Athens was a sprawling city that grew more enormous by each decade and was the home to over 100.000 souls. Her citizens claimed proudly that there was no equal to it in all of Greece and declared it the cultural center of the world. Although Athens had been in many wars with Sparta, Thebes and Mycenae, it had kept its independence and been rebuilt from any damage it received.

A carriage and two carts were slowly rolling into the entrance of the city and towards the grand stables that were located in the outer districts for travelers returning from their journeys. It was merely a short-stop for quick visits or a transfer point to the permanent stables in the central city, but even so it was important and there was never any shortage of customers.

Sitting on a crate in the courtyard of the compound, leaning both his hands on a long wooden staff, was the stable master. He owned the enterprise and kept eagle-eyed watch on all new customers. Usually such dealings were left to a subordinate or a slave, but he was a curious sort.

“Hegord, are you listening?” A much younger man was gesticulating towards the old stable master and kept pestering him with some story about his wife. The old man sighed.

“I’m listenin’, but I don’t want to hear any more. Just tell her to scold the boy and take away his dinner. That ought to teach him.” He scratched his grey beard with frustration.

“She is far too soft to do something so severe. His studies are not progressing too well, but he is not stupid.”

“Then where’s the problem?” He shook his head. “I’ll tell ya what the problem is. You’re a useless husband. Coming to an old widower for advice is pathetic.” He hit the man’s leg with his staff which made him flinch strongly.

“Ow! But you are the most experienced man I know Hegord!”

“That’s because you only deal pretty young maidens.” He snorted and then looked up when he heard the turning of wheels close in on the courtyard. “Zeus’ beard, finally some customers. Your little spat can wait.”

“Fine.” The younger man pulled back his himation to take a look at his bruised leg.

As the carts and carriage rolled in, a few handlers came up to stop the horses and directed the drivers towards the back. Right away someone jumped out of the carriage and kept watch over the carts that were filled to the brim with luggage.

“Oi, Pelos, you recognize that lad?” The old man tapped the bruised leg of his friend roughly.

“Argh… would you please stop it?” He winced, then looked up with tears in his eyes to follow Hegord’s pointing. “Is he important?” Now his demeanor changed. Pelos was the owner of a famous bathhouse and always looked for wealthy clientele.

“If my old eyes don’t fail me I’d reckon that’s the Typhos lad.” He said with a stoic mien.

“Typhos? I believe I heard that name somewhere before.” He cupped his chin and closed his eyes. “The scholar?”

“The same.” Hegord nodded.

“Look at him acting like some young aristocrat. Boisterous young men seem to be getting more common these days.” Pelos was the undemanding type that preferred to work in the shadows. He could not stand the fancy young aristocrats that loved to brag with their wealth and influence. His workers constantly complained about their outrageous demands to him.

“You’re a young cub too, Pelos.” Hegord said dryly. Although his plump friend acted more like a bored housewife most of the time.

“At least not that young.” He looked at the scholar named Typhos with furrowed brows. “Is there something special about him? You rarely remember people’s names.”

“Hrm. Special, eh?” Hegord made some noises as he wet his mouth with saliva before resuming the conversation. “He’s a scholar alright, but nobody knows where he came from.”

“Is that so odd these days? Everyone comes to Athens to study.” It was even something the townsfolk took pride in.

“Aye, but this one’s different. He’s been livin’ here since he was ill more than a toddler.”

“Could he have fled from some war torn barbarian land?”

“He came with a couple of servants and a wagon filled with expensive goods if my sources aren’t lying.”

“A lord’s estranged son? Perhaps a bastard?”

“Sounds about right. Maybe that explains his resources.”

“Two carts filled with wares and all those gold rings. That’s a lot of riches for a mere bastard. I can’t fathom why a lord would be giving him such an impressive gift on departure.”

“Strikes your fancy, doesn’t it? Made me curious as well. Y’see, my nephew works for the council and they keep a close look on the citizenship of newcomers.” Hegord shook his head. “But this lad is listed as an Athenian citizen. Some greedy bureaucrat pig was bribed, I’ll be damned if it isn’t that.”

“Nothing unusual. Why are you so fixated on him anyway?”

“When you grow as old and bitter as me, you start to get tired of the tedious day to day.” Hegord said cynically. “So solving mysteries is the best pastime y’can find.”

“My, you are unbelievable.” Pelos put one arm into his himation and smiled. “So he paid off the officials and moved in. Considering the hefty sums that must have gone around, there shouldn’t have been much left to live off. Let alone pay for his tuition.”

“That’s right. And now look at him.” They watched Typhos move over the cart and pull up some urns made from the finest burned clay to inspect them.

