Sowing Divine Discord
Of course, the priestess was dubious.
"Is that really true?"
"Do you doubt my word?"
If he could get a shot at dealing with that damned Artemis, there was nothing more he could ask for. Gods were untouchable, that was all. His head was crammed full of her anyway. So wasn't this the purest, unadulterated truth?
"However, if the cult wishes to rise as Sparta's state religion, it must demonstrate commensurate power."
"Power, you say?"
"Yes. The Apollo cult doesn't seem the type to yield easily. I sincerely hope the Artemis cult won't appear to falter."
"Hmph! Unnecessary worry."
The priestess wore a confident expression. The cult would throw its full might into this, she said. Peleus racked his brains furiously even as he flashed a relieved smile.
"Truly reassuring words."
Once the Artemis priestess departed, Peleus summoned his subordinates. Helen had assigned him a hundred warriors upon his elevation to high office. These were elite troops loyal to the royal house—quintessential Spartans raised from childhood as soldiers, who trusted their spears and comrades over any god.
"Warriors of Sparta."
"Speak!"
The hundred warriors bellowed in unison, their voices thunderous. Each was a honed blade of a man. No wonder they called them Sparta's warriors. Every one possessed first-class combat prowess, and their loyalty to the crown was ironclad.
But for this task, selection was necessary.
"Only those who serve the war god Ares shall remain. The rest, dismissed. I have work for Ares's devotees."
Thirty-five stayed put. Ares, god of war, enjoyed considerable popularity in Sparta. Other cities scorned and belittled him, but here he was the exception.
"Warriors of Ares, I deemed you most suited for this mission, which is why you remain."
Curiously, the Ares cult showed little interest in proselytizing. Take it or leave it, that was their attitude. Amid the frenzy over the state religion—every cult on high alert—theirs alone remained indifferent. That was why he'd chosen them.
"Entrust it to us! We shall fulfill our duty for the royal house."
"Splendidly reassuring."
From these thirty-five, Peleus winnowed further, selecting ten of the finest. Numbers mattered less than trustworthiness for this job.
"What I ask of you is somewhat inglorious. Are you prepared to bear disgrace for the royal house?"
"Of course!"
Not a flicker of hesitation from these Spartan warriors. Yet his following order made even their steel hearts waver.
"Good. Then go and smash every stall at the Artemis temple!"
"Pardon?"
These men, who'd vowed to do anything, gaped in stunned disbelief.
"Overturn every stall. Ruin the temple's business."
"The ones selling burnt offerings?"
"Precisely."
Priests set up stalls before the Artemis temple, hawking goats and doves for sacrifices—animals consecrated solely by them, usable only in rituals. The problem? They cost a fortune compared to ordinary livestock. Pure profiteering, a major temple revenue stream. Many grumbled privately, but challenging a temple was no easy matter.
"Wreck them all so thoroughly they can't trade again."
The warriors naturally objected.
"Basileus, we understand your intent to address the temple's abuses. But the royal house has never touched it before. How shall we bear the consequences? It will surely displease the new queen."
Peleus nodded to the middle-aged warrior who spoke for them.
"You possess wisdom to match your sword arm. What is your name?"
"Phenikeus."
"Phenikeus, I appoint you leader from this moment. Take these warriors and raid the Artemis temple stalls in the name of god Apollo!"
Mountain beyond mountain, indeed. At this, even the Spartan warriors' jaws dropped.
"Heavens! Gods preserve us!"
"Do you truly mean this?"
"The gods might hear."
No, they wouldn't. No text appeared in the Secret Book. In a world where gods existed, excessive fear was understandable, but no need to tremble so. Gods didn't watch humans constantly, nor were they omnipotent. Even Zeus was too busy whoring to keep up with tavern gossip. By the time word reached the king of gods, the city would be abuzz—proof of their indifference to mortal affairs.
Thanks to the Secret Book, Peleus grasped this truth and harbored no vague dread of divinity.
"I bear all responsibility. Serve only the kingdom. The new queen vowed before god Iris to adopt his faith as state religion. If she yields to pressure now and breaks her word, who knows what calamity might befall Sparta?"
They nodded in agreement.
"Warriors of Sparta, this safeguards the queen while uprooting a longstanding city scourge. Will you not heed my will?"
"Sowing discord?"
Phenikeus asked again. Peleus nodded to the quick-witted man.
"Precisely. The Apollo and Artemis cults, with their immense influence, have long been arrogant and insolent. Even I, Basileus of the realm, face their haughtiness—a flouting of law and hierarchy under faith's guise. Fail to sweep both away now, and they'll menace the new queen's reign. Heed my intent."
Once he conveyed the greater good and favoritism toward the Ares cult, they agreed to the scheme.
"Phenikeus, heavy responsibility falls on you."
"Understood."
Peleus ordered thorough disguises and a swift strike-and-fade.
