Kairos 97: In Memoriam (Patreon)

To cull the herd, Kairos thought as he walked around the celebrations. People danced all around him and officers invited him to partake in their feast, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t get his father’s words out of his mind.

Many heirs of the Senex had taken roles of leadership in the campaign, away from Lyce’s center of power. Romulus had already shown that he could operate outside the borders when he hunted Julia in Travia. Kairos had to assume his cult could probably do the same.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them to weaken the seal holding Lycaon imprisoned.

Had assassins already infiltrated the movement? Or had werewolves hidden in Thessala, waiting in ambush for the army to arrive? Or would they approach Mithridates with the offer of an alliance? The Poison Emperor would never trust Lycaon’s cult, but he wouldn’t mind helping them cause troubles in Lyce. There were countless ways they could damage Kairos’ war effort, and now he had to take each possibility into account.

And worst of all, the cult knew about his son.

This was meant to be a happy moment, and I feel more worried than ever, Kairos thought. Now I see shadows everywhere.

It was difficult for him to do so, but Kairos tried to push these dark thoughts into the deepest corner of his mind. He had little time left before sundown, and he needed to visit Rhadamanthe while he still could.

He owed his old crewmate that much.

The ghostly minotaur had joined his wife Io around a table far from the celebration. They watched on as their child, a minotaur calf who had inherited his mother’s snowy skin, tentatively took his first steps. He almost tripped and stumbled, but Kairos quickly summoned a gentle wind below the child. The breeze lifted the calf back to his feet, much to his amazement.

“Well done!” Io clapped to congratulate her calf, who let out a giggle of happiness. “Well done!”

“Little Cassander has doubled in size since last time we met,” Kairos noted as he smiled as the mother took back her calf in her hands. “I’m glad he learned to walk already.”

“M’lady Cassandra named her ship after you, my bull,” Io explained to her late husband as she put the child on her lap. “So I decided to honor our child with her name.”

“A wise choice.” The sound of Rhadamanthe’s voice filled Kairos heart with both joy and agonizing regret. It had been over a year since they had last spoken, and it strung his heart to hear him again. “Has he tried to solve a maze yet?”

“M’Lord offered him a small one for his birthday,” his wife replied. “But he hasn’t finished it yet.”

Minotaurs had an instinctual drive to solve mazes and puzzles, a remnant of their progenitor’s imprisonment in Daedalus’ Labyrinth. Giving calves geometry problems was a key part of rearing them. “I also commissioned puzzles from Aglaonice,” Kairos added. Though I had to dumb them down to make them solvable for a child. “Every minotaur I have met tells me that your son is truly gifted.”

“I saw him watching the stars at night, like you did,” Io said to her husband with pride. “I think he’ll grow into a seer too.”

“Lord Prometheus granted me the gift of foresight when I was a child. Perhaps he will smile on Cassander too.” The minotaur’s shadow nodded slowly as he examined his son. “Can I, my love?”

“Yes, of course.”

After receiving his wife’s permission, Rhadamanthe’s specter gently grabbed his son by the waist. Cassander didn’t resist and giggled as his father sat him on his lap.

Though it was outwardly heartwarming, the scene crushed Kairos’ spirit. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“Do not be,” the minotaur replied. “I am happy.”

“How can you say that?” Kairos asked his old friend, his voice full of shame. “If I had been more careful in Achlys, you would be holding your son with your very own flesh and bone. You would be taking care of him all day long instead of rotting in the Underworld.”

“All men must die one day, Kairos,” Rhadamanthe replied calmly. “If it hadn’t been Jason’s fork that slew me, it would have been disease, fangs, or old age.”

“I never resented you for what happened, M’lord,” Io added. “It wasn’t your fault. You did your best to save my bull.”

“My best was not enough,” Kairos replied with a sigh. “Rhadamanthe… why did you leave for Achlys with us? Your wife told me that you had predicted your own death.”

The ghostly minotaur didn’t deny it, his hand scratching his calf behind his tiny horns. “I did see my demise in the stars, that is true. I could have extended my life by a few years if I had made a different choice.”

“Then why did you follow us to Achlys?” Kairos asked in anguish, the question having tormented him for over a year. He turned to frown at his late friend’s wife. “Why did you let him go?”

“Because I trusted him,” Io replied without regrets. “I still do.”

“If I hadn’t gone, I would have lived, but neither you nor Cassandra would have met your destiny.” Rhadamanthe looked up at his former captain, his eyes twin shining stars in a sea of darkness. “Why do you think [Legends] exist, Kairos?”

Kairos glared at his late navigator. “Don’t you dare say I was more valuable than you because I had a [Legend]...”

