Kairos was about to make his speech before the troops, but Dispater hadn’t left his tent yet.

Cassandra had gone to fetch her father-in-law, finding him under Plinius and Ultor’s care. The healer had cured Dispater’s physical wounds but no medicine could ease his mind. When Cassandra arrived, the old man was sitting on his bed with a sword within arm’s reach.

“You can’t be considering this,” Cassandra said as she glanced at the weapon.

Her father-in-law looked up at her with hollow eyes, but said nothing. He looked even deader than some of the undead Cassandra had clashed steel with.

“You are sick, Sir,” Plinius argued as he offered Dispater a cup of medicinal brew. “You suffer from an illness of the mind that clouds your judgment, and grief is no good advisor. This potion will help.”

Dispater glanced at the liquid as if it were a bottle of poison before taking it with trembling hands. Does he hope to die from it? Cassandra thought as he consumed the medicine without any enthusiasm. This cannot go on any longer.

“Plinius, I will take care of him,” Cassandra said. “Give us a moment. Ultor will stay too.”

With the healer dismissed, Cassandra sat on the bed next to her father-in-law. “I am sorry for your loss,” she whispered. “I know words won’t heal your heart or bring them back, but you are not alone. I am here with you.”

Dispater’s silence stretched on.

“Kairos is going to give a speech soon,” Cassandra said, “and burn Sertorius’ remains on a pyre alongside your daughter’s. I understand if you don’t want to make a eulogy, but… I believe you should be present.”

This drew a reaction from Dispater, his voice brimming with sorrow. “A pyre, yes…” he muttered in between sobs. “Her brothers were incinerated too…”

Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “I will have her ashes delivered to Lyce. I swear.”

“How did she die?” he asked with a weak voice. “My precious daughter… she never wielded a weapon in her life… who did this to her?”

Cassandra gathered her breath. She knew the truth would only further hurt Dispater, but she resented the idea of lying to him about something so personal. “Do you want the official version?” she asked. “Or the real one?”

“What difference does it make?” Dispater’s hands trembled as he set his medicine cup aside, his eyes burning with anger. “It was Sertorius, wasn’t it? He murdered my daughter so he could marry that whore!”

“I am afraid not.” Cassandra bit her lips, unsure how to put it. “The truth is darker still.”

Dispater gazed into her eyes, and as he did so he seemed to age before Cassandra’s very eyes. The truth sapped his strength from within.

“She killed herself.” That wasn’t even a question. “My daughter was so unhappy that she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I am sorry,” Cassandra whispered. “Kairos intends to cover it up by accusing Mithridates, to let her and Sertorius keep some dignity in people’s memories. Morale is already low among our troops and they need something to focus their rage on.”

“Because my defeat in the north shook their faith?” Dispater shook his head, his expression one of utter despair. “You don’t need to answer. I can see it in your eyes.”

“If you would rather have the truth revealed, I could try to convince Kairos to change his mind,” Cassandra suggested. “It might cause problems, but… you are her father. He will understand.”

Dispater considered her proposal before shaking his head. “You are a kind woman, Cassandra. A good woman. But… I understand. This is war and… and the soldiers need to keep hope. Lies are sweet and the truth too bitter.”

Cassandra didn’t say a word. She remained as silent and quiet as Ultor, letting Dispater organize his thoughts as he mulled over the situation.

“I should never have given her to that cruel man,” he finally said. “If I had understood what he was… I swear to you, Cassandra, I would never have left Lucetia in his care.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“It is. The signs were there from the start, but I closed my eyes. I wanted his power, his name, his glory.” Dispater looked down at the ground. “I haven’t a drop of noble blood in me, Cassandra. When I started, I was but a common merchant. It was through hard work that I achieved my wealth and political connections. I always envied those who were born with everything, and though they took my money the Senex still mocked me behind closed doors. As if making coins through work was somehow dirtier than through inheritance.”

Dispater cleared his throat. “Yes, sometimes… sometimes I broke the law. Crushed some people. Buried corpses. But I started from nothing, you understand?”

“I do,” Cassandra replied. “We Travians have lived in poverty for centuries and taken from others to make ends meet. I have raided and killed, so I won’t judge you.”

“Then you understand how it feels when you meet people who have everything by virtue of their birth. The jealousy, the envy…” Dispater shook his head as he remembered the past. “When Sertorius and I negotiated an alliance to bind our two lines together, I thought my family’s time had come. That we would rise above our humble beginnings. But now…”

He covered his face with his hands to hide his grief.

