Andros walked the beaten path that led from the port to the palace with the sun shining on his face. He tilted his chin until it fell more fully upon him and breathed in the scents of home. This close to the water, he could still smell the salt of the sea but underneath its scent, he detected the sweetness of flowers and honey. Everywhere he looked, farmers and laborers were preparing for the harvest. The wheat was golden in the field and fruit hung heavy on the boughs of trees. It was his favorite time of year and the reason he had named his ship so.

Even the twins seemed impressed by the Aetolosian population going about their work. Their eyes drank in the sights and sounds of civilization like parched wanderers in the desert. Andros thought it likely they had been running and fighting for their lives over much of the last year. He didn’t want to think about what troubles they faced under the ministrations of the god-touched Barbarus. Unfortunately, history had more examples of men like Barbarus than they did of those like Andros. Absolute power corrupted absolutely and it was another reason Andros liked to keep on the move. If he settled down, then his power might become his greatest temptation.

As his party traveled, merchants and commoners gave them a wide berth. Andros felt like a shark swimming among minnows. He still wore his boiled leather breastplate, greaves, and bracers with two short swords buckled at his belt. He had left his helmet and shield back on the Harvest but he still projected violence in motion. The warrior didn’t blame his countrymen and woman, he did what he had to do to keep them safe. Farming and commerce were just as important as his raiding, but the strength of his sword arm is what gave them the space to go about their normal lives.

Andros knew the kingdom’s policy wasn’t sustainable. Every year, more kingdoms fell to the daima. Their affliction was such that it spread upon contact with the daima. Whole kingdoms collapsed overnight on the mainland and it was only Aetolos’ strategic separation that allowed them to prevent an outbreak of the white fever that turned men into monsters. Still, they would die on their kingdom of islands if they hid behind their natural protections.

There needed to be more brave men and women that were willing to create new safe havens of civilization on the mainland. Even if the kingdom’s defense were strong—and they were. Eventually, the daima would infect their people. It was only a matter of time. Humanity needed to spread itself out so that one centralized population couldn’t be extinguished.

At least, the fortifications are well made, Andros thought while studying the countryside.

The only reason there was countryside at all, was to create strategic separation between the royal palace and the docks where the majority of the citizens lived and worked. If the port fell, the commoners would need a place to retreat to and the palace was a fortress in and of itself. Along the way, there were stake filled ditches and collapsible bridges. There were palisades around the borders of every farm. If an area fell to the daima, there was another place to defend just behind it. A layered defense was the kind of strategy that kept their people alive when so many others had fallen to their unnatural foes.

Andros studied the defenses and thought about the daima themselves. They looked like men, they walked like men, but they waged war on themselves and others like animals. They had no language to speak off. They spoke in chattering clicks and grunts. A daima village was a hellish place where rape, murder, and theft were commonplace. Calling it a village was a stretch. It used to be a place of civilization back before the men’s eyes turned empty and their souls went black. When The Bountiful Harvest stumbled upon such a location, Andros’ job was to salvage as much as he could while killing as many of the daima as possible.

Cassandra and Teresa came alongside him and weaved their arms through his on either side. They didn’t seem possessive, merely using him as comfort. He noted the nervousness in their bodies and he felt pity for the events that led to this moment. Watching the two sisters felt like observing a blossom that had been cut before it’s time—still beautiful in their own way, but not given the time to grow into their true selves. Their actions jarred him from his maudlin thoughts and he realized that they had arrived at the outer wall of the palace.

“Halt!” One of the guards yelled.

Andros looked up in mild surprise. He had been more distracted than he realized.

“Andros Aeton, Lokha of the Bountiful Harvest,” he announced himself. “I’m here to see the King at His pleasure.”

The guard that stopped him grinned.

“Lokha! Sorry, I always forget the way you look when you return from a raid.” He chuckled appreciatively. “It’s good to see you back. We heard the horns but weren’t sure if it was you or one of the other ships.”

Andros didn’t know the man, but it never hurt to be polite. “It’s good to see you too, friend. Have I come at a bad time?”

“No, not at all. Follow me, and I’ll take you to Nestor.”

The weary raider nodded his acceptance but wanted to make sure the sisters were taken care of. “Can you send a couple of men to inform Queen Clytadora that I have returned her sisters?”

The two sisters tightened their grip on his arms, but the guard didn’t seem to notice. He clapped his hand.

