Zeus Defended

Map of Zeus

Timeline

Prologue

To the People of Zeus,

Our country is broken. While the outside world may see a strong nation, our foundation is nothing more than the sand that lines our beaches. I speak to you today not as chair of the highest courts in Zeus, but as a fellow citizen. And I tell you we are a broken society.

A lot has happened since the ancient Atlantis was destroyed almost three centuries ago. Our great goddess, Clieto, granted our people mercy. It was a second chance to prove we could be the best race ever created. When Zeus established itself as a world power, such was our intent. Yet, as with every empire, we fell with one striking blow. The assassination of our princess began a war with our allies. The moment blood spilled between Atlantis and Zeus, we broke the same covenant that doomed our ancestors.

Clieto immediately placed a curse on the shores of Atlantis to punish them for their sin. I once believed we were spared from such a punishment since we no longer hold the sacred name of our ancestors. What I found is that our punishment may, in fact, be more crippling. What’s worse, we started the devastation with our continued sin. We not only fought against Atlantis in a catastrophic war, but we also killed our beloved King Nike upon learning it had all been for a pointless cause. What type of country behaves in such a manner? We did not deserve such a gracious king. So, Clieto took him from us in a moment of enraged madness. She then laid the groundwork for a new power to take his place, a power more deserving of our corrupt nature.

My people, I come to you today insisting that a curse plagues our shores as well. While Atlantis could easily identify their tormentor, ours has easily hidden. We cleared the path for this corruptness to rot our society. I come to you, not as the highest chair in our land. I come to you as a citizen, begging you to finally see. Today, the immorality must stop. Today, we must put an end to the sins of our past. I fear if we don’t, we will soon join our ancestors at the bottom of the sea. And, when that day comes, what will you say as you stand face to face with our Maker? How will you defend what we have done with Her second chance?

I will do my part to correct our path, even if I find it a perilous task. I come to you with all respect and humility, ready to make my decision.

Highest Chair Paeonia

2846 After Transfer (AT)

Part One:

Chapter One

2846 AT

The air still held the coolness of the fall. The black mountains protected the valley much as a crib protects a child as coyotes prowled the night. While some stars twinkled in the sky, unseen storm clouds camouflaged most, engulfing the land in complete darkness.

Dirt resting on the rooftop dug into her arms as she lay on her stomach peering at the building across the street. At this late hour, downtown streets were free from the hustle of the day. Concrete buildings, all bearing the column architecture of the capitol, rested in darkness. Jocasta shifted her attention from the building in front of her, glancing at the desert spreading behind her. The faint glow of a campfire on the outskirts of town told her they still waited despite the threat of rain.

She could see them clearly in her mind, five men with sandals resting beside them. Her men would take any opportunity to rest, not knowing the next time it would appear. A slight breeze brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face. She took in a deep breath, taking in the sweet smell of bone-dry dirt rejoicing at rain falling nearby.

Jocasta sighed. It’s time. She turned back to the building, placing her eye next to the scope of the shooter. She inched the sight upward until the only lit window came into view. Inside, an oil-lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room. Next to the door stood a wooden chair with a flat seat and reamed back. Jocasta doubted anyone was actually supposed to sit in the chair.

A maple desk on the far left dominated the room. Through the mountains of documents, she could just make out the top of the leather chair resting behind. Hanging behind the desk was a scenic picture of Zeus’s beautiful desert, more than likely drawn by a local artist.

Looks so much like a regular office, she thought. On the opposite side of the room stood a locked cabinet, plaques and medals cluttering the top. She couldn’t see the plaque faces due to the angle, but could imagine the name Highest Chair Paeonia etched into the marble. A large bookshelf rested beside it. The thick books, with worn and faded bindings, looked lethal should the shelf topple.

No details gave away the façade of an ordinary office. Surely, there must be something that indicated many life-altering decisions were made within this room. This place, after all, belonged to the capital building of Zeus and the possessions within to Highest Chair Paeonia, leader of the nation’s court system.

Jocasta had just about memorized every feature within the room when the door finally opened. Patience is a learned trait, she thought with a sigh. Paeonia, her dark-brown hair pulled into a tight bun, entered with a bulging folder grasped in her fingers. Reading glasses rested upon her pointed nose. Jocasta didn’t have to see the paper to know it was undoubtedly her speech for tomorrow morning, her final verdict on a case that had the whole world talking. She walked over to the desk, adjusting the folder to better see as she settled into the chair. She leaned back, her eyes seeing only the words in front of her.