“Unless he got new funds from his family, all I can think of is that he has talent as a merchant.” Pelos yawned and rubbed his nose.

“You’d think so, aye? A merchant’s gotta have workers, though. A shop too.”

“He doesn’t?” Pelos deduced.

“Henord, my nephew, he said there is nobody noted under the name Typhos in the merchant registry. And even without that tidbit, I see everyone move in and out of this city, but there is nothing related to him to be seen.”

“A mystery indeed.” The plump bathhouse owner was stumped. “All I heard is that an influential young scholar was making the rounds a few months back. That’s where I heard of him.”

“Don’t tell this to anyone, but I think I’ve figured out one secret of his.” The old man said conspiratorially.

“You got my curiosity already! Out with it!”

“The boy’s got connections to most of the high society. But it isn't because of noble birth or somethin’ like that. They say he lends money to aristocrats in need.”

“A money-lender?!” Pelos could not have seen that coming. Money-lenders were notoriously unpopular, as part of their profession involved the collection of what was owed.

“What’s more he’s got his fingers in several projects. Investing in the works of more influential people around Thebes.”

All of this was very suspicious. Only few commoners would have the power to invest in other big cities and still be welcomed back in Athens. Even less if they were money-lenders.

“This does not add up.”

“Hehe, so y’see? He’s got them by the testicles. He lends money and gets hefty returns from the fees. Then he graciously gives back to those who are short on funds and always makes sure to leave ‘em satisfied. They owe him.”

“A scholar with ambition? Hearing such things makes me pray to Poseidon sometimes.” A risky joke in these parts, but it made Hegord laugh out loud. “He must be charismatic to balance all these things without drawing ire.”

“Guess so. I just wonder where he is going.” He didn’t mean physically of course. Something about a determined man with such influence smelled of revolution. Athens was still weary from the last uprising a few decades back.

“I, for one, know where I will be going. Back to the bathhouse to loosen my stiff shoulders.” He said with a heavy sigh and rubbed said shoulders. “Have fun with your little mystery scholar. Be sure to tell me what you find out next time!”

“Safe travels Pelos.” The old man waved him off and leaned forward, waiting for Typhos to finally make his way to him.

Not much later the young man really did come over himself. Aside from the drivers he seemed to have no workers or slaves to take care of his business for him.

“Greetings, good master.” He greeted him politely and lowered his head ever so slightly.

“Good day, sir. Will you be moving to the central stables or are you just passing through the city?”

“No need for the ‘sir’, we are of the same ilk, no?” Meaning he considered himself a commoner, just like Hegord.

“Forgive this old man, but all my customers are sirs to me.” His reply was humble, but serious.

“I see. Well then, I plan to stay in the city for a while, so could your men move the carriage to the stables in the northern district? I loaned it from there.”

“Sure.” He went through his grey beard and then looked at the two carts filled with goods.

“Oh, as for those.” Typhos eyes became a bit sharper. “I would be grateful if you could send them to Lord Kerhones estate.”

Hegord was lost in thought for a moment, but then nodded softly.

“Is there something amiss?”

“Lord Kerhones, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time, is all.” He muttered.

“He has fallen ill as of late. His wife takes care of the land I heard.” Typhos smiled neutrally.

“Got a message my men should bring along?”

“Ah, only that I wish the good lord will recover quickly.” He said with an amicable gesture. “Also, I am looking forward to see what she prepared for me.”

Vague words only served to make Hegord more curious. Yet the old man knew not to be hasty and just scratched the words into a piece of hardened bark.

“Do you not use parchment?” The scholar would obviously have asked such a question. Writing was an important matter to their kind.

“It’s been humid lately. The building’s not too well kept, so parchment gets soaked real quick.” He explained and finished the message before whistling for one of the workers to come over. “It’s a verbal message, this is to memorize for the guy who brings the goods up to the estate.” It was located on a hill near the Akropolis.

“Interesting. We never cease to learn.” Typhos smiled and then turned to watch the state of his wares being transported.

“Alright, I’ll make sure to get them there safely.” Hegord rose from the crate and then began shouting. “Hey, you good for nothings! Break time’s over, move the goods and make room for the carriage! Put the wine aside already you filthy drunkards!” The world of transport and honest work was rough and loud, which seemed to make Typhos uncomfortable. Or at least he was acting the part. Soon the half dozen muscle-bound workers threw aside their wooden plank which they had been playing dice games on and rushed to do their job.

