Kairos 26: The Wedding

Kairos’ parents had once debated about when a child turned into an adult. His father had argued a boy became a man with his first kill. His mother, when he married and started a family.

Well, the [Hero] had killed plenty of times, and now he would make his mother proud.

When Cassandra came to him as his family’s representative, Kairos had settled on his armor to be his wedding outfit. It was customary in Lyce to wear a toga for the occasion, but Travians always prepared for battle. Kairos wanted to show that while he accepted a Lycean woman as his bride, his heart belonged to his homeland.

As Aurelia’s representative, it fell on Cassandra to prepare Kairos for the wedding, while Sertorius did the same with his sister in another room of the villa. Kairos’ first mate looked marvelous in an immaculate wool dress he had never seen before, with red streaks of linen. She wore a modest necklace of red pearls around her neck, and had attached sunflowers to her braided hair.

Kairos had only ever seen Cassandra use armor or a casual outfit, so it was quite the shock to watch her wear something so feminine. She looked like a harvest goddess, more maid than the warrior he had grown accustomed to.

“I take it you like my dress,” Cassandra teased him.

Kairos quickly straightened up. “I do, Cass. You look good in it.”

“I wanted to wear this outfit for my own wedding,” she said, pleased by his flattery. “You are the first man to see it.”

“And it will dazzle many more.” Kairos glanced at the crimson mantle she carried in her arms. “Is this for me?”

“Your mother wanted me to put this cloak around your shoulders,” Cassandra said, as she draped Kairos with the mantle. Though old, someone cleaned and repaired it with care. “Your father wore it when he married Aurelia.”

And the son would follow in his footsteps, marrying a Lycean werewolf in exile. Kairos prayed he would live long enough to watch his children grow old, unlike his father. “Cass… thanks for being here today. And all the other days. Having you by my side today means the world to me.”

“I couldn’t let you face the wolves alone.” Her smile was warm, but also somewhat sad too. “I promised I would always stay by your side.”

But she would have preferred something more.

Cassandra led her captain through the villa’s rooms and towards its peristyle: a large, open terraced garden surrounded by tall columns. The Flavii had dedicated as much space as they could to this area, enough that it even included a swimming pool. Exotic flowers from all across the world filled the gardens, and an enormous white oak tree stood at its center. Kairos wondered if a dryad dwelled within it.

Rhadamanthe officiated the ceremony in front of the tree, though mostly as a courtesy to Kairos’ himself. The minotaur stood behind a simple marble altar with a savaged wolf pelt strung on it, and wore his priestly garbs. Rook lay on the garden’s flowers with two sphinx cubs, winged lions with humanoid faces. The griffin looking at Kairos with a warm, comforting gaze.

The ceremony was a private affair, and so few guests had been invited; the Foresight’s crew took half the room, while the other belonged to strangers. Dispater stood at the front next to a man and woman no older than Kairos himself, and who shared the nobleman’s facial features. Dispater’s children, most probably. The slave Caenis had been given a place at the forefront next to a hooded woman in ceremonial purple robes, gazing at Kairos with envy.

The most baleful glare in the assembly came from Prince Critias, who could barely restrain his murderous disdain for Kairos. A masked woman with golden hair put her hands on the boy’s shoulders to calm him, and the pirate lord caught a brief glimpse of her with [Observer].

Queen Euthenia Atreides-Lelegides

Legend: Queen of Beauty (Hero)

Race: Human (Museblood)

Class: Fighter (Charioteer, Athlete, General, Cavalier, Pegasus Rider)

Level: 44

Kairos didn’t have much time to wonder, as Sertorius led his sister to the altar on the opposing side of the room. Julia wore a white wool mantle over her red dress, like Aurelia before her; the ceremonial clothing of married women in Lyce. She also made use of a golden [Ring of Falsification], which caused Kairos’ [Observer] to register her as human.

Once they faced each other at the altar, Kairos abandoned Cassandra’s hands to take Julia’s arm into his own. A flash of disappointment appeared on his first mate’s face, though she quickly corrected her expression.

Rhadamanthe offered a different prayer to each god, asking each of them to bless the couple with happiness, children, and prosperity. Only the wolf-king Lycaon was shunned.

