Odysseus Bound, Cretan King's Scheme

I smirked as I watched Odysseus, his mind undoubtedly swirling with a torrent of thoughts. Needless to say, Helen and I weren't in any romantic relationship. We were just political partners and friends. But Odysseus, with no way of knowing that, couldn't help but have his head in a spin.

"Hard to believe," Odysseus declared flatly, and I nodded.

"Yeah, keep struggling with it. I'm heading out now."

I stood up as if there was nothing to regret, and Odysseus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clutched at his hair. Turning away without a second thought, his voice soon caught me from behind.

"Wait a moment!"

"Still got more to say? You're getting kinda pathetic there. Haha!"

I planted myself right there, as if daring him to speak, and stared at Odysseus. He let out a low sigh.

"You look like a pretty boy gigolo, but inside you're as scheming as Hades himself. I, Odysseus, underestimated you and got burned."

"Glad I could be a good teacher. When else would I get to school the great Odysseus?"

"Sit down first. If you can muster a bit of patience, our talk doesn't have to end in disaster."

I sat back down, but I was crystal clear on what I wanted.

"Stand fully on my side in the suitors' contest. In return, your city stays neutral on matters of faith."

"Hoo... Very well."

Odysseus didn't hold out any longer and accepted. He had no choice anyway.

The two gods, assuming the matter was settled, up and left. I wanted to see more reactions, but they were busy beings, so that was that.

"Odysseus, can I trust this alliance?"

"Of course. I, Odysseus, am a man who keeps his word once given."

"Then travel with me a bit."

After the whip comes the carrot. I took him to the prearranged spot. There waited Penelope, the chaste and beautiful woman who would shake Odysseus to his core.

"Where are we headed?"

"You'll see when we get there."

The afternoon garden basked in warm sunlight. In its center sat a woman enveloped in light—modest and graceful, beautiful enough even if she didn't quite match Helen.

At that moment, Odysseus pieced it all together with his wisdom and muttered, "Trying to make me submit through a woman...? But she's far too beautiful for that."

"Why mumble to yourself? Go say hello. It's Princess Penelope."

"Heh heh..."

Odysseus's gaze grew hazy, and he staggered like a man entranced. So this is what it looks like when someone falls at first sight. Even a hero of wisdom can't stand against fated encounters.

"You're really tying me down completely, aren't you, Odysseus?"

"All for mutual benefit. Heh heh heh."

With this, Odysseus was irrevocably on my side—no escape.

* * *

Cretan King Idomeneus was a greedy, brutal man, but he wasn't stupid. In the banquet hall, he regretted clashing with Peleus over Helen. Not out of any pea-sized conscience or kindness lingering in his heart, of course. It was because he'd caught sight of Zeus's Sword in Peleus's possession and gotten spooked.

That brat's got some reason for strutting around like that. This is unfair. Without that ridiculous weapon, he'd be nothing but a snack for this old man!

He lamented inwardly, but his outward actions were different. A few days later, he personally sought out Peleus and even apologized for his overreach.

"Prince Peleus, forgive me. I overstepped. My impatience to claim Princess Helen clouded my judgment."

Peleus looked taken aback by the sudden shift, but his face quickly broke into a disarmingly friendly smile.

"Your Highness, no need to apologize for such a trifle. I, Peleus, don't take banquet squabbles to heart."

One insincere in his apology, the other grinning as he accepted—both utterly shameless. But they shared more than that: beneath those smiles lurked hidden blades. Sweet words aside, their minds brimmed with murderous intent. Truly vile pair.

That punk's face pisses me off no matter how I look at it. I'll send you to Hades' realm soon enough.

Far more cunning than he looks. He's no doubt scheming something, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so I need to strike first. Timing is everything with a backstab.

Harboring such thoughts, they clasped hands firmly and professed brotherly love.

After this outward reconciliation, Cretan King Idomeneus parted from Peleus and immediately began plotting. In a secret chamber, he laid out ritual vessels, slit a lamb's throat as offering, and prayed.

"Lord of the chill north wind. Fierce winter gale. Grant wisdom to your servant here."

Before the slit-throated lamb stood a statue of a burly man with purple wings—Boreas, god of the north wind.

Idomeneus had long served the savage, mighty Boreas. The god's patronage had been key to his successes.

Whoooosh!

A cold wind like winter's blast stirred in the windowless chamber. Ominous, sinister darkness rolled in like fog. Instinctive dread surged in Idomeneus, but he gritted his teeth and endured. Soon, an emotionless, icy voice echoed.

"How could I deceive the great north wind god? I'm just a fool lost for a path, seeking your answer."

Idomeneus reported recent events to his master Boreas and asked for a strategy to win the hunt.

"Boreas, what would I spare to gain your wisdom? Speak."

Bile rose in Idomeneus's gut. A man who'd lived like filth in a sewer his whole life, yet even he struggled with his god's cannibalistic tastes. Still, that's how he'd easily gained Boreas's favor—other heroes shunned the god for it.

I've slain countless from my father on up to claim this throne. I'm no better than a human butcher. What qualms now?

He had daughters aplenty. The braggart who boasted that Zeus ruled the heavens while he ruled the earth, leaving no woman in Crete untouched.

"Gladly."

Boreas's voice was grotesque and horrifying. Idomeneus sensed the god's human-winged form hid something monstrous.

Like some alien beast craving human flesh.

Yet Boreas wielded true divinity over the north wind. Idomeneus knew he couldn't easily sever this convenient bond.

It was simple—no conscience left, just blood and flesh needed.

"Grant me your exalted insight."

"Er... because it's the king's private woods...?"

"This fool was dim. Enlighten me."

Idomeneus bellowed at the weak but groveled like a frog before the strong. Forehead to the ground, Boreas began explaining with mock mercy.

"A god's abode?"

Sparta's kings had protected it as royal forest for generations to avoid offending Iris. Controlling access kept her wrath from Sparta.

"What beast?"

Idomeneus wasn't dim. He grasped it quickly.

"So King Tyndareus's hunt isn't just to choose Helen's groom?"

"Heh...!"

Idomeneus was stunned by old Tyndareus's cunning. He'd thought himself vile, but this geezer was worse—willing to sacrifice a hero for his prize.

"My thanks! I listen eagerly."

Boreas's method was despicably underhanded: kill Iris's stag with an enemy's arrow. Hunt arrows are marked by owner. Notch one of Peleus's in advance.

"Ooooh! Brilliant!"

Gods are gods, Idomeneus marveled anew at Boreas's wisdom—piercing the truth and devising a perfect trap. Win the hunt and eliminate a rival without dirtying his hands. Even mighty Peleus couldn't evade Iris's power.

"But what if the truth comes out later?"

"So generous and merciful. I, Idomeneus, serve only the north wind's lord with all my heart."

As Boreas vanished, the ominous aura filling the chamber dissipated cleanly.

"Hoo..."

Idomeneus, tense throughout, finally exhaled in relief. His back was soaked with sweat. Each encounter made him suspect Boreas hid a foul, filthy monster. But what of it? No power or will to dig deeper. He'd deal with devils if needed—Boreas was a reasonable sort by comparison.

"Good. Peleus. Keh heh heh, young and cocky, world at your feet now. But I'll teach you the terror of making enemies—the hard way."

Idomeneus thrilled at offing Peleus with another's blade. Pity he wouldn't hear the foe's death cry—that final gruesome gasp was his favorite sound.