“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Heiron!”
Shortly after parting ways with Kassandra, another young woman appeared before me, radiating an air of youth and vivacity. Her name, if I recalled correctly, was Polyxena. She was Kassandra’s younger sister, and though she shared Kassandra’s striking beauty, there was a notable difference in their demeanor. Polyxena exuded a bright, cheerful energy that contrasted sharply with her older sister’s somber and burdened disposition.
I tried to search my memory for any mention of her in the myths I knew, but nothing definitive surfaced. I chose to nod politely, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“Likewise, Princess,” I said courteously, maintaining the reserved poise befitting the situation.
Her eyes sparkled with uncontained enthusiasm as she spoke. “You were truly amazing. Beating Ajax like that… such strength!”
“I merely did the job I was paid for,” I replied humbly, lowering my gaze slightly to downplay the compliment.
“You’re being far too modest!” Polyxena giggled, the sound light and carefree. Before I could respond, she leaned forward, her soft breath grazing my cheek, and placed a gentle kiss just beside my lips.
The action startled me, and I couldn’t help but look at her, wide-eyed. Her expression was one of innocent mischief, yet beneath it lay a genuine warmth.
“Please,” she said, her tone suddenly serious, “continue to protect my city and its people.”
With that, she turned and left, her graceful figure disappearing into the crowd before I could say a word.
I glanced around, noticing a few onlookers who had witnessed the brief exchange. For a moment, I braced myself for murmurs or judgment—after all, a princess showing such affection to a foreigner could easily cause a stir. But to my surprise, no one seemed to object. Instead, I caught Hector’s gaze across the room, and he simply smiled knowingly, as if he had anticipated something like this.
The evening continued, but I found myself restless. After an hour of mingling with the Trojans at the feast, I decided it was time to leave. I had spoken to most of the city’s nobles and warriors by then, all of whom offered their blessings or kind words. All, that is, except Paris.
Throughout the feast, Paris had been shooting me annoyed glances from across the room. His disdain was almost palpable, though he lacked the courage to voice it outright. I couldn’t understand his animosity entirely, but if I had to guess, I’d attribute it to jealousy.
It was a foolish emotion, really. If he desired the admiration of the Trojans, he had ample opportunity to earn it. But instead of fighting alongside his people at the front lines, Paris seemed content to remain in the shadow of Helen of Troy, the woman whose beauty had sparked this catastrophic war.
To be fair, Helen’s beauty was unparalleled—her title as the most beautiful mortal woman on Earth was no exaggeration. Even I couldn’t deny her allure. But beauty alone didn’t excuse Paris from his responsibilities. As a prince of Troy, his duty was to his city and its people. Yet he shirked these responsibilities, leaving them to others—Hector, Kassandra, and the soldiers on the battlefield.
It was difficult to believe that Paris and Hector were brothers. The two were as different as night and day. While Hector bore the weight of Troy on his shoulders with unwavering resolve, Paris seemed to care only for himself. Even Kassandra, cursed as she was, showed more concern for Troy’s fate than he did. That alone spoke volumes.
Shaking my head, I waved at Hector and the others before excusing myself. A servant escorted me to my new quarters, which had been arranged on one of the palace’s higher floors.
When I entered, I was struck by the grandeur of the room. It was a far cry from the modest accommodations I had been given before. This was a chamber befitting a noble of the highest rank or a royal guest. The space was expansive, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and walls draped in rich, crimson tapestries embroidered with golden patterns.
The bed, centered against the far wall, was massive and inviting, its frame carved from dark wood and its mattress layered with plush, silken sheets. A large balcony opened to the city below, offering a breathtaking view of the night-lit streets of Troy and the faint glow of the enemy’s distant campfires.
After a few more minutes of catching fresh air on the balcony, the cool night breeze soothing my restless mind, I finally slumped onto the luxurious bed. The silken sheets were softer than I had ever known, but the weight of my thoughts made comfort a fleeting thing. Closing my eyes, I let my body sink into the mattress, surrendering to exhaustion.
