Kairos 35: Marching to War (Patreon)

Queen Medea returned Nessus to his natural form last.

One by one, she had the beast crew of the Foresight bow before her, under the shadow of their living ship. The sorceress looked down on the mortals from atop her golden dragon’s back, a magical scepter in her hand. Kairos had to admit that at that moment, she looked every bit the divine queen she pretended to be. She didn't hide her displeasure though. 

In total, the council of elders and Thalestries forced Medea to free six hundred men, Kairos’ soldiers included, from servitude. Each was granted a weapon, and little else.

“I only granted you a temporary reprieve,” Medea addressed the men from atop her dragon. “Should you leave Achlys, or prove turncoat, you shall return to a form more befitting of your cowardice.”

“I wonder what Her Royal Pain would look like,” Nessus said, massaging his missing eye’s spot. Though he was now a mighty satyr again, the magic hadn’t cured his wounds, nor made him lose his crass wit. “A goose, or a snake perhaps?”

Medea’s dragon flapped its tongue like a hungry serpent, and the archer wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. The witch-queen looked at Nessus suspiciously, as if finding him vaguely familiar, but quickly lost interest.

Other men had wept at being freed from a beast’s body, and a few of Kairos’ crew thanked him for negotiating their release. Tiberius had been nigh-unconsolable, blaming his inexperience for the Argo fiasco. “There is no time to weep,” his captain had told him. “Do a census of the men instead. I want to know how many of them can fight.”

“I will do so immediately, Lord Kairos,” the Lycean had immediately answered, eager to prove his worth. What Dispater’s son lacked in experience or nerve, he made up for in determination.

Thalestris and the council of elders had gathered all the soldiers they could muster in a scant few days, which was a surprising lot. All women in Achlys learned to fight before they reached their teenage years, to defend their island if the need arose. Kairos estimated Themiscyra’s troops to be at around five thousand, though it didn’t represent the full island’s strength. The amazon clans needed more time to assemble, but by then the undead might have invaded their shores.

The large army traveled at night, in order to reach Moros at dawn. Thalestris believed, and rightly so, that Medea’s presence would attract Jason’s full wrath. Better to pick the time of the fight, and fortify the port city first.

Kairos commanded his own crew from his walking ship’s bow, advancing at the column’s vanguard with Thalestris’ troops on the ground, and Medea’s dragon above their heads. Andromache held his arm at his left, while Cassandra studied old scrolls.

She had purified Persephone’s temple in Themiscyra with salt and prayers, allowing plants to grow inside the walls again without rotting. But the Queen of the Underworld sent no other sign. Cassandra had taken books from the temple, hoping that one of them would reveal her Quest’s solution.

“You did not need to call me,” Andromache said in human form, while Rook, Horace, and other flyers surveyed the skies above them. The dawning sun was slowly waking up behind the horizon, and they could already hear the sound of the sea. The Foresight crushed trees as it walked, leaving a path for amazon horsewomen to follow.

“I almost did.” Back when Medea choked him and the Furies threatened to avenge his demise. “But considering the bloodbath that would have followed, I would rather have you live on.”

“If you were to die, I would find a way to raise you,” the Scylla replied, her fingers brushing against her lover’s skin. “I would find that phoenix, and rip out his feathers like a flower’s petals.”

Kairos smiled, but it was a bittersweet one. “I would rather that you move on. Such a quest has been the doom of Orpheus. The world is full of men, one is bound to make you happy.”

“I do not want another man, my other half. I want you.” Andromache glanced at Thalestris, leading her troops atop a silver mare. “We will live through this.”

Kairos wasn’t so sure, as he glanced at his crew.

Men and women had both returned to their posts, which had improved their mood somewhat. Nessus was playfully talking to Dag and Chloris near the ballistae, the amazon having remained with the crew to act as their interpreter. Kairos didn’t hear what they said, but both women were laughing. The sight warmed the captain’s heart.

But he also noticed Astraea, Opis, and others looking over the deck at the amazon column surrounding them; some with doubts and worry, others with anger. The witches they hated most, for their treachery had cost them friends and allies. And of course, when Kairos gave orders, few of them obeyed swiftly; though they did follow orders in the end.

Lifting the curse had helped the captain recover some goodwill, but it was only a start. And most considered the Achlysians foes, whether they wielded magic or not. Kairos didn’t think he risked a mutiny at an inopportune moment, but he couldn’t exclude the possibility.

