Athens, Port of Icarus. Ships of every size lay moored in neat rows. Gale-force winds whipped across the Aegean Sea, roughening its surface as waves rose and fell in restless swells.
Rumble...
Dark clouds pressed low over the sky, and stifled thunder rolled now and then from within the overcast. The entire Peloponnesian Peninsula looked as though a storm were about to break.
Sigh. Another day when it was impossible to go out to sea...
The old man lowered his sails, disembarked, tied off the ropes, and leaned beneath a marble statue of a young man with wings on his back that towered over the harbor. He muttered a weary sigh.
These past few years had been far too chaotic.
Rain meant no sailing, yet his whole family waited at home with empty mouths to feed. When the weather finally cleared, he still had to pay taxes to the noble lords, stay alert for pirates, and be especially careful of Carthaginian slave ships, lest he be dragged away as a hostage or sold into slavery.
He had heard that not long ago, an important figure from a Roman demigod family had been seized near Rhodes by a band of brazen Cilician pirates. They initially demanded twenty denarii in ransom, but that noble lord must have lost his mind. He bargained the price up to fifty denarii. That was an absurd amount of gold Zeus, more than the old man could hope to earn in an entire lifetime.
His own household barely scraped by. If he were ever taken, there would be no one who could ransom him back.
On top of that, the Persians had begun stirring again. Raiders allied with them had already infiltrated nearby waters. If those foreign lunatics caught him, he would surely lose his life.
Persia and Greece had already gone to war twice. Each time those northern barbarians invaded, blood flowed like rivers and corpses carpeted the land.
But the Greeks were no easy prey either. Time and again, they smashed those Persian invaders until they limped away battered and defeated, never once achieving their aims.
Could it be that the Persians still refused to give up? Were they really about to start fighting again so soon?
How long would days like these go on?
Ah, forget it. Matters like that were for the great figures of the Areopagus to worry about. He should head back, weave some bamboo baskets, and try to trade for enough grain to get through the day. That was what truly mattered.
The old man sighed, pushed himself upright with the help of the statue, and turned toward home.
...
At the same time, inside the council hall of the Areopagus.
"You want us to lend you a fully organized fleet, mobilizing such a force, just to wipe out a few pirates on Rhodes? Did I hear that correctly?"
"I came here representing Rome, with sincere intent to negotiate amicably with you all, only to be captured by Greek pirates. To my family and to Rome, this is nothing less than an outright humiliation!"
"We can dispatch the temple's Saints to clean up the matter. Those pirates could be delivered to you by tomorrow..."
"This disgrace must be washed away by my own hands!"
"They're just a few petty thieves. There's no need to mobilize an entire fleet!"
"Oh? I already promised them I would send a fleet to 'welcome' these friendly friends, and then nail them to crosses."
"..."
At the round table, the dark-haired, green-eyed young man with a laurel crown, slightly plump in build and stubborn to the end, saw the momentum draining from the council members. He smiled faintly and smoothly changed his tone.
"Of course, if this puts you in a difficult position, then for the sake of our mutual friendship, we can each take a step back. My personal honor can be set aside. However, the proposal from yesterday..."
"You open your mouth and demand one hundred Saints, five hundred Divine Blood Warriors, and a thousand heavy infantry. Do you think these are cabbages growing by the roadside?!"
The representatives of the Greek city-states erupted in fury.
"Fine, then we'll compromise again. The heavy infantry can be struck from the list, but the rest of the forces must be in place within half a month. We are currently at war with Persia and simply cannot wait any longer..."
"Hah! You're fighting Persia? According to intelligence from the Areopagus, Persia is massing its forces and preparing for a Third Greco-Persian War. This time it will be led by Darius I of the Persian twin kings, together with his son-in-law Xerxes. So tell me, how exactly are you Romans safeguarding our rear?"
The slightly plump young man frowned at the commanding accusation.
"The Persian Empire spans vast lands and commands overwhelming power. To share the burden with our allies, we are facing the deified Cyrus the Great himself, tens of thousands of Immortal Soldiers under his command, and the Meteor Legion led by the great hero Arash. If we had not pinned these forces down in Mesopotamia, they would already be here!
"Furthermore, the Assassin Order and the Old Man of the Mountain have both mobilized, repeatedly attempting to assassinate our commanders. That is precisely why we require the Saints of the Areopagus and the Heroic Spirits of Paradise Island to intervene, to ensure the safety of our officers."
"Gentlemen, Persia's intent is obvious. First, they aim to weaken Rome. After that, they will launch their full-scale Third Greco-Persian War against Greece."
"Rome lacks heroes capable of standing alone, while Greece lacks sufficient conventional forces. Only by complementing each other can we hope to survive."