Before I knew it, my consciousness was whisked away, replaced by an endless white void. It was the same ethereal world I had been brought to when I first met Apollo. Yet, this time, Apollo was notably absent. Instead, three new figures stood before me—gods of undeniable power and presence: Aphrodite, Artemis, and Ares.
I wasn’t entirely surprised. Given the events in Troy and the growing attention I seemed to attract, their arrival was almost inevitable.
“That was a great victory, Heiron!” Aphrodite’s voice rang out, melodic yet lacking the seductive undertone she typically used when we were alone. The reason for her change in demeanor was obvious—Ares was standing right beside her.
“It wasn’t difficult,” I replied with a casual shrug, masking any pride I might have felt. To gods like these, displays of arrogance or humility could be equally dangerous.
“Gahahah!” Ares’s booming laughter filled the void, his deep voice echoing like thunder. “I like that spirit!”
So this was Ares. I observed him closely. He was every bit the war god one would expect: tall and broad-shouldered, his form exuding raw power. His armor gleamed a fiery red, and his eyes burned with an intensity that could cow even the bravest warriors. There was no denying his strength—a strength that, at my current level, I couldn’t hope to match.
“You fought very well, Heiron,” Artemis spoke next, her voice calm and measured. Her arms were crossed, but a faint smile played on her lips. It was the kind of smile that spoke more of satisfaction at a larger victory than just Ajax’s death. No doubt she relished the symbolic blow dealt to Hera’s pride more than anything else.
“Priam might have rewarded you,” Artemis continued, her tone curious, “but you refused. Do you desire something more? Perhaps we can provide it.”
Her offer took me by surprise. A gift from the gods themselves was not something to dismiss lightly. I considered my options carefully, weighing the potential value of their favor.
“A skill from each of you, if I have to ask,” I said, my voice steady. It was a bold request, but I saw no reason to hold back. Skills, more than material wealth or titles, were what I needed most. At my current level, raw stats meant little. What I lacked were tools—abilities that could tilt the scales in battles yet to come.
Artemis’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded in agreement. “All right. If that’s what you wish.”
“Gahaha! I will give you one as well! Rejoice!” Ares bellowed, his laughter echoing once more before he vanished without further ceremony.
“I’ll see what I can offer,” Aphrodite added, her words laced with a vague, almost teasing undertone. She lingered for a moment longer, her eyes meeting mine meaningfully, before she too disappeared.
Just as I turned to leave, believing the encounter was over, Artemis’s voice stopped me. “Oh, yes, Heiron.”
I pivoted, meeting her gaze. Her merciless emerald eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. There was no trace of the faint smile from earlier. Her expression was pure steel.
“If you touch Atalanta,” she said softly, her voice a whisper that carried like a blade slicing through the stillness, “I will kill you.”
The killing intent radiating from her was suffocating, sending a chill down my spine. Her words left no room for misinterpretation. This wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. And then, in the blink of an eye, she vanished.
I stood alone in the void for a moment, my thoughts racing. Artemis was not the goddess she appeared to be at first glance—not by any stretch. Her words lingered in my mind, a stark reminder of the fine line I walked.
While I liked quite a lot Atalanta, I had no intention of provoking Artemis. The last thing I needed was to add another goddess to the growing list of divine beings I’d rather avoid crossing in the middle of a war.
Shaking my head, I willed myself back to the mortal realm.
I found myself back on my bed, but something felt off. A weight pressed down on me, unfamiliar yet unmistakably deliberate. My senses slowly returned, and as I blinked the lingering haze of the divine realm from my eyes, a fiery voice broke the silence.
“You finally woke up?”
My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and the sight that greeted me was both breathtaking and alarming.
Penthesilea, the Amazonian queen herself, was sitting atop me—completely bare, her bronzed skin glistening faintly under the moonlight that seeped through the cracks in the shutters. Her untamed hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her piercing eyes glowed with predatory intent, locked onto mine.
I froze, my mind racing to process the situation. Her lips curved into a sultry, knowing smile as she leaned forward, her warmth radiating against me. The air between us seemed to crackle with her sheer presence.
“Now,” she purred, her voice low and demanding, “give me your strong seed.”