The Sunsea looked so peaceful from above.

The Foresight floated while docked to Talos’ Cradle, giving its crew an unbeatable view of the world below. The ships that had survived yesterday’s battle rested in the waters below as they waited for the order to sail to Pergamon. Thousands had lost their lives and dozens of ships sank below the waves, but no trace remained of the disaster on the surface.

The sea did not care for the struggles of men.

Its waters washed everything away in time.

Is this what Kairos and Rook see whenever they fly? Cassandra wondered as she sat on the deck’s edge, her feet dangling into the void. A sea without end?

How long until the waves battered the Cradle into nothingness? Centuries? Millennia? Cassandra would not live long enough to see it, but she knew it would happen one day. Only the sea was eternal and unchanging.

Cassandra heard footsteps behind her. She did not turn her head even as Andromache sat to her left and Julia stood proud at her right. Both looked at the sea, their eyes searching the horizon for something they couldn’t see.

If Andromache and Julia were here, then it meant Aurelia was already dead. Another corpse added to the tall pile of people Cassandra had buried over the years. “Do you know what’s beyond?” she asked.

Andromache caressed Cassandra’s braid with her soft fingers. “I do not.”

“Nobody does,” Cassandra said. “Some say the sea goes on forever. Others say that unknown lands of myths and wonder await brave explorers to settle them.”

“No brave crews who ventured beyond the Sunsea’s limits returned to tell the tale,” Julia replied. “Most countries lack the resources to sponsor such a difficult journey. The few who do prefer safer ventures.”

“It was my childhood dream to explore the ocean beyond the horizon and find new lands,” Cassandra admitted. “The world is so vast, so why do we die over such a small region?”

“So long as two people remain on this earth, someone will want what the other has,” Julia replied with a heavy voice. “The gods struck mankind down five times and never succeeded in changing their baser instincts.”

“The first deities created life in their image,” Andromache whispered. “We reflect all of their flaws.”

“So this will never change,” Cassandra summed it up. “Sorrow is inherent to our nature.”

“So is joy, Cassandra,” the nymph replied.

“Humans can learn from their mistakes,” Julia argued. “Yes, we usually repeat them or make new ones. But sometimes the lessons stick. Our ancestors learned from the gods’ mistakes and brought them down after centuries of suffering. I like to think we can always do better.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Do you think one day men will learn to live in peace, without pain or torment?”

“No,” Julia replied with a chuckle. “But in case I am wrong, I have to try to make this idea true.”

“Call me a believer then.” Andromache’s hands moved to Cassandra’s shoulders. “I thought mortals foolish and shackled by their sins. My other half proved me wrong, and today we have created so many beautiful things. A place I can call a home. A daughter I can love. Not all men will live in peace, but I know the citizens of Histria shall.”

Histria.

Kairos had dreamed of a place where Travians could live in peace with the other people of the world. Somewhere along the line, the dream had started to become real. It was still a fragile thing and would crumble should they lose the war. If they won…

“Do you think it will last even if we win?” Cassandra asked.

“It is up to us, don’t you think?” Julia asked. “I hope it shall stand forever.”

Forever.

Cassandra sighed. “I have gotten used to people dying on me and I try to present a strong face for everyone else… but it’s hard to keep faith that things will improve. That I will bounce back somehow.”

“I know.” Andromache’s hands moved to Cassandra’s shoulders. They were warm, but the Lady of Cinders felt too cold to care. “I know. I felt the same long ago, when Circe bound me into a monstrous form. I was trapped and saw no exit. My hatred let me survive until my other half gave me my life back.”

Hate? Cassandra didn’t hate anyone enough to let anger give her life. Romulus was a victim of Lycaon and Zama too impersonal a target to detest.

“I would rather fight for the living than the dead,” Cassandra said. “But the balance is fast shifting towards the latter.”

“I would not be so certain,” Julia replied.

Cassandra looked up at her and the queen’s smile made her frown. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted to give you the news in private, but I suppose circumstances call for it.” Julia joined her hands. “As part of the long-distance exchanges with Castor, I asked Aglaonice to run divinations. You heavily factored in them.”

