The night was long, and with nothing better to do, Samael and Jason finished off the mead in their bottles, then dragged their old friend into the captain's cabin to pass the time over a game of chess.
Unfortunately, after several rounds, Jason, that hopelessly bad player, barely won a single game. His style was bold, and his moves were often unexpected, but he felt more like a gambler trying to win back his losses than a proper chess player.
As the saying goes, nine gamblers out of ten lose. In a game like chess, where brains matter far more, trying to turn things around with luck and sheer nerve alone was obviously much harder.
So Samael won with no real effort, which meant there was not much satisfaction in it either.
A pity Gilgamesh, Athena, and Themis were not around. If those high-level players had been here, this kind of pastime would have been much more interesting.
After getting battered over and over on the board, Jason's gambler's competitive streak was fully roused. With a quick shift of the eyes, he activated the Magecraft array aboard the Argo and summoned his cousin Odysseus, shamelessly calling for outside help.
To make things more interesting, Samael turned a blind eye to Odysseus coaching from behind the scenes and calmly played one against two.
It had to be said, Odysseus truly lived up to his reputation as a great strategist. His layout was meticulous, and he managed to fight Samael to a standstill more than once.
But Samael had already been repeatedly crushed by three masters, Gilgamesh, Athena, and Themis. He had faced every kind of player there was. What he lacked in brilliance he made up for in depth of experience and a much broader bag of tricks. So even against the generally cautious Odysseus, he still won more than he lost.
But as the two kept trading moves and the game grew harder and harder to untangle, Jason grew dissatisfied with being nothing more than the guy who physically placed the pieces. His hands itched, and on a few moves, he started adding his own instincts into the play.
At once, Odysseus's airtight layout gained several wild, risky moves that came out of nowhere. The style changed sharply, rooted in orthodoxy but aided by surprise, and the pressure on Samael rose dramatically. Before long, he lost several games in a row.
Who would have thought these two cousins working together would produce such a strange and effective chemistry?
With the score steadily being caught up and a tie drawing near, Samael's enthusiasm only rose. He grew even more careful and focused.
Meanwhile, Sisyphus, on rotating night-watch duty, quietly slipped into the room and stood behind Samael, offering advice to his superior.
Not long after, Odysseus himself boarded the Argo and began giving guidance in person.
That brought the game back to two on two. Samael stopped caring about winning or losing and simply treated it as amusement, and the whole room instantly became much livelier.
When one game ended, Samael tipped over his own king, gave up his seat to Sisyphus, stood, and turned to Odysseus to get down to business.
"Finished the handoff on your end?"
"Yes. It was all settled two days ago. The ones who came were Hassan of the Hundred Faces, Intoxicated Smoke, Zhen Guan, Shadow Peeling, and Hassan of Serenity, along with a third of the Assassins from the Order. But I did not see the old man you mentioned."
"That's normal. The old man has plans of his own. At the right time, in the right place, when the moment comes, he'll naturally appear. One perfect strike, then vanish a thousand miles away. That's the true essence of an assassin."
Samael did not mind in the least. Recalling past experience, he gave a light laugh as he explained.
"The Order agreed to cooperate, yet they only sent a third of their forces. That seems less than sincere."
Odysseus frowned as he warned him. Given the old enmity between the Panhellenic League and the Assassin Order, he could never fully lower his guard around assassins like these.
Samael turned an exquisite Assassin piece over between his fingers, lips pursed as he murmured,
"That was on my orders. For various reasons, the main body of the Assassin Order will not be deployed directly onto the battlefield against the Persian army."
Then the Ancient Serpent lifted his eyes, his expression layered with meaning.
"Of course, left in Persia, they'll be even more useful..."
Even more useful?
Confusion flickered across Odysseus's face. But as the Assassin piece was pushed across the sand table, the strategist first fell into thought, then suddenly seemed to be struck by lightning. The fog in his mind blew away all at once, and his pupils shrank sharply.
"Persia? You're planning to strike Persia!"
"What else? In times like these, are we only allowed to take the hits and never hit back?"
