In Greece, Beware the Elderly

That night I lay staring at the ceiling, and a drop of water struck my forehead. Drip. Cold. Sharp. So this was no dream.

Jason. I'm Jason.

All right. Calm down, and start with what I actually knew.

Going by the educational comics I'd read in my past life, the Jason I remembered went like this.

Gather the heroes and set sail…… a vicious witch for a wife…… she cleared every impossible labor with magic…… then he cheated on her, the house came down around him, and he was ruined.

In short: a man drowning in luck, who kicked that luck away with his own two feet. An idiot for the ages.

And what's the three percent.

What?

My stomach turned. Sleep was already a lost cause. I was meant to be the star of that deranged melodrama of lust and slaughter? A hundred times worse than unpaid overtime baked into a lump-sum salary. I formally declined.

I kicked off the straw blanket and sat up. Think. Logically. Where did the entire disaster begin?

The Argo. The Golden Fleece. Medea. Down the mountain — across the sea, no less.

Right. There was the answer. If I never went down the mountain, none of it could touch me.

Calculate my odds of survival if I spend the rest of my life as a hermit on Mount Pelion.

"See! I knew I was right!"

"Master may be half a beast, but he's got a heart. You really think he'd shove his own disciple off a cliff?"

"Don't jinx it! For something squatting in another man's head, you sure run your mouth. You move out!"

"That's you saying my head's empty, isn't it? I'm right, aren't I?"

Anyway, the conclusion was settled. Mount Pelion: the safest house in the world. I would endure here for the rest of my life.

Holdout mode: engaged.

"Have you packed everything, Jason? We must be on the road before the sun stands at its height, or the Anauros will be beyond crossing."

The next morning, I forced a tear to the corner of my eye and let it gleam. A technique I had polished in my past life, for the days I put in for a half-day off.

"Master, I cannot descend the mountain yet."

"Ho. What talk is this? Have you not already passed my trial?"

"You honored me with the name of Healer, far above my worth, and yet I still cannot tell a thistle from poison hemlock. If I go out into the world like this, will I not drag the good name of the Chiron School through the mud?"

I clenched a fist, tragic resolve and all.

"I shall complete the advanced course in herbology before I go! Ten years or so, and I believe I could get through the fundamentals!"

"There is no need."

"Why not! What am I supposed to do if I feed a patient a poisonous herb!"

"Another will save the world by medicine. Asclepius — he watches serpents, and studies the hidden art of raising the dead. You do not have talent of that order."

"……."

"You do not reach even the tips of his toes."

"You didn't have to say it twice!!"

Operation One: failure. The humiliation came free of charge.

But I couldn't back down. Not here. Change of plan.

"Then at least let me finish the facility repairs before I go!"

I scrambled up onto the roof of the cave, the spot that had leaked all through the last rainy season.

"I cannot bring myself to take a single step, for fear that Master and Madam will be left to the wind and the rain!"

"Oh my, Jason. What a dear, thoughtful boy. Husband, look at him. Surely we could let him stay another day or two?"

Chariclo, passing by, took my side.

Yes! The Madam card!

I was half a breath from a victory smile.

Tok.

Chiron tapped the cave wall, lightly, with the ash-wood club in his hand. A deep groan ran through the stone — and living branches surged out of it, sealing the hole in the roof in a blink.

"If you knew how to cast magic that disgustingly broken, why didn't you use it from the start? Why have you had me on repair duty all this time??"

"That, too, was training."

Operation Two: failure.

Which left the water-ghost gambit. If I was going under, I was dragging someone with me. I pointed at Peleus, turning meat over the cookfire.

"Master! I wish to file a grievance regarding unequal treatment!"

"Hm?"

"Why is Brother Peleus allowed to stay! He isn't even a registered disciple — he's a boarder — and he's been squatting here for years! Expelling only me is discrimination!"

Peleus, mid-flip, jumped.

"Wh-huh? Why did the arrow suddenly swing onto me……."

"Brother, you stay out of this! My life is on the line!"

"Peleus is presently purifying the karma of a killing."