“Orgonos’ blessing prevents divination spells from working on me,” Cassandra pointed out.

“They did. Aglaonice couldn’t read you.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock. If she read between the lines…

“Indeed, Cassandra Bato.” Julia’s smile grew warmer. “Tiberius left you a gift before he departed this world.”

“I… I am pregnant?” Cassandra put her hands on her belly. She could hardly believe it herself. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“This is wonderful news.” Andromache rejoiced almost as much as Cassandra. “You prayed so much for it.”

She did. Cassandra had prayed to Queen Persephone each night since her husband’s demise that something would have survived from their brief wedding. That a part of Tiberius, however small, would remain with her before they met again on the other side.

Once the news would have filled Cassandra with joy. She had desired children to cherish and who would take care of her in her old age. Descendants of her own blood who would carry on her memory once she was gone.

Now Cassandra could only feel fear. She had fought without doubt when she had nothing left to lose, but Romulus and his kind now had someone to steal away from her.

Cassandra had found a new hope and was afraid of losing it.

She heard new footsteps and this time she looked at the newcomer. Kairos had exited his quarters with a dagger in hand.

“Since when were you listening, husband?” Julia asked with a crestfallen expression.

“A while.” Kairos looked as dreadful and sad as the day Rhadamanthe perished. His face was red and stained with dried tears… yet somehow his eyes burned with resolve.

Cassandra felt sick as she noticed the sharp dagger in his hand. There was no blood on the blade, but its surface glowed with magical power. “So, it is finished,” she said while mourning Aurelia.

“It has begun.” Kairos raised the athame. Its magical blade glittered in the faint moonlight. “My mother died for my sake. For her grandchildren’s sake. Just as my father sacrificed a chance at eternal glory so we would not become destitute. Both of my parents made sacrifices so their descendants would have a chance at a better life.”

Cassandra gazed at the sea. “So many people have died so that we may live.”

“One day we will make the same sacrifice,” Julia added with a sigh. “And pray our descendants will learn from our mistakes.”

Kairos sat next to Andromache, the nymph putting her head against his shoulder. Julia offered no word of condemnation nor appeared offended at the sight. Their bond had grown stronger than that.

“I heard everything,” Kairos whispered. “The world is a harsh place, Cassandra… but it is also full of wonders. I try to remember this each time I lose someone.”

“We have come too far to fall into despair now,” Cassandra replied with newfound resolve. “I will not let Aurelia’s sacrifice be in vain.”

“You can sit this battle out,” Kairos pointed out.

Cassandra looked at her belly and then at Andromache. The nymph hadn’t hesitated to assist with the frontlines while suffering from pregnancy. Cassandra would not cower either.

“I shall fight,” she said. So long as Lycaon breathed, Tiberius would not find peace. Cassandra was a [Hero] whose presence could prove the difference between victory and defeat. Besides, her unborn child would not be long for the world if they lost. “I will lead the charge against Zama. Dispater and I have a plan to defeat him with Andromache’s help.”

“My spells are yours, my friend,” the nymph whispered. “That foolish general will not survive to bother us again.”

Kairos remained silent a moment before offering a nod of support to Cassandra. “Very well. I trust you with the planning.”

“Then let us make a promise.” Julia cleared her throat. “That we will meet alive again after the battle is done. That we will raise our descendants in a better world than we found it.”

Andromache smirked. “I cannot make a promise I doubt I can uphold. Thus, I swear.”

“I swear,” Cassandra replied. She would force a similar vow on Dispater after informing him. To make him live for the sake of his grandchild.

“Let us win this war and live to see the dawn beyond.” Kairos raised the athame as the sun rose beyond the horizon. “For our children’s sake.”

From his throne atop the Thalassocrator, Poison Emperor Mithridates seethed in frustration.