With a steady hand, Jocasta focused on the target, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. Her gun snapped, sending the small glass blade sailing through the air. Shards of glass fell from the window, marking its path seconds before the jagged edges embedded into the Highest Chair’s chest. She dropped the papers upon impact, her lips parting in a small gasp. A small red dot appeared on her silk blouse, uniformly expanding.

Jocasta’s pulse slowed as she watched a shaky Paeonia stand, the red spot beginning to drip onto the documents on her desk. Her hands braced her body against the desk. With hands on any furniture within reach, Paeonia guided herself toward the door. As she reached the middle of the room, Jocasta’s shooter snapped once more. This time, the blade slit the jugular vein before shattering against the wall.

Paeonia swayed, blood seeping past her fingers as she tried to cover her neck. She continued to fight, her eyes focused on the door. She staggered forward, resting her free hand on the golden handle. Before she could open the door, her legs gave out, and her body fell to the floor.

Jocasta watched her until a guard came rushing in to find the Highest Chair dead on the floor. Within seconds, she disassembled the shooter and placed it gently in a black bag. Jocasta left the rooftop and mounted a horse waiting below as the rain began to sprinkle down.

Chapter Two

2847 AT

Jocasta removed a shirt from one of the open dresser drawers and walked to the bed, whose sheets she had loosely pulled over the pillows. She hardly noticed the intricate design carved into pieces of wood thicker than her arm. She glanced up at the only picture brightening the otherwise white walls. A scenic picture of the Zeus coast, painted just outside her hometown. She folded the shirt, placing it in an open duffle bag already overflowing with necessities for the trip.

She paused, looking through the small window revealing the practice field bordered only by open desert and silhouetted mountains. She smiled, seeing her men practicing their sword work on the field. She would sleep on a blanket in the center of this room and still feel like home as long as they were here. Her gaze settled back on the mess of papers scattered across the desk resting just under the windowsill.

Turning, she retrieved one last shirt from the dresser when her door squeaked opened. Her smile widened, not needing to look up to see who had entered. Yet, she couldn’t help but glance his way. Alcaeus frowned, leaning against the frame.

The six-foot, black-haired man eyed her for a moment before asking, What are you doing?

Jocasta’s fingers grasped the cotton shirt before standing up straight. Packing. I’m being sent to Persephone for a few weeks.

Could you elaborate?

Jocasta crossed the room in two steps. You know how it is. I serve out the President’s orders.

"But why is it always you?" Alcaeus asked after a moment.

Must we go through this every time I leave? Jocasta stuffed the shirt into the bag, fingers pulling on the drawstring until it began cutting into her fingers.

I’m supposed to be your Protector.

Jocasta cast him a glance as she tied the bag shut. You know, you are not my first.

Humph.

She examined the tie, satisfied no dust could seep inside. And you are not doing a good job of teaching me the ways of the Immortals. She slowly made her way over to him, her eyes not leaving his. When she was a foot from him, she slipped her hands around his waist and pulled herself close, looking up in order to maintain eye contact. And it’s a good thing the Committee is preoccupied with Atlantis. They may disapprove of your teaching method.

Alcaeus’ rough hands caressed her face. You want another?

Jocasta frowned. Don’t even suggest it. She lifted her heels off the ground. With noses almost touching, Jocasta said softly, Is it a job to you?

This caused Alcaeus to bow his head, his lips warm against hers. The usual butterflies fluttered deep inside. She smiled as she stepped back. She felt Alcaeus place his hand on her lower back, the slight resistance halting her escape. She tilted her head at his consistent frown.

"But why is it always you?"

Jocasta flashed him an arrogant smile and said, Because. I’m the best.

Jocasta left his reluctant arms and crossed the room toward her shooter case. She pushed the golden lock open. The lid squeaked when she tilted it, revealing her shooter resting in a satin cloth. She lifted the light weapon. Only an artist could design such a thing; with curves as seductive as a woman’s and ceremonial designs etched into the metal. She didn’t go anywhere without it, felt naked if she did.

Do you ever question your orders? Alcaeus’ voice cut through the lingering silence.

Don’t. The voice coming from her sounded more like the one she’d use with her soldiers. Only after she replaced the shooter and locked the case did she turn to face him. Almost pleading, she said, I have to leave any minute and I don’t want to do so in the middle of this never-ending fight.

