This time, Rovi didn't blame Hermes—considering Hermes's capabilities, even the chief gods couldn't restrain him, much less Poseidon, the Supreme God of the Sea.
Forget Hermes—even Rovi himself hadn't noticed Poseidon's interference.
Among the Three Great Gods of Greece, Poseidon might not have been as powerful as Zeus, but he was unquestionably one of the Supreme Gods.
When Poseidon decided to act upon the seas, who could possibly stop him?
Still, this realization brought Rovi some delight. After all, if Poseidon had already begun paying attention to him, could Zeus's attention be far behind?
Imagining Zeus's likely reaction—probably furious beyond belief—Rovi couldn't suppress a chuckle.
"What's with the creepy laughter?" Atalanta, perched atop a reef, glanced sideways with undisguised disdain.
"Can't I laugh if I'm happy?" Rovi didn't mind at all. "Hey, kid, you've stood there long enough. Spotted anything yet?"
"Don't call me that!" Atalanta immediately bristled, her animal ears standing straight up. She bared her teeth in an expression meant to look fierce but came off as rather cute instead.
"Fine, fine, I won't. Kids grow up so fast—you're getting harder to deal with!"
"Uwaah!"
Atalanta couldn't hold herself back anymore; she lunged forward like a wild beast, sinking her teeth into his forearm. It took her a moment to calm down again.
"Hmph!" The princess of Arcadia turned away, her cheeks slightly flushed. "There's a city up ahead."
A city?
That must be Colchis, where the Golden Fleece was located.
"Let's go check it out, then! Time to see this famous fleece with our own eyes," Rovi said with a smile.
Since they had arrived first, there was no need to double back to find the Argo and its heroes. Perhaps he could snatch the Golden Fleece first.
Although the fleece was seen as Greece's greatest treasure, none who obtained it ever seemed to meet a good end.
Rovi was quite curious—could this Golden Fleece fulfill his own wish?
His wish to finally die.
"Hmph, suit yourself!" Atalanta wiped away a trace of saliva from the corner of her mouth, cheeks still red. "Hopefully you'll die in there!"
Despite her words, she couldn't help but follow after him anyway.
"That'd be perfect."
...
"Someone claims to be a hero from afar, requesting to see the legendary Golden Fleece?" In the golden, lavish hall of Colchis's palace, the elderly yet tall and imposing King Aeëtes narrowed his eyes, which shone with a faint emerald glow, upon hearing his servant's report.
"Tell him no," he replied without a second thought.
As the owner of the Golden Fleece—a treasure unrivaled even across the entire Aegean—Colchis often had self-proclaimed "heroes" visiting to catch a glimpse of it.
But how could Aeëtes ever allow outsiders to see such a precious artifact?
He wasn't worried about these heroes resorting to force. Not only were his knights formidable warriors, but Aeëtes himself was a powerful demigod.
His father was the sun god Helios, his mother the Oceanid Perse.
Had he inherited more divine power, he could have become a true god rather than just a demigod. Still, even at his advanced age, Aeëtes could easily slay monsters barehanded.
Thus, he feared no man.
Just as the servant was about to leave, a clear, gentle voice interrupted, "Please wait, Father."
"My dear daughter, Medea, what is it?" Aeëtes turned toward the speaker.
It was a petite young girl, her long, lavender hair tied high into a ponytail, a few loose strands framing her delicate face. Her slim waist was wrapped in a soft white gown, its split hem slightly revealing her pale thighs. Gracefully, she curtsied.
She was Medea, daughter of Aeëtes, the princess who had recently turned sixteen.
Aeëtes doted upon this daughter especially.
Yet Medea had never abused her father's affection; her demeanor remained respectful. "Father, may I ask this visitor's name?"
"He calls himself Rovi, from Arcadia," the servant replied respectfully, after the king nodded permission.
Rovi?
Like most people of this age, Medea immediately thought of the legendary Sage from ancient Uruk.
But it was probably just a coincidence. After all, that man had lived over a thousand years ago.
"Father, perhaps you should meet him after all," Medea suggested. "I sense that he carries blessings from multiple gods."
Aeëtes narrowed his eyes again. A hero who bore the blessings of multiple gods indeed warranted more attention.
Colchis was distant from Athens and Arcadia; rumors rarely reached them quickly. Thus, tales of Rovi hadn't yet spread here.
But even the blessings of the gods alone made him someone who could not be lightly dismissed.
"Bring him in," Aeëtes waved.
The servant immediately departed.
"My daughter, you've helped me again. Would you like a reward?" Aeëtes turned gently toward Medea.
"Father, I wish you'd spare those commoners..."
"No, absolutely not, my daughter! That's the one thing I can't allow." His gentle expression instantly hardened. "This nation belongs to me. Even if the taxes I impose are heavy, what right do commoners have to complain?"
"I must use their deaths to demonstrate my authority!"
Medea fell silent. She had expected such a response, yet bitterness still filled her heart.
Aeëtes was a tyrant.
All Colchis knew this.
Cruel, extravagant, and oppressive—he forced the cost of his lavish lifestyle onto the common people, forbidding them even to voice their suffering. A single complaint whispered in private was enough to earn execution.
Medea, despite being Aeëtes's daughter, was also a magus from the Age of Gods, well-versed in many arts. She knew her father's path led inevitably toward ruin, yet felt powerless to change it.
In this moment, all she could do was sigh.
Just then, steady footsteps approached from outside the hall. Medea turned to look, and Aeëtes narrowed his eyes once more.
In walked a rather young man, or perhaps more accurately, a youth.
Black-haired, black-eyed, tall and slender, he had an air of scholarly elegance about him.
Rovi entered alone.
Atalanta waited outside—being raised in the forests, the princess disliked crowded places.
"Greetings, King Aeëtes," Rovi offered a slight bow.
Aeëtes quickly rose and returned the gesture. Anyone blessed by multiple gods deserved at least equal courtesy.
"So, you must be Rovi? I am the king of Colchis. This is my daughter, Medea..."
Is this the one?
Medea observed the newcomer curiously. Unlike previous self-styled heroes, there was indeed something different about this man.
He's quite...handsome, she thought, unable to stop her face from reddening.
She felt as if she'd just been struck by Cupid's arrow, an odd, fluttering sensation spreading throughout her body.
"Just a moment, please," Rovi suddenly smiled apologetically, then reached out, grasping into empty air.
He dragged out a small, winged child holding a bow, who stared back blankly in shock.
"Eh!? How did you find me? How can you even see me—wait, what are you doing!?" the small child shouted incredulously, before Rovi casually tossed him up and booted him away.
Medea: "..."
If her eyes hadn't deceived her, hadn't that child just now been the god Cupid himself?!
Did this mysterious hero...seriously just kick away the god of love!?
---
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