The Thessalan fleet had anchored itself near the stone walls of his beloved Pergamon, the shining kingdom. Its waters glittered in the night thanks to the plankton populating the depths. Their light illuminated the coast like a billion stars.

Once, in what felt like many years ago, Mithridates had met with an aspiring young pirate [Hero] he sought to turn into a pawn in these waters. Back then Kairos had looked like no more than a gnat and the Poison King had all of his limbs.

How things had changed since. The young pirate had turned into a warmongering [Demigod] leading an army to conquer Mithridates’ home in the name of foreign imperialism. His fleet was moving to strike Pergamon from the sea and a land army from the north.

Mithridates should have slain Kairos long ago and he had paid a heavy price for his mistake. His forearms had to be amputated and replaced with machinery. Steel cogs took over the role of muscles and silver claws had replaced his fingernails. White and golden plates covered every spot of his skin. Mithridates had always been proud of his handsome visage, but Kairos had taken even this small vanity from him. A silver mask in his former face’s image covered his disfigured head with the exception of his bloodshot eyes.

Mithridates looked more like a statue than a man now. No amount of polish could suppress the pain in his flesh and bones. Each night he felt Kairos’ flames boiling his blood, the merciless agony of defeat. Mithridates knew he would suffer this pain for the rest of his life, but shouldered the agony well-enough.

If anything, he was in better shape than his army.

“Teuta’s fleet deserted, Your Majesty.” Few men surrounded Mithridates tonight: his second-in-command Absyrtus, who gave his report; Romulus, Legate of Lycaon, whose grim stoicism barely hid the bloodlust; and a magical projection of General Zama, who commanded the land army camping beneath Pergamon’s walls. “We believe they joined forces with Kairos’ ships.”

Once a Travian dog, always a Travian dog, Mithridates thought bitterly. Teuta had turned out to be a bad investment by all metrics. Her troops’ betrayal after her demise was only the last straw in a long list of crushed hopes and indignity.

“How many warships do we have left?” Mithridates asked.

“Two hundred and twenty,” Absyrtus replied. “Taking into account the losses they suffered at the Cradle, I estimate King Kairos’ fleet is around two-hundred fifty. A slight number advantage, but not a decisive one.”

“Ships are not your only worry.” Twin flames flared up in Romulus’ eyes, his terrible visage hidden beneath a funeral mask. The truth of his undead face was common knowledge among Mithridates’ officers by now, but the Poison Emperor had insisted that he cover it. Common troops felt ill at ease fighting alongside the living dead. “Monsters roam the seas and Hybris the Deceiver has pledged his strength to the Travian cause.”

“Your worry, Romulus? Shouldn’t you say ours?” Zama’s projection snorted. “Will you desert us too?”

“I shall lend you my sword as allies, but I serve a different master.” Romulus’ hands tightened their grip on his mighty sword. “We both know this alliance is only out of convenience. There can only be one master of the world.”

“On that much, we agree,” Mithridates replied. “But the day we fight is far away.”

Romulus nodded curtly. “Once we have purged the enemy’s ranks once again, the wolf god shall break free from his bonds. His fangs will tear out Lyce’s throat. The soldiers engaged in your war will have to return home or submit. Without them, the Travians won’t be enough to stem the tide. You will have won your war and ours shall begin in Lyce.”

If you make it back to Lyce in one piece, Mithridates thought. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Mithridates had no friends, and he had every intention of making sure Romulus would not live long enough to become an enemy.

Whether the Legate of Lycaon would prevail or fall in the battle for Pergamon, he would fall at someone’s blade. Mithridates had a vision for the world and an age of beasts did not factor into it.

But Romulus’ master will be a far greater problem. With luck, the wolf god’s many enemies would get rid of him for the Poison Emperor, but Mithridates hadn’t lived so long without preparing for the worst. I will need to deploy the Thalassocrator in Lyce and drown them all.

“With Hybris fighting for Kairos, both sides field three [Demigods],” Absyrtus pointed out. “The odds are even.”

