Brother was gone, not dead, but just gone. Not a body, not a scent, leaving me with naught but my worrying heart. I would torture myself worrying over where he was, but I had more pressing concerns in the present. As soon as I returned to the palace after losing Ore, I was surrounded by guards and put in shackled. Roughly they dragged me to the palace dungeons. It was a dim and filthy place, the smell of waste and misery filling the air. The iron door opened, and I was pushed in. My feet tripped on a large crack in the floor and I fell flat on my jaw. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I bit my tongue. Behind me, the iron doors shut close, and the click of the lock sounded like a seal on my fate.

I do not know how many hours has passed before I heard footsteps coming. The cells were rather quiet as it was said that Clytemnestra and Aegisthus preferred to simply execute criminals, or those that they didn’t like, instead of holding them for trials. The footsteps stopped and I looked up – it was Electra, brother’s sister.

“Open the door and leave us,” she told her two guards.

“But my Queen, this man is dangerous…” one of her guards said. She held up her hand.

“Who am I again?”

“Our Queen.”

“Exactly.”

The man shook his head, but followed her orders and soon we were alone, accompanied only by the sound of our breathing and the distant dripping of water.

“So, you are Queen now?” I ask.

“Yes, I was next in line for succession.”

“Any chance you can get me out of here?”

“No, my position is not exactly secure. My mother may have been a tyrant, but the elders now demand that the law be respected that she is gone. The people seem to agree. You will have a fair trial, and then…”

“Death or Exile?” I ask.

“Exile is given only for citizens,” she said apologetically.

I took in a breath long and deep.

“But do not worry too soon,” she added quickly, “you are the prince of a friendly city, I shall convince the elders for extradition.”

“Playing politics already eh?” I joke.

“It’s not just politics,” she replied, “I seem to recall you calling my brother your brother.”

“I speak truth, for that is what we are in all but blood.”

“Then you are my brother as well, in all but blood. I have sent a messenger to your father, he should return in four or five days with a request for extradition, and by then I shall have convinced the elders to agree to such a request for the benefit of the city.”

“Thank you,” I say, “I owe you a great debt.”

“There can be no debt between family.”

She left after that, and later the guards brought me food. It was better than what I expected for there was a meat broth, bread, cheese, and dried meat. No doubt Electra had ordered that I not be treated too poorly. The next few days passed in roughly the same way. Electra would visit at some point, usually at night, and two meals are brought to me at noon and evening. On the fifth day it was announced that I was to be extradited to Phocis. I was pulled out of my cell, this time more gently, unshackled, cleaned, and changed into a fresh set of togas. I was then shackled again, put on a locked carriage, and shipped off to my home. Electra wasn’t there to bid farewell, but she had done more than enough.

On the way back to Phocis, I wondered what sort of punishment father would set. Definitely not death, I thought to myself, and probably not exile, since although he was a pious man, I was his sole heir. I decided that it was most likely going to be a heavy whipping, and then a fine that we would pay to the court of Argos.

“It pains a father to say this, but as the King of Phocis I sentence you to be exiled in perpetuity from the city of Phocis and the land of its kingdom. Unless forgiven by the gods for your hideous crime of regicide and assisting another in matricide, you are stripped of all the rights of citizen, and shall be put to death if you ever set foot on this kingdom again,” father said, in a voice that was shaking yet managed to sound stern at the same time.

I looked at him, and mother beside him. In their eyes I could see pain. I knew that they were a pious couple, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine such a fate. I wanted to beg for forgiveness, yet that is what I had been doing for hours during the trial. I had tried to justify our actions, explaining how Aegisthus and Clytemnestra had themselves committed regicide and deserved their end justly. But it was for naught, for in the end my father was pious, and for him the killing of family was a stain so dark that it corrupted all who helped in its endeavor. I nodded numbly as I took in the rest of my sentence. I was to be branded an exile immediately, and would be escorted by soldiers to the borders of the kingdom. I was stripped of all property except the clothes on my body and a single silver coin.

When the court was dismissed, and I was being dragged out of the throne room, I tried to again look at my parents, but they avoided my gaze. Never have I thought piety could bring such pain, and yet here I was, a son exiled for the piety of the father. Perhaps it was my own fault, perhaps I should have known better what I’d gotten myself into when I made myself his brother. Or perhaps it was Orestes’ fault.

Oh how I would like to find a single point to place all the blames of my misfortune, on anyone but myself. Yet, I could not bring myself to put the blame on him. Did I ever regret being with him? I can answer with certainty the negative. All our time together, even the painful moments, I cherish like gold. While I despair about being exiled, Orestes is out there somewhere, chased by the furies and driven mad by the anguish of the dead. Perhaps there is no blame to be placed, or even if there is, there is no point in placing it. The fates do as they will, and even the gods cannot escape their grasp.

The air around me cooled as we arrived in the dungeons. The room in front of us had a fireplace. I waited in surprising calm as the jailer heated the brand for exiles in the fireplace. But when the brand was finally ready, fear of the pain filled me. As a boy, I had always wrestled and fought with practice swords and was no stranger to pain, but this was going to be unlike anything I had previously experienced. The guard held up a piece of leather, no doubt used by countless prisoners, but which I bit down on anyways. My head was then held down onto a table.