A few days later.
The Artemis temple in Sparta bustled noisily as usual. Priests manning stalls looked more merchant than cleric.
"Listen, with your daughter marrying, a dove won't suffice. Buy a goat here."
"I'm poor, sire... This was scraped together with effort. Can't a dove do?"
"Tch! Hunter, who do you think enabled your livelihood? Want to keep hunting those woods? Make a wise choice!"
"Ah, forgive me..."
Or outright bandits. Priests coaxed, cajoled, browbeat devotees into pricey offerings—not just livestock, but consecrated oils and oddities at exorbitant marks. Naive faithful emptied purses anyway.
"Watching this boils my blood."
Someone muttered. A sharp-eared priest caught it—fiends for gossip.
"What was that? Talking about us...?"
"Just glad I came today."
Phenikeus, disguised, stepped forward, nine Spartan warriors behind him.
"What are you scum?"
Finally sensing trouble, an Artemis priest advanced. But he flew backward.
Thud!
Phenikeus had kicked his gut full force.
Crash!
The priest crashed into stalls, toppling wares. But that was merely the prelude.
"Charge! Teach these money-grubbing temple pigs a lesson!"
At Phenikeus's command, burly Spartans demolished stalls like a tempest.
"Stop! Do you know where you are?!"
Thud!
A protesting priest crumpled, nose shattered. Temple reinforcements howled and charged, but these were human weapons. Unarmed was their mercy. Fists and feet reduced the area to rubble.
Smack! Thwack! Shatter!
Oil jars broke, cages burst, doves scattered. Onlookers surged, snatching goats amid chaos. Coins spilled from boxes, sparking a frenzy. Phenikeus and his men let it be.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"None of your business!"
Yet they flaunted Apollo affiliations blatantly. Anyone paying attention would know.
A battered priest fled yelling,
"Apollo temple dogs! They struck first!"
Everyone knew the cults clashed over state religion. The raid seemed natural.
Armed temple guards poured out; Phenikeus and crew bolted without looking back.
"Halt!"
They vanished into pre-scouted escape routes, pursuers grasping air.
Upon Phenikeus's return, Peleus offered him wine.
"Have a cup. Sourly fermented, a bit watered, but not bad. How did it go?"
"Handled cleanly, as ordered, sire."
After the full report, Peleus nodded. Chaos at the Artemis temple, evidently.
He issued further orders.
"Spread rumors now: Artemis temple plans to hit the Apollo one. Tonight, torch an outbuilding of the Apollo temple. Avoid the main hall—too risky."
Fire there might draw the sun god's eye. Petty disputes happened everywhere, but arson on a temple? A diligent god would notice.
"Understood. The two will grind their teeth."
"Indeed. Crucial: don't let on we orchestrated it. Even if exposed, force a clash where they have no choice. I'll shoulder the blame."
"What if they seek oracles from their gods? Won't the truth emerge?"
Peleus chuckled, shaking his head.
"Oracles aren't child's play. Won't happen."
Oracles demanded vast offerings—direct queries to gods weren't cheap. Only kings or nobles could fund them. For this squabble? Bankruptcy awaited. Who'd risk it?
"Understood. We trust you, sire."
That night, fire gutted an Apollo outbuilding. Cause unknown, culprit escaped. Naturally, Artemis topped suspicions.
Within days, the cults turned feral, incompatible in one city.
Their priests visited Peleus daily. They knew he held real power; Queen Helen had delegated fully. Other nobles dumped it on him, dodging temple folk.
He was their only option.
"Unbelievable barbarity! I can't fathom it!"
The sharp-featured Artemis priestess fumed, face crimson, steam practically rising. Peleus shook his head sympathetically.
"I understand, but the royal house desires amicable resolution between the cults."
"What? They overturned stalls—acts too vile to name!"
"Yet no firm evidence, as I understand."
"Basileus!"
"Haha, calm yourself."
Peleus soothed her and pledged,
"The queen decrees: whatever measures the Artemis temple takes, we shall overlook. Please yield mutually for harmony."
"Overlook anything?"
She probed with odd nuance. He replied in kind.
"Naturally. Though how it's tied off may settle the state religion matter."
"Understood."
With resolute expression, the Artemis priestess left. He gave the same to the Apollo priest, plus a barb.
"A tree toppling in the breeze can't uphold a kingdom, no?"
"Grr!"
The already enraged Apollo priest snorted bull-like and bolted up.
"We'll prove it with results. We grasp the royal house's non-interference."
Next day, word arrived: both cults armed for war.
Three days later, at dawn, they'd duel swords in the city square.
"Spartans to the core, eh."
Peleus smirked from a palace tower, gazing at the distant plaza. The royal house would turn a blind eye, as would everyone. Only blood washing blood remained.
Gangs of Sparta, indeed.