Clang!
In the side hall of Gemini, amid a heavy, chilling ring of metal, the blazing demonic sword, crimson as fresh blood, was returned to a sheath carved from a straight cen tree branch.
As it gave off a low hum, the dense Rune symbols engraved across it pulsed and trembled. Frost rapidly spread and sealed over it, gradually suppressing Laevateinn's demonic nature and forcing it into cooling slumber.
"Lady Helen!"
At the same time, Gorgo finally arrived, rushing into the room with sword and shield in hand and calling out anxiously.
But when her searching gaze landed on Helen, safe and unharmed on the bed, and on Samael standing before it, the Queen of Sparta found her mind struggling to catch up.
"King Theseus, how are you..."
Cough, cough...
Samael's breath faltered. His mind shaken, he coughed lightly, the taste of blood spreading through his mouth, and an unnatural flush rose on his pale face.
"We'll talk about this later!"
Helen shot Gorgo a glare and hurriedly reached out, intending to steady the Ancient Serpent's swaying body.
But the Holy King, his back to her, raised a hand to stop her. Narrowing his eyes, he stared coldly at a faint screen of light beyond the courtyard pillar.
"Get out here!"
Crack!
In an instant, the light barrier shattered, and a figure wrapped in a tattered black robe shot out from within it, fleeing toward the doorway as fast as lightning.
"Roar!"
But just as he reached the entrance, Gorgo, who had instinctively stayed on guard, raised her sword and shield and let out a furious roar. The burst of divine power slammed the intruder back inside.
Hum!
A moment later, the surrounding space turned warped and viscous. That familiar sense of crushing heaviness welled up again. The wretched middle-aged man, looking like a filthy yam dug out of black ash, was seized by the throat with an invisible grip and dragged through the air until he hung before the King of Athens.
Clang!
The middle-aged man's face had gone dark purple from suffocation. His limbs twitched as he struggled. In the midst of his flailing, a bronze shield the size of a palm, shaped like a small breastplate and engraved with the image of the Gorgon, rolled to Samael's feet.
Its surface was already covered in spiderweb cracks, and it shattered into fragments as it tumbled across the floor.
A replica of the Aegis. Looks like Hephaestus's craftsmanship.
So this was the honor Athena bestowed... no wonder...
"You really are hard to kill, aren't you. Pandion's lot..."
Samael wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His serpent eyes opened and narrowed coldly as he stared at this divine-blood noble who had escaped silencing and sneered.
"Y. Your Majesty... this assassination attempt was never aimed at you! Athens should not be tied to the war chariot of other city-states. We did this to preserve the flame of Greece! It was all a Persian plot! Those bastards are the ones who misled us!"
The man's face was deathly pale, sweat pouring down his forehead. After bitterly cursing those Persian sons of bitches, he spilled everything in one rush, recounting all his contact with the mysterious figure.
By the end, realizing he had been thrown away as a disposable pawn, the middle-aged man even went so far as to express, in extremely cultured and refined language, his desire to establish a father-son relationship with that Persian mystery bastard despite having no blood relation, along with his sincere wish to engage in warm and friendly "deep exchanges" with all the women in the other man's family.
Listening to this, Samael was briefly able to appreciate the elegant rhetoric of the Greek cultural sphere, and came away with the profound realization that when so-called divine-blood nobles and mud-footed commoners from the outer city got angry, they really were not all that different.
Unfortunately, from the man's account, there was almost nothing useful about the one who had contacted him. No discernible appearance, and the voice had been completely genderless.
Other than the so-called "apocalyptic omen" projected directly into his mind, and Persia's empty promise to prop him up as king over the Greek states, there was no meaningful information at all.
The only valuable thing he learned was that their original objective had not been to assassinate Helen and Gorgo, nor to drive a wedge between Athens and Sparta. Their real goal had simply been to awaken the [Scourge of God], bring down judgment, and force him to submit.
Only because something had gone wrong during the process had they, at the mysterious figure's suggestion, settled for a second plan instead.
But only now did the middle-aged man understand that the moment the first plan failed, they had already ceased to be useful in the mysterious figure's eyes.
That so-called backup strategy had merely been bait to keep them obediently working. Those feathers of light had never been some hidden trump card at all. They had been tools to silence them from the start!
You Persian bastards, you are really too damned rotten. Hope your kids are born without assholes!
By the time the middle-aged man finished, tears had welled in his eyes, and he could not help cursing inwardly again.
So this was what had caused Altera's regression into childhood...
At that moment, Samael stroked his chin with one hand, deep in thought. A trace of softness flickered through his eyes, and he could not help feeling a little moved.
Perhaps what blunts blades is not only other blades, but flowers too...
"Great Ancestor, opposing you was never my true intention! Everything I did was for the family, for the Areopagus. That woman is a bringer of disaster. She'll ruin Athens's future!"
Sensing that the restraint around his neck had loosened slightly, the middle-aged man lit up with hope and, gathering his courage, launched into a passionate plea.
Samael came back to himself and looked at this divine-blood noble so full of concern for his country and people. His slit pupils narrowed.
Instantly, a freezing chill shot from the base of the man's spine straight into his skull. He felt like a frog being stared down by a venomous serpent, and cold sweat drenched his back in an instant.
"Your Majesty, I should never have questioned your decision-making. That was my fault. I'm... I'm sorry...
But this is all a misunderstanding! The Pandion family is willing to swear loyalty to you unto death!
Yes, my wealth! I'm willing to hand over all my assets as funding for the war!"
Desperate to save his own life, the middle-aged man frantically threw out one bargaining chip after another, trying to prove his value.
"There are still so many tactless old nobles on the Areopagus slandering you behind your back. You need me! My connections run wide. I can help you stabilize the situation! I guarantee I'll make them shut their mouths!
And as compensation for offending these two Spartan guests, I apologize! I can donate three. No, five Magic Crystal mines!
I..."
Samael glanced at the man, who was sweating buckets in panic, interrupted his frantic self-justification, and smiled.
"It's alright. I forgive you this time..."
"Thank you, Your Maj..."
"So be more careful in your next life..."
The middle-aged man was instantly overjoyed, but before his words of thanks could leave his mouth, the echo of that last line reached his ears. His pupils contracted violently, and his face twisted in stunned horror.
Boom!
In an instant, the pale hand locked around his throat burst into red-black flames, and the rising fire reduced him to ash on the spot.
Gorgo and Helen both shivered, staring in dumbfounded shock.
"It seems I've still been too merciful with them...
Gorgo, report to the Areopagus immediately. These divine-blood nobles have rebelled and attempted to assassinate you and Helen, the acting Archons of Athens. Tell Scáthach and Ana to place the entire city under martial law. Dispatch the Valkyries and the Berserkers to hunt down every last accomplice!
Power begins with the nobility. Sacrifice should begin there too!
Since war is always going to require blood, let it start with them. The Great Offering just happens to be short on sacrifices. First thing tomorrow morning, let them offer themselves up. We'll use them to consecrate the banner!"
"..."
"Gorgo!"
"I. I obey your command!"
At the sudden rise in his voice, the Queen of Sparta, who had been standing there blankly staring at the grey-white ash on the floor, jolted hard and snapped back to herself. She hurriedly bowed and received the scales bearing the identities of the conspirators with both hands, then immediately turned and raced toward the summit of the Areopagus, heart chilled.
Tonight, another storm of blood was about to break.
His Majesty was truly furious. Could it be because of that?
As she hurried along, Gorgo could not help glancing back toward the Gemini side hall, muttering to herself inwardly.