Hestia's Unexpected Blessing
"Isn't it? The goddess Hestia bestowing a blessing on me?"
I asked the Secret Book, and even it seemed a bit flustered.
—A god can do anything. Looks like Hestia has more fondness for you than expected.
"What? Hestia? Call her Lady Hestia. How dare you drop the honorific, you cheeky bastard?"
I sternly warned the Secret Book before checking for any changes.
"Hm?"
But there were no obvious differences. Just a vague sense that my mood had lifted a bit.
—What's the effect of this?
—Don't make it obvious for now. From Hestia's perspective, she thinks you don't know about the blessing.
Thankfully, my confusion didn't last long. The effect appeared in the Secret Book.
The warm aegis of the virgin goddess Hestia accompanies you.
Your luck increases for the day.
An increase in luck, huh. Perfect timing for tough days like this. Luck was a far more potent force than people imagined—especially invaluable on a perilous day like today.
—Lady Hestia, thank you.
I wanted to offer a prayer, but I couldn't risk revealing that I was tracking the gods' movements.
—This is ridiculous. The Secret Book's tone was deeply uncomfortable.
—Hestia must be blind. Why waste precious divine power on a villain like you?
—Unlike someone, she has eyes in her head and uses them properly.
—What?
Come to think of it, how did the eyeless Secret Book even see?
The god of wine, Dionysus, who was preparing appetizers, voices his displeasure to Hestia.
He calls it unfair favoritism.
What the hell, Dionysus? Just focus on your snacks instead of picking fights.
Just as curses were about to spill toward Dionysus, Hestia responded.
The virgin goddess Hestia warns that she'll smash every wine bottle if he keeps acting up.
The god of wine Dionysus flinches and bows his head repeatedly.
Whoa, Dionysus is totally cowed. Makes sense—Hestia held high rank on Olympus. As a child of Cronus like Zeus, Hera, Hades, and Poseidon, Dionysus had no choice but to tuck tail.
Hestia was originally one of the Twelve Olympians, but she'd yielded her seat to Dionysus—or so the forbidden texts said. The reason wasn't clear, but watching her now, it seemed less like yielding and more like dumping it on him.
Hestia tells Dionysus she's displeased with his recent climbing antics.
Sweat pours from Dionysus's brow—enough to brew wine with. He insists it's all a misunderstanding.
Hestia warns Dionysus that if he keeps it up, she'll make him roll like in the old days.
Reading the messages made even me uneasy. Who knew the goddess Hestia had such a fiery temper when riled?
—This is worrying.
—Why?
—Our plan today might offend Lady Hestia.
—Ah, right.
She might revoke the blessing and slap a curse on me instead.
—Ugh... That's concerning.
It was a solid plan, but it could be blasphemy against Hestia. We'd already coordinated everywhere, though—no backing out now. All I could do was pray for her boundless mercy.
"Peleus, time to move out."
I nodded and rose. Watching the gods was fun, but today demanded haste.
The streets buzzed with festival vibes for the Autumn Festival honoring the god of wine, Dionysus.
"Hard to believe it's the day a prince of the realm gets executed," Atalante said, shaking her head from atop the temple roof as she surveyed the scene.
"Agamemnon wasn't exactly popular. And for the citizens, executions are just entertainment."
Strange by modern standards, but here, execution days drew crowds like spectacles.
"I suppose. But something even stranger."
"What?"
"We heard ahead of time, but how the hell did we get here?"
"Told you—I pulled strings with a kingdom heavyweight. Got some help."
"Still weird."
"Can't say more. Just roll with it."
Atalante and I were in the priestess quarters of Hestia's temple—the virgin goddess of the hearth's sacred inner sanctum, strictly off-limits to outsiders.
Normally impossible, but my heavyweight contact was the head priestess's secret lover.
Not a word of that could leak. Hestia's priestesses had two ironclad rules: never let the sacred flame die, and preserve chastity. A lover's rumor meant instant death—execution alongside the man.
Hence their austere lives, offset by universal reverence. Kings granted them every privilege.
"Peleus, great plan, but this could earn divine punishment."
"It's to save an innocent. Lady Hestia will understand."