“All my children are dead,” Dispater lamented. “Two were taken by fate, the others because of my mistakes. House Plutus will die with me.”

“No,” Cassandra replied, before putting her hand on the old man’s shoulder. “It will live through me as well. I have taken the name too.”

“And for that I am proud… but what hope is there for me?” Dispater lowered his hand, his expression one of utter loss. “What am I supposed to do, Cassandra? I am done.”

“You must fight,” Cassandra replied with determination. “If not for yourself, then to avenge Tiberius. As shall I.”

Though Dispater’s gaze remained hollow, Cassandra noticed a glint of life in his eyes as she said these words. Buried somewhere under the grief, an ember of rage and vengeful anger remained bright.

Though revenge was a poor reason to live, Dispater had nothing else left.

“So long as Romulus remains, Tiberius’ soul will never find peace,” Cassandra argued. “And Zama made himself an accomplice of the Beast Cult by cooperating with them. Even if you have lost all hope for yourself, then take arms for your late son.”

Ultor, who had remained silent so far, decided to intervene. “Only blood can wash away dishonor, Lord Dispater,” he declared while glancing at the sword on the table. “But it doesn't need to be yours. There is far greater glory to be found in dying in battle than on one’s weapon.”

Dispater listened to their arguments before giving Cassandra a sad smile. “You know, Tiberius had been smitten with you since young Julia’s wedding. We argued a lot on your case.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but scowl. “How so?”

“You were a [Hero], but a foreign one with little political value. And you were older than he was. I admit I was concerned that he should have found a match closer to home.” Dispater chuckled. “But in the end, I grew tired of arguing before he did. He had inherited my negotiation skills.”

Some battles are won on the battlefields and others in public forums, Cassandra thought. Tiberius hadn’t said much about his negotiations with his father on their behalf, but she was touched to learn he had fought for her hand.

“I have lost more people than I can count,” she confessed. “Death walks after me, and once it even took me away. When Kairos offered me a new chance at life, I swore I would enjoy it to the fullest. And… I have. Though I feared Tiberius might suffer the same fate as so many others, I still accepted his proposal.”

Dispater locked eyes with his daughter-in-law. “Did my son make you happy?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied without hesitation. “However brief our marriage was, I regret none of it.”

Now only time would tell if it had borne fruit. Cassandra had prayed to Queen Persephone since the battle, hoping the goddess had heard her plea.

A small, sorrowful smile formed at the edge of Dispater’s lips. “It’s funny,” he said. “I let my son marry you expecting to get little from it, while my daughter would hand me the world on a silver platter. And yet in the end, you are the one who remained after my ambitions crashed and burned.”

“Our match wasn’t political.” Cassandra returned the smile. “It ran on mutual respect rather than interest.”

“Yes… this is why Kairos and his wife get along so well. He is a good man and treated Sertorius’ sister better than he ever treated my daughter.”

Though Dispater’s eyes remained blackened by grief, his expression regained some measure of life and purpose.

“Very well,” Dispater declared as he rose from the bed and grabbed his sword, putting it around his belt. “I swear I will not die until my son's killers beat me to the Underworld, true… but it is not for the dead I will fight. It will be for your sake, Cassandra.”

“Mine?” she asked with a frown.

“My son held you in high esteem. You are his widow now and all I have left from him, so I shall support you in his stead, come what may. And if you have chosen to stand by young Kairos’ side, then I shall do the same.” Dispater gathered his breath as he helped his good daughter stand on her feet. “After I am gone, you shall inherit all I have. My house’s name, my wealth, and my hopes.”

“Do not speak as if your own demise was inevitable, Lord Dispater,” Cassandra replied with a smile. “Do not be eager to perish.”

“I swear that this old bag of bones won’t die before Zama and Romulus are both in the tomb,” Dispater replied before turning to his bodyguard. “Ultor, you shall protect my daughter-in-law as you defended me. And if anything happens to my person, she will inherit your loyalty and services.”

The gladiator offered a short, respectful nod. “As you wish, Lord Dispater.”

“Now, let us finish this war of ours,” Dispater declared as they walked out of the tent, his footsteps heavy with determination. Though Cassandra still found him frail of body and weakened by his losses, his mind had hardened like steel. “I pray young Kairos will prove as good an orator as Sertorius.”

Of that Cassandra had no doubt.

They soon joined the troops gathered in the camp, who had assembled to leave on a moment’s notice for Talos’ Cradle. Julia had set a choice spot at the front line of the gathering for Dispater’s group, right next to Aurelia, Andromache, and Queen Euthenia.