“What do you want out of this, Remus?” Julia whispered too low for others to hear, as the minotaur recited his script. Her fingers didn’t soothe Kairos like Andromache’s, but their grip was strong.

“You have read the contract,” the pirate replied. He had to whisper, lest his [Speech] Skill caused his voice to become clearly audible to everyone else.

“I have seen our agreement’s benefits, but not what you will use them for. What do you want to do with our lives, now that I will share it?”

Kairos considered his answer carefully, but decided to tell the truth. A strong relationship was built on honesty. “I want Travia to prosper. For my people to prosper, as much as your own. That none of our children starve before their time, that foreign nations treat us with respect rather than contempt, and that our chests overflow with wealth.”

“A worthwhile goal, but how will you fulfill it?” she asked the hard question. “Imagine you reform your country, and that it becomes a prosperous land. What would you be? A pirate king?”

Kairos imagined his ideal world, with Travia as a prosperous empire ruling the northern sea. While knowing his country prospered was enough, in the best case scenario… in the best case scenario, he wished to stand at the helm.

“I don’t want to be a pirate king,” he admitted. “I want to be the pirate king.”

For the first time since the evening began, Julia looked at her future husband with what could pass for genuine attraction. “Will you make me your queen, then?”

“Of course.” Though this marriage arrangement was a political alliance first and foremost, Kairos intended to take it seriously.

“Good answer, husband,” she answered with a smile, her gaze wandering to Cassandra. “Your witness gazes at me with envy and regrets. She daydreams about standing in my place.”

“I know.” Just as much as that dancer slave Caenis wanted to stand in Kairos’ place. “I raised her from the dead.”

“Yet you bear another woman’s smell. A scent of sea and salt water.”

Damn werewolves and their enhanced senses. “My mistress at home,” he admitted. “The Scylla we talked about before.”

“Caenis is mine,” Julia said with the same tone. “I am taking her with us.”

“If you want, but not as a slave.” Kairos’ eyes wandered to the lovely Caenis, and he remembered what event caused this match in the first place. “Are you…”

“Do I prefer women to men?” Julia asked with a smile, her husband too polite to speak the word. “A sausage is not my favorite dish, but when it is prepared correctly, I eat it whole. How well do you cook, husband?”

“Nobody who’s tasted my cuisine has yet to complain.”

“Good, I will not starve.” She looked into his eyes, her gaze as implacable as a glacier. “You won’t bring your other woman under our roof, and whenever you are at home, you will finish your night in my bed. What you do outside our seat of power does not concern me, but within its walls, I am your queen.”

Kairos answered her demands with some of his own. “You don’t take another man to your bed. I will close my eyes on Caenis and any other woman, but I won’t doubt if any of our children are truly mine.”

“Do you wish to be united in blood, before the gods old and new?” Rhadamanthe asked the newlywed, interrupting the secret discussion.

“I do,” Kairos said.

“I do,” Julia said, sealing the deal.

“Then swear it, on the bones of Lycaon,” the minotaur said. Cassandra offered Kairos a rod of wood, while Sertorius gave Julia a red stone. The [Hero] presented the rod to his wife, who lit it up by rubbing her stone against it. Kairos finally threw the torch on the altar, setting the savaged wolf pelt ablaze.

Lyce hated their old god-king so much that they cursed him at their weddings.

“I thus declare you, before men and gods,” Rhadamanthe smiled, “husband and wife.”

Kairos put his hands around his wife’s waist, while Julia did the same with his neck. Their lips met just as the guests loudly applauded. The kiss tasted of strawberry, but there was no tenderness in it.

Just hunger, and ambition.

You earned a level (total thirty-eight) and 3 Skill Points.

Even the Fate System blessed the couple with a gift of its own.

Julia broke the kiss first, and the newlyweds stood united in quiet dignity as the guests offered gifts. Cassandra offered an exquisitely crafted ceremonial steel sword, with a griffin motif; a gift that pleased Rook more than the couple. Rhadamanthe gave them scrolls detailing the world’s last hundred years of history, while other guests offered ancient coins from long destroyed kingdoms, riding boots, or statues of the gods.