My scheme exploited those privileges. Hestia's priestesses got front-row seats at executions, just like plays—part of the spectacle. Condemned men craved it too; a compassionate priestess witnessing meant partial absolution.
I'd disguised Atalante as one. She'd grab Agamemnon at the key moment.
The goddess Hestia glares at you with a pouty face.
"Ahem!"
Nearly coughed. I hurriedly added, "Of course, good intentions aside, once it's done, I'll offer the utmost tribute. Regular temple visits and prayers to the goddess hereafter. Hell, whatever Lady Hestia commands!"
Said it like she was listening. Atalante shot me a "is he nuts?" look, but my vow worked.
The goddess Hestia smiles, pleased. She ponders what to ask of you.
"Phew..."
Relief washed over me. She'd basically greenlit the op. Something for her later, but dodging punishment was win enough. True embodiment of mercy.
"You're always odd, but extra today." Atalante touched my forehead, tilting her head. "No fever..."
Guess my solo mood swings looked insane.
"Ahem!" Clearing my throat, I urged her to finish prepping.
"Almost done."
Atalante was in pristine white priestess robes, perfectly suiting her—like a snow spirit's pure beauty. Damn, she was stunning. Goddess-worthy.
Then our inside woman appeared. "The priestesses are heading out. Follow."
Tension laced her voice. Senior-most, but not omnipotent. The rescue hinged on other priestesses' quiet dissent over innocent Agamemnon's fate.
"Sorry for the trouble. Thanks again."
She shook her head. "Can't let an innocent prince die. Let's go."
Five priestesses total—one absent, Atalante at the rear. I trailed as a temple guard escort.
As they marched, crowds parted.
"The sacred priestesses!"
"Make way!"
Deep respect; all bowed, clearing paths.
"This way, priestesses."
Soldiers guided them eagerly. Royals had nothing on this voluntary awe.
"Atalante, on my signal, dash out and secure Agamemnon. Got it?"
I whispered from behind. She nodded subtly.
"Woooaaah!"
"The prince! He's here!"
Cheers erupted. Bound Agamemnon entered the execution ground, trailed by royal guards, then Regent Thyestes and Queen Aerope.
—That's Thyestes?
—Sly look matches you perfectly, Peleus.
—Means he takes after you, then.
Finally seeing Thyestes. Contrary to the Secret Book, handsome and noble—Zeus's bloodline shone. Even I briefly thought, "No way he's the villain."
"Citizens!"
Thyestes stepped forward, booming. His voice commanded silence over the rowdy square.
"I stand here on a most regrettable occasion: one who should serve the kingdom above all, blinded by power, fallen to sin."
"Booo!"
Jeers rose. Crowds craved outrage, not truth. Thyestes savored it.
—Look at that smirk. Just like you, Peleus.
—Your signature, then.
His speech rolled on amid my banter with the book.
"This saddens us, yet it's a precious chance to purge this heretic and fortify our realm! We all foresaw it—after Father's fall, this poisonous weed sprouted in the shadows!"
"Right! Booo—!"
The mob heated up. Agamemnon hung his head, isolated.
"Despite my profound grief, as regent, I execute my brother without hesitation. His guilt proven, no counterargument stands."
Thyestes exuded victory. But as often happens, perfection invites ruin—like fate's spite toward the triumphant.
"I decree this execution forthwith! Witness our kingdom's order upheld! Eternal Mycenae!"
"Woooaaah! Mycenae—!"
Ecstasy gripped the crowd. I eyed Queen Aerope nearby—stoic, hiding all emotion. No flinch at her son's doom?
I'd proposed last night, but her decision unknown. No banking on her aid.
Then Thyestes blundered.
"If any object, step forward now. As humble regent, I'll hear the wise."
He assumed none would. Rightly so—who'd defy him amid this frenzy? Post-Atreus, he ruled supreme.
But today, a madman shouted.
"Regent! One here objects!"
Me. Ditching guard duty, I advanced under all eyes.
Stunned murmurs swelled to outrage.
"Drag him out!"
"Insolent toward the regent!"
Yet I pressed on. Thyestes raised a hand.
Silence fell like divine fiat. Gazing down imperiously, he asked:
"Who are you?"