“He shall betray you,” said a voice above their heads in Greek.

Kairos, Andromache, and Cassandra looked up, as Medea floated above their heads. She had leaped from her dragon’s back, and flew by her own power instead. Her robes danced as if carried by a powerful gust, though Kairos sensed no change in the air.

“He will find a wife to cast you aside for,” Medea declared, as she landed on the deck barefoot. “A pretty princess who can give him a throne.”

Dag, Nessus, and others grabbed their weapons, but Kairos stopped them with a raised hand. The same magic that had protected the Travian [Hero] from murder also shielded the witch-queen, as their host. The crew didn’t skewer Medea, but many kept their hands on their pommels in spite of their captain’s warnings. Even Nessus, who had lowered his bow, eyed the witch warily.

Kairos couldn’t blame him.

“He already has a wife,” Andromache said with a disdainful expression, “but I care not if another woman has his hand, so long as I have his heart.”

“A sweet illusion,” Medea replied, bitter and skeptical. “Men put less value on love than we women do, Scylla. Their true love is always power.”

“I am not your husband, Lady Medea,” Kairos said with a frown, before offering her the bone ring that started this whole fiasco. “This ring is ill-fit for me.”

Medea’s eyes narrowed, while her pale fingers closed around the ring. The item’s sight seemed to bring back memories of older, simpler times.

“Have you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything for their sake?” she asked Kairos.

The Travian captain frowned, before glancing at Andromache. He would die for his mistress, as much as she would die for him; he would do the same for Julia, though more out of duty than affection.

But could he do anything for their sake? Cross all lines in the name of love? Kairos couldn’t tell. Words were wind, and one’s character was revealed in times of turmoil. He had never been in a situation that would put his love to the test.

“When Jason came to Colchis, his patron Hera had Eros fire one of his arrows at my heart. It set my heart ablaze with passion.” Medea’s voice brimmed not with anger, but with longing. “I gave Jason my maidenhood. I gave him my honor. I gave him children. I gave him victory. I slew my own brother for him, and made my father weep. I slew his foes too. I gave Jason everything, and all I ever asked in return was his love. When he fled into exile to Corinth, I followed. Though its people despised me for being a witch, I endured it. He was my world.”

A part of her still loved him.

She couldn’t have hated him so deeply otherwise.

“I granted Jason that ring so that I may always protect him,” she said, her voice breaking. “For ten years he wore my gift, until he returned it to wed a Corinthian princess. I was shattered, and when I reminded him of all I sacrificed for his sake, my husband answered that he should only thank the gods for making me fall in love with him.”

Andromache looked away, and Cassandra’s eyes narrowed in compassion.

“The Corinthians chased me from their city with stones and excrements. Me and my youngest sons. Oh, Memeres and Phares… They had their father’s face, you know that? One only had to take a look at them to see it.” Medea seemed on the verge of tears. “When I… when I looked at them, seeing the physical incarnation of my love mocking me, I… I saw red, and I…”

Kairos shivered and paled, as Medea’s expression turned frightening. For a moment, she looked no longer like a queen, but a possessed madwoman. She mimicked the act of stabbing someone with an invisible knife, a smaller creature no taller than Kairos’ waist.

“When I regained my mind, they… they were bleeding and...” Her eyes shone with a primal fury, but beneath the rage, there was only pain. “I swore vengeance on their corpses. I burnt Corinth, and his new wife too. I burnt them all, and I cursed my husband. I poisoned his loins with worms so that he would never find pleasure in a woman again.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra said, so low Kairos could barely hear her.

Medea wouldn’t hear any of it, her gaze haunted by centuries of bitter trials. “King Aegeus offered me his protection, should I offer him a son to inherit his throne. I fulfilled my oath and gave him my sweet Medus, but he chased us too for his precious Theseus. He disdained his own flesh and blood for Poseidon’s bastard. The cuckold king, they should have called him.”

At long last, she put the Achlys’ ring on her left hand, as if she were married again. Kairos briefly noticed the shade of another ring on her right, but it was no more than a trick of the light.

“You men, you just keep taking from us women,” Medea said with disdain. “You force us to bear your sons and suffer in silence, before casting us aside. You all disgust me.”

“I have some compassion for your hardships, Lady Medea,” Kairos admitted. Gods and men did her terrible injustices, that was true. “But much less so for your selfishness and cowardice. Right now, it isn’t men who suffer for your curse, but your own people.”

