Arete was still sleeping while sitting on top of Aethon. Slowly they traveled, after Pryne prepared the tea for her. She still cough blood occasionally. Her internal wound after that powerful crush against the tree trunk still need some time for healing.

As they reached to a large old city wall, they saw a boy covered by hooded cloak sitting under an old oak tree.

“Welcome, the two Teleios! I’ve been waiting for you!”

His voice was matured and trembling. He uncovered his hood, revealing the wrinkles and his silver hair. The shape of his face and the size of his body was as a boy in his six years in age, but the wrinkles and signs of aging were all over him.

Grabbing his staff, he made himself up, lightly bowing towards the four ladies.

Pryne recognised the man, he was the person they were looking for! The Oracle of Hermes.

“Good day, Petosiris. How are you? We are here, as you had told me the last time we met.” Pryne remembered the strange old child.

“I’m fine,” the strange old man replied.

“Lady Pryne and Lady Arete, I’ve been anticipated for both of you. The two most desirable Teleois.”

“Hello! I'm the Teleios from Thebes…” Agave raises her hand and says with a smile. Trying to capture his attention.

"Ah, of course..." he replied without looking at her. He doesn't seem to care.

Agave was agitated. He reminded her of the servants who had ignored her and always believed that Arete was superior over her.

“Let me bring you all to my place.” Looking at the still unconscious Arete, Petosiris lifted his staff and pointed to the old city wall.

He guided them to a small back door of the city gates. They walk into an alley. The buildings are old and unmanaged.

“Where… where are we?” Arete woke up from her rest. She had regained her strength, the miraculous effect of Pryne’s white flower tea could bring any sick or wounded person back to vitality in just a sleep.

When they entered to the central plaza, massive temple ruins around the area.

This place must had been very populous. The temple pillars are massive and tall. As majestic as those in Athens. But what causes the downfall of this city-state?

They saw a large statue of a goddess. Not the usual marble, but of blackened bronze and alabaster. Arete remembered that she had seen sketches of similar style, the Zeus from the far East, Jupiter Heliopolitanus from Palmyra. But the large statue they seen was clearly a goddess. With multiple pear shapes alabaster on her chest.

“We are at the old Sparta. That’s the statue of the goddess Artemis… my lady.” Petosiris replied.

From his hint, Arete immediately recognised that, she did read about the depiction of the moon goddess from the distance Ephesus. The Greeks and Romans had been used to see their Artemis with bow and arrows.

“Those on her chest, some believe are her breasts, source of her nurturing strength and symbol of fertility…” Petosiris explained, with his eyes looking strangely at Matea. She did not show any reaction towards his words. But he did noticed that she moved her eyes down to her own flat chest covered by the thick linothorax.

Arete was clueless about why this short man is guiding their way. Pryne gave a head nod to her, confirming that he was the one they are looking for. Petosiris, the Oracle of Hermes. The priest who had all the information they were seeking.

There are few people around the old central plaza. Two passersby saw them, they were intrigued…

“Look, two of them have blonde hair.” They whispered.

They continued to walk across them. Until they reach a building. Where a common man had as his humble home in terrace. They parked their horses near a water trough, and Petosiris invited them to entered to his home.

The place is an old blacksmith place.

“Firepit! Furnace! Coals! Lignites! Hammers! Water!” Agave shouted in excitement.

“But where’s the blacksmith?” she then realises the there are no other people in this place.

“I’m afraid this city no longer has any blacksmiths,” Petosiris replied with a smile.

“I’ve prepared the coals and water prior to your visit.”

“So please use them as you wish.”

“Alright, Mate, help me start the fire.” Replied Agave with slightly disappointed tone.

She took out a drawstring bag that contains the damaged pieces of her thyrsus, then poured the pieces into a melting pot. Matea carries the bag of coal and loaded it into the furnace.

“That should keep them busy while we may have some conversation without disturbance.” Petosiris guided the other two ladies to another room.

He made some tea to served them while they sit in the dining area.

“Both of you come to seek my guidance… But let me tell you the truth. None of you are The Chosen One!” Said Petosiris.

“I’m sorry, I cannot handle another riddle.” Arete replied, trying to hide her doubt. Although Oracles were highly regarded among their society. Arete was taught by her father not to depends on their words. She believed future can be determined by her current actions. Seeking advice from an Oracle perhaps, was an idea without any assurance backing the contents of their words.

“No no no! I’ve told you straight to the point! I’m not Vitellus!”

Arete was alerted when she heard him mentioned Vitellus.

“Both of you are not the Chosen One! The Goddesses never choose you! You are the one who are supposed to make your own choices!”

“Definitely, right…” Pryne nodding her head. But Arete doubt that his words made any sense.

Arete knew some tricks of those Oracles. They say things that the listeners wanted to hear, or things that the listeners already knew. Sometimes, they make riddles to confuse people. That was their trick to win people’s approval.

“I’m very clear of my own decision. I am here not for any of your oracular utterances. I need information about the Three Elders.” Arete looked straight into his eyes with a threatening stare. Her body language sending him a signal that she will not tolerate any trickery.