Iolcos was a seaside city built along the Gulf of Thessaly, blessed with a warm and pleasant climate.
Cretheus had once established the kingdom of Thessaly upon the shores of this gulf, and Iolcos stood as its proud capital.
Now, the kingdom was ruled by Pelias, the third monarch to inherit Thessaly's throne.
As the capital, Iolcos had always been a densely populated and prosperous city filled with travelers and merchants. Yet in recent days, its liveliness far exceeded anything seen before.
From every corner of Greece, great heroes had gathered here, figures of legend whose strength and deeds were widely known.
Their arrival had drawn vast crowds, and with them came an air of excitement that spread throughout the city.
Especially over the past two days, the gates of Iolcos had seen endless comings and goings.
Many curious onlookers and bards had journeyed from afar to witness this grand assembly of heroes firsthand, hoping to record their glorious exploits and craft them into stirring epics.
Setting aside the business opportunities this influx of outsiders brought to the citizens, one thing was certain, the city gate guards had made a small fortune these past few days.
The soldiers of this era were hardly paragons of discipline; it was common practice to overcharge travelers for passing through the gates.
The more people came, the more coin they made.
Yet even though many guards had earned quite a bit lately, none of them believed the duty of guarding the city gate was an enviable task these days.
"Why is that?"
At the gate, a young soldier clad in leather armor asked the older veteran beside him, who was chewing lazily on a blade of grass.
"The more people come, the more money we make. Why are some of our comrades suddenly unwilling to take shifts now of all times?"
"Heh." The old soldier spat out the grass and chuckled. "Normally, gate duty is the most profitable post there is, people fight over it. But these days… things are different."
"How so?" The young soldier's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
After pocketing a bribe from a passing merchant and waving him through, the old guard leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"Because right now, my boy, it's not just anyone coming through those gates. Among them are heroes, real heroes, warriors straight out of legend."
"Heroes? Warriors? You mean like Heracles?" The young soldier's eyes lit up.
"The very same, the lion-slayer himself. He came to Iolcos just two days ago.
I was the one who waved him through," the veteran said casually, earning a look of awe from his companion. "And that's exactly who I mean."
Seeing the younger man's puzzled look, the veteran asked, "You remember Pernephus? That big guy who could fight better than anyone else in the garrison?"
The young soldier nodded.
"Well, Pernephus tried overcharging one of those heroes yesterday. The poor fool got beaten half to death.
Now he's lying at home with injuries so bad he might never serve again."
"What? No way!" The young man's face went pale. To him, Pernephus had been a powerhouse, the kind of man who could take on three or four others at once.
The old soldier shook his head with a rueful sigh.
"Believe it. Those heroes are the last people you want to provoke. Each one is terrifyingly strong, many of them are said to be children of the gods themselves.
We're nothing compared to them. And worse, they're fearless. Ordinary folks may cower before soldiers, but not them."
Seeing his companion nod in dawning understanding, the veteran went on.
"The real danger is that they don't act like nobles. They don't flaunt their power or wealth. Most dress like common travelers, and many barely carry any money at all.
The handsome ones might stand out, but others, well, you'd never notice them until it's too late. That's why I'm always cautious when taking tolls.
The last thing I want is to charge the wrong man."
"I see now," the young soldier said with admiration. "You really are a veteran. I'll need your guidance if I'm ever going to survive in this garrison."
"Of course!" the old man said proudly, puffing up his chest at the praise.
"And since you call me 'senior,' I'll give you one more piece of advice. There's a kind of person even more dangerous than heroes."
"Who's that?" the young soldier asked eagerly. "Generals? Nobles?"
"No." The veteran shook his head. "Generals and nobles might seek revenge later, but they're nothing compared to these people. Tell me, have you heard of magi?"
"Magi? Those who can cast all kinds of strange spells? I've heard of them."
"Exactly. They're the worst kind. I once saw a soldier turned into a frog just for offending one," the old soldier said with a shudder.
"No one dared to avenge him. So remember this, if you see someone in a cloak covered in charms and bottles, with a staff in hand, don't cross them."
"A cloak… a staff… you mean someone like him?"
The young soldier pointed suddenly, and the old man followed his gaze, only to feel his breath catch.
At the head of the approaching pair was a lovely girl with pink hair, dressed in a white inner robe that accentuated her graceful, petite figure.
Most striking of all were her delicate pointed ears and the pair of eagle-like wings folded at her back.
Such traits were not uncommon in this mythic age of Greece, where gods and phantasmal species mingled freely.
A girl like that was likely blessed with divine or mythical blood.
But even the charming girl could not outshine the man beside her.
He had sleek black hair and good features, yet even to Greek eyes, his face was strikingly handsome.
His skin was smooth and unblemished, the mark of one accustomed to luxury.
A magnificent cloak draped over his shoulders, and in his hand he carried a finely crafted staff adorned with multi-colored crystals at its tip.
What stood out most, however, was his presence, the aura of mystery intertwined with noble grace.
The man seemed to command the world's attention without effort; even the lovely winged girl beside him became little more than his ornament.
The old guard, seasoned by years of service, instantly recognized it, this man was no ordinary mage. He was someone of great power and stature.
And either way, someone far beyond their reach.
At that realization, the old soldier quickly tugged on his companion's arm and bowed deeply, murmuring under his breath,
"Careful now. That's the kind of man you really don't want to offend."
Under the respectful gazes of the soldiers, the pair passed through the gates of Iolcos.