"If you let them pick you off one by one while you cower here, afraid to act, then just imagine this: once Persia has a free hand, whose city do you think will be the first to suffer?
"Even if you get lucky and drive off Xerxes and Darius this time, the next one to come might be Cyrus the Great!"
The representatives of the Greek city-states fell into a noisy buzz of discussion. After a brief stretch of murmured debate, an elderly man in splendid robes spoke up, as though he had seen through the Roman envoy's intentions, and let out a cold, unrestrained sneer.
"Don't dress it up as righteousness. Rome holds its borders for more than Greece alone. If we're talking about sharing burdens, we're not only helping you watch for trouble from Carthage. Egypt, standing behind them, has been moving troops frequently as well. Cyrus is no easy opponent, but do you think Ramesses II is any easier to deal with? We can complain too. Why not send a few Roman legions over and share our load?"
Most of the Greek city-state representatives in the chamber nodded in agreement, exchanging glances. Those city-states that had been wavering about sending troops to support Rome immediately chose to wait and see.
The slightly plump young man's gaze landed on the Gorgon emblem on the old man's chest, and his eyes went still.
The Pandion family, the builders of Athens and the current leader among the Greeks. Their stance all but represented Greece's stance.
The slightly plump young man drew a deep breath and issued a cold reminder.
"Gentlemen! We are not facing Persia alone. We also have to fight the Huns on a second front. The current Hun king, Altera, is no less a threat than Cyrus the Great!
"And Rome must still guard against the Scandinavian barbarian tribes. We're already stretched to the limit. Is what you want to see really Persia freely consolidating its forces, then wiping out Greece first?!"
"Impudence! A man of the House of Julius dares speak like that? If those words came from your divine ancestor Romulus, then they might carry the right to be heard!"
The old man bristled with fury, his attitude arrogant and disdainful.
"Don't forget, even your own ancestors were nothing but defeated fugitives from Troy. Even the Pantheon yields the Areopagus its due respect. And you think you're qualified to lecture us on what to do?!"
"Fine. Then I've meddled where I shouldn't. Farewell!"
The slightly plump young man offered an apology that never reached his eyes, then swung his arm and stalked out.
...
"Well then, Caesar. Couldn't persuade the old fossils in the council chamber, huh?"
As the Roman envoy strode down the road beneath the Areopagus in a black temper, a red-haired giant with bulging muscles stood at a crossroads. He laughed brightly, spreading his arms as though to embrace him in a warm welcome.
"More than that. I got thrown out."
Caesar spread his hands and gave a helpless, bitter smile. Then he rolled his eyes at the gloating man, annoyed, and slapped away the big hand resting on his shoulder.
"Tell me, Leonidas. You knew it would end like this, didn't you? You came here on purpose to laugh at me."
"That has nothing to do with me. It was Alexander who predicted this."
Leonidas winked with a roguish grin, then yanked a red-haired young man with a slightly boyish face out from behind a tree and tucked him under his arm.
"So it's you again, you disloyal Macedon savage. This morning I told you to come with me, and you said you were sick. Tch. I'm not paying back the fifty denarii I owe you."
"Ha ha ha! It's just a bit of gold. Worst case, I'll clean up those blind pirates for you. Maybe besides the fifty denarii principal, we'll even turn a profit."
The youth chuckled as if he didn't care, neatly covering up his own mischievousness.
"Oh, good idea. How about the two of us pool our money, hire some men, wipe out the pirates nearby, and split whatever we make down the middle?"
Caesar's eyes lit up. He rubbed his chin, looking genuinely tempted.
"Give it a rest. You, pool money? Your food and lodging in Athens lately have all been covered by Alexander."
Leonidas laughed as he scolded him, then slammed a fist into Caesar's shoulder, cutting off his crooked scheme.
"But speaking of it, the Persians, the Huns, the Carthaginians, and the Egyptians are all moving troops. That can't be a coincidence. Something big is coming. Now that we're surrounded on all sides, I've got a bad feeling this time the trouble won't be small..."
Then, one of Sparta's twin kings rubbed his chin and stared toward Athens beneath its cover of storm clouds, his eyes flickering with unease.
"True. I can't make sense of why these four suddenly became active all at once. And it's like there's some kind of tacit agreement between them. We've never seen anything like this before..."
The young Roman emperor nodded in agreement, his brow twisted tight, a faint sense of dread settling in his chest.
"Maybe... what's happening on the ground is connected to what's happening in the heavens..."
The Macedon prince's deep gaze passed over the marble statues of the Parthenon, then lifted toward the sky, his meaning unmistakable.