Chiron said it as if he were remarking on the weather.

"One who washes away a sin requires time in which to wash. And the boy grills meat well. He is cook to the Chiron School."

"That's my line!"

Something I'd only ever said to needle Peleus, and now it had its hands around my throat.

"Sorry, Jason. That's just how it turned out."

Peleus held up a lamb rib, browned to a perfect gold. Juice ran down it in a glistening sheet.

……That looks incredible. No. Not the point.

"Besides, Peleus has an ordeal of his own. When the time comes, he too will depart."

……What?

That guy was Brad Pitt's father?

"It seems you have run out of excuses. Pack your things."

No. I couldn't beat this centaur with anything that resembled common sense. Time for an extreme measure. Forget logic — I was selling pure emotion. I dropped to my knees and pressed my palms together.

"Master. The truth is…… I have something to confess."

"Speak."

"Dodging your attack yesterday was not my skill. The truth is…… a voice I couldn't identify spoke inside my head. Roll right. Jump down. It directed every single move! It was misconduct! Cheating! So my exam to leave the mountain is void! Void!!"

Shut up! I have to live first!

This was Chiron, the one they called the great sage. A strict teacher like that would never stomach a disciple's cheating. He went quiet. I watched the hand on the club tighten.

Yes. Get angry. Hit me with insubordination and hold me back a year!

"Pfft — bwahahaha!"

"Master……?"

His laughter shook the mountain. Birds startled into the air.

"Which god whispered to you! Lady Athena? Or the god Hermes? That a hero should hear the whisper of the gods in a moment of crisis is entirely natural! Proof that you are truly a hero chosen by heaven!"

"I said it was cheating!!"

"Perseus and Heracles alike found their way by the voices of the gods. He who rampages in arrogance, trusting only his own strength, meets nothing but ruin — but he who knows to lend an ear to divine wisdom is the sort who founds a nation!"

Unbelievable. I confessed to cheating, and it went on my résumé. Around here, was hearing voices a professional license? Was mental illness a talent?

"Master, can't I just live out my whole life here shoveling horse dung? Please!!!"

I planted my forehead in the dirt. I'd thrown my pride into the ravine yesterday. Nothing worth mourning.

Chiron let the laughter go, and looked down at me for a long, quiet moment.

"I will postpone your descent until tomorrow. In exchange, after supper, let us talk."

That evening, Peleus and Chariclo left us the fire. It crackled and spat. Chiron folded his four legs beneath him and watched the flames.

"Jason. I shall now tell you the truth of your birth."

Here it came. The backstory.

"You are the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠son of Aeson, rightful king of Iolcus. Twenty years ago the king's half-brother, Pelias, raised a rebellion, and you — a babe in arms — were carried into my embrace in the deep of night."

"……."

"You are the rightful heir to the throne of Iolcus."

"Then that's all the more reason to hide!"

"Hm?"

"You said my uncle's a usurper! If I walk down off this mountain, do you think he'll cry 'Oh, Nephew dear!' and press rice cakes into my hands? He'll take my head and hang it on the city wall!"

"Pelias already knows. He has merely lacked the nerve to send assassins onto Chiron's mountain."

His eyes found me through the fire.

"Jason. The man who hides dies quietly. But the man whom all the world knows cannot be killed at a whim. Fame is the thickest armor there is."

"Armor? Please. It's a target."

"Hm?"

"Get famous, and Olympus itself will be looking down at me."

"……."

"Among your disciples, Master — has a single one who caught the gods' eye actually come out of it well?"

Chiron opened his mouth, and closed it again. The fire popped. Only the fire.

"……Ahem. Ahem."

He cleared his throat and, very smoothly, changed the subject.

"Then what of this. A vast inheritance awaits you. The vaults of Iolcus, the ships in her harbor, the fertile plains. Pelias sits on all of it now, but by right, every bit of it is yours."

"How large an inheritance are we talking?"

"The fortune of a royal house. More than you could spend were you born three times over."