“I am impressed. Seeing you handle them so well firsthand really makes all the fantastical recommendations I got for you pale compared to the real thing.” Typhos adjusted his silk scarf and took out a small pendant that seemed to have a needle in its center. When the sun touched it, it threw a shadow on the ground that made an odd pattern. He nodded to himself and put it back below his clothes.

“You honor me, sir.” Hegord stayed calm, unperturbed by flattery.

“Someone with your logistical mind could be of great help to me. Can I ask you for one more job that may go a bit outside the realm of your usual dealings?”

“I’m no merchant, ‘fraid, but if it’s something you want to be delivered I can get it organized.” He hesitated just enough to appear unwilling, but still offered his services nonetheless. Of course Hegord was deeply interested in anything Typhos had planned, so this was a welcome turn of events. He just wouldn’t show it on his old parchment like face.

“Once Lord Kerhones is informed there should be a package prepared for delivery at the servant entrance of the estate. If you have an especially trustworthy man under your employ, I would like him to take it to the Akropolis.”

“Where exactly, if I may inquire?”

“The grand temple of Athena.” He said with a cunning smile.

The temple of Athena was almost central to the Akropolis and towered high above the rest of the city (with exception of the palace), as was the desired effect back when it was built on the large hill. Athens’ Acropolis (also referred to as Cecropia) was mainly only accessible for the upper citizens and officials.

The priestesses here were highly regarded and had been performing rites and services since they founded the cult of Athenai many centuries ago. There were almost solely women appointed as mediums and workers at such temples all over the country. The sisters of Athena had a harsh policy that disallowed men from interfering with their work or business outside of appointments. It was even rumored that all of them were virgins, only devoted to their goddess, albeit such unsubstantiated fantasies were usually far from the truth.

Aristocrats and kings had often bent such rules and used their authority to overrule the opposition, but one usually only came to the temple if one wished for support from the goddess, so angering her acolytes and direct subordinates was far from clever.

Typhos walked up the long sandstone stairs of the Cecropia and looked upon the large temple with expectation. His long journey from Sarpedon back to Athens was all worth it soon. The men and women around him were either greeting him politely or rushing past him without looking up. Both were familiar reactions for him.

At the end of the plastered road he found himself at the pillar of the temple entrance. It was currently opened, afternoon sun shining right inside. He had waited half a day before coming here, just at the time where the light would shine on the shrine. One of the young priestesses was adjusting an ornament, but stopped when she noticed him. She was watching him with flushed cheeks and hid behind the pillar. That too was a reaction he had become fond of when encountering young women.

He gave her a smile and waved casually before moving inside the temple. Of course he was stopped right away by several women in long veils. Despite his calm demeanor they were on guard and told him to wait. A few moment later the hurried steps of a famous woman echoed inside the entrance hall.

“You have come at an inopportune time, Typhos.” It was the head priestess herself, Akacia.

“It always seems to be a bad time for you, dear head priestess.” He replied with slight jest and lowered his hands. The rings reflected the sun into the dark brown eyes of the priestess, making her squint angrily.

“I am serious. Lady Athena is in a foul mood due to the fire at the olive grove east of Piraeus. Some lunatic took a torch and set it on fire with his own hands. Afterwards he committed suicide by jumping off a cliff. Gods know what kind of curse caused this madness, but we should consider ourselves lucky that we do not go to war right now.” Her eyes were covered in dark rings, indicating that she had experienced little sleep. Appeasing a war goddess was far from an easy task it seemed.

“What a horrible thing.” Typhos gave her his condolences. “As a scholar of the mind, I can only make some informed assumptions on the nature of a man’s head. A desperate soul can jump to drastic measures when they see no other options.”

“You sound like you know why he did it.” She replied with a sharp look.

“Far from it! I did hear about the catastrophe, but alas, there is nothing I could find out.” He apologized.

“It has been done and the ‘why’ matters little now. I read your letter and would have liked to prepare a meeting, but under these circumstances all prayers to our Lady will go unheard. She wishes to find out what the criminal’s allegiance was, so she may lay waste to his people. All we can do is to wait it out.” One of the sisters began to sob and was embraced by another. These young girls were not used to the wrath of the gods yet.

“Hm. So if I were to find out the truth behind this unfortunate crime, would you let me speak to her?”

“What are you scheming?” Akacia watched him with caution and raised a hand to stop the other priestesses from throwing him out.

“Schemes are for those of impure intentions. I simply wish to calm our revered goddess so I may have a talk with her.”

“You dare face the goddess of war in such a state?” She mocked him visibly.

“Yes.” He nodded with certainty.

“…how much did you figure out?”

