A Slightly Different Tale of Thebes (1)
The oracle concerning Thebes had spread far across the mortal world. Several months later, a powerfully built man stepped through the city gates. His name was Philatos, a warrior whose feats of raw strength had earned him fame in Sparta.
So this is Thebes. It’s far grander than I imagined.
The moment he passed beneath the towering walls, the air filled with the lively calls of merchants and the bright laughter of children. The faces of those who passed by glowed with health, and a faint, refreshing fragrance trailed from their clothes. Just off the main avenue stood rows of modest homes built from neatly fired bricks, while the villas of wealthy nobles—complete with spacious gardens—and the grand royal palace rose prominently in the distance.
“Olives blessed by the generous hand of Goddess Demeter! Finest quality!”
“How much for these?”
“Fish left over from the offerings to the gods of Olympus! Only a few coins each—”
“Phoebus himself must have blessed you, my friend. Hahaha!”
As expected of the city of Lord Pluto, the air is thick with the scent of mint… Hm?
Thud.
Someone bumped squarely into Philatos as he stood motionless in the middle of the street, staring around in wonder. The avenue was wide, yet so crowded that his idle presence had become an obstacle.
“Hey, you’re blocking the way. You look like an outsider who came here hoping to become a hero… Head over to the Agora if you want.”
“…My apologies.”
“Tsk. There have been far too many clueless foreigners lately…”
A merchant wearing a chiton of animal hide and sandals of cow leather grumbled as he walked on. A line of servants trailed behind him, suggesting he had grown rich through trade.
Philatos continued forward, still gazing about, when a group of children came sprinting past.
“Kyahaha! That’s why the thunder roared yesterday—Lord Zeus was—”
“Let’s sneak up the mountain today without our parents! We’ll bring back tons of wild strawberries!”
“You’ll just get scolded again. The guards will stop you before you even start.”
“Just go pray at the statue of Hypnos in Lord Pluto’s temple. You said you’ve been scared to fall asleep lately, right?”
Why would a statue of the God of Sleep be inside Pluto’s temple?
Intrigued by the children’s conversation, Philatos decided to visit the temple himself.
Though located on the city’s outskirts, the sanctuary possessed a majestic scale rivaling the royal palace. It was packed with worshippers. The priests and attendants all wore black robes and somber garments, a visual reminder that the other face of the God of Wealth and Mercy was the Underworld itself.
“Ugh… Especially crowded today.”
“I brought a few eggs from our hens as an offering.”
“Will the god be angry if that’s all we bring?”
“You don’t understand, friend. Lord Pluto is a god of generosity and compassion. He doesn’t concern himself with the value of offerings.”
“Exactly. It’s the heart that matters.”
After squeezing through the crowd, Philatos saw the priests and servants directing the flow of people. Those carrying offerings—honey, grain, animal skins—wore expressions of sincere devotion.
While he waited his turn, a beautiful priestess in black approached. She appeared to be in her early thirties. She pressed her palms together respectfully and spoke.
“May the grace of Pluto be with you. I am Philona, a junior priestess. What brings you to our temple?”
“I only came out of curiosity. I heard many statues of other gods were here…”
“Ah! If you wish to see the statues of the deities who dwell in the Underworld, please follow that direction.”
The priestess extended her finger, indicating the way.
Following her directions, Philatos wandered deeper into the temple until he reached a hall filled with countless statues, each with a long line of worshippers waiting before it. Heavily armed guards stood watch in front of every marble figure. Their armor marked them clearly as royal soldiers.
“Next!”
“You already prayed once. One prayer per person. We had to implement this rule because of the growing crowds…”
“O Master of the River of Lethe, my son has not slept properly since returning from the war…”
“I swear before the statue of Styx that I will absolutely…”
“Today, once more, I stand with a clear heart before the just and righteous Lord Pluto…”
“Ahem! To the Goddess of Mint…”
The believers stood with eyes closed and hands clasped, murmuring quietly to the gods they served. The strange scene prompted Philatos to question one of the guards.
“Excuse me. As an outsider, I don’t understand. Why are there statues of other gods inside Lord Pluto’s temple?”
“Ah, that question again…”
The guard sighed, clearly tired of hearing it. “I’ll explain only once, so listen well.”
“Of course.”