“Well done, god-touched!” He cheered before turning to the other sentry. “Lasonas, go inform the Queen of her sisters’ arrival.”

The sentry shared a grin and then darted into the palace.

Andros looked down at the two women, “Do you want to wait here, or come with me to meet Nestor.”

It was Teresa who answered for them both. “We’d rather stick to your side for as long as we can.”

“This is all new and strange to us, we’re sorry to burden you lokha,” Cassandra sadly finished.

“It’s no burden, princesses. I serve at your leisure.” Andros answered before leading them after the palace guard.

Truth be told, he was thankful that Nestor was their first destination. As the right-hand man of King Anaximenes, Andros wouldn’t have to wait long for an audience. Although he was considered minor nobility in his own right, the king was the king, and all waited at His pleasure.

They entered the palace and the guard led him to an antechamber near the throne room. The room itself was opulent. Cushioned couches and chairs ringed the room while intricately carved tables were laden with refreshment and trinkets. Cerulean banners with the royal crest hung from the ceiling and fur pelts warmed the cool stone tiles.

Andros detected the sweet-smelling incense that wafted throughout the room. Its ever-present odor gave the room a warm and comfortable feeling. It was an indication of wealth in a time when such incense was hard to procure. He felt annoyed at the excess but was determined to drop off his charges and return to his wife with all haste.

“Get comfortable while I go fetch Nestor,” the guard suggested before reaching his hand out. “Also, I’ll need to take your swords and any other weapons while you wait.”

Despite Andros’ status with the king, no one was allowed to have weapons in His presence. Just being allowed to carry them into the palace was a sign of respect so Andros didn’t resist. Andros merely nodded and unbuckled his swords and fished a dagger from his boot before handing them over.

When the guard left, he took a seat and did as the man suggested. The two sisters hovered uncertainly around him. Noticing their discomfort, Andros sighed and made his way to a nearby table. There was a pitcher of watered wine and he poured three cups while they waited. He handed two to the sisters and encouraged them to sit down on the plush furniture.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the Queen will be here soon to retrieve you.”

He was more right than he expected. He had no sooner finished his sentence than the doors to the antechamber violently opened and all of a sudden he was in the middle of three crying and hugging women.

He backed out of the fray and watched the woman hold each other and exchange words in a rapid-fire fashion. He sipped his wine and smiled at the reunion. When the tears were exhausted and the conversation slowed, the Queen seemed to become aware of his presence.

She broke from her sisters and wrapped him in an encompassing hug.

“Thank you so much, Andros,” she murmured into his chest. “I knew that if anyone could bring my family back to me, it would be you.”

She released her hug and held him at arm’s length. Her turquoise eyes glanced over the state of him. He found nothing but abject love and appreciation in their blue depths.

“I only did as your husband, the King bade me, your majesty,” he modestly replied.

“No, you did more than that. Rumors are already creeping in from the town that you slew another god-touched that had captured my sisters. I was stopped no less than three times by guards who wanted to share the news with me.”

Andros grimaced. He had wanted to keep that part of the adventure under wraps, but he should’ve realized that an extraordinary feat would fly on rumors faster than the wind itself.

A light cough interrupted them, and the Queen looked at the man who entered the room. It was a diminutive man in dusty gray robes. His advanced age and hairless skull didn’t hide the spark of intelligence in his dark brown eyes.

“Ah, Nestor,” she greeted. Her tone was composed and smooth. Gone was the tearful woman and relieved sister. The queen had taken back over.

“I’m sure you’re here to get information from our resident hero.” She smiled at her two sisters, “we’ll leave you to your work. My sisters and I need to catch up.”

Nestor merely bowed. “Thank you for your consideration, Your Majesty.”

The three sisters departed the room with the energy of puppies in play. Their happiness was so overwhelming that Andros noticed a smile on the normally taciturn face of Nestor. When they finally left, Nestor secured the doors and addressed the lokhar for the first time.

“It’s truly good to see you again, Andros.” He clasped the warrior’s forearm with his own.

“The King has missed your council since you left Aetolos.”

Andros chuckled, “Don’t blow smoke you old goat, the King and I disagree about almost everything. He was probably enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Nestor released his arm and grinned. “You’re not entirely wrong. I think he just misses the dependable presence you bring to the council chambers. The other nobility take far fewer liberties when you’re around to show them the error of their ways.”

