"What do you miss about our century?" I asked as we made our way to the main palace complex of Romanos, along with the rest of the crowd.

"Topmost is parties! I miss them like anything, to get drunk and be crazy for a while. Besides that, womanly independence, karaoke, dance, Netflix and oh, I miss our dear tampons!" Cheryl wailed.

"I don't understand. The department said we've stopped ageing. Doesn't that mean the bloody cycle should also stop for the time being?" I asked with a sullen face.

"We aren't ageing, doesn't mean the basic bodily functions would stop. This bloody cycle loves our future babies too much to let go of us," she snorted.

"By the way, can't we order tampons from the AI book?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"And how are you going to dispose it off?" I shot back. I was on the verge of ordering them during initial days but had held myself when the gravity of the situation had struck all of a sudden.

"Um... well, bury it in the forest ground?" she wondered.

"You have a point that I don't approve," I stated. "Don't forget the archaeologists who will excavate every little thing in our century. Have you wondered what will they make of, when they dig out twenty-first century tampon remains from a fourth-century site?"

"Whoa, never thought that. So, how about we burn it?"

We gagged, then burst into laughter.

"Oops, that'll be some horrible stench." She crinkled her nose, muffling a laugh.

"How do you manage it all? Damn, there are restrictions like staying away from males, not entering the cooking area, not stepping anywhere near deities. Someone even told not to see the swords and shields, cause menstruating women apparently turn metal to rust, just by looking at them. Like what the actual F?" she bellowed in annoyance.

"Thank the God, we haven't landed in an era where people considered menstruating women to be witches, who could bring thunderstorm." I laughed. Ancient people had crazy nonsensical myths about this natural process.

"As for managing, softened papyrus leaves are the best. They are easy to use, organic and very skin-friendly. I guess they are much better, given they don't contain chemicals."

Initially, I was terrified at how would I manage this inevitable process here, in the underdeveloped fourth century.

When I had asked Reuesme, she'd only responded with following what the women of that time period would follow.

But the Egyptians were a total lifesaver. They were ahead of their time, undoubtedly, to introduce such marvellous inventions.

"Ugh, I have to use cloth, but papyrus seems a good idea. I'll-" She stopped when we figured where we had reached.

The massive fortress of Romanos stood proudly beside us. The frontal section was sprawling vast, from the borders of Alexandria till a few feet ahead. The ground floor consisted of an arched hallway stationed with pillars at an equal distance.

In front of the palace was a wide platform made of marble, following with steps to the ground below, where people were accumulated.

On the marble platform, women sat in a circle with flowers and scented smoke, which evaporated in the area, making our nose tickle. Some people carried baskets, placing them near the seated women.

But Cheryl wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were fixated on a man who stood in the arched hallway. With his arms crossed, he observed the celebration procedures with a stoic expression.

Not just any man, he was Julian.

"Hey, look. This was the man I was talking about." she pointed in his direction urgently, making me look at him. The wound on my shoulder burned.

"Uh, so?" I asked, gulping. She did not know I knew him, or what he'd done, for the matter.

"What's his name?" she inquired.

"Julian Romanowski," I replied, careful not to pour any raging emotion that my beating heart would bring to the surface.

"Sounds like a mafia boss," she grinned slyly.

"Hon, aren't you lucky to have this Armani model of a man to write about? And have you researched him yet, or if it's him who wants to research you?" She smirked.

My face flushed beet red at her undertone.

"It's bad of you to acknowledge His Wilderness for a mere insect." she flicked the wound on my shoulder.

"Nice insect hickey by the way."

She knew.

And I was foolish enough to think my petty lie worked.

"I told you it's a water insect." Is all I could get.

"But I know it's a bedroom insect," she sang after me. My face became burning hot. There was no way I'll ever win a comeback line after her.

"His concubine gang rules his bedroom, so I've got no chance. Ahem, not that I wanted any," I added quickly. This is so awkward.

"Awh, poor baby, you shouldn't have denied all those dates back at school," she laughed.

She was right. I had poured blood, sweat and tears in preparing for this project, shooing away any potential distraction.

A tall woman entered the probable celebration, sleek and elegant for a woman of her time. She had a straight face with a sharp nose, eyes lined intricately with kohl.

Her gaze moved like a hawk searching for its next prey. When they landed on the circle of women, she smiled contently.

"She's Olympias. Creepy as hell mother of Alexander," Cheryl whispered close to my ear.

The crowd seemed to quieten, acknowledging the powerful woman and what she was up to. She flailed her arms and announced,

"Welcome to our yearly Dionysus festival, gracious people," her accent was heavily Greek.

"As always, with the arrival of the winter solstice, we pray and show dedication to our God Dionysus.

"On the account of my son's achievement, I hereby dedicate this celebration to my God, to bring peace and calm over all!" She exclaimed with her hands raised in the air, pleased to see the enthusiasm of the crowd.

Guards began to surround the area with fire torches as late afternoon gave way to the approaching evening. The sky was a hue of dark orange and red, giving the feel something terrific was to happen in this celebration.

Four men came, each holding an earthen jar which they kept beside Olympias. She ordered the two women from the circle to fill goblets from the jar, which seemed to contain a brownish-red liquid.