Samael glanced at Odysseus, planted the Assassin piece into the Persian Pantheon marked with flames, then turned and revealed the full sand table. Looking down over its mountains, rivers, coasts, and the tangle of power marked out in banners, he smiled.
"There are 300,000 Persian troops gathered at Thermopylae right now, along with more than a thousand warships. They've practically emptied Persia of everything that matters. This war has already reached the point of exhausting the nation's full strength. Their rear is wide open.
"And according to the intelligence the Assassin Order has confirmed, the Meteor Legion, the Undead Army, and the Arcane Magi units have all been gradually drawn out. The Persian Empire now is nothing but an empty shell with a grand exterior."
Samael tapped rhythmically against the sand table, a cold smile flickering in his eyes. He calmly organized the situation before them and laid out the shape of the coming war for the three clever strategists in the room.
At present, 300,000 Persian soldiers were massed at Thermopylae, while the Hun Empire had already withdrawn to the grasslands to recuperate.
The reinforcements of the Panhellenic League were advancing from north to south, including the Norse Viking fleet, Rome's Amazon warriors, and the remaining strength Athens had managed to preserve. In terms of numbers, they were roughly 200,000 strong, but their troops were far more elite.
Meanwhile, Egypt's fleet would come up from the south to strike Persia from the other direction. Ramesses II held at least 200,000 to 300,000 troops in hand.
In terms of raw military strength, their side now held an overwhelming advantage.
Hearing this, everyone felt the strange irony of fortune turning full circle.
Not long ago, the Panhellenic League had been under siege from all sides, enemies before them and behind them. The battle in the City of Seven Hills, where a divine ancestor fell, had been Athens's darkest hour. The Greeks had been terrified, fearing that if Rome fell one day, Persia, Egypt, and the Huns would all strike Greece at once and march on Athens. More than a few had secretly started planning how they might defect to Persia.
Now the situation had reversed. The 300,000 Persian troops at Thermopylae looked imposing, but in truth they were isolated, with no support.
Norse, Rome, Greece, and even their former ally Egypt were all moving to join forces and wipe this Persian army out.
The side that had once been on the brink of collapse had turned around and become the one holding all the advantages.
Barring surprises, the war might soon be finished in a single stroke.
"Don't celebrate too soon. Our alliance with Egypt isn't exactly reliable. It would already be good enough if Ramesses II stayed on the sidelines. If he lends Persia a hand at the critical moment just to keep Greece from growing too strong, I would not be surprised. So even with the advantage, winning a decisive victory at Thermopylae is still unlikely."
After a brief pause, Samael poured cold water over the optimism without hesitation. He assumed the worst of the Pharaoh's motives and laid out the way to break the deadlock.
"If we want to end a war that has lasted a hundred years, the best defense is not defense at all, it's offense!
"War should not be confined to Greece. Victory and defeat are not always decided inside the board. Sometimes the answer lies outside it.
"Since everyone's eyes are fixed on Thermopylae, why not pull the foundation out from under them? Let's hit Persia's lair first and break their roots!"
The Ancient Serpent narrowed his eyes, and deep inside those slit pupils a dark killing light flickered.
"So the card Your Majesty has worked so hard to preserve can finally be played?"
Sisyphus stepped forward, pulled up the Roman eagle banner from the City of Seven Hills, and pushed it forward with a delighted smile.
"Hah, with the Assassin Order acting as our people on the inside, and the Roman legions striking while Persia is exposed, this is going to be a terrible day for the Persians. Brother, when do we move?"
Jason leaned in with a broad grin, hooking an arm around Samael's shoulder, openly delighted at Persia's coming misery.
Samael rubbed his chin. A meaningful curve rose at the corner of his mouth. Looking up into the deepening night, he said quietly,
"The moment the Greek army assembled and departed from Icarus Harbor, Pompey, Octavian, Antony, and Scipio were already marching east under Nero's and my orders, leading four full Roman legions and two thousand Amazon warriors sent as reinforcements from the Amazon tribes.
"By now, they should already be advancing on Persia."