The Road to Corinth
Corinth. It was a city situated at the vital crossroads connecting the central Greek mainland—represented by the great polis of Athens—to the Peloponnesian Peninsula in the south. The peninsula and the mainland were separated by a narrow strait, but at Corinth, the terrain shifted into a river-divided landscape. Anyone traveling from northern or central Greece by ship to reach the Aegean Sea had to pass through Corinth. The same held true for those moving by land to the states on the peninsula. If you didn't want to pay the toll on the Corinthian roads, you were forced to traverse the treacherous mountain paths. It was, in every sense, a logistical hub—a mecca for travelers.
Corinth hadn't been an easy land to traverse from the start. It was a city forged through consistent land-development projects. Under the tenure of its lord, Sisyphus, Corinth had begun to hit its stride, gradually gaining recognition as an influential polis in Greek society. However, for the past year, the city that had been growing so steadily had begun to show signs of friction.
"What do you mean we can't pass? I heard Corinth was the gateway to the Aegean, so I came all this way!"
"Only medium-sized vessels can navigate the river! Sailboats can't make it through!"
Alcyone, Sisyphus’s younger sister, was exhausted from arguing with boatmen since the crack of dawn. Large ships couldn't pass through the Corinthian river; they were too wide and would get stuck. Even after explaining the situation, they stubbornly insisted on trying to trade.
"Acting Lord, the waterwheel is broken."
"Again?!"
"Acting Lord, some traders have arrived from the south."
"Oh, for heaven's sake!"
Alcyone ran until her feet felt like they were on fire. She had assisted Sisyphus for five years, but now that he was gone, handling the estate's affairs alone was proving to be far beyond her capabilities. It had been a year since Sisyphus vanished without leaving so much as a scrap of paper, and the noise in Corinth never ceased.
"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!"
"We, trade, do! Get cows!"
"Give slaves!"
The traders from the south were Spartans. They were men with jet-black hair, thick, unkempt beards, and bulging muscles on display. They had brought slaves along in their carts. Alcyone felt a throbbing headache.
"Spartans, what did I tell you last time? We don't use slaves in Corinth. We don't buy them."
The exuberant Spartans exchanged sullen glances. A moment later, they shouted again.
"Slaves, good!"
"Good goods!"
"Get cows!"
"Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!"
Alcyone sighed. Sparta was a tribe so fierce and filled with heroes that they had nearly conquered the entire southern peninsula, but they were rarely respected in international society. It was mostly due to barbaric behavior like this. During the last trade, she had wasted an entire day just trying to make them understand a contract. She was already busy enough as it was; what was she supposed to do? If it were her brother, he would have negotiated it in an instant.
Just as Alcyone was stamping her feet in frustration—
—Thwack, thwack, thwack!
Something struck the Spartans' heads with blinding speed. It was a cattle-driving plow.
"Hey, are you idiots looking for trouble again? Do I need to crack your skulls to make you listen?"
Alcyone jumped in surprise. Clea was standing in front of her, casually tapping the plow against her palm.
"Ooh, ooh!"
"Trade! Won't you?!"
"You showed this to them last time, too. Don't you see?"
Clea shoved a document in front of them. It was a trade manual drawn with pictures instead of text, designed so even Spartans could understand it. "We don't accept slaves. Mine the marble yourselves. Bring goats, pigs, and wood, you fools."
The Spartans, holding the paper, scratched their heads for a long time. Eventually, one of them, unable to contain his rage, stomped his feet. "Don't know! Give cow!" He reached for the axe strapped to his back.
Alcyone tensed. The atmosphere turned so hostile that a fight seemed inevitable. At that moment—
"Hey."
—Whoosh!
It was a movement so swift it defied the eye. In a blink, Clea had leaped onto the Spartan warrior, grabbing the top of his axe handle. The principle of a lever. By grabbing the top, Clea could control the axe with far less effort than the warrior holding it in the middle. The blade slowly drifted toward the warrior's neck.
"You won't gain anything by fighting me."
Flash.
The warrior met the gaze of the platinum-colored eyes staring him down. From the pupils, where mana was slowly leaking out, he realized the origin of the one he had antagonized. His instincts felt the overwhelming pressure and sent a warning.
"Ooh, ooooh..."
Having lost his fighting spirit, the warrior backed away. "Understood. Next time, we bring pigs and sheep."
The Spartans, shoulders slumped, dragged their carts away. Alcyone let out a sigh of relief. She bowed her head toward Clea, who was returning from the ordeal. "Thank you, Clea. You saved me."
Clea stared blankly at Alcyone without answering. Alcyone could read many emotions in her expression. She looked like someone who had been severely overworked; dark circles were etched deeply under her eyes. She looked like a soul departed. If she looked closely, her limbs had grown thinner. If a real fight had broken out with the Spartans, Clea might have been in serious trouble. The reason was clear.
"...By any chance."
Clea asked in a voice barely audible. "Was there... a letter from Sisyphus?"
Alcyone bit her lip and slowly shook her head.
"...I see."
Alcyone was worried about Sisyphus, too. She had submitted search requests to the guild several times and spent ages looking for clues, but it was as if he had evaporated; there was no trace of him at all. He wasn't the type to just disappear like this, so she was certain that, like before, he had simply gotten caught up in some bizarre, unlucky event. She had tried to listen for an oracle, but strangely, about a year ago, oracles had stopped working everywhere in Greece. It was a reality where they had no means left but to wait.
