As night fell, the once-bustling town gradually quieted, as if it too had slipped into sleep.
In a remote corner room of the worn-out inn, a lone lamp flickered softly. A shadow leaned against the window, idly flipping through the latest volume of One Thousand and One Nights.
But just as the story reached its most exciting point, it abruptly cut off at the final page, followed by the line: "If you wish to know what happens next, come back tomorrow night."
The reader's face darkened instantly, and he cursed under his breath.
Scheherazade, that woman, is a master of cliffhangers.
Tsk. If I remember right, her weakness is fear of death? Maybe I should lock her up somewhere, threaten her every day, force her to write updates. If she refuses, kill her once and revive her for another round.
Forget being a cliffhanger addict. If she's going to write, she'd better write properly.
Just as a certain unscrupulous reader was gleefully planning the author's future, the crisp sound of water came from behind the drawn curtain in the corner. Through the thin veil of gauze, a graceful silhouette appeared, its curves clearly outlined.
Amid a soft rustling, the Amazon Queen emerged barefoot from the damp mist, a towel wrapped around her body, red hair cascading over her shoulders, and came to a stop behind Samael.
It seemed the Amazons ate quite well...
The Ancient Serpent's gaze drifted briefly across a certain impressive curve before settling on Hippolyta's hesitant expression. Setting aside his reading, he traced several Runes on the table, forming a barrier, then turned to look at her.
"What is it?"
"I was thinking… in your current condition, entering enemy territory so rashly would be extremely dangerous. Why not return with me to the City of Seven Hills to recover, or remain on the eastern and southern fronts for now? You could make your move after you've healed."
Hippolyta hesitated, glancing at his chest before speaking, concern evident in her tone.
"The situation in Rome has only been stabilized temporarily. It hasn't solved the root problem. If we don't act during this rare window, the opportunity will be gone in an instant."
Samael pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. He tapped the table lightly with his fingers as he replied in a low voice.
"Besides, this is a curse meant to kill Divine Spirits. Simple rest won't do much.
"On Rome's board, I've already done everything I can. Even if I return to the City of Seven Hills or stay on the eastern and southern fronts, there's little more I can accomplish. It's better to take the initiative."
Hippolyta fell silent for a moment, then frowned.
"Then why not return to Athens? With your ability, you could unite the Greek city-states and face Persia head-on."
Samael spread out the map and spoke calmly, his reasoning clear.
"One must know their limits. I excel at overall strategy, not commanding troops in direct battle.
"Besides, Greece doesn't lack divine-blooded heroes. Its real weakness lies in its small population, poor land, and inability to sustain a long war.
"That's exactly what Rome compensates for with its war potential.
"Cyrus saw this clearly. That's why, before launching the Third Greco-Persian War, he allied with Ramesses II and Altera to assassinate Romulus. His goal was to break Rome first, then destroy Greece."
Recalling the upheaval in the City of Seven Hills, Samael's brows drew together as he couldn't help but admire how ruthless and precise Cyrus's move had been.
"Think about it. If Rome falls first, Greece loses all room to maneuver. With its fragmented terrain and scattered city-states, if Persia remains patient and coordinates with Carthage, Egypt, and the Huns, advancing step by step in a wide encirclement, steadily wearing down the Greek city-states and taking them one by one, the outcome of the war is already decided.
"At that point, even if Greece wins a few local battles, it won't change the overall situation.
"That's what you call winning the battle, but losing the war."
"That's why I've done everything I could to preserve Rome, block the Hun Empire's advance to the south, tie down Persia's forces on the eastern front, and have Octavian drive a wedge between Carthage and Egypt, cutting off their three-way encirclement!"
This step-by-step breakdown allowed Hippolyta to finally glimpse the full scope of the game between all sides. Her eyes lit up with admiration as she looked at the man before her, her respect deepening.
Samael was a true strategist. From the moment chaos erupted in the City of Seven Hills and the divine ancestor Romulus fell, he had already realized that Greece's crisis had begun.
On this board, if he wanted to break the encirclement around the center, he first had to fight for control of the edges and corners, placing his pieces one step at a time until the dragon could be slain.
"To be honest… I don't know how they're doing right now. I'm starting to miss home."
Under the lamplight, thoughts of his old companions in Greece left Samael's gaze unfocused, a trace of loneliness surfacing as he murmured softly.
Rome was never truly his home. Home was where the people he cared about were.
Of course he wanted to return to Greece as soon as possible, to reunite with those women who mattered to him, to speak freely, to stay close, to live without restraint.
But things rarely went the way one wished.
The flickering lamplight stretched and shrank his shadow. Sitting there, staring into the night, half his face lay in the light while the other half was swallowed by darkness. The quiet softness that slipped through, along with the loneliness carved by shadow and silence, mingled with the pale moonlight resting on his shoulders, giving him a strangely compelling presence.
Hippolyta felt her heart stir. A faint ache of sympathy rose within her, and before she could stop herself, the thought turned into words.
"Then let me handle the mission in Persia. I can have Penthesilea and a few of my sisters escort you back to Greece first."
Samael paused, then turned to look at her. His gaze softened, carrying a hint of amusement.
"My old friend, I appreciate it. But this second move… it has to be made by me."
As a faint blush spread across Hippolyta's face, the Ancient Serpent placed a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were deep and distant, yet his smile was relaxed.
"Besides, once we deal with this crisis, we'll have all the time in the world. I've already waited thousands of years. What's a few more days?"
That calm certainty and quiet clarity left Hippolyta momentarily dazed. She didn't even notice that the way he addressed her had subtly changed.
It wasn't until Samael stroked his chin, his teasing gaze lingering on her for a long moment, that she snapped back to herself. Clearing her throat, she quickly changed the subject to hide her embarrassment.
"So… where are we going next?"
Samael's eyes fell on the sheepskin maps they had acquired in Persia. He narrowed his gaze slightly and spoke slowly, his tone carrying deeper meaning.
"The Eagle's Nest… the Temple of the Evening Bell."