Kairos 25: The She-Wolf of Lyce (Patreon)

The Foresight reached Lyce by sundown.

The greatest city in the world ruled a vast empire across the Sunsea, claiming dominion over almost all known western islands. Dominating a massive landmass thrice larger than Travia, Lyce was surrounded by thick white walls thirty meters in height. Its deep harbor went on as far as the eye could see, welcoming hundreds of ships from all around the world. Thessalan galleys, Achlysian longships, Vali trading vessels, and even the giant rowing boats used by the Cyclops of Argos traveled on the Lycean waters.

The city itself left Kairos speechless. Pergamon had been beautiful, but Lyce was awe-inspiring. All its buildings seemed to be made of marble rather than bricks, and elephant-sized statues of winged wolves looked down from tall stone archways. Enormous villas oversaw the sea from above tall cliffs, and pegasi rider brigades patrolled the skies. The pirate captain caught a glimpse of the famous Aeternus amphitheater, a colossal red dome on a hill where slaves and gladiators fought for the masses’ entertainment.

This was the empire that the world dreaded, and Kairos’ second motherland.

He had heard his mother’s stories about Lyce’s greatness, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely.

“They aren’t moving to intercept us so far,” Cassandra said from the ship’s bow, as a brigade of pegasi riders circled their ship from above. “But they’re gesturing us east.”

In total, Kairos had only taken three dozen men with him, among them Thales, Rhadamanthe, and Cassandra. The Foresight could travel by itself without rest, and the larger the fleet, the greater the danger of interception.

The ship had grown eerily beautiful since it consumed pegasi bones, with feathers and scales now covering the entire vessel. The Foresight had no wooden part left, and even its mast and sail looked more like an elegant dorsal fine than a man-made structure; one could probably mistake it for a giant flying fish from afar.

However, much to Kairos’ annoyance, the Foresight didn’t have enough feathers to fly by itself. It needed more monsters to grow wings. “Let’s follow the pegasi,” the [Hero] said, the ship obeying his wish. “Thales, are the ballistae ready? Hopefully, we won’t use them, but better prepared than sorry.”

“The weapons can fire anytime, sir.” The automaton had replaced the old ballistae with a new design, almost entirely made of bronze and iron. Instead of heavy darts, Thales outfitted it with arrow-shaped fire rods. “I admit I hoped we would test this new design against a sea monster, but I am thankful we didn’t encounter any.”

Actually, they did, but Kairos detected the monsters early with [Seamanship] and had the Foresight avoid them. His [Monster Lure] Skill attracted these creatures like moths to a flame, but he couldn’t risk a battle with Critias onboard. “We will have that chance in due time, Thales.”

“Speaking of monsters, do you have [Animal Companion] yet?” Rook asked, sitting at his partner’s feet. Kairos had forbidden the griffin to fly above Lyce, in case the locals might mistake him for a wandering monster.

“No, not yet.”

The griffin marked a short pause. “And now, Kairos?”

“Will you ask me that question every hour?” the pirate asked with a smirk.

“Yes, until you get that Skill. I have enough of being small.” Since Rook wouldn’t let it go, Kairos scratched the monster’s back. “You won’t buy my silence so easily!”

“I can only access [Animal Companion] through specific subclasses, and I need a few more levels to get the one I want.” Kairos opened his System screen, reviewing the information within.

Name Kairos Marius Remus

Rank Hero

Legend Monster Reaver

Race Human (Wolfblood)

Class Rogue (Raider, Cutthroat, Arcane Dabbler)

Level 37

Skill Points 20

EXP Progression 269,200/280,000

Health C+

Magic C

Strength C+

Perception C+

Vitality C

Agility C+

Intelligence B

Charisma B+

Luck B

According to Androcles’ Bestiary, a [Rogue] could unlock the [Beastmaster] specialization with an A in [Charisma] and the [Beast Tongue] Skill. Kairos needed 30 SP to upgrade his [Charisma] to that Rank, and thus at least four more levels.

