drawing blood. “Stop right here!”

“You have already one [Demigod] to contend with, Lady Medea.” Cassandra, who had regained her stoicism, glancing at the Furies’ shadows. “Will you add three more?”

Medea’s jaw clenched, her eyes moving to her loyal spellcasters.

They were outnumbered.

The elders had clearly chosen a side, and the guards with them. Most of them pointed a weapon at the witches, and the few who didn’t stood aside rather than back up the sorceress. Medea and her followers were powerful, and might prevail today. But it would mean a civil war, Achlys tearing itself apart.

And the Furies’ shadows grew larger.

Medea canceled her spell, Kairos falling back on the ground. Rook immediately rushed at his side. “You’re alright?” the griffin asked, while his friend gasped for breath. Cass immediately helped her captain rise back to his feet.

“You will regret this,” Medea whispered, slouching on her throne in bitterness. Her witches didn’t relax, and neither did the guards. Nessus hoped back at Kairos’ side, ready to charge again at the slightest provocation.

The tension in the room didn’t dim at first, though the Furies’ shadows stopped growing. Eventually, the ancient entities turned their attention away from the meeting, their winged shades dissipating. No one dared to move until they fully vanished, and when they did, many sighed in relief.

But the message had been sent, and the hall’s basin remained tainted with blood.

The laws of Xenia protected Kairos, and though Achlys’ leadership had survived offending one deity, they could only push their luck so far.

Thalestris sheathed her blade and invited Kairos to speak again. “Continue, male.”

Kairos recovered his breath, and soon no longer needed Cass to stand. “The witches try to maintain the wards, but they can only delay the inevitable. When Jason targets a spellcaster with his ghostfire, every spell they ever cast is unraveled. And he has killed too many already.”

Nobody else dared to speak, and Medea looked away, damning herself.

“Your witches do their best to maintain the existing protections, but the best of them are [Elite],” Kairos continued, Thalestris’ scowl deepening with every word. “You would need more [Heroes] to keep the Argo out, and I assume most of your heavy-hitters have been killed by now. That’s why your witch-queen wants Moros evacuated. She knows the city will fall, but that it will only be the first of many. She is preparing for a war.”

“I wouldn’t call this a war,” an elder said. “The Argonauts are powerful, but few.”

“A war,” Kairos repeated himself. “My first mate Cassandra raised an important point before. There is a discrepancy in numbers between the Argo’s victims and the undead onboard. Now I understand why. Jason isn’t just raiding you, he’s building an army to invade Achlys. An army of the living dead.”

Cass paled. “When Moros’ wards finally fail, the Argonauts will land, and with all their victims at their back. All your countrymen that fell to them, maybe even some of our own, will make war on their living relatives.”

“Our spellcaster, Andromache, will confirm it,” Kairos said. “The Daughters of Circe probably know too, but they are bound to their mistress not to reveal the truth. It is probably why they insist on being protected. Each witch slain weakens the wards further.”

“Neither your witch nor our own are objective,” another elder pointed out, skeptical.

“You could ask foreign mages, if you are willing to allow them within your walls,” Cassandra argued, before looking at Medea. “Why would she try to silence Kairos, if his knowledge couldn’t hurt her?”

Kairos observed his audience. Half the elders remained silent in disbelief, and the other half barely restrained their anger. General Petra spat at the ground, while Thalestris’ face remained undecipherable.

The wizened crone among the elders sneered at Medea. “Perhaps we should offer you to the sea, Your Majesty. A sacrifice to the gods. Then the dead will rest.”

“If I perish, the magic that protects this island will fail,” Medea pointed out, isolated but not defeated. “The dead might die for good, yes. But then Lyce will come, or Vali. Their men will rape and kill your daughters, and carve out this island between themselves!”

“Is that what you are?” Cassandra asked fiercely. “Cowards afraid of the outside world? You have foes, yes, but you could make allies. Queen Alexandria is a foe of Lyce, and will support you. Lady Medea even gave a dragon away to a Thessalan King.”

Medea bristled. “Mithridates is a special case.”

“Because he is your blood?” Cass asked with a frown. “I did my research on the myths surrounding the Argo. Including yours, Lady Medea. Once upon a time, you married the king of Athens, Aegeus. You had a son by him called Medus, and you tried to put him on the throne instead of Aegeus’ lawful heir, Theseus. You were exiled east, where your son came to found a new nation.”

Kairos narrowed his eyes, having reached the same conclusion. “Pergamon?”

Mithridates did say his line went back to before the Anthropomachia.

“Mithridates is your descendant,” Cassandra accused Medea. “Which is why you favor him. You have a history of putting your own family’s well-being over the needs of your people.”

“I defend my people!” Medea argued, but she had lost her followers’ trust. Kairos could see the bitter loss of faith in their eyes. “Mithridates will distract Lyce from our shores for the next decade!”

“Lyce hasn’t attacked us in years, Your Majesty,” General Petra argued with a frown. “The Argo assaults us each night. A dragon would have helped.”

“Each life Jason takes weakens your entire island,” Kairos argued. “Even if I asked the [Hero]-Rank spellcaster among us to help, it still wouldn’t be enough to repair the damage. Burying your head in the sand will only make the slaughter worse.”

“ENOUGH!”

Thalestris furiously rose from her throne with a snarl on her face, her outburst silencing everyone present.

“A queen protects her people, or she is no queen at all.” The amazon leader glanced at her co-ruler, with a hand on her sword’s pommel. “No Achlysian woman shall be sacrificed to a monster like the princesses of old, but you shall prove yourself worthy of that throne.”

“I made this country,” Medea replied angrily.

“And its people can unmake you.” Thalestris looked at Petra next. “General, you have your reinforcements. Tell your women that the Queens of Achlys will fight with them. We will send the Argonauts back to Tartarus, or die trying.”

“With pleasure,” the general said with a deep bow.

“Travians,” Thalestris said, Kairos and Cassandra straightening up. “You will accompany us to Moros. We leave at dawn.”

“My men—” Kairos started.

“Shall have their curse lifted, if they fight at our side.” Thalestris glanced at Cassandra. “Sister, you shall petition Persephone. Do not disappoint.”

Cass took an uneasy breath, and nodded slowly.

All rested on her.

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