The Prince's Majesty
My reaction prompted an urgent response from the Secret Book.
"Do you know him?"
"Nah, he's just that handsome..."
"What?" I could feel the Secret Book's bewilderment. But I wasn't exaggerating for no reason. No mere compliment like "handsome" could capture even a tenth of his allure. His looks rivaled the gods themselves, and unlike my self-proclaimed royal blood, he exuded a true regal dignity that shone like a halo. It was as if he was born to rule.
"Suddenly feeling pretty pathetic here."
"That's what they call 'knowing your place.' The guy was like the undisputed king of lions. Meanwhile, I'm a royal pretender playing con artist—like a jackal strutting around with fake fur."
"Whoa, whoa."
The young prince, drawing near, glanced our way and dismounted his horse.
"Whoever is he, anyway? Hmm..." I racked my brain trying to place him, only for the Secret Book to scoff.
"Why? Scared of what you'll remember?"
"Give it up. A country bumpkin who's spent his life in the sticks wouldn't know a noble like that."
"Fair point."
Never in my life had I laid eyes on someone so noble.
"True, there are those who surpass even men like him. But don't get too dazzled by appearances, Peleus."
"Why not?"
"Only time will tell if the inside matches the outside. Plus, if he's Atreus's son, he's got Zeus's bloodline. No surprise a special human like that was born."
True enough. Atreus the Great's great-grandfather was Zeus himself.
"So don't get too down on yourself."
"Yeah?"
"That prince is just Zeus's great-grandson at best. You, Peleus? Chosen directly by the god of secrets. In simple terms, you're a divine apostle. Your worldly status might differ—king versus scribe—but in the realm of divinity, you're the higher one."
Unexpectedly, the Secret Book was cheering me on. Made sense when I thought about it. Zeus might outrank Harpocrates as the supreme god, but an apostle trumped any great-grandson. And Zeus had sired so many kids from his meddling ways that even he probably couldn't count them—let alone know how many were grandson-age.
"You're surprisingly sweet."
"Shut it. Just giving you a nudge so you don't slack on your mission."
Climbing the ladder, huh.
"Heh heh. Fine. You're right, but you've got one thing wrong."
"What's that?"
I rose to greet the prince, boldly declaring,
"Our status in this world is equal too! I am royalty of Korea!"
"Ha!" The Secret Book let out an incredulous bark, then urged me to double down on the lie since I was already in deep.
"If you're caught, it's straight to the bronze bull."
"Ugh, enough with the bronze bull already!"
Nothing crueler than that punishment in the world. The hollow bronze bull statue—shove a man inside, light a fire outside, and his screams pour out the mouth like hellish trumpet blasts.
"Greetings, traveler from afar."
The young royal flashed a kind smile before me and introduced himself.
"I am Agamemnon, son of Atreus the Great, ruler of Mycenae."
I kept a calm facade, but inwardly I was stunned. The Secret Book perked up.
"Why the shock? Isn't he the one who'll wield Zeus's sword later?"
"Do you know something more?"
Agamemnon was a huge name in the Greco-Roman myths I'd read on Earth—the supreme commander of the Trojan War, where heroes and gods clashed. He'd fought Hector alongside famed names like Odysseus and Achilles. No wonder I was floored.
Here in this world, though, he hadn't hit that fame yet. Sure, he'd rise wielding the sword bestowed by Zeus, but before my regression, he hadn't even claimed the throne. Still, with this Olympus mirroring the myths so closely, he screamed future heavyweight.
"He's extraordinary."
"What? Got an eye for talent now?"
"He wields Zeus's sword later, right?"
"Hahaha, heroes like that are a dime a dozen."
"Pretty low opinion."
The Secret Book, limited to this world's knowledge, shrugged it off. But I figured getting close to Agamemnon was key.
"Prince Agamemnon. I am Lee Jun-hee, prince of Korea."
"Prince Lee Jun-hee? Korea... I heard of your origins on the way, but it's a land beyond space and time, yes?"
"Indeed. Now that one of your stature has arrived, I'll reveal why I've come."
The crowd fell deathly silent at my words. Agamemnon's eyes sharpened too. They'd all gotten some divine heads-up, no doubt wondering if I truly matched the gods' hints.
"A seer of great power in my homeland gave me a dire prophecy: the world's end approaches—head west. She said my calling lay here."
"Ah!"
Agamemnon's soft exclamation confirmed he knew something of the apocalypse.
"Meeting you feels like the gods' will. So, Prince, will you aid me in serving them?"
He nodded without a word. Probably matched what the gods had told him. I knew why they eyed dimension travelers like me—that's how I spun this tale to hook him.
"Is that so? To heed a prophecy and seek us out—Agamemnon will support you wholeheartedly. Prophecy or not, hospitality to a foreign prince is only right."
"My thanks. And from now on, call me Peleus."
"Peleus?"
"The seer bade me shed my birth name for one of this land."
"A heroic choice—truly splendid. Come, Lord Peleus, to Mycenae's palace with me. We'll hold a feast in your honor tonight."
"Thank you."
My bold con had landed perfectly. With the gods' prior whispers to Agamemnon and my name-drop of Zeus, it sealed the deal. Without that, no way it'd go this smooth. Clear proof of gods' sway here—even a stranger like me got instant royal laundering.
"Not a bad start, eh?" I teased the Secret Book, fishing for praise. It just sighed in disbelief.
"Damn it. Watch your words. Not 'not bad'—this is the start of a crime spree, old man."
"The gods see the end times as inevitable?"
In Mycenae's palace, I lounged munching fig fruits, asking the Secret Book. What a change from before. My first time here, I'd panicked, begging nobles to send me home. Now? Lounging in the palace like it was mine. Experience really mattered.
"Yes. To survive it, they're gathering heroes—Aphrodite-style patronage or Zeus sowing his seed."
"Like Odysseus with Athena's backing?"
"You know your stuff."
Jason of the Golden Fleece had Hera, and every big hero had a divine patron.
"Dimension travelers hold a special spot among them, right?"
"Spot on. We often bring alien powers, making us prime targets. Rarities like your useless ass are the exception. What'd you even do back home?"
"Basement-dwelling gamer. College? Academic probation."
"...Dunno what that means, but you're trash of the trash. Confirmed."
Couldn't argue—rude as hell. I'd scold it later.
"So, what's the plan? Steal the spotlight at the feast?"
I shook my head.
"Nah, too small-time. No point entering the palace for that."
"What? You aimed for the palace? Thought you just blurted 'prince' on a whim."
"Hey, I know you think I'm hopeless, but I'm not a total idiot. I know the future somewhat. Better to adapt than blindly follow, right?"
"Oho..."
Impressed, it asked what next.
"Past and present diverged a bit. Before, the feast was at some noble's estate—no Agamemnon. But palace or not, the events will play out similar."
Standard feast fare: wrestling challenges for strength, Aphrodite's priestess tempting for self-control, plus a few more tests. I knew how to handle them all—but no interest in playing along.
"Might as well go big. Last time? Total mess, ended in chaos."
"Figures. Everyone sighs at your pathetic skills and scatters."
"Hey!"
"Then what?"
"Thieves hit the palace. Mid-feast, word spreads the king's treasure's gone—everyone bolts."
"Thieves?"
It perked up at the surprise twist.
"Yeah. Mycenae's royal house holds Zeus's sword—Hephaestus-forged divine relic."
Only Zeus's bloodline can wield it, infused with lightning, symbol of true kingship. Yet no Atreid had ever activated it. Agamemnon would be first—but it'd take ten years to reclaim it from thieves.
"Tonight, I'll find out who's behind it."
Not buried history—it'd rock the world in a decade.
"You sneak! Block the thieves, earn the prince's trust, snag a power seat!"
Right now, Mycenae's succession was a fog—too many contenders: king's brothers, sons, in-laws, all jockeying blindly. No one dared broach heir talk lest they end up in dad's beloved bronze bull.
But I bet on Agamemnon. This world's history mirrored the myths I'd watched unfold for ten years pre-regression. Variables possible, but I'd stake my foreknowledge.
"Perfect chance to charm future power. Our bond's just vague divine hints now—could snap anytime."
"Help him tonight, become sworn brothers?"
"Yep. Back the prince, seize Mycenae's reins."
The Secret Book sighed.
"Look at those sleazy eyes lighting up at 'power.' With Heracles's jewel and Cycnus's stolen relic, shouldn't you be out heroing? Nah, kissing prince ass for clout—pure trash!"
I dug my ear, scoffing.
"Pfft, ends justify means. Amateur hour much?"
"Huh?!"
"At my age, scrounging caves for lucky breaks? Grab power, delegate that crap."
I ignored its outrage and stood.
"Let's do this with style."