"You mean... a war of the gods!"
Caesar was the first to react. His breath caught, and his face changed sharply as he murmured in alarm.
"If that's true, then the trouble we're in..."
Leonidas sucked in a cold breath, his face dark with shock.
Once a war of the gods began, blood would flood the land, and the brutality of war would surge to an entirely different level.
From what he knew, there had once been a vast, glorious war of the gods that directly threw spacetime into disorder, shattering the Chaos Tide around Greece. That moment became a turning point, gradually linking the world into a single whole.
After that, the Greek gods suffered another split during the Troy War.
The defeated gods of Olympus guided the Trojans far from their homeland, opening up new lands and founding Rome. They themselves accepted worship in the Pantheon, offering shelter to their faithful.
In recent years, Greece had increasingly become a target. Egyptians, Carthaginians, and Persians all wanted to take a bite out of it.
Even if their predecessors had united with Rome under the banner of Panhellenism and brought in Macedon for mutual support, they were still at a disadvantage when those other colossal powers began to rise.
Now, whether the gods of the Areopagus or the gods of the Roman pantheon, both had gradually fallen silent. No one knew what was happening in the heavens.
If a war of the gods truly began at a time like this, the consequences would be beyond imagining.
"Don't think too hard about it. If this war has anything to do with the gods, then humanity's victory will end up meaning very little. We can't even get a handhold on that battlefield. If we've got the time, we might as well go drink with me."
Alexander patted Leonidas on the shoulder, snapping his friend out of his thoughts. With an easy laugh, he extended the invitation.
"Then what are we waiting for? Come on, come on! I've gotten so thin lately, I'm starving!"
The moment he heard there was a chance to mooch a meal, Caesar instantly perked up. He urged them along without hesitation, pushing the two forward as if their answer didn't matter.
"Fair point..."
Leonidas thought back to the attitude in the Areopagus council chamber and couldn't help a bitter smile.
Now Greece and Rome, these two brothers in misfortune, were hemmed in on all sides, each too busy surviving to spare a thought for anything else. Once the war truly erupted in full, whichever link in the chain broke first would invite a flood of enemies that would sweep across the Mediterranean with crushing force.
To turn the situation around, unless... some unexpected force fell from the sky.
...
Meanwhile, in the Chaos Sea.
The Ether surged in roiling currents. Vast stretches of Magecraft light patterns flickered on and off, and as towering waves split apart, hundreds of Viking warships with sails raised high glided silently through the seething fog, like ferocious beasts moving in formation.
Inside the escorted flagship, a massive three-deck vessel over a hundred meters long, Berserkers and Druids were concentrated on the middle and lower levels to keep the ship running smoothly. On the top deck stood figures in hooded cloaks, each one a beautiful maiden holding a shield and a spear.
"Squeak..."
The door was gently pushed open. A tall, elegant figure with a calm, restrained air stepped out from the bedroom with a robe draped over his shoulders. The maidens braced their shields, rested their spears, and bowed in respectful salute.
The dark-haired man waved lazily, stopping the needless ceremony. He glanced out at the sea, still an endless chaos, then yawned and asked offhandedly,
"How's the fleet doing?"
"All is normal, Your Highness."
"You've worked hard while I was resting..."
"Not at all. With warrior king Sigurd, Bloodaxe King Eric, Battle Tooth King Harald, and the dragon-slayer Beowulf keeping them in line, the Berserkers and Druids have been very well-behaved."
"By the way, how long has it been since we left Midgard?"
"Only two days and seven hours, Your Highness. It's still night. You may sleep a little longer."
A Valkyrie in a blue-and-black formal dress stepped forward. Pale green hair veiled part of her eyes, and her violet pupils held a dreamlike sheen. She pressed a hand to her chest and answered softly.
As she spoke, the Valkyrie stole a glance through the crack of the door, toward the graceful figure curled beneath a velvet quilt, purple hair spilling loose, her delicate head buried in the pillow, her meaning unmistakable.
The man caught the faintly teasing smile on the Valkyrie's face, stretched his back, and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Forget it. With you all staring at me like that, I can't sleep. Brynhild, since you're so free, why don't you come take a walk around the ship with me?"
"If that is your command, I... I..."
Caught off guard, the Valkyrie dipped her head awkwardly, a blush rising on her fair cheeks.
"You don't want to go? Then who's on duty today? I think it's Hildr, Thrúd, and Ortlinde..."
"They're not available! I will shoulder the responsibility of protecting His Majesty Jormungandr!"
In that instant, the timid Valkyrie snapped her head up, face solemn and righteous. She claimed the task with unwavering conviction, like a warrior marching gladly to her death.