Though most gifts left her indifferent, Julia’s eyes widened at Thales’ present, an exquisitely crafted strategy board game with pieces made of bronze. “The pieces can move on their own, if one doesn’t find another player,” the automaton said. “The enchanted board will adapt the difficulty to keep you on edge.”

“This is marvelous,” Julia said, her delight clear for all to see. “I will make good use of it.”

The next guest to deliver the gift was Sertorius himself, alongside his wife. Kairos recognized the woman as Dispater’s daughter, an elegant woman with hair dyed green bound in a braid and wearing a jade gown of lace. “Brother, Lucretia,” Julia said, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“Your dowry, my sister,” Sertorius said, offering a chest of six thousand coins. Kairos hadn’t seen such a sum since the Boeotia raid, the gold reflecting the altar’s fiery light.

“My own gift is of the more fleshy kind,” the magistrate’s wife said, as she snapped her fingers.

All the Travians in the audience made a sour face, as Lucretia presented her gift: a group of twelve musclebound, armed slaves. Neither did their skin color nor weapons look the same; a man with copper skin wore cestus gauntlets, while another with Thessalan features carried a bident and a fishnet. Others used swords and shields, and even a whip.

Gladiators.

“These gladiators are the best crop of our current generation, selected from our finest new recruits,” Lucretia said with a large grin. “You will have all types available, to organize any match you want on your island.”

Kairos struggled not to grind his teeth together, while Julia’s remained impassible. Even Sertorius gave his wife a displeased look, realizing the blunder.

“Let’s accept the gift, and release them after the feast,” Julia whispered into Kairos’ ear, while wearing a hypocritical smile on her face. “That whore cannot read a room to save her life, but we must keep up appearances.”

Kairos still refused to dignify the ‘gift’ with an answer, so Julia accepted it for them.

Next came a veiled woman in purple, whose green eyes seemed to shine beneath her hood. “The ambassador of Achlys,” Julia informed Kairos.

The witch-island of Achlys, ruled by sorceresses and amazons. They had warred many times with Lyce in the past, and relationships remained frosty. Kairos remembered Julia’s mother came from this place, which perhaps explained the ambassador’s presence.

Her gift was quite ghastly, a ring of bleached bone carved in a horned ram’s shape. Still, Kairos’ [Magical Knack] identified it as a [Ring of Disease Immunity], a potent enchanted item.

But it paled before Dispater’s own gift.

The aristocrat had his offering delivered on a silver plate by his own son, a quiet young man with long brown hair, pallid skin, and ghostly grey eyes. The object took the form of a sounding horn shaped like a goat’s, shining like gold. Fruits, honey, and grains overflowed from it.

The entire audience gasped in shock, and Kairos recognized that item before he even used [Magical Knack] and [Barter] on it.

Cornucopia, Horn of Plenty

Rank: Artifact 3.

Value: Priceless

A horn of Amalthea, the goat that nourished Zeus of the Olympians in his infancy. The horn can produce honey, fruits, and grain whenever it is sounded. The food must be consumed and the grains planted within one day and one hour, or else they will rot.

A Legendary Item.

“My gift to the newlyweds,” Dispater said with a gracious smile, as if he delivered a small dowry rather than a priceless artifact. “May it bring them prosperity.”

Kairos was left too speechless to react. The idea that this man could give away something so precious, so important, infuriated him. That horn could have saved so many lives from starvation in Travia, including his own sister Histria; and this man was so rich and powerful that he could give it away.

But on the other hand… it would save many lives, and Travia needed something like this more than Lyce. Even if the food couldn’t be preserved for long, nobody would starve to death in Kairos’ colony so long as he held it.

In the end, the pirate captain accepted it in good grace; although he pretended not to. “I cannot accept such a priceless gift,” he protested.

“Nothing is too precious to waste on family, I say,” Dispater replied with false modesty, before giving a pat on his son’s shoulder. “My cadet child, Tiberius, has a far more precious one.”

“If it would please Lord Remus, I would like to pledge my sword to him for three years,” Tiberius said with a deep bow. “Until I have mastered the arts of war, and return to my home with wealth and glory.”

Kairos examined him closely, finding his skin pallid, almost hairless, and most importantly without any kind of scar.