Following the pegasi riders, the Foresight soon reached a stone pier. Judge Sertorius awaited them alongside another, older nobleman, both backed by twenty bodyguards in steel armor. Kairos’ eyes wandered to the older aristocrat, whose social rank the pirate identified by his crimson silk robes mixed with gold. The man appeared in his sixties, with short white hair, wrinkles, and a receding hairline.

Croesus Plutus Dispater

Legend: Midas’ Heir (Hero)

Race: Human

Class: Crafter (Merchant, Banker, Architect, Engineer, Entrepreneur, Lanista)

Level: 60

Sertorius’ father-in-law, and an old [Hero] at that.

Though his son-in-law was all icy self-control, Dispater smiled at the incoming Foresight... but his lips never reached his blue eyes. A grasping greed eclipsing even the one inside Kairos’ heart burned within his gaze, tempered only by cunning and caution.

As they prepared to land, Kairos ordered Rhadamanthe to bring Prince Critias above deck. The boy that emerged from the cargo wore neither shackles nor restraints, but he was a hostage all the same. His amber eyes glared at Kairos with a hateful fire. Rhadamanthe gently pushed him towards his captain, but the child recoiled at the minotaur’s touch.

“How are you, Your Highness?” Kairos asked Critias in Thessalan.

“Fine,” the boy answered, looking at the spot where he stabbed Kairos. “How is your thigh?”

“It healed,” Kairos replied, amused by his insolence. “A wiser child would have held his tongue.”

“What is there to hide, Travian bastard?” The boy was too bold by half. “You killed my mother and father.”

Well, from the look of it, he would foster a grudge. Though Kairos was loath to tell the boy the truth about his parents’ demise, perhaps it would lessen the blow. “Your father killed your mother, and then killed himself through his foolishness,” the pirate said. “I caused the situation, but it was the king’s spell that slew his queen.”

“They died defending their country from reavers and rapists,” the boy-king replied angrily, his gaze fierce and vengeful. “One day, I will have your head, pirate. I swear it before the gods.”

Kairos wondered if he should truly let this boy ascend to the throne of Orthia. Though he was only six, the Travian had heard enough stories not to underestimate the march of destiny. Critias could very well grow into a [Hero] himself and lead an army against Travia one day, if Mithridates didn’t assassinate him first.

“I will follow your growth with great interest,” Kairos said, Critias spitting at his feet in response.

“I still think you should let me eat him,” Rook said, glaring at the boy. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Neither did Kairos, but if he had to relinquish that boy to avoid further retaliation against his colony, he would. The Foresight docked at the pier, the crew setting a plank to move on land.

“Ave Remus,” Sertorius saluted Kairos, as the pirate and his crew left the Foresight’s deck for the marble ground. His men eyed Rhadamanthe warily, minotaurs being despised outside of Travia and the Cyclopean Islands. “Welcome home.”

The pirate returned the salute, and presented the judge with the sulking Critias. “I come like a Greek, bearing a gift.”

The Lycean magistrate looked at the boy-king with cold, calculating eyes. “Many here wondered why I would give my sister to a Travian and a wolf-son, but tales of your brilliant victory against Lysander silenced them. I have high hopes for what we may accomplish together, my friend. As for the boy, his aunt is already here.”

“Queen Euthenia?” Kairos asked in surprise, while Critias’ eyes lit up with hope.

“Yes. I have drafted a peace treaty for you and her to sign. As a [Judge], the power of Lyce and the Senex will back it up. Even the foreign queen will abide by its terms.”

Kairos had heard of these Lycean pacts. To seal Lycaon beneath their city, the ruling families of Lyce petitioned Orgonos, New God of Magic, for help. The families were bound by a powerful spell and a unique [Legend], and became the Senex, Lyce’s ruling institution. An institution with a life of its own; an artificial [God].

Lycean magistrates could invoke the same power that bound Lycaon to draft laws, contracts, and edicts, making them just as binding as an oath to the Furies. Worse, these agreements could bind settlements just as easily as people. What Lyce didn’t conquer through force, it usually assimilated through binding treaties and diplomacy. They brought many islands into their fold through beneficiary, unbreakable agreements, and none of their vassal cities could rebel without facing dangerous calamities.

