This is the display of the inquiry of Apollodorus of Syracuse, so that things done by man not be forgotten in time, and that great and marvellous deeds of the Hellenes shall not lose their glory, including among others what was the cause of their waging war on each other.

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The Thapsos proposed their desire to take the Lady as their bride. Rejected by blessed Lady Arete of Syracuse, the Thapsos decided to wage a war against Syracuse. Three thousands hoplites with another three thousands of elephants, cavalries.

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The cunning Thapsos used caltrops to attack. The goddess Athena showered her blessings to the Syracusean hoplites. Using the large shields landed on the ground, they cleared the path full of caltrops. Through Lady Arete, the great Athena guided General Hector, turning their victory, seizing the Thapsos with ease…

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“BULLSHIT!” Arete threw the scroll against the wall. While the maids immediately picked up that scroll. They knew that was an important object, as they carefully roll it back to shape.

Arete was devastated after reading what her teacher had written. In great disbelieve, she started to doubt about all the scrolls she had read and memorised through her learning life.

It was a disastrous war, although Hector did lead the phalanx and successfully seized Thapsos. She lost all of her rear soldier and half of her side flanks cavalries. She felt defeated, but the scroll glorified her with appearance of the goddess Athena.

“What… what did the messenger told the Romans?” She grabbed the tunic of a servant, and he tried to mumble away that question.

“WHAT! DID! THE MESSENGER SAID?” Arete shouted furiously into his ear.

“My Lady, I can’t read…” he fearfully lowered his head and handed another scroll on his hand.

… As we had successfully utilised the great military formation suggested by the great Roman Empire. We seized our enemy Thapsos. This shall teach the Sikeilia nations to remain loyal to Rome, else destruction shall fall upon them!…

Burning with wrath, she attempted to tore the scroll apart, but the papyrus was reinforced to prevent tare. A man grabbed her hands, and pulled her away. She dropped the scroll and screamed. Her body reflexed in a way trying to avoid an attack. When her father stopped with his hand in the mid air. He was about to slap her, but he unable to lay his hand on her.

“Behave yourself! Arete!” Amiran shouted.

Arete kneeled, breathing heavily, trying to calm herself down. Before the tears able to to make their way out of her eyes, her father grabbed her shoulder.

“Do not…” He said.

And she knew exactly what he tried to remind her. Do not, and never show any sign of weakness. Slowly, she shut her eyes, breathing again and again, and swallowed down every emotions in her.

“I know, it is hard, but this is for the best of you and our nation.” Amiran added.

Arete regained her posture. She fixed her fringe, and kept her calm. The servants picked up the scrolls on floor, and they left the room immediately as instructed by Apollodorus with hand gesture.

They left her alone.

And she knew.

She knew her father had given her a space and time for her emotion to burst. But she already drowned them. She walked towards her kline bed. Where her items still lay on top of it. Her golden cuirass with the white silk tunic stained by some blood.

Blood.

She was 15, already overdue for a lady to be married off. It would be easier for her to just find a strong warrior. Or be married to the lord of another city-state.

But she knew her own weakness. She had not yet able to have her monthly bleed. A sign that she might unable to carry any offspring.

I’m useless!

She failed to strengthen the nation with her role as a lady. The very reason why she trained so hard, and studied so hard. Yet, the scrolls had betrayed her. Every knowledge within them might not be authentic. As the histories had been written by the victors, glorified and swayed away from the truth.

She felt both mentally and physically weak. The golden spoon which she was born with was as fragile as pure gold itself. It comes with great responsibility. Her life was not belong to her alone, but belong to the nation of Syracuse.

Her tears, was a sign of weakness of her nation. No failure shall be tolerated. The scribes must wrote everything that glorifies her name. She must tie herself with the mythical goddess, simply to keep her going. And she must kept going.