Tiberius Plutus

Legend: None (Common)

Race: Human

Class: Fighter (Cavalier)

Level: 18

This young man had never seen true battle, but yearned to. His gaze reminded Kairos of his younger self, when he served under his uncle. They all had to start somewhere.

“I gladly accept,” Kairos said softly.

The young man beamed. “I shall prove my valor, sir.”

After these gifts, came a poisoned one.

The last guest to approach the couple was Queen Euthenia of Orthia, whom Kairos took a good look at her.

She looked odd, for a lack of a better term. Her skin was made of porcelain, her curled hair of the shiniest gold. Her gown was a modest dress, her silver bracelets and diamond diadem more than made up for it.

But strangely, she hid her face behind a golden, shapeless mask. Only her blue eyes peered through, looking at the couple with veiled disgust. “Lord Kairos seems unsettled,” she said.

“What gift will you offer?” Julia asked in Kairos’ stead, the very picture of courtesy. The Travian [Hero] remained quiet, trying to figure out why someone famed as Thessala’s most beautiful woman would wear a mask.

“A pearl more precious than your husband deserves,” Euthenia replied. “Peace, for two years.”

Kairos’ blood turned cold, his eyes squinting in skepticism. “Peace?”

“My brother Pausanias and I signed a contract on behalf of our city. We will not attack your colony for two years, so long as you return us the courtesy, and my nephew. Lyce will enforce the terms as an arbiter.”

Kairos didn’t miss the hidden message. Having Orthia sign a peace treaty with Histria meant that they recognized it as a true settlement and political entity. However, two years was a short timeframe; enough to bolster his colony’s defenses, but promising inevitable retaliation afterward.

The Travian warlord glanced at Sertorius, who gave him a sharp nod. “Very well,” Kairos said to Euthenia. “I accept your terms. I shall sign this contract, and all will be forgiven.”

“We might forgive,” the queen replied coldly, “but we will never forget.”

Kairos didn’t expect anything else.

Slaves raised tables for the guests afterward, with the couple afforded a place of choice far from everyone else. Servants brought caskets of mead and ale, dishes of honeyed lamb, strouts, and a delightful cheesecake. Caenis and other performers entertained the guests with songs and dances.

Kairos didn’t touch anything though, his eyes examining the guests; neither the Travians nor the Lyceans mixed together, each standing on one side of an invisible wall. The captain had the feeling bridging this gap would prove harder than fending off Lysander’s fleet.

Kairos’ eyes wandered to Euthenia and her nephew. While the queen did her best to ignore the Travians, Critias glared at them while eating his food. Euthenia didn’t touch her plate, perhaps waiting until the feast ended to eat in her quarters.

“Why does she wear a mask?” Kairos asked his new wife, the music drowning their voices and offering the two privacy.

“Euthenia is the new Helen of Troy,” Julia explained. “If a man stares at her face for too long, her Legendary Skill makes them fall madly in love with her.”

“She cannot turn it off?”

“No,” Julia said. “Lovesick men eager to take her by force kidnapped her twice before she started wearing that mask. I suppose she had enough of fighting her way to freedom, or waiting for her family to rescue her.”

“That must be a terrible existence.” Much like his own [Monster Lure], a blessing on paper could easily prove a curse. Though she was his enemy, Kairos felt more compassion for Euthenia than the rest of her family.

“Don’t feel sorry for her,” Julia said, in spite of having a curse of her own. “She won’t return any mercy, I guarantee it.”

“Two years is way too short for a peace treaty,” Kairos complained.

“No, husband. It means my brother wants you to raid Orthia after that time has passed.” Julia examined her cheesecake slice with a curious look, smelling it warily. “The idea of conquering the Thessalan League excites him and his father-in-law like bulls in heat.”

“Speaking of Dispater, how much is he worth?”

“Two million.”

“Two million silver?” That would mean five hundred thousand gold coins; a colossal fortune, considering Cassandra thought a phoenix egg worth at least ten thousand.

“Two million gold coins,” Julia clarified while putting away the cake, almost causing her husband to choke. “Almost as much as the Senex’s budget, and it is still not enough. No amount satisfies Dispater for long.”

Two million gold coins… Impossible. That man was richer than all Travians pirate lords combined! “Did he find the Golden Fleece or something?” Kairos asked, looking at Dispater in shock. The man talked with his daughter and Sertorius, while Tiberius gazed at Cassandra on the other side of the table.

