In Athens, before those divine-blood nobles still dreaming sweetly in their beds could figure out what was going on, heavily armed infantry and divine-blood guards dragged them out from under their blankets and hauled them off to the barracks or the Areopagus for a little "chat." As for the minor hangers-on left behind, one look at the spear phalanxes outside "protecting" their safety was enough to make every last one of them as obedient as frightened quail.
After a long night, the returned Holy King moved with swift, decisive force, using the iron fist of justice to tear out most of the dead branches and rotten leaves parasitizing the flourishing tree that was Athens.
As the warm, gentle light of morning washed away the lingering traces of night, the sky turned clear and bright as if freshly cleansed. Residents pushed open their doors, stepped onto the roads and into the markets, and began another busy day.
The shifts among the upper nobility and all their political wrangling had little to do with the lives of ordinary people. Those who needed to eat still had to eat, and those who needed to work and support their families still had to work and support their families.
In fact, with those divine-blood nobles no longer roaming around extorting people day after day, the city felt more orderly than usual, and even the bustle of prosperity seemed a little louder.
As for the return of the Holy King, aside from giving the people of Athens some extra material for casual gossip, it did not make much of a stir.
What did make people uneasy was the growing concentration of ships in the harbor and squad after squad of heavily armed infantry making preparations.
War was probably coming.
Just then, a shabby little boat passed inspection on the outer waters and quietly slipped into Icarus Harbor under the morning light.
Three passengers sat separately at the bow and stern.
At the front stood a blonde, green-eyed little girl in a red dress, attended by a Valkyrie with pale green long hair in a dark indigo gown. Further back stood a silver-haired, blood-eyed girl clutching a golden sheep plushie. The two sides kept a distinct distance from one another, and an odd atmosphere drifted back and forth between them from time to time.
"Hmph, we've reached Athens. This is Pan-Hellenic Alliance territory, which means it more or less counts as mine too!"
As the boat bumped lightly against the shore and gave a small jolt, Nero seemed to find her courage. Planting one hand on her hip, she pointed at the King of the Huns, Altera, behind her, widened her emerald eyes, leaned forward, and snorted with righteous severity.
"Hmph, I'm warning you. As long as I'm here, don't even think about causing trouble!"
With a swish, Altera rose from the stern. The rocking boat sent ripples spreading across the sea.
Brynhildr, the Valkyrie who had kept herself constantly on edge, instinctively pulled Nero behind her and took a defensive stance. The hidden Rune symbols in her swan attire flickered and flowed, and her eyes, tense and solemn, stayed fixed on the Hunnic king's impassive face, trying to read her next move in advance.
After a long moment, Altera's hand slid downward, and the atmosphere froze.
"...I'm hungry..."
Huh?
Brynhildr, after being tense for so long, stared blankly at the hand resting on Altera's star-marked stomach and gently rubbing it, then at the Hunnic king's grave, aggrieved expression. She nearly lost her footing from sheer whiplash.
Sniff sniff...
Altera closed her eyes and twitched her delicate nose. Catching the scent of something sweet in the air, she simply walked around Brynhildr and Nero, hopped onto the harbor, and disappeared into the crowd like a little dog following a trail.
"Hmph, I'm the beloved of the chief gods Venus and Mars, and I even have a secret weapon. Do you really think I'd be afraid of her? Next time, don't get in the way of my brilliance!"
Nero came back to herself, lifted her chin with flashing eyes, and irritably restated her abundant martial virtue and supreme imperial dignity to Brynhildr.
"As you say, Your Majesty. But my senses are already struggling to keep up with her. We should follow quickly, in case she causes trouble.
Though I'm not confident I can defeat her, I'll do everything I can to stop her from doing evil. After all, we brought her from the sea to Athens. I have to take responsibility for that."
Brynhildr bowed slightly and gave the reminder in a soft but resolute voice. She tied up the shabby little boat and helped the much shorter Nero ashore.