Their laws could even force the dead to rise up, making soldiers finish their term of service in life or undeath.

“Remus, I present to you my father-in-law, Dispater,” Sertorius said, waving his hand at his fellow nobleman. “The richest man in Lyce.”

The man extended a hand to Kairos, and shook it warmly. “I have heard great things about you, and your new colony,” the man said with a kind smile that didn’t reach the eyes. “I would gladly discuss investing in its infrastructures. I understand how difficult it is to start a new city without the sufficient capital.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Kairos said, though he promised himself to be careful around this man. He could feel a jolt of magic when their palms met. “These are my crew officers. My first mate and treasurer, Cassandra; our navigator and priest, Rhadamanthe; and Thales, our shipwright and colony planner.”

“Don’t forget me!” Rook reminded Kairos, scratching at his leg.

“And our mascot Rook,” the [Hero] added, amused by his pet’s behavior.

“Cassandra Twice-Born,” Sertorius said, as the Foresight’s crew bowed at the Lycean magistrate. “I heard you came back from the Underworld itself.”

“I did,” Cassandra replied warily, a hand on her waist. “News travels fast.”

“As I told your captain, I have my ways.” Sertorius then focused back on Kairos. “You didn’t bring your Scylla friend?”

“Why would I?” the pirate asked innocently.

Sertorius answered with a cold smile, “I heard she was your… closest advisor.”

He knew. “Will that be a problem?”

“No, as long as you sign this.” Sertorius handed the Travian [Hero] a scroll. “Your marriage contract.”

“It is a very mechanical way of expressing it,” Cassandra said, as Kairos took the document.

“This is a matter of state, not romance,” Sertorius replied. “Though I think you will find our alliance’s terms agreeable.”

Kairos read the text in detail. Besides the dowry of six thousand gold coins, the Flavii also offered their political patronage, which included the possibility of providing military assistance if asked by the husband; in short, the Travian warlord could install a Lycean garrison in Histria whenever he wished. He wouldn’t call on this option, but the fact Sertorius offered an army as a dowry spoke volumes about his family’s power. The contract also involved Kairos gaining Lycean citizenship, and recovering all the Marius family’s holdings.

A few of the clauses made him blink however. While Kairos was allowed to keep ‘concubines, slaves, and war-prizes,’ he was forbidden from divorcing his wife for ten years, and her children would have the lion’s share of the inheritance. If the [Hero] had married anyone else before signing this agreement, he was expected to execute his previous wife to secure Julia’s position, and the contract would become void if no male heir was born until the terms’ expiration.

Finally, Julia would keep the Flavii family name, and the marriage contract would be enforced by Lyce under the pain of ‘divine punishment.’

“As you are part of the family, I will also contribute,” Dispater said, his voice warm like honey. “Trade contacts, builders…”

“Why a male heir specifically, though?” Kairos asked with a frown.

“We Flavii are one of the bloodlines maintaining Lycaon’s seal, with the pater familia inheriting the duty,” Sertorius explained. “The more back-up male heirs we have, the better. Especially with the current circumstances.”

“You speak of the Beast Cult, I suppose?” Rhadamanthe asked in Lycean. “Is it true that a [Demigod] leads them?”

Sertorius nodded. “You are well-informed, but I suppose I should have expected a priest to know such things.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Cassandra said. “They’re a werewolf cult that worships Lycaon.”

“Those are rabble and murderers,” Dispater dismissed her worries. “Nothing more than outlaws.”

“The Beast Cult yearns to break Lycaon’s seal, which involves targeting the Senex families for extermination,” Sertorius confirmed. “While our family has a solid line of succession, keeping my sister abroad would spare her from a potential assassination attempt.”

Kairos continued reading the text, noticing a recently added clause involving him sharing samples of the fire rods with the Flavii family. It seemed Lyce had grown interested in his new magical innovation. He reached the document’s end, finding that his future wife had already signed with her blood.

“For you sister,” Kairos said, not signing yet, “can you tell me what scandal caused this match?”