Cheryl sniffed the air. "Mhm... that's some good 'ol wine, my dear." She sighed.

When she opened her eyes from the dazed state, her eyes bogged out at the number of goblets the women had filled from the jar to keep in front of them.

"Beer pong?!" she exclaimed, rising on her toes to look what exactly was going on with all those goblets.

"In this century?" I chuckled, "Why is Olympias creepy, though?"

"You'll see. Actually, she knows how to handle-"

"Leana! Where is Alexander's concubine? Yes, that Lola. She is his favourite one, right?" We silenced instantly when Olympias asked one of the women sitting in the circle. Her expression annoyed, more on the dangerous side.

"Whoops, I'll have to go. How can I forget darn, she gave a whole lecture yesterday?" Cheryl muttered and scrambled to the main spot to sit with the circle of women, after bowing to the Great's mother.

Another woman came with a stick-like thing. It had a wreath of ivy wrapped around it, topped with a pine cone. Something sticky dripped from its tip, which was supposedly honey.

"Strike the thyrsus on her head," Olympias ordered, and the woman tapped it on Cheryl's head. The honey accumulated on the pine cone began to drip down her temples, but she sat frozen as if it had possessed her.

It got creepier when Olympias took the lid off of a basket to produce a white snake. She folded it, like it was a water hose and hung it on her wrist as if it was an Armani handbag to show off.

Thinking of Armani, Julian.

I sneakily shifted my gaze to where he was standing, only to find him already staring back. I let out a gasp and turned my face away. Two times a day, how shameful of me.

A woman standing close by nudged me.

"He's calling you." She waved a hand towards Julian. There goes my sanity.

Nervous, I lifted my gaze to see him nod to me. I nodded in reply and walked up to him. When I was close, he pushed back from the wall he was leaning by and stood straight.

"Can you handle snakes?" he asked.

"No?" I replied, confused.

"Then follow me." Saying so, he turned around to walk.

"Why? Am I... not allowed to write about this?" I asked slowly, gazing at the preparations.

"Suit yourself," He motioned with his brows beside us, where now Olympias had three snakes. One curled around her neck, another dangling from her arms and the third one wrapped around her ankle.

"I would need volunteers, gracious people. Preferably, young women," she announced. I followed Julian without a second question.

We climbed the rocky staircase and entered the fifth floor of the palace. The hallways were dimly lit by fire torches that cast a hazy shadow as we moved along. Everything inside was quiet except the cheering noises that prevailed outside. The only people were the guards who stood at every corner of the floors.

"What were you doing with Alexander's concubine?" He asked without turning back.

Slight irritation trickled from his voice and it told, he didn't like the idea of me hanging with a concubine. It would be problematic if he didn't allow me to talk to Cheryl. I bit my lip before speaking.

"She is my sister."

He stopped midway and turned his neck, eyes narrowed.

"She got the job of a concubine when we came here." I tried to meet his gaze, but couldn't find the courage.

"I could barely earn anything, so... so she would send some money... to me," I mumbled, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

His posture slackened, and he started walking again.

"So, you used to work as a concubine too?" He asked smugly.

"No!" I gasped, "I don't know anything what they do. I've always been a writer, and I couldn't earn much I-" My rant stopped when his low chuckle resounded in the hallway.

The one that said, I know you are inexperienced, Mila.

I kept my mouth on zip lock for the rest of the time.

After crossing the long corridor, we turned left, and the first room appeared. It was the familiar heavily engraved door, an eagle with a spear clutched in its talons.

That was an impressive symbol that I'd spotted in most places in the palace. Must be the symbol of the Romanowskian empire.

Panic struck me when he pushed open the door to enter his room. Did he want me to follow in?

Peering to my left, I saw the second last room in this corridor, which was mine. When he glanced back to why I had stopped, I gulped in unease.

"I can go to my room. I- I mean, I know the way from here." I trailed off, fidgeting with my AI book.

A sigh escaped him, but he hushed it away.

"You won't be able to see anything from there. It's the backside of the complex," He said, pointing to my room in the distance.

"Unless you don't want to write about what's going on, you can go to your room." He offered with a smile.

I was paranoid about being alone in a room with him, given what happened in the secret chamber. There couldn't be a repeat of it. If things escalate, it would spiral out of my control and I'd be heading to my century before I know it.

But I can't sit back idle in my room too when something important is going on. Cheryl couldn't write given the situation she was tangled in, while the others weren't anywhere near to witness. I couldn't pass this incident just like that.

"Um... yes, I want to write about it," I mumbled, my gaze wavering on the floor. I thought he'd come up with something snarky, but said nothing.

"Alright." Saying a single word, he pushed the door wide open and marched in.

Timidly, I walked inside, glancing back to see he didn't close the door. I sighed.

The last time, my nerve wrecked self could barely explore anything, but now as I stepped in...

His room screamed magnificence.

The first thing to come into my view was the bed, which appeared to swallow one-third of the room. It had four wooden poles on each corner, with a curtain system around it. And the size?

It was triple than what I had.