“Now, that I believe,” Andros replied as he refilled his glass with wine. He poured another for Nestor and handed it to the man which he accepted with his thanks.

“I figured we should get the business over with before you see the king,” the advisor said after a sip of his drink.

Andros nodded and returned to his seat. He took a thoughtful sip of his wine before reporting.

“East Anhelus has truly fallen to the daima. My trip along the coast revealed nothing but burned out shells and crumbling roads.”

Nestor joined him on the plush couch. “I figured as much,” the seneschal noted. “How much material were you able to collect?”

“We collected a good amount of livestock off of the coast. They had been running free from the daima. All told, we secured a dozen cattle, twice as many sheep, and almost sixty poultry.”

Nestor smiled his appreciation. “That’s a good haul for a single season of raiding. That will allow us to replenish our breeding stock nicely.”

Nestor tapped his chin while musing. “The harvest looks good this year, so this might be the last bit we need to ensure a sustainable food source on the islands.”

“You might not even need to go raiding again,” the man said suggestively.

Andros shrugged. He had this conversation with the King and his primary advisor every time he returned. “We’ll still need materials and weapons if we want to reclaim part of the mainland. It’s getting harder and harder to find materials. The livestock we did claim were almost feral. The rest have been butchered by the daima and left to rot.”

Andros felt like spitting. “They don’t even eat them, they just let them rot on the ground while they murder and eat each other,” he complained.

“That analysis is only valid if we decide to colonize the mainland as you suggest. From where the King and I stand, it might be better to close ourselves off for a while and let the daima thin themselves out. It’s a safer path for now.”

“You know that isn’t sustainable, Nestor,” the warrior replied. “If the white fever breaks out in the town, the entire population will be put at risk. Plus, saving the Queen’s sisters is proof that there are still humans out there that need to be rescued. I don’t want to leave them to the tender mercies of the daima if I can help it.”

Nestor made calming motions with one hand. “No one is suggesting you leave people to die, lokha.” The seneschal stared deeply into his cup.

“We are merely thinking about the risk associated with each raid. The King has big plans for you and your family.”

Andros was curious despite himself. “What sort of plans?” He wondered.

“Ah, I better let the King tell you of them, himself. Excuse an old man the liberties of his advanced age.” Andros knew better than to believe the other man. He never did anything without a good reason. If he had mentioned the topic, it’s because the King had willed him to.

Nestor rose to his feet and placed his cup on a nearby table. “We should be getting along, anyway. Are you ready?”

Andros finished his drink with a final gulp and then got up to place it next to Nestor’s own.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied congenially. “My wife and children are waiting at home for me to return.”

“Best not to leave them waiting, then.” The old man said with a grin before making toward the door.

Andros followed him and they took the central corridor to the entrance to the throne room.

Two guards garbed in metal armor with blue tabards opened the doors silently and they were ushered inside. The walk down the throne room was a short one. There weren’t any others in attendance besides the king, Nestor, Andros, and the royal guards that ringed the room. Anaximenes wasn’t one to stand on ceremony when the full court was absent. He rose from his seat and grinned widely. The smile looked natural on the King’s stout frame. He had once been a celebrated warrior, but time and good food had turned his prodigious frame soft. He still had a full head of wild brown hair and an uncombed beard to match. His green eyes sparkled with delight at Andros’ return.

“Ah, Andros! You have returned safely. Tell me of the news outside these walls!”

Andros reached the appropriate distance from the king and bowed deeply. “My king, the world grows ever darker, and it is only your will that keeps the shadows at bay.” His tone was ceremonial and practiced. The warrior was just as comfortable on the battlefield as he was in the council chamber. Often, it was difficult to tell the two apart.

“Rise Lokha and let us speak as friends,” he solemnly ordered.

When Andros rose his head, Anaximenes had already returned to his throne and given the raider an encouraging smile.

“Your Majesty, per your command, I traveled to the distant realms of East Anhelus. Okeanos was kind to the Harvest and we made a good time. When we arrived on the coast, we saw nothing to indicate human resistance of any kind. I am loath to report that the last Anhelusian kingdom has fallen. All settlements still standing were rife with decay and flush with scores of daima. As always, their depravity knows no end. None were spared and their souls, black as they are, were given swift passage to Iapetus’ lair.”