“You are the one to talk, halfbreed,” the witch-queen snored. “How many have perished for your ambitions?”

“Except I lead from the front,” Kairos replied, “rather than the far, far back. I have risked my life half a dozen times, and never asked for more than what I was willing to give.”

And besides, Kairos fought to secure Travia’s future, for his people to claim new lands and prosper in the future. He didn’t have men die pointlessly to save his own skin.

“I have wondered how could Jason’s [Hero]-Rank [Legend] sustain a [Demigod], even the pale shadow of one,” Cassandra said with a frown. “But you gave us the answer.”

“You sustain the Argo’s curse, albeit unwillingly,” Andromache said with a frown. “The bond Eros formed between you and your fool of a husband linked your [Legends] together. That is why old queen Persephone turned against you. So long as you breathe, the Argo will never rest.”

“You think I did not try to banish my husband back to the Underworld?” Medea hissed. “The bond between us is unbreakable by both gods and men. So long as I live, Jason will rise again… and while he roams the night, I will never die either. Our love and hate links our souls as one, like twin serpents devouring one another.”

Kairos’ eyes widened, as everything fell into place. “All your crimes have condemned you to Tartarus. That’s what you’re afraid of. That’s why you took your aunt’s identity, so your husband wouldn’t track you down. But in the end, you couldn’t hide forever.”

The queen of Achlys didn’t deny it. “I refuse to pay for crimes I committed on my husband’s behalf, while he goes on to rest. I refuse. He will suffer as I suffered, until the sun dies out like my grandfather Helios.”

Cassandra’s jaw clenched in anger. “His torment is worth thousands of lives to you?”

Medea’s eyes turned into two black serpent pits. “If all humans on this earth cursed my husband’s name, it wouldn’t be an ounce of the hate I feel for him right now.”

Kairos had heard enough, and he didn’t like any of it. “I see it now,” he said. “If you and your husband could simply keep hurting one another, nobody would care, but you have to drag thousands of innocents in this pointless, endless war. You are both selfish people who need to die for the good of everyone else.”

“Many have tried to slay me, and all have failed,” Medea replied, a crimson aura shrouding her body like armor. “Even if you manage to kill me somehow, this will do more harm than good. I have made this island a paradise, where women are no longer oppressed by men.”

The Travian captain sneered. “Instead they are sacrificed on a bitter witch’s altar.”

“Think what you will, Kairos. I have outlived the old gods themselves, and I will survive your contempt. You are mortal, while I am not.” She floated above the deck. “I will defend my people, but I shall not protect you. With luck, you will perish.”

And on these words, she floated back to her dragon, and both flew ahead of the cohort towards Moros.

“I understand her,” Andromache said, the only one who showed sympathy to the witch-queen. “I feel the same about Circe. Hate is bitter, but it gives strength and purpose in this cold world of ours.”

“Is their love even genuine?” Cassandra asked.

She had a point. After what Hera and Eros did to her, Kairos wondered. Had they inflamed something that was already present, or created magical affection from nothing? Medea was as much a victim of the old gods as Andromache and Euryale were.

But though Kairos recognized the injustice there, her behavior towards her own people disgusted him on a bone-deep level. The Travian might have flaws, but he would never hide in a corner while someone raided Histria’s shores. Thalestris was right, a ruler who didn’t protect their countrymen was no ruler at all.

“Will you support her?” Kairos asked Andromache.

“I will support you, my love,” his mistress replied, her fingers’ grip strengthening on her staff. “What shall we do?”

“I refuse to be anyone’s pawn again,” Kairos said firmly. “I won’t defend Mithridates’ friend, and Jason has to perish for Cass’ sake and this island’s. They both have to go.”

“Then we slay her first.”

“That won’t work,” Cassandra replied with a frown. “Medea is powerful, paranoid, and not without allies. I fear that even if we succeed, her coven will turn on us next; and though the amazon elders have lost respect for their witch-queen, she still maintains the curse protecting their shores from invaders. Some will not look kindly on an assassination plot without their say. We will lose people trying to escape Achlys, and spark a civil war.”

“And the laws of Xenia protect her just as they shield us from her wrath,” Kairos pointed out. He had seen the Furies’ shadows, and had no wish to witness them in the flesh. “And if we fail in assassinating Medea, she will simply fly off on her dragon, like she did after setting Corinth on fire. We could try to set up a situation where she and her husband kill each other.”