As the brand neared my face I could feel the warmth from its heat, and when pressed against my face at first I felt nothing, and then a searing white pain filled my vision. On the right side of my head I could almost hear my own skin sizzling. It felt like an eternity before the pain ended. I must have passed out briefly, for when I awoke my head was in cold water. I struggled and the guard pulled my head out. Then I was escorted to the border of the kingdom, by which I mean my hands were tied to a rider and I had to half jog to catch up since he had no concern for my well being. When we were at the border, I was soaked through with sweat, my whole body ached, I had a migraine, and I was both hungry and thirsty.

The rider cut my reigns, and turned to leave with his fellow soldiers.

“One silver coin?” I gasped.

He turned to look at me, “your payment for my day’s work,” he smirked.

Anger and righteous indignation was what I felt, but I knew there wasn’t much that I could do. I didn’t want to get myself killed, so all I did was stare in anger and spite as the riders left. I then turned back to the stretch of road ahead. I didn’t know where to go, but at least the fates had left me with a purpose – to find my brother.

Four years. That is how long it has been since I last saw brother before I set off for Delphi so that Apollo’s prophet may tell me where he is. In the first few months of my exile I simply searched for him by wondering the countryside, finding the occasional food and shelter through the hospitality of the common people, or to put it in a more forward manner, as a beggar.

Later, I realized that I was an educated man, and that I had skills that were in demand. At first I thought about being a scribe, accountant, or tutor, but no respectable institution, merchant, or family would hire a branded exile. So it was that I decided to try my luck with a mercenary company. I was of course treated with laugher and disdain.

“Look at this kid, barely even got a beard,” said a man who looked like he has never shaved in his life, and with hands and arms so big that I wasn’t sure that he hold a razor.

“Go home kid, before you get yourself killed,” said another. This one had a kind face.

“How are you going to fight without equipment?” The leader asked. A fair question.

“Maybe we can have some fun with him before sending him crying to his mother.”

I looked towards the direction of that last suggestion. It came from a man who’s smile revealed yellow and rotting teeth. He stood up and walked towards me, spinning a knife in this right hand. He was about my size, but looked at least twenty years old. I noted that he carried a sword by his side and another knife on his belt.

“Take your deprived habits somewhere else,” someone said. There was a murmur of agreement, but no one acted to stop him.

“You’d make this easier for both of us if you cooperate,” the man said, “Take off your clothes and turn around.”

“I like a struggle,” I replied. The camp was silent and the man sneered. “We’d do it you way then,” he said “though you may not be alive at the end of it.

He put the knife back and came towards me with a punch. He probably wanted not to kill me but to knock me out or just to beat me up so that he can enjoy me. This was his mistake, and the last one he will ever make. I dodged the punch, caught his arm, twisted him around, and placed a chokehold on his neck from behind. I then pushed him onto the ground so that he could not reach his knives or sword. He grabbed at my arm with his hands, and we struggled like this for what seemed like minutes. Then at last he stopped struggling. I snapped his neck just to make sure that he was dead.

“I think I got the equipment problem solved,” I said, looking at the leader, “these clothes are a bit dusty from the ground but they don’t even have blood on them.”

I guess I should have counted myself lucky that the man I killed didn’t have too many friends in the company; the fates were indeed with me that day. I was in, and so for the next four years I fought alongside other rough men, mostly to clear bandits in the countryside for various cities. These men became my road-brothers, but I never lost sight of who true family was. While others spent their money on drinks and women, I saved mine, and at the end of four years, I had enough for a consolation at the Oracle of Delphi and then some left to spare. Then came the day for me to leave.

“I am leaving the company,” I say.

“We wish you luck, but spend the night with us. You have been a good fighter, and you will be missed,” the leader said.

I had shared my story with these men many a night around the fire, and I did again tonight. Although at first many of them thought my fraternal loyalty naïve and hopeless, I’d like to think that I had changed their mind though four years of determination and action. It is hard to laugh at the concept of loyalty when a person has saved you from death of the sword by putting themselves in harm’s way.

“I envy you,” one of them said that night, “that you have something so dear to you in life, that you are willing to sacrifice so much just for the hope of getting it back.” I nodded, and realized the right in his words, for as much as I had suffered for Ore, I had gained even more.

Then came morning, when I left the camp quietly, nodding farewell to the men on watch.

“What do I need to do to save my brother?” I asked the Oracle.

She continued to light candles and incense around us, and I held my silence. I couldn’t help but notice that the candle holders had more golden decorations on them than the ones I saw when I was last here. When she was done, she enveloped herself in smoke, and gave her answer:

He lays dying in an antique land

Under the gaze of ancient gods past.

In the house of Athena’s he must stand

The Judgement of the sacred twelve.

The sun was just on the horizon when I exited the temple, and it had not yet chased away the morning mist. Dew was only starting to form on the mountainside. But as the mist of the mountain cleared, so did my way ahead.