“And yet as harsh as it sounds, this is true,” Rhadamanthe replied without sadness. “But please, answer my question.”

Kairos thought back of Nessus’ sacrifice, of the cosmic purpose of the Protogenoi and Personifications. “They serve a function in the Fate System that governs our world,” he guessed.

“Yes, but for what purpose?” Rhadamanthe asked again before offering an answer. “This world, our universe, is made of stories. Legends and myth give shape and structure to the primordial Chaos and create a world where life can thrive. The purpose of [Legends] is not to empower warriors eager for glory, but to make sure the tale of our world goes on forever. Because once there is no more story to tell, Fate will be undone and this world will crumble into Chaos. All things will end. Our universe is a stage, and we are all actors dancing on it. Whether small or great, we must all play our part.”

“Your role was never to die!” Kairos snapped, his voice causing a few onlookers to turn in their direction. “Life isn’t a play!”

His words startled the calf, but his father’s gentle hand quickly soothed him. “I was never the protagonist of this tale, Kairos.”

“Then who was?”

“You are. So are Cassandra, Agron, Thales, Andromache, and all the people bound by the Foresight. Don’t you see? The tale of the Argonauts was never named the Jasonica, but the Argonautica.”

Kairos looked away. “The crew is greater than its members?”

“This is something your uncle could never understand, but you did,” Rhadamanthe whispered calmly. “You set aside your selfish desires, guilt, and greed for the greater prosperity of our people. Although it cost you greatly, you shouldered the burden of command and many sins to protect us. In Achlys, you carried on when all hope seemed lost. And in the end, you led our crew to victory.”

“This place wouldn’t exist without you, M’lord,” Io added as she glanced at the celebrations. “If it hadn’t been for you, Helios would have burnt us to ashes.”

Rhadamanthe nodded in agreement. “My role was never more than that of the mentor, Kairos. I helped you along, until you could fly with your own wings.”

“And that was enough for you to be happy?” Kairos asked in disbelief.

“The secret of a happy life is not to fear death, but to accept it with no regrets. I have done what I set out to do since Lord Prometheus granted me my first glimpse into the future. I left the world in a better place than I found it, and you have grown into the great king I knew you could become. Thanks to my sacrifice and your hard work, my son will grow up in prosperity rather than hunger and poverty. He will live a better life than I ever did.”

Rhadamanthe chuckled to himself.

“That is something worth dying for, don’t you think?”

Kairos glanced at the calf on his father’s lap, who looked back at him with his innocent black eyes. What would he do for his own children’s sake?

Everything.

He couldn’t blame Rhadamanthe for making that choice. Kairos himself would have done it in a heartbeat if he had been in the same situation; just like his own father threw a chance at slaying Zama to care for his family.

“You were such a fool to believe in me,” the Travian King told Rhadamanthe.

“Fool or wise, I was right,” the minotaur replied with amusement before glancing at the celebration. Cassandra and her husband danced next to a campfire to the tune of Agron's music, while Julia, Caenis and Andromache introduced the specter of Chron to his grandchildren. “If you want to honor me, Kairos… then please give us all a happy ending. Do not let the likes of Mithridates write the ending of our crew’s tale. It is your efforts that will decide whether this ends in a tragedy or triumph.”

“I will,” Kairos swore before petting the calf with his hand. “I shall take care of him too.”

“You already have, M’lord,” Io replied. “More than you know.”

Kairos had come expecting to be crushed, but he left Rhadamanthe feeling lighter than ever. A burden of guilt had been lifted off his shoulders and replaced with a newfound purpose.

After this visit, Kairos left Rhadamanthe to enjoy alone time with his wife. Instead of rejoining his family immediately, he made a stop to greet Hybris’ priest. The tentacled, masked merfolk was busy sitting on pillows alongside the sphinx Agloanice with three different board games between them.

“Manling, there you are,” Agloanice greeted Kairos before inviting him to join them. The wily sphinx set a pillow aside for him, but she of course kept the most comfortable ones for herself. “Perhaps you can help us resolve the situation? I asked this creature a riddle and he refused to answer.”

“What riddle?” Kairos asked as he joined the duo. He would rather have discussed with the priest alone, as he remained wary of Aglaonice. The sphinx was a useful ally, but utterly self-serving.

“How can you create a cube double the volume of this one only using a compass and a straightedge?”

Oh great, a math problem. Kairos’ only weakness.

The masked priest, however, offered a blunt solution. “You cannot.”

“See?” Agloanice asked while slouching on her pillow. “He gave up and argued that it cannot be done!”