“People will die in the crossfire,” Cass pointed out. “When heroes and demigods dance, the world trembles. Maybe… maybe we could convince them to simply sit for a moment and talk it out?”

“Even the greatest of conciliators would not reconcile these two,” Andromache said. “There isn’t anyone alive who could convince them to stand down.”

Cass’ eyes widened, before she returned to her scroll. “You’re right. No one alive.”

Andromache blinked. “The [Nekyia] Ritual?”

Kairos remembered his conversation with Euryale and Cassandra weeks ago. People traveled to the Necromanteion to perform the [Nekyia] Ritual, which allowed the living to question the shades of the dead. Families could visit their late relatives, or ask ancient seers and heroes for advice.

“Achlys’ necromancers ran a weaker version of the spell, before Persephone withdrew her favor,” Cassandra explained. “But if I can regain it…”

Kairos immediately caught on. “Rhadamanthe said [Rituals] didn’t need spellcasters. That they could be used by anyone, if they met the right criteria.”

“The full [Ritual] only worked in the Necromanteion,” Andromache pointed out, skeptical. “Other spells only allow the dead to answer through signs and omen.”

Cassandra remained optimistic. “I went to the Underworld and returned. More to the point, I was reborn on the island housing the Necromanteion, and I am kin to Persephone’s late high priestess. I could fuel the ritual as its catalyst, if Queen Persephone wills it.”

“For what purpose?” Andromache asked. “Even if you succeed, which shade will you summon? I fail to see who could make these two fools stand down, short of Zeus himself.”

“The only people Jason and Medea will both listen to,” the Foresight’s first mate answered grimly. “The first victims of their bloody feud.”

You have gained two levels (total 41) and 6 SPs.

“Did you get levels too?” Kairos asked, his allies nodding.

They had figured it out. The method to end the curse. Now, they only had to live long enough to see it through.

And yet, Cass’ mood didn’t improve at all. “Cass?” her captain asked.

“All of this is my fault, Kairos,” she said with a sigh. “I received this Quest years ago, back when the elder was still alive. If I had investigated the Argo’s curse earlier, I could have met her and benefited from her guidance. Jason wouldn’t have claimed so many victims and soldiers. Everything would have been so much easier.”

“Do you remember what you told me in that cavern, after the Argonauts nearly killed us all?” Kairos asked, and his first mate cautiously nodded. “Regret will make you blame yourself for events outside your control, and as long as there’s life… as long as there’s life, there’s hope. You spoke wisely then, so try to practice what you preach.”

She scoffed, but it made her lighten up. “Curse your long memory.”

The Stymphalian birds above screeched, and Kairos frowned. Dawn was rising, so the Argo should have left Moros; but Medea didn’t hide her fury, her dragon letting out a burst of solar flames in its fury. “What’s happening?!” the Travian shouted to Horace. “Has Moros fallen?!”

“The nest stands, but a fleet surrounds it!” the bird answered.

Kairos frowned. “Which fleet?” Did Jason learn to act under sunlight?

“Ours!” Rook replied from above, giddy with excitement. “It’s her!”

Kairos’ heart skipped a beat, as the Foresight finally walked within sight of Achlys’ shores.

Only a narrow strait separated Achlys from Moros, as the amazons built the port-city on a smaller island than their motherland. Moros might have once been a mighty city that would put Lissala to shame, but the Argo had taken its toll. Tall brick walls protected the city’s shores, but boulders had opened a large gap in the left one. All the watchtowers smoked like extinguished candles, and a dozen ships’ husks nearly cluttered the strait. Two lighthouses each stood on a side of the harbor, linked by a broken chain. That device could have once closed the harbor to invaders, but one of the two towers had collapsed, and the chain shattered.

A small fleet of Travian galleys blockaded Moros and its strait, among them Agron’s Bridgeburner. Kairos counted scores of them, though he assumed some were hidden out of sight behind Moros’. All of them shared the same, familiar flag.

A red hydra with five heads, and an eye at the center.

The beast that inspired it also swam in the waters near the Achlysian shores, no longer the arrogant beast that she had once been, but a cowed servant. She immediately moved to welcome the Foresight, followed by the Bridgeburner galley. “Former minion,” the hydra hissed upon recognizing Kairos. “The mistress sent us to help.”

Kairos ignored the reptile, instead, glancing at the red-haired woman standing on the Bridgeburner’s bow. She had taken to wearing wolf pelts like Aurelia, and beneath them she hid a leather armor and a sheathed sword. She looked ready for love and war both. Agron stood at her left, clearly itching for a fight, while Thales waved at Kairos from the right.

