I just can't make sense of it… I really can't…
Scáthach's brows knitted tightly as she racked her brain, but she still couldn't figure out how the Athenians had come up with something as absurd as voting to exile their own commander.
Persia had lost more than two hundred warships, yes, but their fleet still numbered over a thousand. Even if they had taken a heavy blow, their main force remained intact.
And at a time like this, they were going to exile their naval commander? If the Persians launched another offensive, what would the Greek navy use to hold them off? Their heads?
"War is just an extension of politics. To put it plainly, a lot of things that seem ridiculous on the surface are, underneath, driven by interests."
While the four of them were still puzzling over it, Holo, who had been sprawled over the stone table munching on an apple, tossed aside the core, clapped her hands, and lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with insight as she spoke confidently.
"Instead of trying to figure out how Athenians think, why not think about Themi… Themi… what was his name again?"
But just as she reached the end, her composed, sage-like image collapsed on the spot when she got stuck on the name.
"Themistocles…"
Scáthach glanced at the tail swishing behind Holo and reminded her with mild exasperation.
"Right, Themistocles, the naval commander. Use him as your starting point. Look into whose interests he's offended in Athens, and you might find your answer!"
The clever wolf slapped the table and grinned, baring her small fangs, utterly confident.
"That something he taught you?"
"Wha… I came up with it myself, alright? Tch, you're underestimating me. Forget it, I'm not talking to you anymore!"
Scáthach watched as Holo stormed off in a huff and retreated inside to sulk and nap, then shook her head with a faint smile. Turning to the three Valkyries, her expression grew serious as she issued her orders.
"That man wants us to hold Athens. Another naval battle could break out at any time. A commander like Themistocles shouldn't fall to schemes from his own side.
The three of you, investigate his connections and any conflicts of interest he has with the Athenian upper class. Report back once you've gathered everything.
If needed, have Sigurd and the others embedded in the nearby city-states help gather intelligence."
At the mention of business, the three Valkyries nodded seriously. Just as they were about to leave, Scáthach added another instruction from behind.
"Oh, and pick out two baskets of the best apples at the market and send them to that girl's room later. Consider it a thank-you for her advice."
Scáthach glanced toward the tightly shut door behind her. Noticing the faint gap where it had been left slightly ajar, she smiled and shook her head.
By evening, Thrúd, Hildr, and Ortlinde returned one after another. After pooling their findings, they actually managed to piece together several useful threads.
First, the naval commander Themistocles came from a merchant family. Although his father was wealthy, he was not part of Athens' most prominent houses. His mother was from the foreign land of Thrace and not of Athenian citizen descent, which meant he had often been bullied by the aristocracy. After rising to power, he frequently clashed with the divine-blooded families who effectively controlled Athens through the Areopagus council.
Second, Themistocles maintained close ties with another naval commander, Xanthippus. While he himself wasn't the focus, the key point was his son, Pericles. Backed quietly by both commanders, Pericles had been pushing forward democratic reforms aimed at weakening the authority of the Areopagus.
As those reforms gradually took effect, the already corrupt and decaying divine-blooded families on the Areopagus naturally sought to cut down this young statesman's support.
Under the aristocratic system, Themistocles, a naval commander with no real political backing, became the easiest target.
Clearly, the failed rescue and the talk of fearing a coup were just excuses. The truth was that those divine-blooded nobles had no intention of giving up power and were using this as a way to strike back at so-called democracy.
So in the end, it all came down to petty power struggles?
Even with disaster looming, they still clutched their little bit of authority and refused to let go.
Scáthach fell silent, her brows tightening as a deep sense of disgust rose toward these so-called divine-blooded nobles of Athens.
"He's being held on the Areopagus? Hildr, Ortlinde, you two stay here. Thrúd, come with me.
Heh… I'm taking this man.
After that, get him out of the city and hand him over to Sigurd and the others. This victory is only a small one. The Persians haven't withdrawn. That old general might still prove useful."
With that, the Queen of the Land of Shadows let out a soft snort and rose to her feet. A faint, dangerous gleam flickered in her eyes as two demonic spears materialized amid crimson Ether patterns.
She admired warriors. Whether masters of combat or commanders skilled in warfare, they were all exceptional souls, worthy of being claimed.
Buzz!
But just as the two were about to depart, the ground suddenly trembled violently. Sand and gravel lifted into the air as a blue-white pillar of light, a hundred meters across, shot straight into the sky, illuminating most of the Acropolis.
A faint yet undeniable resonance spread from within that pillar. A powerful pull rose from deep within them, urging them forward like pilgrims drawn to a sacred site.
That's… the direction of the Areopagus!
What is going on?
Scáthach and the three Valkyries all sensed that strange resonance at the same time. Their eyes met, their expressions turning tense.
...
At the same time, in the Sea of Chaos.
A crude raft, little more than lashed-together bamboo, struggled forward against the raging waves.
Splash!
Suddenly, the crew member lying along the edge of the raft, paddling with claw-like gear, twitched her leopard ears. Dropping the tool, she sprang up, her orange, beastlike eyes locking onto a misty direction as excitement crept into her voice.
"Kukulkan, over there! Something's calling us… you feel it too, right?"
Smack!
The blonde goddess beside her, dressed in Sumerian-style casual clothing, smacked her on the head and raised an eyebrow with a cold smile.
"Do you really need to point that out? Keep rowing."
"But I'm starving! I've been the one rowing ever since we left Maya. It's been a whole year! Is this how you treat a jaguar? We're sisters, you know…"
"Quit whining. If our course is right, we're close to land. Once we get there, you can eat your fill."
"Yay! I want a full-course human feast!"
Boom!
The feline-featured Jaguar Warrior, who lived life constantly skirting disaster, was sent flying with a single punch, flipping headfirst into the Sea of Chaos.
"I won't eat them! I won't! I was joking, okay?!"
Seeing Kukulkan narrow her eyes with a dangerous, amused smile, the Jaguar Warrior, still bobbing in the water, shuddered. Her fur stood on end as she immediately gave up and raised her hands in surrender.
"Making you row all this time must've been hard. How about this, I'll take over the rest of the journey."
"No, no, not at all! I volunteered! Loving labor is a jaguar's finest virtue!"
"No need to force yourself. It's your turn to rest. Besides, I saved you a nice spot on the raft."
Kukulkan's voice grew gentler, her smile warmer. But the Jaguar Warrior's sense of danger only intensified. Her heart pounded as she instinctively turned and tried to swim away, desperate to escape.
Unfortunately, experience had already taught her that resistance was useless.
Ten minutes later, strong winds filled the air as the raft sped forward.
Kukulkan leaned leisurely against it, arms crossed, calmly enjoying the ocean view.
Meanwhile, atop the mast, a miserable figure was stretched out in a spread-eagle shape, gagged and hoisted up to serve as a makeshift sail. Blown by the cold wind, she could only whimper through tears.
I… I want to row…