“I cannot while using a compass and a straightedge only,” the masked priest replied. “Hippocrates of Chios was already halfway through proving that postulate before the Anthropomachia.”

The sphinx playfully scratched her belly. “Well then, prove your point.”

The priest waved a hand, drops of water appearing on the board game to form numbers. Though Kairos had no advanced knowledge of mathematics, his [Barter] Skill helped with the calculations.

“So,” the king summarized as he struggled to understand the equations, “You suggest that the cube root of two, which is necessary to solve the problem, is not constructible.”

“Yes,” the masked priest stated with amusement as Aglaonice reviewed the solution multiple times, growing more and more infuriated each time she did so. “As I stated before, doubling the cube is possible through other methods. Achytas and Pandrosion had already found solutions using geometry—”

“Argh!” Aglaonice’s roar of frustration interrupted the priest and caused the watery numbers to evaporate. “What treachery is this? How did you acquire this information?”

“You would be surprised by the knowledge sunken below the waves,” the priest replied evasively. “My master Hybris gathered a trove of tablets from the Old World.”

“That’s alright… that’s alright, I still have two other unsolvable mathematical riddles to propose.”  Aglaonice gathered her breath and calmed herself. She observed the priest with what could pass for respect. “I guess I should have expected as much from a [Demigod] and proposed a harder question.”

After a short silence, the masked priest adjusted his posture slightly. “Since when did you figure it out?”

“My, you wounded my pride and now you underestimate me?” Aglaonice smiled ear to ear. “I knew it from the start.”

“Are you truly here, Hybris?” Kairos asked as he sat alongside them, glancing around to check if anybody listened. “My Skills should have seen through any illusion. Or is this a projection?”

“A projection,” the false priest replied, his mannerism subtly changing. His back hunched like a war snake, while his voice grew deeper. He was done playing humanoid. “You know the tales of how I deceived seaside communities, did you not? I can project an avatar, my lure, over a vast distance. I decide whatever form it takes.”

“And it is solid enough to move pieces,” Kairos said as he glanced at the board games.

“My lure can do much and reach far,” the Cetean [Demigod] replied with overweening pride. “My true body is currently in a hidden cave at the bottom of the ocean.”

“If you want me to predict your horoscope, you will have to visit me on land,” Aglaonice said. “I’m a cat. Water and I don’t mix.”

“I shall take your opinion in consideration,” the fake priest replied with alien coolness. “I admire your intelligence, sphinx. It is a quality we seek in the [Térastheon].”

“So this was all a test to join your [Pantheon]?” Aglaonice asked with curiosity. “I passed? Of course I passed.”

“My wife Julia already joined it in the last few months,” Kairos explained to Aglaonice. “As did Agron. I suggested that you could become a member as well.”

“I am glad you finally recognize my worth, manling, but what makes you think I even want to join a [Pantheon]?” Agloanice replied coyly. “I like my freedom, thank you very much.”

“Which is why I can hardly trust you, even with the oaths in place,” Kairos replied. “The laws of the [Térastheon] will prevent infighting and let us fully trust each other.”

The sphinx looked falsely mortified. “You don’t trust me? How rude! You wound me, manling! Here I thought we had something going on, but all along you were only using me?”

Kairos snorted. “Says the person who sold out her late mate.”

“For you, if I remember well. Which should show you the esteem I hold you in, manling.” The drama queen put a paw on her heart and made the face of someone being stabbed. “I would throw away the love of my life for your approval!”

“I doubt that,” Hybris said dryly. Unlike the sphinx, he was all business. “But I do not find your previous behavior an obstacle to joining our [Pantheon]. If you do, you will gain access to all the knowledge we accumulated since the Anthropomachia. A priceless trove of information.”

“Mmm…” Agloanice stopped her tantrum and considered the proposal. “Tempting… my horoscope did advise me that I should seize opportunities this month.”

Kairos couldn’t help but chuckle. “You consult the augurs each time you must make a decision?”

Then again, Prometheus’ prophecy had guided his path over the last year and Aglaonice was a talented seer. He couldn’t criticize her for hedging her bets.

“Of course I do, and everyone else should,” Aglaonice replied dismissively. “You know, I was considering giving our couple of the night their horoscope, but I thought it would be in bad taste. I predicted that their marriage would be blissful, but short-lived.”

Kairos immediately noticed the term for what it was, a sick joke. “Short-lived,” he said while squinting. “In what way?”

“Perhaps one of them will die, or both at once. Or maybe, just maybe, they will separate because of irreconcilable differences like half the manling couples that consulted me before.”