“Half-sister, to be precise,” Sertorius said. “Our late sire fathered her from a concubine he took back from a campaign against Achlys. As for the reasons, you will know after you sign.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Cassandra said, skeptical. “He has the right to know.”

“Would it change anything?” Sertorius raised an eyebrow. “We all know you wouldn’t be here if you had a better alternative. This is the best offer you will get, and I suggest you take it.”

Unfortunately, he had a point. Both took risks in this agreement, since Sertorius bound himself to a pirate warlord embroiled in a conflict with a foreign power; since the document allowed Kairos to keep Andromache for his personal happiness, he didn’t see any reason not to sign. Whether his wife was a wanton degenerate or something else, what she had done on Lycean soil didn’t matter.

He didn’t marry Julia; he married Sertorius.

“Are you sure, Kairos?” Cassandra asked him in Travian, her face full of concern. “There is no turning back from this.”

“I’ve gone too far to turn back.” Kairos bit his thumb, and applied it to the document while Cassandra looked on. His blood mixed with the vellum, and a jolt of magic raced through the [Hero]’s body.

You signed a [Lycean Marriage Contract].

“Thank you for your trust, Remus,” Sertorius said, as he recovered the contract. “There are actually two reasons for my sister’s fall from grace. One that will become clear when you see her, and the other is that she killed her previous betrothed.”

He said that so casually, it almost sounded trivial.

“Are you joking?” Cassandra asked, incensed like a big sister eager to protect her younger sibling.

Kairos, who was more measured, asked for details. “She killed him over what?”

“My sister was caught abed with a powerful nobleman’s wife,” Sertorius said with a hint of anger. “Since they couldn’t make the matter public without facing humiliation, the jealous husband and her betrothed challenged my sister to a private duel to clean their honor.”

“Julia is a talented swordswoman,” Dispater added. “Many challenged her to gain her favor, and failed.”

“My sister won the fights, but accidentally killed both men,” Sertorius said. “This incident is a stain on my family’s name, and hopefully distance will make people forget it.”

Charming. Kairos was happy he didn’t take Nessus on the trip. He could already imagine the satyr’s taunts. “I see.”

“I didn’t see a provision preventing the wife from killing her husband in the contract,” Cassandra pointed out with a frown.

“Why would she?” Sertorius asked with a raised eyebrow. “The matter was an accident. My sister tried to win peace with gold and words, but the fools insisted on a fight. All they bought was their own death, and Julia learned caution.”

Kairos couldn’t blame his future wife for sleeping around before the wedding, when he did so himself. “Well, we are condemned to get along, she and I.”

“Indeed,” the magistrate replied with a tone that implied deadly consequences otherwise.

“When is the wedding?” Cassandra asked with a short sigh.

“Tonight, at our villa,” Sertorius said, clearly eager to see Kairos tie the knot. Perhaps he expected his in-law to run off. “I will give you a few hours to prepare and get acquainted with my sister. Once the ceremony is over, our families will be united in blood. If you will follow me.”

Without wasting any more time, Sertorius and his men escorted the group to his family’s villa. Guards surrounded Rhadamanthe and Critias, who reacted with a quiet stoicism, while Dispater singled out Cassandra and Thales. He immediately breached the question of the colony, asking questions about its construction. While the automaton reacted with enthusiasm, Cass remained wary about giving too much information. Still, Kairos had the feeling they would talk all night.

Though the walk was relatively short, Kairos took the time to observe his mother’s city. Once they passed the walls and fortifications, the [Hero] could scarcely see a square without a fountain, or a paved street without marble columns. Bronze and ivory statues of the empire’s many [Heroes] and [Demigods] stood atop stone pillars, overseeing the noisy Lycean crowds; Kairos watched a five meters tall cyclops sell magical items to a crowd of men and centaurs. Armored watchmen patrolled every corner, often with giant wolves the size of horses, cerberi, or trained manticores. The city breathed an odd mix of military tradition and cosmopolitanism.

Finally, Sertorius led them to an enormous villa built into the cliffs, protected by steel automatons four meters in height. The marble building occupied five floors arranged in terraces overseeing the peaceful sea, the structure occupying almost three hundred meters in length along the coast. From what Kairos could see, it even included a fenced vineyard and a pegasus stable.