Cassandra couldn’t help but take a look at them. Queen Euthenia had put on her mask again, hiding her beauty and shame. Everything in her body language told Cassandra that she would rather be anywhere else, but had little choice than to follow suit. Her country had fallen and the best she could do was secure a difficult peace once the dust settled.

As for Aurelia, her expression was one of grim dignity. She often glanced at Julia and Andromache, probably thinking of her family; the dead and the living.

She has made up her mind, Cassandra thought with sorrow as she remembered their last conversation with Kairos. The idea filled her with regrets. Is there truly no other way?

Blood called to blood.

Cassandra banished these thoughts from her mind as Kairos appeared before his men with Rook following him. The griffin’s missing wing had been replaced with a new one whose bones were made of steel and feathers of golden sheets. Andromache had crafted it herself, and Thales had woven flesh and metal together. Rook appeared slightly uncomfortable with it, as the new wing was heavier than his natural one, but walked with a straight head all the same.

Soldiers carried the bodies of Sertorius and his wife on a bed of hay and wood. They looked as dignified in death as in life, blanketed in cloth and shrouds. Soldiers offered their respect with prayers and salutes as they were placed in the middle of the camp, ready to be burnt on command. Many were shocked and whispered between themselves; for though they had heard rumors, they had never expected to see the charismatic judge brought low.

“How could this happen?” Cassandra heard some of the men mutter. “The Beast Cult again?”

“I heard Mithridates himself sneaked up into the camp,” another replied. “He has recovered from his wounds and wanted to send King Kairos a message that no one was safe from him.”

So they already know, Cassandra thought. Spies had confirmed that Mithridates had recovered from his own defeat at Kairos’ hand. Though they also said he’s more automaton than man now… I’m not sure how much of these reports are true.

Kairos’ spear glittered under the sunlight, its tip ablaze. In his armor and kingly regalia, he looked like one of the Old World’s legendary heroes reborn; a warrior [Demigod] worthy of standing side by side with the likes of Heracles and Odysseus.

But he didn’t address the crowd immediately. Instead, Kairos moved to consult Dispater the moment he noticed him.

“Lord Dispater, will you give your daughter a eulogy?” Kairos asked, waving his spear to create a bubble of wind around them so the others wouldn’t hear. “Or perhaps you would prefer a private ceremony? I thought of incinerating her due to our strict schedule, but we can arrange something else if you prefer.”

Dispater smiled joylessly. “King Kairos, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If it had been Sertorius in your place, would he have made that offer?”

Kairos hesitated a few seconds, but didn’t have the heart to lie. “No, I do not think so.”

“He would have made a show of it and wouldn’t have asked.” Dispater glanced at Cassandra and then at the soldiers. “I thank you for your kindness, King Kairos, but believe me… only a few of us here would care.”

Unfortunately, he was right. Cassandra cared, as did Andromache from the way she looked. Tiberius would have cared too had he lived.

But the soldiers didn’t come for Lucretia. It was Sertorius they had followed to Thessala, Sertorius they intended to honor today. His wife was barely an afterthought to them.

Lucretia had perished in a foreign land surrounded by strangers.

“I do not have the strength for a eulogy, and no words of mine will make up for the pain that I inflicted on my daughter,” Dispater replied. “Do what you must, King Kairos.”

“What I must…” Kairos glanced at Julia, who held his son in her arms. “I will have to lie and say things I will regret. Julia even suggested that I use her and Aurelius for the sake of propaganda.”

“Being a commander is about eating shit all day with some glory at the end.” Dispater sighed. “And sometimes it’s not guaranteed. I won’t blame you for your words.”

“Very well. For all it is worth, I am glad you could attend.” Kairos then turned to Cassandra. “Will you offer words?”

“No,” Cassandra replied. She kept them for Tiberius’ eulogy.

Kairos offered a respectful nod and disabled his wind bubble, moving next to his deceased in-laws. He gazed at the gathered soldiers, clearly gathering his strength for a battle of words.

“Soldiers!” Kairos’ voice was like thunder, instantly focusing everyone’s attention on his person. His words cut through the noise like a sword through soft flesh, his Skills enhancing their power. “Witness your fallen leader, Julius Flavius Sertorius! And his wife Lucretia Plutus! Both struck down within our midst by an assassin’s blade!”

The revelation drew gasps from the crowd, but Cassandra cared little for their reactions. Her gaze remained set on Dispater. The old man remained quiet, his face made of stone, and his daughter-in-law remained at his side in silent support.

