Chapter Six
PASSING THROUGH THE gates of Ionos, the rural nature of Athos weighs oppressively on my shoulders.
White stone walls stand several people tall, archers and spears dot the walkways, vigilant eyes able to see everything approaching the plains in front of the city.
An officer with a plumed helm steps forward to greet us.
His armor has a polished golden sheen and a cloak of light grey.
On closer inspection, nicks and wear lurk beneath the breastplate's polish; a dedicated soldier.
“Good to see you again, Commander Helia. Glad those bandits didn't get the better of you.” The gruff and seasoned voice of the officer confirms the impression of service that his armor gave. He gives Helia a nod of greeting and respect.
“Country bandits are no match for the Spears, Commander Ottis.” Helia smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. “Unfortunately, we did not hunt them down until they had already attacked Athos.” The officer's eyes darken as he nods.
“Captain Artes filled me in once she returned from greeting you.” The olive-skinned woman that the commander referenced salutes smartly behind him.
She must have led the sortie that came out to meet us.
“Please excuse the disorder here.” Ottis says as he gestures to the chaotic scene behind him.
A cadre of soldiers flow in and out of the garrison building.
“It's shift change and, well—” Ottis looks pointedly at the villagers nervously milling about. “We didn't expect to have refugees.” A messenger runs up to Ottis, stalling more explanation, saluting before getting a nod to speak.
“Commander Ottis. The Archon has requested the immediate presence of Commander Helia.” Ottis shoulders droop, sigh on his lips. To the messenger's credit, their only reaction to the commander's exasperation is a twitch at the corner of their mouth. Looks like city life has its own challenges.
“That didn't take long. We'll be along shortly.” The messenger spins in place and jogs down the road leading into the city, miniature clouds of dust kicking up in his wake. Ottis turns to assess the villagers, quickly deducing who the Speaker is.
“Welcome Speaker.” Ottis bows before them. “My condolences on your situation. Your people may stay in this garrison until we find adequate lodging elsewhere.” The chaos behind Ottis immediately makes more sense and a small smile worms its way onto my face. The villagers will have a home for now.
“Thank you, Commander. I will give offering to the gods for your kindness.” Ottis’s eyes go wide, clearly not expecting such a boon. An offering by a Speaker is potent indeed!
“That is incredibly gracious, Speaker. My soldiers will take good care of your people. I know Speakers hold all gods equal and there are small temples to the gods in the center of town, but our only true temple is to Keppilo. After we see the Archon, I’ll have Captain Artes show you the way.
Now”—Ottis straightens and turns to the road—“if you would be so kind as to follow me.” He gestures, and Helia, Andra, the Speaker, and I follow along with Captain Artes.
Sparing a glance backward, I see the villagers file into the garrison.
Before we get too far, Helia hands me a strip of cloth.
“Wrap that around your neck. Despite the autumn heat during the day, Ionos gets cold by the port.” Helia flicks a glance toward my neck. A glance as quick as the snap of lightning.
“O-oh. Thanks!” I mumble, wrapping the tan cloth around my neck and covering most of my mark before tucking it into my tunic. The Speaker eyes the exchange, brows knitting and lips pursing.
Moving along the road, Ionos opens itself to us.
A marble statue of a robed figure stands in the middle of a central road, an outstretched hand laden with coins; Keppilo, member of the lower pantheon, the god of wealth and cunning.
There are four, unpaved, but well-kept streets branching off from the statue.
One leads back to the gate with the leftmost road having a series of unremarkable dwellings along the sides of the wide street, the road taking a slight curve at the edge of the wall.
The rightmost branch has what looks like vendor stalls out along the road, peddlers hawking their wares. Farther down, more stone buildings appear with what seemed like fabric awnings attached from building to building, providing a layer of shade.
However, it's the road behind the statue, the one that Commander Ottis walks down, that takes my breath away.
Off in the distance, at the fringes of eyesight, water shimmers as golden wheat in the setting sun.
The buildings and crossroads we pass by on the slight slope down to the port barely register in my mind, as I watch the water get closer.
Triremes of various sizes, with a gamut of colorful sails, moor at the sprawling dock.
My wonder grows as the road widens, revealing the coastline that Ionos encompasses.
We make it down to the end of the main road to an intersection where the crossroad runs along the entire length of the port.
I look to the ends of the roads and see the curving stone walls cleanly extend into the water, providing a semi-circle of complete protection for the town; a half-moon enclosing a golden sea.
Transfixed, legs rooted deep, my mind floats among the shimmering waves. I’ve never seen anything larger than a small lake. A breeze kisses my face and the salty, crisp air caresses my senses.
“Ahem.” I must have stopped walking while the rest of the group pushed on. Captain Artes sways slowly side to side, giving me a moment of time to take in the sights.
“All right bumpkin, we need to get going,” she says with warmth, even if I can see the slight smirk behind her helm. The crunch of the road under our sandals fills the air as we start to gain on the group, my gaze still locked on the majesty of the ocean.
“You know, that's not the first time someone called me that today. You can call me Skion.” I wince; that had more sharpness than I intended. Inhale. Exhale. It’s been a hells of a month. No reason to take it out on a stranger.
My tunic scrapes across my chest as I turn to apologize, the sensation stifling my words. A sudden reminder of the struggle I put to the side those weeks ago. The captain holds up a hand with a genuine smile under her helm.
“It's pretty clear, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s real.
Stick around with those mercs though, and that will disappear.
” She pauses a moment, her eyes hooded and hidden.
“Don't lose yourself, Skion. It's easy to get swept away out there.” Her words seem random, yet the pain behind them is not. I nod, not sure how else to react. I don’t think I’ll live long enough to become that jaded.
