The land called Calydon, lying straight south of Iolcos, was vast and surrounded by forests teeming with game, earning it the reputation of a breadbasket.
One year, an unusually bountiful harvest arrived there, and the king of Calydon, Oeneus, offered sacrifices to the Twelve Olympians.
He presented grain to Demeter, wine to Dionysus, olive oil to Athena, and other fine offerings to the gods in gratitude for the harvest—but in the process, he made one crucial mistake.
They completely omitted the offering to Artemis, the Crescent Moon and hunt goddess.
Enraged at being left out, Artemis sent a monstrous boar to Calydon, unleashing havoc across the land.
The boar was enormous and ferocious, its eyes rimmed with blood as it trampled fields, wrecked food stores, and destroyed everything in its path. The damage was immense.
When the beast even began to harm the people directly, Oeneus‘s son, Meleagros, stepped forward.
Meleagros resolved to recruit hunters to exterminate the divine creature. Word spread, and heroes like Theseus, who had slain the Minotaur, and Peleus gathered one by one—the boar hunting party was taking shape.
This was one of the most famous Greek tales: the Calydonian Boar Hunt. But Nestor, who was to be among the participants, made a proposition to Meleagros.
“So... you‘re asking us to join, too?” came the question from Jason.
“You must have felt it—how scarce our food supplies have become,” Nestor replied.
Though Jason hated the idea, he understood all too well how massive and foul the shit his uncle had made was. While Jason prioritized education as his policy, he knew that emphasis came at the cost of other essentials.
In particular, the food supply had been pilfered by his uncle under the guise of taxes. To make up for that gap, Jason had been devising plans—and Nestor‘s proposal was hardly a bad one.
“They say that if we from Iolcos join the hunt, Calydon will promise us food and seeds in return,” Nestor explained.
“All right!!! Then we‘re in!!! Iskios, we‘re going together!!!” Jason shouted.
“What!?” Iskios shot back.
But Iskios was opposed—he saw no need for this hunt. Even so, Nestor needed Iskios‘s help, and he was determined not to give up recruiting him.
“I have no reason to go. The boar will be dealt with soon enough—” Iskios began.
“—But in the meantime, casualties will happen. Will you just leave those victims to their fate?” Nestor countered.
“…You‘d better watch your back later,” Iskios muttered.
Though Iskios had no intention of traveling to Calydon to hunt the boar, when Nestor mentioned that innocent people might be sacrificed, Iskios unleashed a curse.
He didn‘t want to go, but he had no choice. Moreover, if Jason made a mistake in Calydon and suffered a serious injury or, in the worst case, death, the country—finally finding stability—would spiral into chaos again if its king disappeared.
Upon hearing Nestor‘s scouting report about the Calydonian Boar Hunt, both Iskios and Jason—each driven by different motives—decided to participate. Nestor would return to Pylos to prepare before heading to Calydon, and Jason and Iskios planned to depart as soon as they were ready.
“So... while we‘re away, who will govern in our absence, Jason?” Iskios asked.
“Hmm, I‘ll leave the administration to Absyrtus. He can handle civil affairs just fine,” Jason replied.
“My real concern is who will teach morality while I‘m gone...” Iskios admitted.
It was Iskios‘s greatest worry—who would teach his subject in his absence.
In this fin-de-siècle Greece, Iskios sought to teach humans to live as humans, not pigs. It was vital for his own sake and an important step toward improving this decadent era.
Of course, his true aim was a bare struggle to eradicate pederasty, though he didn‘t expect it to have a major effect. Still, even a one percent chance was worth grasping.
“Why not leave it to Pel? He‘s the Captain of the Guard—” Iskios suggested.
After thinking alone for a while, Iskios decided to entrust morality to Pel, who had studied under him longest.
Hunting the boar was nothing like I‘d imagined.
I had originally planned to live a quiet life alone. But if I left that Jason to his own devices, who knows what might happen? So I stayed by his side in Iolcos, teaching ethics.
In war, I never assassinate the enemy—I sneak in to steal intelligence or sow discord. Avoiding assassination was my policy, and also a tactic to push Jason into danger and spur him onward.
Every chance I got, I reminded Jason of the risk, so whether he liked it or not, he knuckled down and, in about half a year, he cleared his head and became a far better ruler. That smug personality of his remains, but it‘s still a monumental improvement.
The country ran smoothly, and Jason‘s ideal educational reforms were faithfully implemented—but the mess left by the previous tyrant was colossal. Education was Jason‘s priority, but cleaning up that mess needed far more resources.
One look at the food situation was enough. To fill that hole, Jason and I decided to join Nestor‘s Calydonian Boar Hunt after hearing his report. He promised that if we took part in slaying the boar, they‘d reward us with food and seeds.
“Then Medea! I leave Iolcos in your care while I‘m away!” Jason declared.
“Yes, Lord Jason! This is the home of you and me—I‘ll protect it no matter what!” Medea pledged.
Seeing Medea look at Jason with an almost enchanted gaze gave me chills, but nothing else of note happened.
It‘s already been a year in Iolcos and about half a year in the palace. I‘ve grown attached—just like in that cabin in the forest—but all I want is to finish everything as soon as possible and retreat back to the woods to live my life.
“I wish there were someone reliable to hold Jason in check while I‘m gone...” Iskios sighed.
I sighed and, fully armed, Jason and I boarded a ship and began rowing. Our destination was Calydon, where the boar hunt was about to commence.
“Calydon is known across Greece as a granary-level land—rich, vast fields, and easy to procure food. If we secure food there, we can fill the holes my damn uncle dug!” Jason said.
“I like the enthusiasm, but don‘t die, okay?” Iskios warned.
“Hah! Who do you think you‘re talking to, Iskios!?” Jason retorted.
“The weakest Jason on the Argo expedition, that‘s who.” Iskios shot back.
We rowed, but Jason reverted to that same rotten behavior from the Argo expedition and snapped at me.
I hadn‘t seen that side of Jason lately, but it made sense—it was only after he became king that he entered that wise phase. Now that he was heading out not as a king but as one warrior among many, the royal pressure was gone.
Maybe because of that, the Jason whose moral fiber I knew had returned before my eyes—complete with that rotten personality. Of course, I lightly tapped his head as he jabbered on and returned to rowing.
“Ugh...!” Jason groaned.
“Well, old habits die hard, right?” Iskios teased.