“How can you predict their horoscope?” Kairos asked with skepticism. “Orgonos gave me a blessing shielding me from divination, and I shared it with every single one of my officers.”

“And bypassing it was an exciting mental challenge, but I figured out a workaround,” Agloanice boasted before giving Kairos a coy smirk. “Don’t worry, I’m a good cat; I don’t share trade secrets. I doubt anyone but a specialized [Hero] seer could figure it out, and even so I cannot predict your location. Only your horoscope.”

“I assume that although she cannot predict you, she can see the ripples you make and draw conclusions from it,” Hybris guessed. “Horoscope prophecies are open-ended enough to work using second-hand information.”

“Shush,” the sphinx replied before putting a lionlike claw on her human lips. “I won’t say a thing.”

“Have you run horoscopes for others?” Kairos asked with a frown.

“You want me to tell you yours? Soon, you shall face great victories and defeats in this war of yours.”

“That doesn’t help at all,” the Travian King mocked her.

The sphinx grinned wickedly. “There is also a traitor in your household. The wolf of another pack infiltrated your own. They are here tonight, waiting for an opportunity.”

Kairos’ hands froze as his fingers clenched around his spear. “Who?” he asked, his tone murderous.

“By now, you should know that prophecies are never so clear. And your own policy of sharing Orgonos’ anti-divination blessing only makes my predictions blurrier. If I were you, I would trust no one.”

Which would be as terrible as trusting everyone. Kairos had seen what Mithridates’ paranoia had driven the Poison King to do. Trusting only oneself was a stairway to madness and loneliness. “Would you find this mole for me?” the Travian King asked. “And protect my children?”

“Now, that’s not part of our agreement. I am only an advisor, not a bodyguard.” The sphinx rolled on her back, leaving her belly and breasts exposed. “What’s in it for me?”

“You’ll receive all the knowledge and books we shall gather during our conquest of Thessala,” Kairos said, knowing the sphinx desired information about all else.

“Silly manling, you want to pay me with goods you don’t have yet?”

Of course she was driving a hard bargain. Some things never changed. “And here I was about to make you the curator of our kingdom’s new magical library,” Kairos added innocently. “You could have had access to all our records with extensive privileges, your wisdom recognized by all. But of course, I understand if you would rather die in obscurity…”

“A station worthy of my genius… It’s tempting, but not enough.” The sphinx’s smile turned predatory. “Here is what I offer, my dear King of Monsters. I shall take care of your children alongside your wife and make sure nothing happens to them. But in exchange, you will do me a very simple favor.”

In Kairos’ experience, favors were never simple. But it didn’t hurt to listen to her price. “Ask away.”

She spoke one sentence, and Kairos answered with one word.

“No,” he said, flatly refusing the sphinx’s proposal.

“It is quite cheap,” Hybris agreed. “Very cheap.”

“For you,” Kairos replied with a sneer. “This is childish, immature, and ridiculous. Would you do it?”

“It would shame me to do so,” the [Demigod] confessed. “But it is still a cheap price for a [Hero]’s service.”

“See? See?” Aglaonice asked before putting a paw on her chest. “I am giving the bargain of a lifetime. How dare you be so skittish? Don’t you care about your children?”

It took everything Kairos had not to slap her smug smile off her face, but he had enough self-control to remain calm. This shameless creature, he thought. How can she be so petty?

But after some consideration, Kairos came to agree the price she asked for wasn’t so high… although it would cost him his dignity. But Rhadamanthe had been right; if a crew was greater than its members, then the welfare of his family trumped his personal feelings.

The king did add conditions though. “First, you will join the Térastheon, to make sure you respect your oath,” Kairos declared. “And… I will fulfill your wish after the war.”

“What?” Aglaonice choked on her own arrogance. “What if you don’t survive?”

“You ask for a great service from me, so you shall pay for it first,” Kairos replied. “Besides, now you have another reason to help me. I can’t reward you if I die first.”

“You are such a cunning, treacherous rogue abusing the kindness of innocents like me.” Aglaonice laughed. “But this is why I find you so charming.”

“I feel the same,” Hybris added, his tentacles wriggling behind his mask. “Your open-mind and moral flexibility are your greatest qualities, Kairos.”

“What about your price?” Kairos asked the [Demigod]. “For your contribution in our war?”

“You already know it,” Hybris replied. “I asked you to join my struggle to bring peace to the abyss before. Although it is in full swing, I can afford to send you a squadron of Cetae and loyal Abyssean merfolk… provided that you send your amphibious ships to reinforce us back when I demand it. We shall do as my progenitor Poseidon and his brothers did and split the abyss and the surface between us. We members of the [Térastheon] stick together.”