“Come now,” Anaximenes chastised. “You left out the most important part! You saved my wife’s sisters and defeated a god-touched brute.”

The king tapped his fingers against his throne as he studied the kingdom’s greatest warrior.

“You’re only what? Twenty age summers? And in that time, you’ve raided for ten seasons. You’ve slain more daima than any other warrior, you’ve brought enough goods to make Aetolos self-sufficient for the near future, and you’ve been able to slay another god-touched.”

Andros grew uncomfortable as the king listed his achievements. He didn’t do those things for the honor. He did them because they needed to be done. Highlighting the differences between himself and other men was sure to engender envy and strife between Andros and the others. Part of him wished to be left to his own devices. He wanted to sail the seas, explore uncharted lands, and bring death to the daima that plagued humanity. He had no desire to be raised above his peers. The legends of other god-touched warned him that death would soon follow.

“Still,” the King continued. “You deliver grave news indeed, Lokha. I had friends in East Anhelus. Their king was a wise and strong man. Are we truly the last of our kind?”

Andros empathized with his king. Five years ago, there were still settlements that hadn’t been infected by white fever. Now, there was little sign of civilization.

“I'm sorry my king, outside of Teresa and Cassandra, if there are survivors, then my crew and I didn’t find them. Maybe the other raiders will have better luck.”

The king seemed to chew on that.

“I think it’s time for you to settle down, Andros. I have offered you stewardship of Myros before and you have declined because you said Aetolos still wasn’t secure.”

Andros dreaded this conversation. He couldn’t defy his king so directly without drawing the ruler’s ire. He hoped to make an argument that would convince the king of the necessity of further raids.

“I can’t settle down now,” he hated the pleading in his voice. “Every year another kingdom falls.”

He shook his head. “This year, there was no one left. The only reason your wife’s family was saved was by the grace of the gods.”

He raised his voice to get the King to understand. “Next year we might be the kingdom that falls! The ocean doesn’t protect us from the daima and the only way we can fortify ourselves is through raiding. Any daima we kill out there is another that can’t make it to Aetolos. It’s a cause worth dying for!”

Anaximenes frowned and Andros could see the pain on his features. “You don’t get it, Andros. The people are afraid and they need someone to look up to. That’s why I need you to stay. Let the lesser warriors raid the mainland. You’re needed for something bigger.”

He sighed before continuing. “Now that you’ve returned, and saved my wife’s family no less, I’ve decided to offer you an ever-greater reward.” The king paused to allow his words to sink in.

“Your daughter,” he trailed off.

“Agathi,” the warrior supplied.

“Your daughter Agathi,” the King continued. “Is approaching four summers. My boy, Aleximenes is only two summers older than her. I propose a betrothal between our two families. Your line has brought glory to Aetolos. I think it’s only fair that she honors your line in return.”

Andros kept his face neutral. He knew why the king was suggesting such a match. If the warrior was god-touched, then his children might have blessings of their own. The king hoped to bring these traits into his line and secure a dynasty within Aetolos. Typically, Kings weren’t born into nobility. They needed to prove themselves on the battlefield and then be recognized by the council of nobles. What the king suggested, would upset the power balance in Aetolos for generations to come. Not only that but since it was Andros’ own daughter, the king could count on the warrior’s support for his son’s rule. It was an elegant way of tying Andros to his cause.

The warrior chafed under the politics of the conversation but he remained respectful.

“Thank you for this honor, my king. However, I must consult with my wife. This decision would impact our lives for generations. It isn’t a compact I should enter hastily. The gods have made fools of the men who rush into such things.”

The king nodded graciously. “Of course, lokha. Go home to your wife and speak to her about my proposal. I look forward to your family joining mine in the palace until a suitable home is built for you on Myros.”

Andros couldn’t prevent the frown that crossed his features. The king was essentially keeping him close at hand until the kingdom heard the news of the betrothal. A royal residence on Myros would take time to build. During that interim, the king would be solidifying his power among the local nobility. Andros couldn’t believe the king was playing politics while the world outside Aetolos’ shores burned.

“Do I have your leave, my king?”

“Of course,” Anaximenes gestured with a hand. “I expect your answer tomorrow morning. Enjoy your evening with your family and consider my words carefully.”

“By your command, Your Majesty.”

Andros stalked out of the throne room and retrieved his weapons from the royal guards. The king had spun a gilded cage, and the warrior wasn’t sure if he could escape it.