General Zama was less categorical. “In battle, each soldier counts and we have lost many. The automatons of my army rebelled and had to be put down. The loss of our siege engines was particularly devastating.”

“You put your faith in machines and paid the price,” Romulus replied with disdain.

“These machines will fall back in line once we recapture the Cradle.” Mithridates joined his silver hands. “I have ordered all able-bodied soldiers left in Pergamon mobilized to fight under your banner, Zama. This should compensate for your automaton losses.”

“With our reinforcements, land troops should be around forty-thousand on each side,” Absyrtus added. “You have won battles when outnumbered three-to-one.”

“Only fools underestimate the enemy.” General Zama crossed his arms, his expression was thoughtful. His [Eye of Athena] brightened as it gazed into the future. “Spies inform me that Kairos himself leads the ground army.”

Although Romulus hid it well, Mithridates noticed the sudden tension in his fingers. Does he fear to fight Kairos? The Poison Emperor wondered. Or is there more to it?

“Who commands the fleet?” Romulus asked suddenly.

“The fleet was put under Queen Julia’s command according to our spies,” Absyrtus replied. “She intends to lead from the Foresight’s deck.”

“Her weak mother’s heart won’t let her son far from her,” Mithridates mused as he baited Romulus. “Kairos’ bastard will be on the Foresight and Queen Julia will have to attack the Thalassocrator if she wishes to win.”

Romulus let out a rattle and held his mask with his hand. “Argh…” The light in his eyes faltered. “Yes… yes, you are right. I need his blood on my sword.”

“Then stay on the Thalassocrator to defend it,” Mithridates offered. Stay with your back in my sight, so I may watch you drown and die. “The she-wolf and her whelp will fall onto your lap.”

Romulus recovered from his brief lapse of consciousness, his voice brimming with bloodlust. “I know you are playing me somehow, but it does not matter. You are correct. They will come for your ship in search of victory, but they shall find death instead.”

“I will deal with Kairos on land.” Zama sounded almost giddy at the thought of settling the score with the pirate king. “Once he dies, his army will collapse.”

“King Kairos destroyed Antipater’s army on his own with a tornado,” Absyrtus pointed out. “Do you have any way to counter his magic?”

“I have prepared for our battle for so long.” Zama’s remaining organic eye resembled a baleful star shining in the dark. “I have rehearsed a thousand scenarios. Whatever Kairos expects, it shall not go as he plans.”

Mithridates would have smiled if his silver mask had allowed him to. “Win on land and leave the sea to us.”

If they decisively won the next battle, Mithridates could still turn things around. Orthia was spent and Lyce wouldn’t send another army until months had passed, if at all. This would give Mithridates plenty of time to recapture Talos’ Cradle and deploy the Thalassocrator against rebel cities.

If they won.

“I will pray to the wolf-god for victory,” Romulus declared as he took his leave of the meeting. “Do not get in my way. All who come within reach of my blade, I shall slay.”

Zama’s projection watched Romulus walk away to the ship’s lower decks with a scowl. “I do not trust him,” said the general once their difficult ally was too far away to hear them.

“Neither do I,” Mithridates replied. “But we cannot hope to win without him. Our list of allies has grown thin enough.”

General Zama nodded. “We shall meet again victorious, or not at all.”

The projection collapsed, leaving Mithridates alone with his second-in-command. Absyrtus looked at the spot Romulus previously occupied with a frown. “Does Your Majesty blame me for forging this alliance?”

Mithridates shook his head. “You acted in what you thought were my best interests while I was incapacitated. I do not think giving the wolves too many bones to gnaw was the right solution, but I can live with the choice you have made. Others would have sliced my throat as I lay dying in the hospital bed.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

Mithridates could smell lies like a shark could detect blood in the water. He sensed no deception coming from his second-in-command. Absyrtus believed each word he said.

“Why are you still here?” the Poison Emperor asked, slightly puzzled by Absyrtus’ behavior.