Wait. Think. Why had the Jason of the original story fallen? Because he got greedy for the throne. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He reached for the crown, and the Golden Fleece quest dropped on him; so he boarded a ship; so he met Medea.

"What if we tell Uncle he can keep the crown…… and I just settle my share of the inheritance in cash?"

"A strange notion. Still, the bargaining is yours."

It worked. On paper, flawless. From Uncle's side of the table, it was a winning trade, wasn't it? The thorn in his throat walks up of its own accord and offers, Pay me, and I'll vanish for good. Cheaper than an assassin's fee.

Uncle's a human being. He'll know how to punch a calculator.

Don't jinx it.

Well. If the talks fell apart, I could run then. I had a cut-and-run skill with Chiron's personal certification.

The next day, a shabby little farewell was held in the yard before the cave.

"Come. Wear this."

What Chiron held out was a leopard skin, freshly tanned. Black rosettes stood sharp against a ground of orange.

"A graduation gift. The blessing of Mount Pelion will go with you."

"……Look, Master. If I put this on, isn't it a bit like barbarian cosplay? Not exactly the outfit of a man going to negotiate with civilized society."

"It is a hero's dignity."

I draped the pelt over my shoulders because I had no choice. My chest was left bare, and the wind poured straight through. Madam Chariclo came over and held out a pair of leather sandals.

"Jason, mind you don't hurt your feet. Below the mountain the way is all thorns and gravel."

"Madam…… I knew it. You're the only one. Master's lower half is a horse, so he has no idea what sore feet feel like."

Chariclo set the sandals on my feet herself and drew the laces tight. The goodbyes were finished. Finished — and yet, once I actually stood there with the bundle on my back, the dirt I'd sprawled across for more than ten years, and the cave ceiling I'd looked up at every day, caught at my eyes.

Was I really leaving? Hooves in my ribs. Grass roots between my teeth. A decade of grumbling. At the mouth of the cave I hovered, lifting a foot and setting it down again.

"No — actually, maybe I ought to think this through one more time…… I'm not mentally prepared yet……."

"Jason."

Chiron turned. The horse half of him swung around, hind hooves cocking back, and the whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion.

WHUMP!!

"GYAAAAAH!?"

A hoof buried itself in my back. The sky spun — once around, twice, ten times. I went tumbling down the slope, over and over, and the leopard pelt earned its keep as padding. Oh. So that's why he gave it to me. A practical gift.

I rolled for a long while before I finally slammed into the foot of a great tree and stopped.

"Hack — kagh…… cough! Has the old horse gone senile…… seeing a man off with a kick……."

White clouds drifted, perfectly peaceful, across the sky. I lay there like that for a long time. Then I got up and started walking. Trudge. Trudge.

"Hey. Google AI Pro."

"This is all your fault. You got me thrown out of the house! If you hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stuck your nose in with useless advice, I'd be eating hot foraged-greens soup in that cave right now!"

"That's still better than getting thrown out!"

"……."

Having nothing to say back only made me angrier.

I walked for half a day. The Anauros River: the last gate on the road to Iolcus. The recent rains had swollen it fat. Branches caught in the current shrank to dots and vanished.

Metis. Analyze the crossing.

Good. Let's go.

I was about to take the step when a voice drifted up from the bank.

"Aigo…… aigo……."

Beside a rock at the water's edge, some old woman was crouched down. A crone with a bent back, wrapped in a robe of rags. She pushed herself up on a staff, dipped a toe into the current, and flinched back as if scalded.

"Oh, the water's far too fierce — I can't cross at all. These old legs of mine, one step and I'd be swept straight down the road to the dead. Aigo, aigo…… If only some strong, handsome young man would hoist this pitiful old woman onto his back and carry her over…… how wonderful that would be……."

Her head turned, smooth as oil. Our eyes met dead on.

Metis. Pull her file.

……Access denied? That's a thing?

A chill climbed my spine. In every martial-arts manhwa I'd ever read, the rule was the same: beware beggars, the elderly, and women. This wasn't the martial world. It was Greece. Which probably made it worse.

Don't get involved. Quietly double back upstream.