“Lord Pluto is a merciful god. He ordered that statues of nearly every deity residing in the Underworld be placed within his own temple. As you can see, the goddesses of vengeance are here, and even Thana—er, Thanatos, the God of Death.”
“That’s true, but…”
Now that he looked closer, statues of gods mortals usually feared were indeed present. In Sparta, people avoided even speaking the names of Thanatos or the three Erinyes.
“He embraces even those gods who receive no faith because mortals fear them, or whose very names have been forgotten. Thanks to him, we’ve been able to shed many of our own prejudices.”
“I see…”
Philatos joined a modest line and, when his turn came, clasped his hands before the statue of an unfamiliar goddess. His prayer was simple—merely an expression of gratitude for divine grace.
Flash!
“Hm?! What is this?”
“Another one chosen.”
“He looks like a foreigner. Lucky bastard.”
“Is it the statue of Lady Styx?”
A gentle radiance suddenly bloomed, wrapping around his body. Yet few people seemed startled by the divine sign. The guard he had spoken with earlier approached with a smile.
“Congratulations. Since you came to Thebes hoping to become a hero, would you follow me?”
“What just happened…”
“Lady Styx has recognized the power hidden within you. It happens from time to time—people are chosen right here.”
“It’s true I came hoping to become a hero, but…”
“You’ve passed the first test. Come this way.”
With a slightly bewildered expression, Philatos followed the guard deeper into the temple.
He was led into a spacious chamber that resembled a banquet hall. The guard instructed him to sit and wait. Platters of food covered nearby tables, and roughly ten other people were already passing the time there.
“Do as you please. Just wait until evening.”
“Are all these others people who were chosen by the statues as well?”
“Not at all. Most head to the Agora in the city center and wait for the instructors. They undergo various tests… Still, the majority of those who eventually reach this room are the ones who distinguished themselves there.”
Those aspiring to become heroes gathered at the central Agora. There they were tested—carrying boulders, demonstrating swordsmanship, revealing unusual talents—to separate the worthy from the rest. Occasionally, individuals chosen directly by the gods or marked by oracles were also selected.
“Many who fail to become heroes still join the army. Just recently, one was even chosen as a royal guard.”
The Theban royal family doesn’t serve the divine will for nothing. They benefit from all of this.
Philatos nodded in understanding. Those who proved exceptional were brought to this very room. The guard, satisfied that his explanation had landed, returned to his post.
When evening arrived, the doors opened. A man wearing the black robes of a Pluto priest entered, followed by soldiers and other clergy. He appeared to be middle-aged.
“Hm. Is this everyone for today? Step forward one at a time and touch this!”
Thud.
The priest set a small, faintly glowing stone on the table. One by one, the candidates approached and laid their hands on it.
Flash.
“It shines. Stand over there.”
……
“No reaction. Regrettably, you are eliminated.”
“What? All because of this stupid rock—”
Those who caused the stone to glow were apparently qualified to become heroes. The rejected man exploded in anger, but Philatos could sense it clearly—the stone radiated a sacred power as though a god had personally infused it with divine energy.
“What the hell is this pebble supposed to prove? I didn’t travel all the way to Thebes for childish games like—”
“…This won’t do.”
Thwack!
“Those who cause trouble will end up like this. Let it be a warning to all of you.”
The man who had seized a soldier by the collar in frustration collapsed after being struck in the neck by a spear shaft. That was why the priest had entered surrounded by so many armed men. The unconscious troublemaker was dragged away by two soldiers. The priest didn’t spare him a glance and continued the selection.
“Next. Step forward.”
“My turn?”
The next candidate was a frail-looking scholar who seemed incapable of wringing a chicken’s neck. Yet the stone flashed brilliantly.
Flash—
“The second one. Stand over there.”
So even someone who appeared so delicate could be chosen by the gods as a hero.
“Next.”
Only two remained: a muscular bald man and Philatos. The bald warrior brushed past him, placed his hand on the stone, and—
Flash—
Something was wrong. Instead of the pure white light that had appeared before, a vivid crimson glow erupted from the stone. The bald man tilted his head in confusion, then suddenly drew a dagger from his belt. Saliva began dripping from his mouth. His eyes turned blood-red.
“Ugh… ugh…!”
“A spy consumed by madness! Kill him!”
At the middle-aged priest’s sharp command, the soldiers charged.