“Who dared to commit such a crime, you might ask?” Kairos asked as he pointed his spear at the soldiers. “A werewolf? A Thessalan? No! It was the blade of a friend! What Mithridates couldn’t win on the battlefield with honor and steel, he tried to gain with gold and treachery! He paid one of my brother-in-law’s own aides to murder Sertorius, and when his poor wife caught him in flagrante delicto, he murdered her as well!”

The lie was spun with such conviction that Cassandra, who knew the truth, was tempted to believe she misunderstood the situation. Kairos’ voice simply brimmed with unshakeable belief, a deep confidence that made her doubt her own.

It’s his Skills, Cassandra thought as she watched the men grow mesmerized by their leader’s words. As a [Demigod] specialized in Charisma and leadership, Kairos’ abilities allowed him to inspire individuals and crowds alike.

“By the time the guards intervened, it was too late,” Kairos said with sorrow, a hand on his chest as if he had been struck himself. “The culprit did not outlive his victims… but no power will bring our dead back!”

Cassandra couldn’t help but wonder if Zama made similar speeches, using his dead lover as an example to inspire ferociousness in his troops.

“All because Mithridates is weak!” Kairos shouted as he raised his spear with fire in his eyes. “Because the Poison King is a coward who can only win battles through betrayal! He could not best Sertorius, a greater man than he ever was! He had to ally with Lycaon’s thralls to conquer the north, and even sent assassins after my own children!”

Kairos glanced at Julia, who held his son Aurelius in her arms. “My son, who had barely begun to live, was almost drowned before his mother’s eyes!”

The soldier booed and jeered as one, raising their spears and swords. “Down with Mithridates!” they chanted in righteous fury. “Death to child-killers!”

Why is it so easy to inspire anger and zeal, and so difficult to make peace? Cassandra thought grimly as she observed the scene with a weary heart. The soldiers were so tired and afraid that they were looking for a culprit, any scapegoat, to project their rage upon. Feelings of humiliation and betrayal turned to fury.

Were they so different from Mithridates now? From Zama? Cassandra would have said so once, but now she feared they might fall into the same mistakes out of convenience. I have to believe Kairos will do better than them, she thought as she glanced at Euthenia. And make sure to guide him on the right path.

“It is only thanks to the assistance of one person that my child was saved!” Kairos glanced at Aglaonice in the crowd; the sphinx grinned, her lips smug, and the Travian King’s enthusiasm clearly died out.

In fact, Cassandra could have sworn she heard Kairos sigh under his breath.

“Aglaonice…” Kairos marked a short pause, as if reeling from what he was about to say next. His next words lacked the fire of the previous ones, as if he struggled to get them off his chest. “I owe my child’s survival to Aglaonice, the smartest sphinx in the land. She is a genius beyond comparison, greater than anyone I have ever seen… with an A+ Intelligence rank… greater than even mine. Without her, I would be fumbling in the dark for answers…”

Dispater frowned, and he wasn’t the only one. A few of the soldiers exchanged glances in confusion, and Cassandra gritted her teeth. Nobody could fault Kairos for fulfilling his word, even at the cost of his own dignity.

But thankfully, Kairos quickly moved on and his Skills took over again. “And the answers I have found!” the pirate king roared. “Mithridates is doomed and he knows it!”

The moment his words brimmed again with fury, this embarrassing interlude was swiftly forgotten. Such was the power of a [Demigod] that not even awkwardness could slow him down.

“Mithridates tried to divide us, to inspire fear by attacking our families!” Kairos shouted. “Because the one time he tried to fight a fair battle, he fled with his tail between his legs short of a dragon! Are you afraid of this man?!”

“No!” the soldiers roared as one. Euthenia observed the army without a word, nervous about having chosen the right side. Cassandra offered her a nod of reassurance, promising herself that they would have a talk on the way to Talos’ Cradle.

“And you shouldn’t be!” Kairos continued as he pointed his spear towards his dead in-laws. The soldiers took a step back as he prepared to set their funeral pyre alike. “For although Sertorius died, we shall complete his work! I shall lead the brave across the sea to the very doors of Pergamon, that we may drag this Poison Emperor from his ill-gotten throne! Shall you follow me to victory?!”

“YES!” the men shouted, though none louder than Agron. Ultor silently raised his fist in support, and Cassandra her fork.

“I do not hear you!” Kairos shouted louder. “What shall it be?! Victory, or death?!”