“Half his fortune he made through legitimate means, wise investments, and trade; and the other half, through unsavory actions. He bought the illusion of respectability by marrying his harpy of a daughter to my brother, like you disguise the taste of poison with honey.”

“My first mate Cassandra told me he had offered to supply Histria with builders and crafters,” Kairos told his wife. People who could turn their camp into a true town within a fortnight. “For a future favor. My men believe he’s after the silver we found in the island’s soil.”

“Do not take his deal, husband.” Julia glanced at her in-law with her brother’s cold gaze, before whispering into her Kairos’ ears. “Dispater’s many other qualities are drowned by his unquenchable thirst for wealth. He will always take more than he gives.”

Kairos couldn’t imagine what someone willing to give away Legendary Items would ask for. “Then what do you suggest?”

“I come with a good dowry. Leverage it to raise more capital. You should use Dispater’s builders to develop your city, yes, but by paying them at market price rather than accept a vague exchange of favors. If he wants your island’s silver… well, you will dictate the favor he owes you. In all your interactions with his kind, we must hold all the cards.”

Kairos glanced back at his wife, holding her hand. “We?”

“We,” she replied with a sly smile.

“Disgusting.”

The voice was loud enough for Kairos to hear it over the music. The pirate looked at the source, a boy a few meters away. “Prince Critias,” the pirate said calmly, his [Speech] Skill causing his voice to carry over the music.

“King,” he replied, playing with his cutlery knife like an assassin with his dagger.

Queen Euthenia put her soft fingers on Critias’ arm, lowering his weapon. “My nephew, stay silent.”

“This is a humiliation, my aunt,” the bold boy said, glaring at Kairos while biting a cheesecake slice.

“The time for justice will come,” she replied softly. “But not today.”

“Two years where we watch him dance on my parents’ grave?” The boy-king’s reddened with anger. “Two years where they mock… mock Orthia and our ancestors…”

Euthenia looked at her nephew with concern. “Critias?”

“I’m not… I’m not feeling well…” By now, the bold boy’s skin had turned scarlet, and his breathing shortened. “Crabs pinching… pinching me everywhere…”

The child-king tried to rise from his chair, and collapsed on the floor instead.

“Critias!” his aunt shouting in alarm, the music ending abruptly.

“Rhadamanthe!” Kairos shouted while rising from his seat in alarm. The minotaur immediately rushed to the Orthian boy’s side to administer a healing spell, while slaves turned him over.

Sertorius’ eyes widened in alarm, and he snapped his fingers. “Healers! Healers!”

Whispers and fear spread among the guests, as slaves removed Critias’ clothes to examine him. Critias scratched at his hairless chest as if trying to rip it open. His whole body had turned as red as blood, smoke coming out of his nostrils.

“Poison!” Rhadamanthe said, his healing spells useless. “It’s poison!”

“Sacrilege!” someone screamed, panic spreading through the guests.

And then…

The boy caught fire.

His veins burst open, his own blood igniting. Euthenia and the Lycean healers recoiled, while Rhadamanthe braved the flames to keep administering spells. A futile effort. All he did was prolong Critias’ agony, as a magical pyre consumed him. Even Caenis’ attempt to quench the flames with a water amphora was for naught.

Cassandra covered her mouth with her hands in horror, Thales recoiled in dread, and Julia turned white with fear. Even the unflappable Sertorius and his wife looked shaken, some guests trying to flee through the villa’s doors as if some daemon might attack them anytime. And Critias kept screaming in agony for minutes, his flesh melting off his bones.

He’s six years old, Kairos thought, horrified by the ghastly spectacle. No older than my sister was.

His [Poison Brewer] Skill immediately identified the substance behind this terrible deed, even as Critias’ agonizing screams turned silent, and his aunt wailed in despair. A poison so vicious, that almost no spell nor antidote could work against it.

[Dragon Venom].

Though I find the exclusion of dragon venom baffling, Euryale had said, when she examined Mithridates’ antidote. This seems either like a gross oversight, or an intentional loophole.

Mithridates was the worst kind of rogue.

The one that signed his crimes.

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A/N: thanks for sponsoring this chapter.