Though he kept a neutral expression, the [Hero] couldn’t help but feel like a peasant entering a king’s domain. This family was just as rich as Mithridates, and probably owned more wealth than all of Lissala’s population combined. Cassandra remained speechless at the sight, while Thales marveled at the architecture. Only Rhadamanthe reacted with stoicism, as if he had seen something greater before.

Kairos swore that one day, he would build a palace just as opulent in Histria. Something that would awe others, as much as this building impressed him.

“Your friends will wait a few minutes,” the judge informed Kairos, as they stopped before tall red doors. “I believe you and my sister should have a moment alone to introduce yourselves.”

Kairos answered with a nod, the automatons opening the red doors. “Can I come?” Rook asked, wagging his tail.

“Does your sister dislike animals?” Kairos asked his future brother-in-law. “My griffin never leaves me.”

“She is fond of strange and exotic beasts,” Sertorius replied, amused. “You may bring your pet with you.”

The [Hero], the griffin, and the magistrate walked inside a richly decorated atrium held by four marble columns, with gates on all sides. The pillars surrounded a shallow pool beneath an open ceiling, which allowed rainwater to fill it up. “So big…” Rook said, looking at the ceiling.

However, Kairos paid more attention to the music echoing within this hall: a beautiful harp song, coming from the room on the right. Sertorius followed the music and led his future-in-law to a marble terrace outside.

They found her sitting on a bench, playing a golden harp while facing the sea. Another woman danced to her tune.

Julia Flavii was quite the lovely sight. Her long, carefully arranged dark red hair contrasted neatly with her porcelain skin. She had a striking face that few mortals could rival, and her blue-grey eyes reminded Kairos of his mother, willful and confident. She wore a red gown showcasing her slender, graceful figure. A ruby choker and golden diadem completed the picture, and Kairos noticed a sheathed sword against the bench.

She wasn’t quite the otherworldly beauty that Andromache was, but she was far more refined than the Scylla. Queenly, even. Kairos estimated her as around his own age.

The other woman on the terrace seemed to be a professional dancer, if he could trust the feathered, black gown she wore; a dress that left her legs, arms, and shoulders exposed. She was lithe and lissome, with long black hair and dark blue eyes. Her sandals made no sound while she danced, and she was truly the dizzying sight. Rook couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Julia,” Sertorius said, the song ending as soon as he spoke up. “Your betrothed is here.”

The dancer abruptly stopped and bowed before the magistrate and his guest. “Dominus,” she said, her voice clear as water, though Sertorius didn’t acknowledge her. The interaction sent shivers down Kairos’ spine. That woman was a slave.

Julia’s response was more measured. After a short silence, she glanced at her brother, and then at Kairos.

“Brother, Remus,” Julia spoke, her voice melodious and clear like that of a trainer singer. Her steely eyes evaluated her betrothed with cold calculation. She is her brother’s sister, that one, Kairos thought.

“You are not wearing your [Ring of Falsification],” Sertorius said, his expression straining. “Someone could see you from the sea.”

“I would like to see someone capable of ignoring the villa’s wards, brother. I haven’t gone out in months, must I hide inside my own home too?” Her eyes wandered from Sertorius to Kairos, her lips forming a pleased smile. “What perfume do you wear? It’s dizzying.”

Kairos didn’t wear any. Unless she smelled [Monster Lure]? But if she did...

“You smell very good too,” Rook said, nodding at Julia in appreciation. Now that he said it, she did wear a perfume of honey and jasmine. “I’m Rook! Kairos is my human, but we can share him!”

“Rook? You do not look like a crow, little songbird.” Julia smiled warmly at the griffin, who puffed his chest to impress her. “We have sphinx cubs in the stable, if you want company for the wedding. I am afraid I will have your master all for myself tonight.”

“Sphinxes?” The griffin wagged his tail. “I have never seen sphinxes!”

She could understand Rook, and he could understand her; which meant she had [Beast Tongue]. Kairos finally guessed why her brother wanted her away, but used [Observer] to confirm it.