“That remains to be seen. Right now one of my acquaintances is returning to the Akropolis to bring me the evidence from the scene of the fire.” He smiled darkly when seeing Akacia’s face twitch for a moment.

“When did you…?” She pressed the words out between her teeth.

“The when is irrelevant, rather it is the ‘who’ you should be concerned with.” He smirked and walked forward, passing the head priestess without resistance. “My offering for Lady Athena has arrived, I presume?”

“We put it next to the shrine.” She replied with crossed arms and her back turned to him.

“Head priestess?” The sisters looked at her with shock as she did not call Typhos back.

“Prepare the ritual. Incense and blue candles. Hopefully we will make it out of this alive.” Her voice was grave, but she was still strong. Her countenance as the head of this temple was unrivaled.

Typhos knelt down in the ritual chamber. He was looking at the giant statue of Athena with an unchanging expression. The smell of incense permeated the air as it was unleashed from the holes in the floor. Additionally dozens of blue candles were spread across the room, forming an unfamiliar pattern.

Lying on the altar was the offering that Typhos had gotten from Lord Kerhones’ wife. A legendary cake made from the finest milk and honey. She was renowned for baking pastries that even Dionysus would love (with a good wine of course). Additionally there were two carafes with the purest water that could be found in all of Greece, or so he was told.

“Lady Athena will only appear if she so desires, so do not feel too disappointed if even these offerings cannot garner her attention.” Akacia said coldly before kneeling down next to him. She went into a pose of prayer and urged him to do the same.

“I am certain she will want to hear this.” He said self-confident.

“O’ greatest of ladies, the goddess that grants us wisdom and guides us in times of war! I beg of you, hear the prayer of your most devoted priestess. We offer you these gifts with utmost respect and love. Please, hear the call of your follower, the young scholar Typhos who has knowledge of the crime that has upset you so!”

The last part was certainly ad-libbed and Typhos knew that she was saying it not to gain her Lady’s attention, but rather to make certain he had no escape. If he had lied about knowing something he could not get out of this safely now.

At first nothing happened. The chamber was quiet aside from the low mumbling of Akacia and the sound of some distant ringing beyond the walls. Just when his legs started to tire from his knelt position something in the air shifted. The ringing stopped and the silence left behind was oppressive to his ears, as if a new layer had been added to the world.

The eyes of Athena’s statue began to shine blue, as if filled by a supernatural fire!

“I am Athena, your goddess. Your call has been heard. Leave us alone Akacia.” The statue did neither move nor emote, but still an echoing voice was inside the room. It was an unnerving experience. The head priestess left with a bow, just as she was told.

Now Typhos was alone with the burning eyes of a goddess.

“You claim to have knowledge of the crime that has insulted me so gravely?” Her voice was deep and scathing and somehow seemed to form right behind his forehead. It gave him a minor migraine already.

“Indeed.” He spoke with a few sweat drops gathering above his brow. “My friends in Piraeus have gathered all the evidence they could and after surveying it, I came to the conclusion of who is responsible.”

“Speak.” The command was heavy.

“The arsonist was a man named Lysandros. He hailed from Sparta and lived in Athens after being exiled.”

“Sparta.” The anger in the goddess’ voice was hot like the fire of the candles. This kind of incident was the cause for wars in times past. It may well have been the same now.

“He was exiled due to his love for Athenian culture. I do not dare make assumptions myself, but he claimed to have been devoted to you.”

“My followers do not burn my trees, lest I burn them!” Of course her retort was terrifying.

“I agree. The man’s mind was clouded by emotion, however. The truth is he had a romantic interest in one of your priestesses.”

“Which one?” Here came the question that made Akacia so grim and was the reason she had kept it all a secret from her goddess. If he revealed the name now, there was no telling what would happen to the girl.

“I… could not find out.” He said with delay.

“You claim to know, yet you withhold information? You are courageous if nothing else, mortal.” Right now she balanced between ridicule and wrath.

“Her identity is meaningless, I believe! She did not reciprocate his advances, because she devoted her all to the temple and you! Thus he came to hate that focus of her admiration, Lady Athena herself.” He explained steadily, not showing his fear.

“So he destroyed my trees and threw himself into the maws of the sea, in hope to escape punishment?” She had already gathered the full picture in mere seconds.

“His suicide letter seemed to imply as much. My associates are delivering it to your head priestess as we speak.”

“Foolish man. He thinks that he is safe beyond this life? He will suffer in Tartarus for all eternity, like the coward deserves.” Thus was spoken the judgment of this soul.