Alcaeus frowned. I love you, Jocasta. But I am also bound by an oath to protect you…no matter who it’s from.

Jocasta smiled. I love you, too.

Alcaeus sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

Jocasta knew it might as well be Cerberus who stood in the room every time they got together. Yet, they long ago made an unspoken agreement to ignore the three-headed animal that threatened the livelihood of their relationship. There were no simple answers in life. Both had their own reasons for the paths they chose. Recognizing the monster standing between them required immediate changes—changes that weren’t easy to accommodate. So she ignored the truth, yet knew its presence.

Jocasta carried her case and bag over to him. He shifted his weight, blocking her inside. She placed her load on the floor and said, I’ll be home in no time.

Alcaeus just stared at her. Finally, he said, hesitantly, I have something I wish to discuss with you when you return.

Jocasta nodded, reality weighing on her chest. She’d been dodging this conversation for months. It was easy with the President constantly sending her away. Pushing the fear deep inside, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Alcaeus’ arms pulled her closer to him. There was a hunger in his kiss. Jocasta found herself melting into his embrace, ready to yield to him. Then the soldier snapped in her. Jocasta pushed herself away and laughed. Nice try, but I really have to leave.

Jocasta picked up her bags, this time determined not to let them go. Alcaeus finally surrendered, stepping away from the door. Jocasta made her way past him, out of the room they shared, and down the hallway—his gaze pressuring her until she rounded the corner toward the stairway.

* * * * *

Jocasta hadn’t seen the soldiers’ mansion for three weeks. Her sore legs wobbled as she dismounted her horse, looked at her lieutenant, and ordered, Make sure these horses get washed and fed before being placed back in the stable. The man nodded and set about complying with the order.

Jocasta ascended the porch steps. All she wanted was a nice, long shower. The black door squeaked open, revealing a large commons room filled with overstuffed chairs and couches all arranged in small groups. She hesitated in the threshold, the hairs on her skin standing on end as a sudden silence engulfed her. She stopped, watching as soldiers closest to doors and staircases slipped out of view.

Only a few men sat slouched in the stuffed chairs—trapped. Their eyes remained locked on the tile floor, as if they were searching for any minor imperfection. Two men strolled from the kitchen for a mere moment before retreating into the other room.

Jocasta dropped her bag on the floor, the thud echoing off the vaulted ceilings. She narrowed her gaze on the men frozen in their chairs. Over her shoulder, she said, I’m checking in with Alcaeus. Brasidas, figure out what these men did and what punishment should follow.

Brasidas moved past her, his boots clicking on the tile as he crossed the room. Jocasta looked back at the vacant kitchen door. She frowned, moving through the room and up the stairs. She didn’t know what exactly had happened, but he must be involved. Why else would the soldiers avoid her?

Her hand was reaching for the handle even before she arrived at their door. She quickly shoved the barrier open, expecting to see him sitting at the desk awaiting her return. A mid-back chair rested vacant. Papers were neatly piled to the side, felt pens gathered within a tin cup. Across the room stood the bed, covers neatly pulled and tucked over two pillows resting side by side. The white walls highlighted his absence. Her mind flashed visions of the men in the chairs, the men leaving the room upon her arrival…and the silence.

Jocasta locked her jaw, turned on her heels and stormed back to the lobby. She couldn’t recall descending the stairs, only that she stood at the bottom within seconds.

What happened?

Brasidas neared, standing only inches from her side. In a hushed voice, he said, They aren’t talking despite my threatening to hang them from the ceiling.

She took in the room, now filled with twice as many soldiers, all staring at everyone but her. Someone had better tell me what’s going on or there’ll be hell to pay.

Metelius stepped forward from a group standing by the kitchen door. With squared-off shoulders, he looked more and more like the general every day.

In a baritone that echoed across the room at her, Metelius said, Alcaeus is out back.

Jocasta took in this mutt before her. He remained straight-backed, chin just slightly lifted. She’d have to take care of that later. She glanced at Brasidas once more, whose face seemed to echo her skepticism. Finally, she turned on her heels and marched toward the back door.