His assistant frowned. No doubt he expects a loyalty test of some kind. “What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

“The Travians have abandoned me. The automatons rebelled. Orthia stands against us. We have entered a season of treachery and many flock to my rivals.” Mithridates rested his chin on his closed fist. “Why didn’t you leave too?”

Absyrtus smiled. “I beg Your Majesty’s pardon, but I believe you asked the wrong question. The right one would have been: why would I leave?”

So many reasons came to Mithridates’ mind. “For gold. For survival. To secure better terms.”

“I care not for gold. My life means little compared to Pergamon’s glory. And whatever terms we might gain, keeping our independence won’t be among them. I fight by Your Majesty’s side because I believe in your dream of a strong Pergamon in a united Thessalan Empire.” Absyrtus stood strong with a straight back. “Not everyone has to be threatened into serving their country.”

Zama fought out of revenge; Romulus out of murderous ambition; and Absyrtus out of patriotism.

Mithridates had relied on fear because one could only trust strength and self-interest in this savage world. Yet where both had failed him with Castor, Absyrtus had stayed behind to serve. He believed in the righteousness of his king’s cause and was ready to die for it. The idea sounded so absurd to a cynic like Mithridates that it took him a full minute to digest it.

Absyrtus’ words had moved Mithridates’ heart of ice. To hear that he had inspired true loyalty in even one person filled him with an emotion he had not felt in a very long time.

Sadness.

If only I had ten thousand warriors like Absyrtus rather than the likes of Teuta, this war would have long been won, Mithridates thought grimly. If Euthenia had been loyal, if Talos didn’t have to be brainwashed to put his forges to work, if Orichalcos still stood to provide military assistance, if my words had inspired more people…

If. So many ifs.

“Men like you built our nation, Absyrtus,” Mithridates declared with pride. “Pergamon’s true walls aren’t made of stone, but of men with strong resolve. If I perish, Pergamon—nay, the Thessalan Empire—is in your hands.”

“You will not perish before I do, Your Majesty.”

As he witnessed his assistant’s resolve, Mithridates’ doubts faded away. A king should always prove to be greater than his subjects in all things. He could not show weakness in the face of strength, or cowardice before bravery.

Trust was for fools… but Mithridates would not betray Absyrtus’ faith in him.

“Not even the gods know the future with certainty,” said the Poison Emperor. Or else they would have prevented their own fall. “If we are about to lose, I intend to use our last trump card.”

Absyrtus scowled. “Sir, the process will be irreversible and my experience in Orichalcos showed that the device’s power can also affect the mind. If you use the trident, you will never come back from it.”

“If we lose this battle our nation falls to a foreign empire,” Mithridates cut him off. “Nothing will be left. No price is too great to pay to preserve Pergamon. Even if it costs me my life and humanity, I will defend our way of life to the bitter end. And so shall you.”

“I understand.” Absyrtus gave his king a military salute. “Glory to Pergamon.”

Mithridates returned the salute and looked at his city. Pergamon could date its founding from before the Anthropomachia when Medea’s son Medus settled the land. Over the centuries, the shining kingdom had produced countless savants, artists, and statesmen. Its walls were older than many gods. Its streets had survived a hundred wars and a thousand battles. Its kings had been glorious and deplorable, but never forgettable.

All of his life, Mithridates had had a certain vision of his country. His rivals thought he desired power above all else, but power was never more than a means to an end. Mithridates’ chief goal had always been to secure the Thessalan League’s cultural heritage and independence from foreign empires. The Lyceans had leered at their borders for many years, and Mithridates always knew that one day they would come to claim his lands.

He had done his best to unite the fractious Thessalan League under his leadership to safeguard its greatness and freedom. To honor the great history of his predecessors and make his country stand among the greatest powers of the Sunsea. To make sure that all the brave men and women who perished to build their nation had not done so in vain.

Come, Kairos, my hubris and nemesis, the Poison Emperor thought as he glanced at the open sea. The Travian Ships appeared all over the horizon with the rising sun. For one of us, this is the end. You will only get ashes and saltwater from me.

Doom had come to Pergamon.

This time, Mithridates would not run.