“Husband!” Julia shouted with a smile. “I heard you were in dire need of strength!”

--------------------------------------------

By the time they had their audience with Medea, the Foresight had recovered enough to swim again, the gash in its deck and the holes in its hull closed. So when it returned to the sea, it was with grace and elegance. Its legs retracted, and its oar fins moved once more to carry it forward. The crew shouted in joy upon returning to the sea, and doubly so when the Foresight linked to the Bridgeburner.

Julia was the first on the Foresight’s deck, and immediately moved to embrace her husband. She did not kiss him, thankfully, but perhaps only because Andromache openly scowled at the display of affection.

“How good to see you again, sir!” Thales said, his hands full of fire rods. Nessus and Dag immediately rushed to help him carry them. “Words cannot convey how relieved I am!”

“We heard the witches betrayed you and that the Argo nearly sank your ship,” Agron said gruffly. “I guess the rumors were greatly exaggerated.”

“How did you know?” Kairos asked his wife, squinting.

“I am a [Spymaster],” she replied coyly. “It’s what I do.”

But how could she learn of the battle so quickly after it happened? Did her family have agents on Achlys itself? Her brother had also shown near prescient awareness of Kairos’ movements in the past, and the Travian wondered if his sister had something to do with it too.

“I came to rescue you,” she explained, glancing at Moros. “Or to sack this city before salting the earth behind, if I learned of your demise. I would not take kindly to being widowed so soon.”

Kairos chuckled, before a terrible thought crossed his mind. “Who commands in Histria if you’re here, Julia?”

“My mother-in-law. Do not worry, I left Aurelia with a sizable garrison.” Julia glanced at her fleet. “I brought two thousand infantrymen, including two hundred archers. Most are Travian sellswords recruited with Dispater’s coin and tales of your reputation.”

“And they came?” Kairos asked, surprised. “I thought they would resent serving under a Lycean woman.”

“It is not me they came for, but you,” Julia said with a fiendish smile. “You are a Travian [Hero], slayer of Lysander, conqueror of Histria. And the grain shipments you sent to Travia did a great deal to make up for your mixed record.”

Kairos didn’t know what to say. He had hoped that his policies would eventually pay off, but a part of him always feared that they wouldn’t. The recent string of calamities had shaken his confidence.

“I do not see Rhadamanthe,” Thales said, slightly worried. “Is he still on the island?”

“He… he is in the cargo hold,” Cass answered, her mood souring. “His skull.”

The automaton was devastated. “Rhadamanthe is dead?” It was the minotaur that introduced the automaton to the crew in the first place. “Oh by Talos…”

“He… he asked that we return his remains to his wife.” Cass sighed. “I don’t know how to break the news.”

“I will do it,” Kairos said grimly. It was his duty as a captain, and by now he was almost used to this terrible task.

“I…” The automaton’s fingers fidgeted. “I… I should have gone with you instead of remaining behind. I should have been there.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Nessus said grimly, a few of the pirates looking away. “Trust me, it was a bad night.”

“I will build him a memorial, or an observatory in his memory,” Thales decided. “Rhadamanthe was always a good help to me. A colleague. I owe him that much at least.”

“I will not say I knew him well, but he did officiate my wedding,” Julia said with courtesy. “We shall support his widow, and the Achlysians will pay the blood price for their treachery.”

“So, whose blood do we shed to avenge our fallen?” Agron asked with a shrug, hands on his axe. “Send me into battle, so that our foes may taste my steel.”

Kairos glanced at Achlys’ shores. The twin queens Medea and Thalestris observed the fleet with either caution or anger, while General Petra seemed torn between relief and doubt. Their troops gathered on the shore and should have begun crossing the strait by now, but didn’t dare to with the Travians nearby.

They feared betrayal, but Kairos had given his word.

“The Argo,” he said. “It is the greater threat for now. You should have seen it attacking Moros.”

“We watched an undead ship rain arrows and flames at the wall, before blockading the city afterward,” Julia said, sounding strangely disappointed. Though her mother came from Achlys, she clearly had no love for the island of witches, and would have relished seeing it burn. “The garrison was so depleted, they had no choice but to let us enter the harbor.”

Kairos supposed that the undead thought they were invaders coming to invade Achlys’ shores, especially since the Travian fleet had no witch onboard. The Argo mustn't have seen the sails, or else they would have probably recognized the Foresight’s flag.