Charon would not take a soul across the river if they weren’t buried properly, with few exceptions of those righteous who drowned at sea. Though cowards who committed the sin of taking their own life or defying the gods would always be thrown into Tartarus. If he had not committed a sin so grave he might have made it to the mourning fields, where those ended up that wasted their lives on unrequited love.

“Love can drive humans to great mistakes. If someone had been there for him to convince him to stay his hand, perhaps everything would have ended more favorably.”

“Are you suggesting that my priestess' love for myself was the cause of this mistake?”

She certainly was far too quick-witted for the likes of him. Typhos had to smirk, despite his sweat covered face.

“There is nothing further from my intentions.” He replied with conviction. She seemed to accept his humbling words and pose.

“You have done well, mortal. I shall thank you for assisting me in bringing justice to this Lysandros.”

“I aim to please.” He bowed again and smiled professionally.

“I sense you have a desire beyond unveiling the truth of the arson. You may speak.”

“Thank you! It is true; there is another issue that bears heavily on my mind.” He acted deeply concerned. Inside he was rather happy with his performance. He got the goddess’ trust and she was still livid, so this next revelation would certainly focus her wrath. “I happened upon one of your priestesses in Lamia, her name was Eugenia.”

“Eugenia.” Athena spoke in recognition. Perfect.

“Her purity and compassion were greater than of any woman I have ever met. When I told her of my expedition to Sarpedon, she came along out of her own free will.”

“Sarpedon? The lair of the Gorgon Medusa.” She could already tell why he would go to such a horrible place. There was only ever one reason why humans traveled to that cursed isle. “You survived the expedition. A rare feat.”

“Barely, I assure you. Many of my comrades fell to her vile gaze.” He said with a bitter voice. “Among the slain… was the priestess.” He spoke those words slowly, stretching each syllable.

Silence enveloped the chamber. Athena had already been enraged by the burning of the olives, so the death of one of her favorite priestesses should cause an uproar that would make him fear for his own life. He prepared himself, braced himself, but the explosion never happened.

“That is not so.” She said with full certainty.

“Pardon?” He looked up in surprise.

“Eugenia lives. All humans blessed by me are connected to me. If one dies, I will know.” Her words were matter of fact and could not be challenged.

Typhos felt like he lost his balance and was sinking into the ground. The priestess was not dead? The Gorgon had spared her? She could not have escaped, not when she was already in the Gorgon’s hold. He had taken the only boat off the island. How? How had this happened?!

His speechlessness seemed to leave Athena disinterested, so she spoke again.

“Not all your information is as accurate as you think. Unless you have evidence, as with the case of the arson, always withhold hasty conclusions.”

The wisdom she spoke only splashed off of him right now. His plans were thrown on their head and he had to grit his teeth. He had to use his mind and fast!

“I apologize for the misunderstanding. When I last saw her, she appeared dead, which is why I had to leave her behind. It pains me to have done so now and I feel nothing but shame for my actions.”

“That monster, the Gorgon, it inspires fear even in heroes, so I shall forgive your inattentiveness, mortal.” She was in a much better mood already, which should have made him happy, considering the circumstances, but he could not let it go.

“Yet, I confess, that leaves me puzzled. The Gorgon did not slay Eugenia, but what became of her then? Did that monster capture her to turn her into cattle for the slaughter when she feels a craving for human flesh?” He tried to make it sound as vile as possible.

“I cannot see her.”

He stiffened up when hearing those words.

“There is a barrier around that island, which was erected by Poseidon on my command. It is impenetrable even to the eyes of the gods. Be assured, though, that she will not touch Eugenia. The Gorgon knows not to lay hand on my things, so she will reconsider dearly before calling my fury upon herself.” She explained. Despite the danger experienced by one blessed through her, the goddess appeared detached and calm.

Such a thing was possible? A place not even the gods could see? And the Gorgon was intelligent enough to make such important differentiations? The gears in Typhos' head kept spinning and turning. This new information was valuable.

“I see. Then I can only pray for the poor maiden, that she is not defiled or suffering.”

“Your compassion honors you. In return for your service I shall answer you any one question. Choose wisely.”

The favor of the goddess of wisdom was information. Naturally. This was a valuable thing to him right now. Despite his plans and schemes though... he felt something burning on his mind. A question he had wished the answer to ever since his childhood. The truth that he could not let go. There might have been a more useful question, but in the end Typhos was only human. He asked as his heart dictated.

“Please tell me this truth: How did King Heroides die?”

Silence pervaded the halls for a long moment.

“That is one thing I cannot tell.” She replied honestly.

That was all he needed to know.

“Thank you.”

The meeting between the scholar and the goddess of wisdom and war tied the strings of fate forcefully to an unavoidable path.