Jocasta powered past the group and across the kitchen, past more soldiers who parted a path for her. She shoved the screen door open, the wooden porch creaking under her weight. The kitchen door squeaked then snapped shut against the frame, echoing the sound Jocasta’s shooter made every time it sent a blade into the air…ready to kill. There, only six meters away stood two towering horses, leather harnesses blending into their dark brown fur. Behind rested a wooden platform on wheels. Upon the platform was a flat-bottomed boat—the ceremonial boat, piled almost as high as the horses’ backs with timber.

Her knees buckled, knocking together as her upper body continued forward. Jocasta rested a hand against the wooden pole stabilizing herself. Turn around. It doesn’t exist if you turn around. She couldn’t stop her eyes from registering the sight. Lifted by the porch, she could clearly make out the profile of Alcaeus’ face, never more peaceful, the creases of worry soft. The day’s light caressed his skin. His arms folded across his chest. His dark-blue wool governmental uniform absorbed the light. His advisor’s pin shimmered from where it rested just under his shoulder. Her eyes could not lie. He was ready for the burning…ready to join their ancestors’ ashes at the bottom of the sea.

Tears flooded her eyes, as a small gasp escaped her lips. She took a few quick, shallow breaths, trying to stop the rumbling of a sob emerging from her core. She squeezed her eyelids shut, hearing the footsteps of her men approach from the kitchen. She clenched her fists, willing herself to stand straight. When she knew she had control, she opened her eyes, avoiding the sight in front of her, and quickly turned to face them. Most of her immediate unit stood on the porch, their plaster-white faces staring at the ritual burning boat. The other soldiers made their way outside.

Jocasta searched their faces, as if the sight of them could signal their guilt. She opened her mouth to speak, felt the flood begin to rise within her once more, and stopped. Her stomach threatened to heave. Jocasta clenched her jaw, stuffing the tears away once more. You can’t do this…not here. When the threat was gone, she cleared her voice and asked, What happened?

One of the soldiers, a boy she barely recognized, said, It was an accident. He was with us on the practice field during yesterday’s morning drill.

An accident, her empty voice echoed.

The soldier nodded.

Jocasta’s eyes burned and she felt like she was suffocating, but she clenched her fists until her nails dug into her skin. She had to remain a rock. Right— she paused, feeling a slight shake form against her will. It took only a moment to calm the rumble. How did it happen?

The soldier looked around confused, finally realizing everyone else’s silence. They knew better. In a weaker voice, he said, His horse was spooked, you know, while he was riding. Anyway, it bolted unexpectedly. He fell off, landing on his sword.

Jocasta just stared at the boy for a moment. He had arrived at the soldiers’ mansion only a few months ago. The men were still in the process of welcoming him into the unit. Why would they make him the bearer of this news? Was it because the veteran soldiers knew not to lie to her? All she could manage was a nod. This changes everything.

She took in the group before her. Who could she trust? Who contributed to this? If it weren’t for her unit, she would be alone on enemy ground.

When’s the burning? she asked, surprised how hollow her voice sounded.

We were waiting for you to return, another soldier offered. She had shared a coffee with him the morning of her departure.

This isn’t a dream. All she had to do was turn around and see Alcaeus’ lifeless body to disprove any thoughts to the contrary. Jocasta didn’t know how long she stood in front of her men. She was certain this battle took place behind the stone wall years of training prepared. Finally, Jocasta nodded. What’s our schedule?

When Brasidas didn’t answer, Jocasta forced herself to transfer her gaze, hating him for making her repeat the sentence. Brasidas?

Brasidas shook himself out of his trance, finally acknowledging her voice.

Our schedule?

Brasidas took a heavy breath and said, Meeting with the President in two hours then skill testing after lunch.

Jocasta nodded. Metelius.

Yes, ma’am, Metelius said, standing at attention.

Inform the President we’ll be late.

Metelius hesitated, searching his fellow men for a savior.

That’s an order, Jocasta said, zeroing in on him. She only needed one reason to take him out…any reason.

Metelius tapped his heels. Yes, ma’am. He turned abruptly and hurried inside.

Jocasta took a deep breath and said, We have a ceremony to perform.

* * * * *

Jocasta stood outside the crowded bar. Normally, it could capture the lightheartedness they loved to experience when everyone got together. The only purpose for coming to the bar every night, or at least as often as they could, was for that escape. By the sound, the soldiers had almost reached the point of forgetting the day’s events. Sudden silence marked her entrance.

The men stared at their glasses as she marched to an open bar stool. Whiskey, she told the bartender. As the glass slid across the countertop toward her, Brasidas arrived at her side.