Beside the bed was some space with two chairs overlooking the window. It was intricately carved out in the shape of a pointed semicircle. Beside it in the centre was an intricately carved golden door leading to the balcony outside.

"Althea," He called out, taking me out my snooping self. I found him near the large semicircle window which he had opened.

"Everything in your view," he motioned to the enormous crowd that was accumulated down. Peeping just below the window, I found Olympias with the other women, now dancing with snakes around themselves, chugging down goblets of wine now and then.

Cheryl was literally... doing shots.

One goblet after another. It seemed she was competing with the woman next to her. Finishing the drink, she stood on wobbly feet and began twirling her body like the women did.

Olympias came and steadily wrapped a white snake around her arm?!

It looked like a satanic cult in the process. No wonder I would've been a part of it if Julian hadn't escorted me out.

Cheryl missed parties, to be drunk and get crazy. Now I think gods really lurk around here, that her wishes were fulfilled in a flash.

I was so absorbed in the scene below that I didn't notice him already gone from my side. Sneaking a look, I found him reclined in a chair near the long wooden table. His brows scrunched at an old sheet that he'd held out in front.

Noticing something, he placed the sheet on the table and began scribbling on it with a feather pen.

Turning around, I made sure he was busy and called Cheryl in my head.

"God, Cheryl, are you okay? What the hell is going on?" I whispered.

"Where did ya, dish- appeared huh?" she chuckled,

"Saw that hottie whisking you oway, buuuut," she slurred.

"If he does the nasty with yo, I'm gonna ninja kick him across his bedroom!"

I stifled a laugh, but her condition worried me.

"Cheryl, see you don't have to drink much, okay? Try to control yourself!"

"In the name of Dionysus, gracious people!" Olympias screamed at the crowd, who had also started to sway together. Some drinking, some watching the celebration in amusement.

It seemed like an obvious thing because the situation wasn't going out of control. More like, there weren't drunken people starting fights or arguments. Everyone was peaceful, which was strange.

I wanted to know what was happening, desperately. And there wasn't anyone to explain, except the one person sitting in this room. I took a deep breath and let go. I have to ask him.

Hesitantly peering his way, I found him still focused on that sheet. I couldn't just pull him out of his concentration. What if he'd get furious? Or if he would-

"Want something?" He asked without raising his head, still writing on it.

I jolted, "Ah um... If you could tell, what is going down there? It's alright if you are busy though." I finished lamely.

He stood up with that sheet and walked over to the chair kept in front of me. After settling, he ushered me to sit as well.

"Celebrations in honour of the God, Dionysus," He spoke, glancing out the window.

"He is believed to gift humanity with pure wine. A God of winemaking, vegetation, pleasure, and above all, ritual madness,"

He pointed to the group of women who had started to dance wildly, swinging their hands and waists as if they were puppets controlled by some otherworldly power.

"So, is it all about drinking and dancing?" I questioned. It literally looked like an open bar.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms,

"Not that. Often he's mistaken for the God of drunkenness. In fact, the cult of Dionysus acquaints people with the correct method of drinking wine, which could actually calm an enraged person."

Then this God was definitely needed in the twenty-first century.

I wrote everything and asked him the next question. "Does it mean God Dionysus really comes to bless his devotees, by driving them mad?"

"It's believed you've got to be mad about something if you want to achieve it," he said. His eyes boring into mine.

"What you said can be partially true. Given that Dionysus has a special ability to drive mortals insane." He concluded. I nodded and got into writing it all.

As I wrote, I could sense his gaze on my AI book. When he figured I didn't have anything to ask; he went back to staring at his sheet.

Now I was curious. What was so important in that?

Closing my AI book, I looked out some more but found the women missing. The sky had turned dark now. Even Cheryl had disconnected any means of calling her. Must have gone to Dionysus's temple.

"My Lord, what are you plotting about?" I found myself asking him. His eyes moved from the sheet to mine, probably suspecting why I had suddenly started small talks.

"Oh, you don't need to tell me if you are working on a secret project or something..." I laughed awkwardly.

His rigid stance waned a little. "You want to guess?" he asked. A smile breaking on his lips.

"Hm.. planning the battle of Gaugamela?" I asked back in curiosity. Alexander fought this war after conquering Egypt, so I guessed.

"Somewhat correct." He hummed, returning to this work, but I won't let him.

He was rarely seen in the palace. Practising and working out more than half of the day, it seemed he only returned for major meetings. This made it impossible for me to ask him anything at all.

"What's the need to fight another battle, when Darius will flee again?" I asked with a raised brow. He leaned back in the chair, watching me with an inquisitive gaze.

"And how are you so sure about that?" He questioned back.

"He fled the war at Issus, so it's natural he'd do that in Gaugamela too," I grinned. "We writers have an evaluative mind, so I weighed my opinion."

It was a test. I knew Darius fled the second war as well. I just wanted to check if I can make any difference by informing this event prior to its happening.

A confident look settled on his face. "What will you do if we kill him before he flees?" He asked, challenging me.

"I will do anything that you say."

His expression changed from humoristic to serious. Then slowly slipped back into a smug look.

"Anything?" He whispered.

"Anything," I whispered back.