Her serious, dependable manner made Nero, who had been putting on airs, feel a bit guilty instead, and she obediently followed behind the Valkyrie, who was gentle on the outside but strong at heart, and somehow very reassuring.
Soon, one tall and one small, the two of them wove through the crowd, following Altera to a dessert stall.
The silver-haired girl was leaning over the counter, staring at the cheese, honey cakes, and baked flatbreads sprinkled with grape seeds and dried figs in the display case. Her throat bobbed, and saliva kept pooling in her mouth.
"Delicious food is good civilization!"
Altera nodded to herself once more in heartfelt agreement, her crimson eyes fixed on the fragrant sweets as she still made no move to do anything else.
"Hmph. Looks like you don't have any money on you. Be grateful for Rome's generosity. As your host, I can magnanimously treat you to a feast."
After watching for a moment, Nero glanced at the Hunnic king's skimpy outfit, which was so revealing there was nowhere to hide anything, and immediately understood the problem. Her eyes shifted. She strutted forward with swagger, slapped her chest, announced her generosity, picked out an entire basket of sweets, and gave a breezy snort over her shoulder.
"Pay up!"
"Huh? You want me to pay for it?"
"I'm the emperor. Isn't this the sort of thing attendants are supposed to handle?"
"Ahem, but we left in such a hurry that I didn't bring any money..."
Brynhildr coughed lightly and answered awkwardly.
"..."
The smile on Nero's face froze at once. Under Altera's burning stare, she turned her head aside and casually set the basket back down.
"I suddenly remembered there are still some things on the boat I haven't brought over."
Stare...
Altera narrowed her eyes slightly and silently looked at the one who had just declared she would provide the meal. In her indifferent crimson gaze, there was actually a rare trace of disdain.
"Tch. What are you looking at? With my status and Rome's wealth, do you really think I'd skip out on the bill?"
The little tyrant's face tightened. She waved her fists indignantly, then glared and imperiously pointed at the innocent shopkeeper.
"Hey, you. Just wait there! Set aside the best things for now. Let me borrow the space for a moment, and I'll soon bestow double the price on you!"
Then Nero proudly puffed out her little chest and motioned for Brynhildr to clear a bit of space around them.
"Your Majesty, we can't even scrape together the normal price. Where are we supposed to get double?"
"Obviously with my talent! I am the Flower of Rome, a genius who even Apollo admired! Artists do not die in poverty while traveling the world!"
Nero hopped up onto a raised platform, lifted her chin, and confidently addressed the passersby gathering in small groups at the commotion.
"Just watch. In the time it takes to sing one song, I'll have every listener opening their purses and offering tribute! That is the power of art!"
Meanwhile, on the Areopagus.
Buried in piles of documents, Samael wrote furiously without pause, dealing with the mountain of affairs piling in from every direction. Outside the flower-framed window, the morning sun rose, spilling down warm light. The mountain breeze brushed across his face, and that quiet peace helped wash away some of the Holy King's exhaustion, easing even his gloomy mood a little.
"Ah~ ah~ ah~ ah~"
Then, without warning, a series of shrill, piercing cries shot into the sky. Birds returning to their nests were startled into chaotic flight, and some, panicking and losing their bearings, slammed headfirst into rocks and branches and dropped unconscious.
As the pitch climbed higher, even the defensive Magecraft barrier around the area began to crack.
With wave after wave of demonic noise boring into his ears, Samael immediately felt his blood surge, his face turning pale and green. It felt as if his brain were being twisted into mush, and even his arms began to tremble uncontrollably.
Crack!
When the ghost-wail of a pitch dipped ever so slightly, the Ancient Serpent unknowingly tightened his grip and snapped the charcoal pencil in his hand clean in two. His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulged across his forehead, and inside his mind he howled in fury.
What the hell is going on?! Is a banshee attacking the city, or have the Persians already arrived?!
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