He leaned against the wood and asked, Is that smart?

Jocasta gave him a look to suggest his opinion wasn’t welcome. Then she took the glass in her hand and drank half the alcohol in one sip. She’d have to wait for the effect, but she could feel it begin to warm her stomach. Jocasta placed the glass down and spun around. What’s with you? You act like you’ve done something wrong.

Brasidas lowered his voice, Jocasta, why don’t we get out of here?

Jocasta glared at him. The numbness of the day still lingered. Stop telling me what to do. She felt tears come to her eyes as she said, "That’s not your job. Pushing her emotion back inside the void, she looked at the rest of the men. So, why the pathetic atmosphere? Conscience, perhaps?"

No, a female officer in the back answered.

Jocasta focused in on her prey, a lieutenant by the name of Dionysis.

Dionysis, ignorantly showing no fear, continued. What happened was an accident.

Of course. Jocasta said. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brasidas shake his head. He had served by her side long enough to know the tone in her voice and the outcome that always followed.

Yes, it was tragic, the woman continued. But Zeus will prosper.

What do you know of Zeus? Jocasta scoffed. You’re a Demeter. Being in our army doesn’t make you Zeus.

Dionysis looked as if she had taken a sword to the gut. Before the woman could recover, Jocasta continued. Let me tell you something. Zeus is built upon one word. Loyalty. It is what we live for. It is what we die for. Nothing is stronger than loyalty. Her gaze transferred to the rest of the group. Loyalty. It’s a funny thing. Some like to dilute the word. They like to explain their way out of it, but they can’t. Because it’s there, it’s untouchable. She looked back at Dionysis and added, I wouldn’t expect a Demeter to understand.

She grabbed her newly filled glass, lifted it in the air, and toasted, Loyalty. She was the only one who accepted the toast. The whiskey burned as it traveled down her throat. Once finished, she peered into the light reflecting off the sides of the glass. That’s when she felt all the anger erupt from the void in her chest. She ground her teeth, turned to face the bar, and threw the glass with all her might. People cringed at the loud crash as it shattered against the silence, but they finally looked at her.

After a moment, she continued. I wanted—expected something more. Jocasta shrugged. What are we, if not loyal to each other? I guess all anyone can do is their job. I do it, you do it. Jocasta paused, shaking her head. But we bleed on the same field. We die for the same cause. It was an accident. Yes, it was. But Zeus will not prosper without him, she said, stealing a glance at Dionysis. "It may continue. But it will not prosper. As for those responsible for this accident—and those who let it happen—there’s a special place waiting for you at the side of Hades. I leave it your decision whether that’s a place you want to strive for." With that, she left the bar, letting the doors slam behind her.

Chapter Three

2847 AT

Pandora frowned. The Atlantis frigate dominated Ganymede’s pathetic excuse for a port. In reality, it was a dock that didn’t even run the entire length of the ship. Pandora tilted her head to get a better look. Correct that; didn’t even run a third. A one-room building with one guard stood beside the wooden walkway. Apparently, he sent trained falcons into flight when anyone arrived at the…port.

Pandora turned to face her men, strands of blond hair blowing across her face. She took a deep breath, inhaling the salt of the air, and smiled. She missed traveling. She used to travel a lot with her husband…before he died.

The group before her held ten men: Tylissus, a lifelong friend and adoptive uncle; Nicias, her protector and father figure; and eight men of the Atlantis Fighting Forces. She found everything about traveling as an ambassador was tricky. If Pandora brought too few soldiers, the diplomats might see the opportunity to take advantage, but if she brought too many, they might sense an ensuing battle. The Atlantis Senate helped her decide by ordering nine soldiers to accompany them given the hostilities. Ganymede had, after all, accidentally sunk a merchant ship.

Tylissus, a man with rusty hair whose muscles and scar across his left cheek alluded to his days in the navy, smiled at her. Are you ready for your first task as Atlantis’ youngest Ambassador?

Even if the appointment was only political by nature, Pandora thought as she took a shaky breath. Yes, I am. At least the Senate knew enough to send Tylissus along with her, someone whose experience including served Atlantis’ many kings in what seemed a lifetime ago.