A fair bargain. “Will you take the field in person?”

“You may call on me when you face the Thalassocrator. Removing a shard of my progenitor’s trident is worth getting involved personally. Otherwise, military matters demand my presence below the waves.”

“What about Lycaon?” Kairos asked grimly. “You know he might break out anytime soon. Will you assist when he does?”

Aglaonice’s face turned sullen, and even Hybris seemed disturbed. “I shall join the effort to put him down, yes,” he said. “He is a threat to men and monsters alike. But if he escapes, then my presence will only be damage control.”

Of course. Kairos knew where he could call other allies, but he didn’t know which of them would accept. Heracles did say he would relish the thought of a fight with Lycaon, the Travian King thought. Would having the God of Strength on their side be enough? Would he even come out of retirement?

A growing glow on the horizon dragged him out of his thoughts. Dawn rises, Kairos thought as he silently left Hybris and Aglaonice behind to rejoin his family. He only had a few minutes left.

When he rejoined them, he found that Histria and Rook had returned from their flight and were happily talking with Andromache and Julia. His father Chron was holding his granddaughter Rhea in his arms, while Aurelia took care of her namesake Aurelius. Caenis, who had taken care of the children, watched on with a sorrowful face. Nessus’ specter followed Andromache, but had already started to dissipate.

Only his uncle Panos was missing, though Kairos noticed him talking with Cassandra and Tiberius. The latter was holding his wife’s hand as she listened to her dead companion’s words. Uncle’s apologizing to her, Kairos guessed, for never valuing her as he should have had.

There is a traitor in your midst.

But which one? Or could Aglaonice have been wrong? Prophecies were treacherous in their wording.

“You weren’t kidding, brother,” Histria said with happiness as she leaped off the griffin’s back. “You truly named a whole city after me.”

“I named a city for each of you,” Kairos replied before brushing her on the hair. He would think about betrayals soon enough and would rather enjoy the moment. “Would you like a ship too?”

“I don’t want to be greedy,” his sister replied with a laugh. “I can settle for a mountain.”

“Could I get an island, oh my captain?” Nessus added jokingly. To Kairos’ dismay, his substance was growing transparent as the sun’s rays pierced through the horizon. The dead could not stand the light of the living world.

“I shall try to find one,” Kairos promised sorrowfully. “Maybe I shall rename Pergamon after we lay waste to it.”

“We know you shall,” his father Chron replied before returning his granddaughter to Julia’s arms. “But please, be careful my son. Do not be so eager to die so soon.”

“Death is peaceful,” Histria replied as her shadowy ghost started to dissipate. ”But it’s lonely. I hope we can all reincarnate someday and play together again. I loved flying.”

“You shall fly again, my dearest,” Aurelia said, her stern expression turning crestfallen at seeing her daughter slowly disappear. “One day.”

Chron nodded before looking at his son. “I must require something of you, Kairos.”

“I will find Taulas’ soul,” Kairos promised. Even if he had to drag it out of Lycaon’s belly. “I will return it to the other side.”

“That is all I can ask for. For you to save your brother and protect my grandchildren.” Chron sighed as he looked at the rising dawn. “Death is so unjust. A father shouldn’t ask his son to fight his battles.”

“You fought more than enough for us, dear,” Aurelia replied before hugging him. “Our son is a grown man now. He can fight his own battles now.”

“He will not be alone in them,” Andromache added, a hand on her belly. “Your grandchildren will want for nothing.”

“None shall threaten them,” Julia whispered softly. “You have my word.”

“Oh, could we visit again for the next wedding?” Histria asked, her body now nothing more than a wisp. “Maybe next year? What do you say brother?”

“Oh, can she return?” Rook asked pleadingly. “I like her, she’s lighter than you!”

“I shall see with Cass,” Kairos replied with a sad smile. “But it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Great! See you next year then!” His sister waved her hand at the group and at Rook most of all. “Goodbye everyone.”

And in these last words, Histria vanished from the world of the living.

“We shall meet again, I hope,” her father said, the darkness of his soul evaporating. All around the camp, the dead dissipated as the sunlight banished them back to the Underworld. “Good luck, my son. I am with you, always.”

“Be sure to bring more drinks next time, my captain,” Nessus asked as he vanished. “This night was a bit too gloomy for my taste. Living is about having fun, remember?”

He did. Kairos only gave his former teammate an eye wink in return, as the satyr disappeared into the ether. As the dead abandoned the living, the Travian King turned to face the morning sun.

Yesterday had been a night of joy and memory.

This was the dawn of war.

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

And now, unto the war.