"...Where are you and what are you doing, you idiot?"
Clea muttered to herself and walked away.
***
Cassandra bit her lip and blinked at the man in front of her. He had clearly called her the Second Princess. That meant he knew where she came from. The Trojan Empire. It was a great power that had grown to imperial scale by integrating numerous poleis in the eastern continent through the conquest wars of its great ancestral kings. The 7th Emperor, Priam, received tribute from all sorts of poleis, having twenty-seven children. The Crown Prince, Hector, was a hero known by the epithet "Mad Dog," already sweeping through countless battlefields, and there was no doubt he would become the 8th Emperor and solidify the empire's prestige even further. Among the princesses, the Second Princess was particularly famous. She was such a peerless beauty that it was rumored if one could marry her, a kingdom would offer itself up as tribute to the empire.
Cassandra the Prophet. The Second Princess of that great Trojan Empire was none other than herself.
'How did he find out?'
Cassandra was flustered. She had left the empire for personal reasons and had been working as a hero under a hidden identity for two years now. She had even crossed over to the Greek continent, where no one would recognize her, only to have her identity exposed.
'And why is he so calm?'
He didn't seem the least bit intimidated or surprised, even in front of her, a princess. 'And... what did he say? Chase down a god and beat him up?' The man in front of her had uttered something bizarre. It was because she was overwhelmed by Sisyphus's aura.
'He must be trying to test me. I have to act calm.'
Cassandra feigned composure. "Cassandra, the Second Princess? Heh, you certainly know how to flatter. Did my beauty seem as outstanding as hers? I suppose that's not a lie."
"Are you running away from Apollo?"
"How on earth do you know that?! That's a secret that even back home, no one but the high-ranking maids knows!"
Sisyphus scoffed and chewed on some beef jerky. "I could use some milk. I need to make a protein shake."
"Excuse me?"
"Rest time is over."
"...Wait a minute. Is that all you have to say to me?"
"About what?"
"I'm going to go crazy."
Cassandra slapped her forehead. "No, is training really that important?"
"Of course. If you miss the timing to feed your subordinates, you get muscle loss."
"That damn muscle loss. The loss I'm suffering from not being able to talk to you is much greater!"
"What do I have to lose? Hey, Perseus."
"Did you call, Brother!"
"Come here and hold my legs."
"Yes!"
Up, down. Sisyphus began doing sit-ups. His chiseled abs seemed to bulge and tease Cassandra.
"Oh, honestly!"
A frustrated Cassandra squatted beside him, waving her arms around. "Sisyphus, aren't you even curious why I, a princess of Troy, am running away from Olympus?"
"Perseus, hold them tighter."
"Yes!"
"You know about Troy, right? Our imperial family has produced countless heroes since the previous emperors. We've intermingled with so many bloodlines that the mana traits contained in our lineage are so diverse, you can't even tell which god's blood is mixed in."
Cassandra began rambling about herself before she knew it. "I had a talent for magic. Heh, as you can see, I'm sure I shone in high society, too. I might be the most beautiful woman since the founding of Troy."
"Turn around. Five hundred more."
"Yes!"
"But what can I do when magic is so much fun? High society is full of nothing but deadbeat men. My specialty was prophecy. I reached the 3rd Rank by self-study at seventeen."
Up, down. Sisyphus repeated the exercise like a machine. Cassandra pouted and lay down on her stomach to face him.
"Apollo! That jerk was the problem. What good is it if he's handsome and a god? He's a total nerd and an annoying narcissist. He kept pestering me to date him, it was so irritating. He even gave me mana enhancements I never asked for."
"Oh, so did you date him?" Perseus, who was holding Sisyphus's legs, asked, looking interested.
"Of course I rejected him! You'd get blood pouring out of your ears just listening to him for five minutes. But he kept bringing gifts and interrupting my magic practice, saying there's no tree that doesn't fall after ten strikes."
"What did you do?"
"I rejected him thirty times."
Cassandra crouched like a cat and faced Sisyphus again. "Then he finally cursed me. I've worked so hard on my magic all this time, that damn jerk. I still get so angry I could die just thinking about his face."
Thud! Sisyphus finished his set, pushed off the floor, and stood up. "What kind of curse did you get?"
"Ah, that is..."
"Speak."
Cassandra hesitated before answering. "...A curse where no one believes my prophecies."
It was true. No matter how much she raised her level in the magic she loved most, Cassandra could no longer be recognized by anyone.
"Try it once."
"...If the ship goes straight like this, it will encounter a typhoon."
"Haha! The weather is so nice, there's no way that could happen, Mage. We'll proceed straight at the shortest distance." Perseus laughed heartily and said.
Cassandra let out a deep sigh.
"Then your prophecies are useless. Even if you predict the movements of the gods, I won't believe them anyway."
"That's..."
As Cassandra mumbled dejectedly, Sisyphus scoffed. Was the recruitment a failure? Just as Cassandra was sighing to herself, Sisyphus added one word.
"Say it in reverse."
"Excuse me?"
"You just have to say the content of your prophecy in reverse."
"...Oh, are you a genius?"
Cassandra's eyes widened. Sisyphus said to her, "Let's see you try."
Cassandra, beaming with excitement, began to draw a magic circle.