Getting involved with a divine being doesn’t exactly bode well for a mortal.
Thankfully, I’m saved from coming up with a reply as we catch up to the group, stopping in front of a building overlooking the port.
The villa sits behind whitewashed walls, wooden gate open wide, a servant in a pale purple tunic ready to receive us.
Just aside of the entrance is a beggar, clearly hoping to entreat any wealthy guests of the Archon.
As the servant entreats us to follow, I fish out the few coins I had left and give them to him.
I won’t need them that much if I’m staying with the band.
The shock of receiving anything strikes the man silent, unable to more than raise a hand in thanks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Helia tilting her head, observing my actions. Judging? No, more like intrigued. Odd.
The servant leads us into the courtyard where a majestic olive tree greets us, grasping for the sky, tall enough to cover the space in shade.
I stare at the trunk, unable to comprehend what I’m seeing.
Moving streaks of pure gold twist and entwine themselves, spiraling along the entirety of the tree.
“The Archon had a priest of Keppilo bless the tree for the prosperity of Ionos.” Derision laces Commander Ottis’ words as he explains. “Took an entire week and an offering of several hundreds of gold coins. Waste of time and money, if you ask me.”
“And yet, no one asked you Commander.” A silky voice, dripping in acid weaves around the olive tree.
As we reach the other side, the owner of the voice stands regal in the archway of the main building in the villa.
The Archon, leader of this city, is not as tall as Helia, but his presence commands just as much attention.
He wears a more elegant, deep purple tunic than the servant.
Gold bands adorn his arms and a circlet of beaten gold sits lightly on his head.
Around his neck hangs a whisper thin gold necklace, affixed with a stamped gold coin.
My eyes water at the wealth and waste. Could he be more pretentious?
The value of his jewelry alone would have paid for the farm seed needed for five years!
The Archon’s sharp eyes of take in every detail of our group, assessing, weighing against scales.
His eyes lock with mine setting my knees to quivering, moments before narrowing at the scarf around my neck.
Sensing my discomfort, Helia coughs loudly, bringing those judging eyes swiveling her direction.
“Ionos is a prosperous city, and I choose to honor Keppilo for that. It is wise to thank the gods for good fortune.” With a quirk of his mouth he defends his city and god, oil soaking every word.
The Speaker straightens, stepping forward. “Keppilo is fitting to worship for a city such as this. The god of wealth has certainly blessed Ionos; almost to the point where I would think you were an Aspect of Keppilo.”
The Archon raises an eyebrow, unconsciously touching the sigil of Keppilo around his neck.
Though if in appreciation or defense against blasphemy, I don’t know.
Aspects are demi-gods; being called one, much less of your god, can be taken either way.
More than that, they are a piece of the god themselves; given life at the whim of the god. Or so the Speakers say.
“You flatter me, Speaker. I do indeed worship Keppilo, though I am certainly no Aspect! Now, I have been remiss; I am Archon Gaius Ionos. Please enter and have some refreshments.” Archon Gaius lazily walks back into the building as we follow into an indoor foyer.
Our escorts take up posts at the archway while Helia, Andra, the Speaker, and I all take a seat on plush lounging cushions neatly placed along the marble floor.
More servants appear almost instantly, goblets of wine given to each of us, though Andra politely declines.
“So, Commander Helia.” The Archon languidly draws out her title as he settles upon a cushion across from us. “If I recall, I only contracted you to hunt down the bandits; not bring refugees to my doorstep.”
Helia nods curtly, before launching into an explanation of events. To his credit, Gaius listens with rapt attention, nodding here and there, Andra adding in details as needed. As Helia finishes, the Archon sits back thoughtfully for a few moments before addressing the Speaker.
“How many of your people survived?”
“Less than a quarter of the village; around thirty.” The Speaker’s face twitches as they continue.
“All have a variety of skills; life in the countryside requires it.” I still my face; most of the survivors are unspecialized labor.
Useful, but undoubtedly non-essential to a city the likes of Ionos.
Gaius swirls his goblet pensively. A breeze carries the scent of the ocean into the villa and everyone collectively breathes deeply, dreams of simple freedom on everyone’s mind.
“Ionos will welcome your people with open arms. However”—a raised hand forestalls words of gratitude—“I do this on two conditions.” The Archon looks at Helia and raises a finger.
“One, Commander Helia forgoes the reward for the contract to hunt down the bandits.” I turn and see Helia’s eyes narrow as she crosses her arms. The leather strains under Andra’s grip as her hand tightens in anger on her shin guards.
Gaius raises a second finger as he continues.
“Two, the Band of Spears must accept a contract to escort a caravan of merchants setting up a new trade route with the city of Nolphi. There will be payment for this contract, both from me and from the merchants who have put up their own coins as incentive.”
Helia arches an eyebrow, but says nothing.
The Archon puts on a sly smile and shrugs.
“I am a businessman, and the prosperity of Ionos is my business.” His smile immediately shifts to a frown as he leans forward.
“These bandits have been getting bolder and this new route is essential. I need the protection of a band such as yours.” From the corner of my eye I can see the Speaker’s knee shaking, knowing that the fate of their people is in the hands of Helia once more.
A drawn out silence, louder than a thunderstorm, lingers in the air.
“The Band accepts. As per the guild code, we will now enter negotiations on pay, details of the job, stipulations, and we will discuss the required treatment of the villagers.” The Speaker’s knee stills, relief palpable. The Archon nods in agreement with Helia and waves a servant over.
“Bring parchment, ink, a map, and dinner.” Archon Gaius looks back to our group. “And bring some light; it’s going to be a long night.”