“Julia, I need to speak to you privately for a second.” Kairos led his wife a bit farther from the others, while Andromache watched on with a stony gaze.

Once he was sure no one could hear them, Kairos whispered to his wife about what happened. About Medea, about the temporary alliance with Achlys… and his promise to his crew most of all.

Julia was slightly frustrated, but not as much as Kairos worried. “It might be a blessing in disguise, because if you pull it through, no one will dare question you again,” she whispered. “But this habit you have of electing your leaders… even in Lyce, we limit it to a few. A chariot cannot ride when the horses all pull in different directions.”

“And who will make me pirate king, but my crew?” Kairos asked. Even now, his people still doubted.

She pointed at the fleet at their back.

“Your spear will make you king,” Julia answered after a short silence. “Your followers’ swords will make you king, alongside the gorgon’s snakes, my family’s coins, your crows’ talons, and your Scylla’s sorcery. Your friends and allies will make you king, husband, and you have far more than one crew. A few months ago, you started as a dirt poor pirate, and now look at the thousands who will fight for you.”

“Travians elect their captains,” Kairos pointed out. “It is our oldest tradition, since the time we fled Lyce.”

“Hopefully I will soon bear you sons and daughters, and I shall not have our subjects vote to drag them off their thrones,” Julia said, a hand on her waist. “Once we win decisively, you will have the prestige to make Histria ours, truly ours. You have the divine right to rule by your [Legend], and the strength to back it up.”

“The Travians will never accept a hereditary kingship,” Kairos replied. “Even if we win.”

“We will.” Julia’s smile turned carnivorous, the wolf in her showing itself. “It is unwise to disdain the trappings of power, husband, because power derives from these trappings. If people believe you are a king, then you will be treated as such. If they believe you are like any common man…”

Kairos wondered if he should tell her of his vision of Lycaon, but decided it would wait for another time.

“The Travians were ready to fight the world’s greatest empire to govern themselves.” Kairos glanced at Medea. “And truthfully, I have seen the limits of absolute power. You can force people to obey, but you don’t lead them. The moment you show weakness, they respond in kind. And the wheel always turns.”

And besides these pragmatic reasons, Kairos had no desire to become a tyrant. Never listening to others had led him to a disaster against Lysander, and he had learned the lesson.

To her credit, Julia listened. She was ambitious, but wise enough to consider her limits. And on some level, she understood that if she pushed people too hard, they would snap back harder. As a foreigner, her position was already quite fragile.

“Vali then,” she said.

“Vali?” It was a rising merchant empire in the south. Nowhere near as powerful as Lyce or Alexandria, but growing stronger each year. “What about it?”

“Vali is ruled by a kingly dynasty that shares its power with an assembly of merchant princes,” Julia explained. “We could establish something similar in Histria. You will be its pirate king, and our descendants after you. But you can share power with an assembly of your people. If every tributary captain rules their ship, then they shall have a voice in the common government.”

This… this might actually work. At least, a pirate lord should have a firm line of succession, whether from their own blood or another source of legitimacy. Travian alliances usually collapsed with their leader’s demise, and if Histria was to survive, it needed continuity in its leadership.

If Cassandra’s plan worked and they managed to lift the Argo’s curse, the victory would wash away the memory of their first defeat. Kairos would have more leeway afterward as far as his governance was concerned, whatever his final decision.

And with his new levels, he finally had the right tools to pull it through.

Kairos raised his eyes to the skies, and to the griffin making circles above his head. “Rook.”

“Yes, Kairos?”

“It’s time.”

The griffin landed at his friend’s feet so fast, that he left feathers falling in his trail. “Yes, yes, yes!” he squealed, wagging his tail like a dog. “Do it, do it, do it!”

Kairos opened his Status screen, and looked at the thirty-two Skill Points he had hoarded like a dragon with his gold. His eyes moved to his Stats, all average with one exception.

Sacrifice 30 Skill Points to raise your [Charisma] from B+ to A?

And so the Travian paid the hefty price.

A divine power filled his bones, the [Legend] within him strengthening his body and soul. A black and red shroud surrounded him like Medea’s aura, and all the people aboard the Foresight looked at him. Even the amazons on the shore seemed drawn to his presence, an invisible force making them notice him. Even when the shroud vanished, the power remained.

You ranked up your [Charisma] from B+ to A, and it has now entered the realm of myths.