The men mounted their horses and rode toward the capital city. Pandora was happy to see the city walls after three long hours. Helios pounded its rays from high above them as they entered through the iron gates. Nicias led the way through the wagon-infested streets toward the town hall. Buildings three stories or higher lined the narrow streets. Pandora figured it was because the city’s surrounding wall forced growth skyward. Looking at the architectural difficulties, she couldn’t help but wonder why they felt inclined to protect the city so dramatically. Perhaps being close to the coast provided the unfortunate likelihood of a first assault, but still….

Pandora felt the prickles of claustrophobia creep along her skin as they continued further into the city. The wooden buildings stood side-by-side without any gap between except for the occasional alley. The dirt streets looked more like those belonging to a farm city rather than a country’s capital. Pandora searched her mind and couldn’t think of a single time when someone described Ganymede as destitute. On the contrary, the country always promoted themselves as a political strength. It’s strange a country so keen on this reputation would allow foreigners to see their capital as nothing more than a farm town in the middle of a prairie.

The mayor, a plump man with white hair buzzed to mere millimeters, stood on the porch of the town hall. His deep-set frown and unwillingness to descend the porch made Pandora uneasy. Before they had a chance to dismount, he said, The President is in Capital Mansion on business.

Tylissus smiled coolly. "Wonderful, because we are here on business."

A slight moment of silence followed, in which Pandora wondered if they should have brought more soldiers. Then the mayor sighed, motioning toward a boy of about ten standing beside him. Thermocles, take our guests to Capital Mansion.

The boy nodded then hesitated. He looked left and right, his eyes searching for something. Pandora couldn’t understand his dilemma until Nicias said, Here, ride with me.

He reached down his hand and swiftly lifted the boy behind him. Pandora giggled slightly as the boy’s wide eyes fixated at the back of Nicias’ head.

After a moment, Nicias glanced backward and said, Well?

The boy shook his head, his gaze returning to normal. Oh, yes. You need to exit the gates and head west.

Nicias turned his horse and led the gallop out of the city. After about a mile, Pandora caught sight of the mansion on top of a small hill. It took another two miles before they were in front of the building. The white house had six pillars holding up a porch as big as some rooms. A guard stood at the red double-doors.

They slowed their horses to a walk as they approached, Pandora’s horse falling in line with Nicias’.

Nicias whistled. Haven’t seen a building this big since I visited the Temple of Clieto.

You think they’re trying to make a statement? Pandora asked.

Ganymede’s always trying to make a statement, Nicias said with a smile. Pandora glanced at the Ganymedian sitting behind him, but Nicias didn’t seem to mind.

The men dismounted and walked up the three concrete steps leading to the porch. The doorman, a man who seemed wider than he was tall, allowed Captain Hippias to enter then took a step to the side when Nicias tried to follow.

Nicias eyed the man, his green eyes dark. Can I help you?

Yes, He said in a base tone. You can enter through the back.

If a whip had hit Pandora, it wouldn’t have stung as deeply. With the fall of a world committee controlling Immortal rights, Ganymede was one of the countries that resorted to prejudices. Hadn’t the Senate debriefed her on this before her trip? The preparation still didn’t seem to lessen the impact.

Nicias locked his jaw and shook his head. Pandora knew what he was thinking. The simple act of entering through the back door would accept an inferior position, thereby losing all credibility in the negotiations.

The hesitation lasted only a moment before a mass symphony of yelling soon disrupted the prairie silence. Pandora could only make out a few words here or there. When she heard the phrase or I’ll force my way in as hands reached for swords, she decided to take action. Placing two fingers to her lips, she let off an ear-piercing whistle that silenced the group. Pandora looked at the guard, trying to think of him as an overgrown child instead of someone she wanted to annihilate.

Sir, do know that our intent here is to avoid conflict between our two countries. Now, I know you don’t want a war to erupt because of a door.

I’ve seen it start over smaller, Nicias mumbled.

The doorman shifted his gaze to Nicias for a moment before resting back on Pandora.

Pandora continued, Now, as a foreigner in your land, I wish to acknowledge your country’s customs. However, since both ambassadors present are Immortal, I must insist you let one of us through that door.

The door man’s ears seemed to perk at this. Only one Immortal?

Pandora nodded. And the rest will remain here. She paused. Eyeing him carefully, she added, But no Atlantian, no matter their kind, will enter through a backdoor.

The doorman hesitated before yielding. One Immortal.

Pandora smiled. Very well. Tylissus will enter with the rest of our men. Nicias and I will remain outside.

The doorman frowned. No other men are Immortal?

Pandora played