Julia Flavii Lucina

Legend: None (Elite)

Race: Werewolf

Class: Rogue (Bard, Duelist, Assassin, Spymaster)

Level: 32

Nothing that should bother you, Sertorius had said, that cold-blooded bastard. “That explains many things,” Kairos muttered to himself.

“Will that be a problem?” Sertorius asked Kairos, having read his mind.

“No,” the [Hero] replied, almost angry that he would even suggest that. “Of course not.”

Their acceptance of slavery might prove problematic though.

“Then I will let you get acquainted,” the magistrate said in a heartbeat. “The ceremony starts in a few hours.”

Julia glanced at the dancer with a warmer gaze than she gave her future husband. “Leave us alone too, Caenis.”

“Yes, Domina.” The dancer gave her mistress a deep bow, she and Sertorius leaving and closing the terrace’s door behind them. No doubt they would welcome the other guests.

Kairos and his future wife observed each other in silence, until the [Hero] broke it with a compliment, “You are quite lovely.”

“You are not unfortunate yourself,” Julia replied with an amused smile. “Far more handsome than my previous betrothed.”

“I hope so, since from what I heard you killed my predecessor,” Kairos said while sitting on the bench next to her. “How much of that duel story is a cover-up?”

“Not much, truth be told,” she said. “I did sleep with a married woman, her husband and my betrothed did challenge me to a duel, and I did defeat them fairly. However, I had no intention of killing either of them.”

“You fought them on a full moon,” Kairos guessed.

Julia’s eyes wandered to the sea, her gaze turning sorrowful. “You know how that curse works. You are normal most of your life, and then one night when the moon is full, your race changes to [Werewolf] and the beast comes out. When I regained control, I had killed them both, and my family covered up the mess.”

Kairos could imagine why. Werewolves were despised in Lyce since its people overthrew Lycaon, and to have one pop up in a family enforcing the god-king’s seal would cause quite the stir. It also explained why Sertorius would marry his sister to a foreigner with a werewolf for a mother.

“The whole affair was a mess,” Julia said with a shrug. “Both my betrothed and the husband in question did not keep to one bed either, you know? I find it hypocritical that they would condemn me for something they engaged in, but Lycean men expect their women to suffer in silence. Because only males can become heirs of the Senex and maintain Lycaon’s seal, the law puts men above women here.”

Kairos suddenly realized that his marriage contract allowed him to keep bed warmers, but didn’t extend the same courtesy to his wife.

“I thought the werewolf curse started at puberty?” the [Hero] asked his betrothed. It had been the case with his mother and her late brother at least.

“Who does not love a late bloomer?” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “I have been under house arrest for months now, to make sure my condition does not become public knowledge. I have slaves and servants doing errands on my behalf, but I admit leaving these walls will be a relief. Even if I am shipped halfway across the world to a land I’ve never seen.”

She didn’t sound so happy about it, but it beat the alternative. Known werewolves unlucky enough not to escape Lyce usually ended up dead.

“Gender relationships are different in Travia,” Kairos explained while trying to soften the blow. “Both sexes are equal, and the firstborn inherits. We have as many pirate queens as pirate kings.”

“But you still make pirates kings and queens,” she pointed out. “You are on your way to become one, from what I heard.”

“All I’m saying is that you will enjoy privileges forbidden to you in Lyce.” Kairos joined his hands. “And some you won’t, like that slave girl.”

Julia observed him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Does your city have a theater?” she asked.

“No,” Kairos confessed. “Not yet at least.”

“You shall build one,” she said with a tone that allowed no argument. “I refuse to live in a town without a theater.”

“We have a marsh, does that count?” Rook asked, before leaping on Julia’s lap. The Lycean noblewoman didn’t recoil at his contact, and in fact, seemed to welcome it. “Your lap is so soft. Kairos, you should try it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Julia replied coyly, before smiling at Kairos. “Perhaps you could tell me more about your home? I have reports of gorgons, hydras, and lions, but I am not sure what to believe.”

Well.

Like father, like son.

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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons.