Sparta's Fanatics
Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, couldn't hide her shock, but I pressed on with the plan as intended. I'd originally planned to shave Hippolyte's head bald like a nun's, but I let it slide because of my relationship with the queen.
"Consider yourself lucky."
As we sailed back to Sparta, I teased Hippolyte about it, and her face crumpled in an instant. But she said nothing. She already knew her place all too well.
I pointed at her and said to Sophitia, "Keep a close eye on that woman."
Sophitia was the young Amazon I'd met in the dragon's cave before. With no place left among her people, I was taking her with me as promised.
"Sophitia. How's it feel? Betraying your comrades and carving out a new life—your thoughts?"
Hippolyte, listening in from the side, shot Sophitia a fierce glare. She probably saw it as a disgrace to the Amazons. But the girl had toughened up after everything she'd been through.
"Not bad at all. And, Uncle."
"Yeah?"
"Betrayal means breaking loyalty or trust. But there was never any between me and my Amazon sisters. So how could this be betrayal?"
"What? Haha, hahaha!"
I burst out laughing, delighted by Sophitia's sharp wit. I suspected she might have a special connection to Queen Penthesilea. The queen had shown clear favoritism toward the girl in many ways. She could even be the queen's own blood.
Whoosh!
The massive ship cleaved through the waves with satisfying speed. I couldn't wait to get back and rest. When I'd left Sparta, I never imagined the return trip would drag on like this.
Five days of sailing later, we finally arrived. I sent word to the palace ahead, then settled at the vineyard estate on the city's outskirts. My grand mansion stood there, after all—a gift from the queen along with the farm.
"Nothing like coming home."
I'd barely stayed here a few days before, but it still felt cozy. The city villa was too hectic; this quiet spot suited me better.
After unpacking and washing up, I ordered a servant to summon the First Scribe.
"Bring the farm's dung carrier."
"My lord, why deal with that stinking wretch yourself? Just tell me, and I'll relay it."
Poor First Scribe—it seemed even the servants treated him like filth.
"You think anyone pops out of the womb hauling dung? An old fellow named Mencius once said it: 'Are the seeds of kings, nobles, and heroes born any different?'"
"M-Mencius?"
Pulling a figure from Korean history left the servant baffled, but I ignored it and kept going.
"Even great officials often rose from the lowliest stock. So anyone can shed their dung burden. He's endured it himself, so good fortune awaits. Go fetch him."
"I don't get a word of it, but I'll do as you command, my lord."
"Good. That's exactly what I want."
The servant fled like he'd heard enough philosophy. How long did I wait? A thick, pungent stench wafted in from afar. His presence was as commanding as in his divine days.
"Your Excellency! You summoned me!"
The First Scribe—now called Choros—spotted me and came running.
"I welcome your safe return. Heh heh heh."
He had no reason to like me, yet here he was, beaming. It was all because of my earlier hint about a new recruit. Sure enough, he scanned the area eagerly. No suitable candidate in sight, his face fell.
Understandable—beside me stood a few mansion servants and Hippolyte. She was still dressed finely, her goddess-like beauty making Choros dismiss her as the newbie.
His face soured further. "Who's the lovely lady beside you?"
Having incarnated, he could tell men from women clearly. But that didn't mean he'd swoon over a beauty. Once a great god, he saw Hippolyte as just another lowly human, pretty or not. Farm life hadn't changed that.
"Our newest recruit. Your underling, you could say. Choros."
"Pardon? She doesn't look like common blood."
As Choros gaped, I replied indifferently.
"If we're talking noble blood, who here tops you?"
"Ah... true enough. If a wretch like me hauls dung, why should she get off easy?"
Choros brightened. Hippolyte's face, meanwhile, twisted in despair.
She opened her mouth, incredulous. "Basileus of Sparta. You're truly assigning me such filth? I deeply regret attacking you rashly. Let me atone here—just treat me befitting my station."
She couldn't accept it. The dung talk was surely just mockery to her; no way I'd make her do it for real.
But Choros, knowing my temper, sycophant that he was, kicked her at once.
"Insolent cur! How dare you address the master so!"
"Ugh!"
Blindsided by the bald middle-aged man, Hippolyte's eyes bulged. She could've dodged but held still before me—never dreaming he'd actually strike.
"What is this outrage! To an Amazon royal like me!"
Her real anger flared, and Choros faltered, intimidated. But I spoke, and order returned.
"Hippolyte. Choros is your senior from now on. Obey him faithfully. Commit insubordination, and I'll extend your original twelve-year sentence."
"You're really doing this?!"
She protested again, but with my backing, Choros puffed up.
"You still don't get it, huh? I'll educate you slowly."
"Choros, report any disobedience. I'll lengthen her term each time."
For attacking me, Hippolyte was sentenced to twelve years of farm service. Already trembling at that, the threat of extension humbled her fast.
Choros, bold against the weak, snorted triumphantly.
"First, fix how you address His Excellency. Call him 'Honored Master' from now on."
An extreme honorific—torture for a royal like her. She started to object, but my glare made her bow her head in defeat.
Choros prodded. "Come on, give it a try."
Hippolyte's stunning face trembled. She truly was a knockout. No wonder Amazon royals had always drawn divine lust. A bit haughty, but her beauty topped even the famed Amazons. Her sister Penthesilea was impressive, but this one outshone her. Those flame-red locks suited her perfectly, and her cherry lips—now bitten in stress—stood out vividly.
"H-Honored... Master..."
At last, she bowed politely, uttering the words. Humiliation wrecked her beauty; her face flushed crimson, tears welling from the shame. For a proud royal huntress who'd lived slaying men, this was unbearable.
"Hmph! Much better!"
Choros nodded with a snort. I rewarded him with a personal drink, encouraging him.
"You've suffered much. No more bowing your head. The dung yoke is yours no longer."
Tears welled in Choros's eyes at my comfort.
"Sniff! Your Excellency!"
"You've endured a winter of hardship. Now you're a full-fledged man. At last."
I pointed to Hippolyte beside us.
"As the Reflections on Things at Hand says: 'Inferior to the high, but superior to the low.' With an underling now, you'll know contentment amid lack."
"How could I forget? This Choros will engrave your profound wisdom in my heart."
As we shared this warm moment, watching Hippolyte stared blankly, unable to believe her fate.
"Twelve years hauling dung..."
Tragically, her eyes lost focus. Dazed, she asked me, "What happens after I finish the dung hauling?"
"Don't you know?"
Filling my cup with wine, I answered.
"You start hauling dung again."
Thud.
Hippolyte collapsed in a faint. Choros, shoulders squared, clicked his tongue.
"Your Excellency, she's a weakling, I think. But fear not—I'll train her proper. For the farm's bountiful harvest, why hesitate?"
"Excellent. Choros. Put her to work at dawn tomorrow. Dung's dirty, but vital for crops—someone must bear it."
I called a female servant to carry the fainted Amazon royal to her quarters. Thus began her life as a dung hauler.
By tomorrow's sunrise, she'd wonder where she was and who she had become.
"Guiding one soul to the straight path—truly rewarding."
Muttering that after sending Hippolyte off, Atalante appeared from nowhere, looking exasperated.
"I can't fathom what you call the 'straight path.' Keep me out of it, if you please."
"Hahaha. Watching, were you?"
"Word from the palace."
Atalante had come with an official dispatch, apparently holding back because of Hippolyte. She handed over a sealed parchment scroll.
I unrolled it. The message was simple.
Please enter the palace immediately today.
-Your Helen
Looks like no lazy rest today. I stood to head to the palace, and Atalante added,
"The queen seems troubled. I don't know details, but the messenger said something happened while we were away."
"Political trouble?"
Not divine strife, thankfully. Since naming Iris the state god, he'd been watching over Sparta closely. Other male gods feared him regardless of rank—no easy provocations. Mess up, and you'd end up hunted, or so they said.
"I'll go."
"Want company?"
"Nah, rest up—you're tired."
I rode straight to Sparta's palace. Helen rushed out the moment I arrived, throwing herself into my arms. Golden hair swayed, a sweet scent wafting.
"Darling!"
"Your Highness. Eyes everywhere. And 'darling'?"
Even in her chambers, maids swarmed. But Helen acted like it was nothing.
"I swore to Iris: no husband but you. What's shameful in that?"
"Well..."
Her boldness left me speechless. Embarrassed, I gently pushed her away and asked what was wrong. She dismissed the maids first.
"After you left for Naxos, trouble brewed at home."
"That's what I want to hear. Tell me."
"Ares's followers are pressuring me politically."
"The war god Ares?"
Sparta's martial culture had long favored Ares's cult. Fighting was their trade, after all. Faith was diverse, keeping them in check—until recently.
"Hm... Apollo and Artemis temples weakened from the last incident?"
"Yes. Seizing the chance, Ares's zealots rose. Many are Sparta's power brokers."
"In short, old guard allying with ex-ministers to squeeze Your Highness?"
Since ascending, Helen had promoted new talent and purged the old regime. Ares's cult wouldn't sit idle, clashing with her shaky foundation.
"Odd. Ares wouldn't care about this."
I knew the war god: upright, he'd never stoop to injustice, even defying Zeus. No way he'd meddle in foreign politics via his cult.
"Spot on. He's uninvolved. I consulted Corinth's Ares temple—oracle confirmed he's indifferent."
Makes sense; no time for this with his aide Enyo badly wounded fighting Artemis.
"So, we can handle his Sparta followers without enraging Ares?"
"I think so, darling."
"Hm... Shouldn't be hard, then."
I'd planned a trip to my hometown village post-rest. After regression, Harpocrates vanished—his temple gone, but what of the secret library packed with forbidden tomes? Exploring might uncover traces. Essential visit.
This issue could tie in nicely.
"Your Highness. Looks like I need to head to Delphi."
"No! Off again?!"
Her disappointment hit as expected—a perfect excuse.
"To resolve this, I must visit my hometown."
"Pardon? How's that connected?"
Helen looked baffled, too clever to guess yet.