You unlocked the [Beastmaster] Class Specialization, and gained access to the [Cult (Hero)] Skill.

[Beastmaster] granted him access to three Skills: [Animal Companion], [Skinchanger], and [Warg]. He only had two SP left, so he put them all in the first.

You sacrificed two Skill Points to purchase [Animal Companion 2]. You may select a willing animal as your soulbound partner, if their level is lower than yours. Though they will no longer gain experience by themselves, your partner’s level will always be set as yours minus 1, and if you have a [Legend], they will gain a connection to your myth. You can only have one animal companion at once, and only death will break the bond. You can intuitively sense your companion’s presence, and if you are targeted by a beneficial magical effect or buff, your companion will also benefit from it.

“Rook,” Kairos looked into his griffin’s eyes. “Will you become my only [Animal Companion], until death tears us apart?”

Julia chuckled at the phrasing, while Rook nodded fiercely. “Oh yes, Kairos!” he said, the magic binding them together. “We will be friends even into the und—”

The griffin never finished his sentence, as he began to shine like the sun. Kairos and his wife had to take a step back, some of the crewmates covering their eyes to protect themselves from the light.

When the griffin finished his transformation and the light died down, Kairos had to look up.

Rook had grown as large as most horses and lean as a panther, nearly two meters and a half in length, with a wingspan of roughly seven meters. His feathers had turned to a shade of scarlet and his eyes yellow, like the hydra on Kairos’ flag. His talons could tear armor to shreds, and his tail ended with a feathered serpent’s head.

“I am grown!” Rook rejoiced, admiring his feathers. “Look at how red they are! They shine in the sun!”

Kairos used [Observer] on his old partner, grinning ears to ears.

Rook, Feathered Friend

Legend: Monster Reaver’s Wings (Hero).

Race: Griffin (Mythic).

Class: Monster (Animal Companion).

Level: 40.

“Why does my tail have scales?” Rook asked, glancing at the hissing serpent growing out of his back. “That’s so weird, I can see through it! Uh, I won’t turn into a chimera, right?”

“I doubt so,” Kairos mused, many of his men glancing at the griffin with curiosity or admiration. Cassandra grinned ear to ear, while Julia petted the griffin behind the ears. Even Andromache smiled.

“Good, I don’t want to share my meals with a goat head.” Rook proudly showed his chest. “Come on, Kairos! Climb on my back!”

The thought had crossed Kairos’ mind, but he faced a little problem. “I don’t have the necessary Skills.”

“You will learn,” Cassandra said with a laugh, a hand on his shoulder. “Go.”

Neither his wife nor his mistress hid their amusement, and the lonely Kairos had no choice but to obey. Rook scoffed as the Travian climbed on his friend’s back, the griffin’s feathers soft as a pillow. “You’re heavier than I thought, Kairos.”

“Ouch,” Kairos replied with a grin, “are you calling me fat?”

“No, just big boned!” The griffin extended his wings. “Grab my neck, it’s gonna rock!”

Kairos did as he was told and held tight.

He almost fell off anyway.

Rook hadn’t lied. His wings carried so much strength that his rider was almost thrown backwards the moment they took flight. Kairos had never taken Skills to ride a horse, let alone a griffin. It was brutal. The rider took the wind full in his face, and each flap of his mount’s wings threatened to make him fall off.

And yet, as Rook rose by one meter, then two, then four and ten… Kairos held tight. The Foresight below him grew smaller, until it was no bigger than a large fish. Moros became a speck of dirt, Achlys a green, woody rock. The clouds brushed against the [Hero]’s cheeks, while Rook roared in triumph. Horace and the Stymphalian birds followed after them, like a pack of flying wolves.

“Look, Kairos!” Rook said, encouraging. “Look!”

When Kairos dared to raise his head, he saw the world as his friend did.

The Sunsea shone like a liquid sapphire under the dawning sun, an endless expanse of brilliant waters. The ocean was full of mysteries from below, but from above, it revealed itself in all of its glory. Fish swam beneath its waters in great schools, and in the distance whales sang while riding waves. The sea’s vast expanse promised adventure, to those brave enough to explore it.

Kairos never wanted to climb down.

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

Also, I would like to do homage to Kentaro Miura (July 11, 1966 – May 6, 2021), the author of Berserk who recently passed away. Berserk was a huge influence on me, and will forever remain one of the best, most beautiful manga of all times.