“VICTORY! VICTORY!” The army shouted as one. Everyone from the smallest soldier to the mightiest [Hero]. “VICTORY!”

Everyone but Dispater, who only had eyes for his daughter’s corpse and nothing but silence to offer.

“Then let this fire signal our departure!” Flames erupted from Kairos’ spear and set the funeral pyre alight in a burst of light. The fire consumed hay and flesh alike, burning as brightly as the sun in the skies. “The ashes will blow east and spread word of our coming! Now go! Climb on your ships! Reveal your sails! Raise a tide of wood and spears that will cover the horizon! Come with me and take the east!”

The roars of the soldiers were deafening, and the troops immediately followed their leader’s directive. The defeat in the north, the loss of Sertorius… none of it managed to shake their faith in their invincible leader.

Would faith be enough to win though? And if so, at what cost?

“A moment, Cassandra,” Dispater commented, though his eyes remained set on the pyre. The old man looked mournfully at his daughter’s remains, even as the flames consumed her and the soldiers prepared to embark on their fleet. “I wish to recover my daughter’s ashes once the fire dies.”

“Yes… yes of course.” Cassandra offered him a comforting nod. “I will be at your side until then.”

In a way, the scene sadly reminded her of her own ascension to [Hero]. She doubted Sertorius and his wife would rise again from their pyre as she did… but at least their souls would pass on peacefully.

“I thank you.” Dispater glanced at Aglaonice. The sphinx looked unbearably pleased with herself with the speech. “What was that tangent about?”

“Kairos made a deal with the sphinx to protect his children,” Cassandra replied with a smile. “She asked that Kairos publicly declare her smarter than he ever was.”

“Typical sphinxes,” Ultor scoffed with his arms crossed. “If only they spent as much time on training as they do on empty boasting, they would rule the world.”

Dispater nodded. “Cassandra… I would like your thoughts on Zama.”

Was he already plotting vengeance? “We cannot beat him on the battlefield,” Cassandra replied, trying to dissuade Dispater from throwing his life away. “His Legendary Skill is too powerful.”

“On that, we agree, but I found his failings more interesting.” Dispater nodded to himself. “There are cracks in his omniscience. His plan was executed well, but he failed to anticipate your attack on his flank and our escape.”

Cassandra frowned, but after some consideration, she realized he had a point. Though Zama was an incredible general, he had failed to remove the real threats from the field. The loss of many men was unbearable, but slaying Ultor while leaving the army intact would have been a wiser bargain. The [Demigod] alone was worth ten thousand troops.

“Something else bothers me,” Cassandra admitted. “He chose to fight in the middle of the formation rather than at the rear. It made sense to try to bait our infantry to the center, but most tacticians lead from the rear where they can see the whole battlefield.”

“He could see little,” Ultor pointed out. “The dust of battle obscured all. He needed to be closer to the center to command well.”

“Could his [Eye of Athena] be obscured by mere smoke?” Cassandra asked rhetorically. “I doubt so.”

But to her surprise, Dispater shook his head. “I feel that this is our mistake. We thought of Zama’s [Eye of Athena] as a divination device, a crystal ball capable of seeing the future… when in truth it is a goddess’ stolen eye with limitations.”

An idea crossed Cassandra’s mind. “Zama can see the future,” she whispered in realization. “But only what the eye can physically observe.”

“This is only a supposition, but it would explain why he failed to anticipate our escape,” Dispater replied. “I have mulled over this battle so many times... Even if Orgonos’ blessing protected us from his sight, he should have foreseen the movements of your riders coming to relieve us.”

Though the [Eye of Athena] was a powerful artifact, Zama himself remained a [Demigod]. He couldn’t hope to wield a god’s weapon to its fullest potential. And since he only had one of Athena’s two eyes, then Zama had a literal blind spot. But how could they exploit it?

And why did nobody know of [One for All]? A power of this magnitude would have become widespread knowledge if it were commonly used. Either it was the first time Zama used his Legendary Skill or he had only used it in engagements that left no survivor. It made sense to keep it hidden as a trump card, but Cassandra felt something didn't add up.

There had to be a reason why Zama hadn't used that Skill more often. A downside of some sort. If she could figure out what it was...

“The only way we can defeat his army is by assassinating him before he activates his Legendary Skill,” Cassandra pointed out. “But this may be the key to lure him into a trap.”

Dispater nodded, a smile on his lips. “And I think,” he said as his gaze scanned the crowd before focusing on Andromache, “that I know how to bait him into danger.”